RONIN - File 06: Legion
SHINRA TOWER BIOHAZARD QUARANTINE LAB DISC 03 - SEPTEMBER 2015
Brian had thought that a job with the Shinra Science Department would have been far more fascinating than the actual job turned out to be, and for every day since he had started roughly a year ago, he cursed both the boredom of the job and the hasty, impulsive nature that had brought him here. That pitiful self-cursing had come to an abrupt end a mere three days prior, when they had brought in that thing and he had been assigned to monitor it. It was just him and it, alone in the Biohazard Quarantine Lab. In his stronger, perhaps more curious moments, he had glanced at it. This was just such an occasion. To Brian, it looked like the upper half of a rotting human female carcass suspended in a transparent, armor-plex glass cylinder filled with viscous, colorless synthetic amniotic fluid. The thing was hooked up to various intravenous sensors and covered in some kind of deterioration trauma, like a necrotic plague--several of the internal organs in the upper torso were actually exposed. Somehow, this thing was still alive--though from what he had witnessed in his time in the SSD, “alive” was a term with flexible parameters. Yet despite the “life” that the equipment could detect in this specimen--however erratic--it did not appear to be conscious or sentient. And so, Brian’s given task was a simple, unambiguous one--inform management if the thing “woke up,” though the thought of it opening its squamous, mucus-coated eyes made him shiver with revulsion. At least it’s unconscious, he thought. However, it was precisely at that moment that his phenomenal luck decided to exert itself once more. The thing twitched. Brian jumped. At the same time, a quiet, but angry set of digital tones sounded from Brian’s biomedical monitoring terminal. Though he hated the idea of turning his back on the thing, he rushed back to his terminal on the other end of the small lab and began to key up the coms. However, before he actually finished unlocking his encrypted coms terminal, the door to the lab slid open and a man with a lab coat stepped in. He had long, stringy hair the color of crude oil, a pair of rounded spectacles, and hollow cheeks that, despite lending him the aspect of a husk inhabited by a demon, bore a smile as crooked as his posture. “That will be all,” the man said, his voice dry like a withered cactus. “Leave us.” “Yes, Professor Hojo,” Brian said as he gathered up his lunch box and left hastily. He had never been happier to leave a room in his life. As the doors slid closed, Hojo approached the thing in the tube. He pressed his thumb to a biometric scanner beside the tank and keyed an activation switch. “Captain Rosewater, can you hear me?” The thing that had once been SOLDIER 2nd Class Lina Rosewater twitched again violently. It opened its mouth, but the amniotic fluid permitted no sound. The only thing that showed was her mouth twisted in a fang-baring scream of silence. Hojo pressed the coms button again. “You’ll have to calm down, otherwise you’ll lapse back into unconsciousness again.” Lina, or what was left of her, began to thrash violently in the amniotic tank. Some of the sensor wires were yanked off by the sudden movement, causing the biomonitor in the back of the room to sound constant terminal tones. Hojo ignored the monitor and continued to stare at Lina, the crooked smile having never left his face. “As you wish,” he said, “but you should at least listen to what I have to say.” Hojo propped his glasses up. “We cannot stop the degeneration of your cells,” Hojo said. He gestured to the tank with both of his hands. “This is the extent of what we can do to preserve what’s left of your physical body. Sad, indeed. I had such high hopes for you, in particular, Captain Rosewater. You see, somehow, your unbridled hatred for everything and everyone in this world seemed to lend your Mako-enhancement unexpected potency. I had also hoped to study that more once you reached 1st Class, but, well…” Lina continued to thrash with more unnatural vigor. The viscous fluid in her tank began to churn and slosh about with her movements. “You see, I can’t give you back your old body,” Hojo said, each word somehow becoming increasingly more anxious. “But, I can give you a new body.” Lina stopped thrashing to glare venomously at Hojo. “There,” Hojo said with sinister relish, “I knew you’d be interested. There is just one catch--you may not enjoy the process. But, I can promise you that if you survive the procedure, you’ll be on-par with a 1st Class. I’ve never done this before. Who knows--maybe you’ll be stronger than Sephiroth…” The two monsters regarded each other. The solid death tone of the biomonitor seemed to mock the moment with its false proclamation of death. “You’ll have the chance to punish the one who did this to you. That’s something you want, correct?” Lina nodded, her grin a twisted grimace of teeth-clenching pain and rage.
OPENING (Ronin Theme): “YOUNG MEN DEAD” by THE BLACK ANGELS
MAXIMUM SECURITY BRIG, COMMAND PLATFORM UNITED PEOPLES OF FORT CONDOR DISC 03 - OCTOBER 2015
The cell was large enough to accommodate at least four prisoners, but there was only a single, emaciated occupant. A skeleton dressed in skin and sinew, hung by his hands from tempered steel shackles chained to an unpainted concrete wall of tombstone grey. The wall directly behind was stained slick from layers of dried sweat and blood, lending an unclean sheen to the wall, a mockery of a holy aura. The prisoner was shirtless. His beard and hair, matted with filth and reaching down to the prisoner’s midriff, was the dirty brown-black of the soil from the bottom of a grave. The air of the cell was stagnant, but punctuated with the dull clanking sounds of industrial machinery churning from somewhere far away. In the faded, yellow light that shone from the single dirty bulb in the center of the ceiling, the prisoner was corpse-still. Until the lock on the door clanged suddenly, and the body twitched violently in surprise. The heavy, ovular orange-steel porthole swung open on whining hinges, and two UPFC soldiers in full security gear entered the cell. Both of the guards were heavily armored in combat webbing, full-face balaclavas, and the dull silver plating that was particular to UPFC heavy infantry. The first guard stepped into the cell silently and with a cat’s grace. She was small and lithe, especially when compared to the guard who followed behind her who had to duck under the porthole clearance before stepping into the cell, proper. The shorter, female guard advanced steadily towards the prisoner while the taller guard closed and locked the door behind them. Both guards came to stand directly in front of the prisoner and seemed to regard him with a peculiar kind of silent curiosity. “Is that him?” the taller guard whispered. The shorter guard did not answer, but instead knelt beside the prisoner to get a closer look at his face. She put two fingers to the prisoner’s neck, apparently checking his vitals. “What the hell did they do to him?” the taller guard whispered again, this time the words sounding more choked. “Shut up,” the shorter guard hissed, her head tilted downward, eyes closed. “Get it together.” “Get it together? Would you be so composed if you found me like that?” “I’d stow the shock for later. Like the Boss taught us to.” The taller guard seemed to seethe for a moment before setting his duty bag down and unpacking a mobile stretcher. The shorter guard opened a medical pouch on the front of her combat webbing and fished out a syringe. “He’s completely unresponsive. I’m going to bring him to,” she said as she swabbed the prisoner’s left arm and began injecting the stimulant. The taller guard finished setting up the stretcher. “He looks so far gone. I don’t even recognize him.” The prisoner began to groan, and the shorter guard recoiled at the crypt-stench of the prisoner’s breath. “Soldier,” the shorter guard said in a voice rich with military command, “name and rank.” The prisoner groaned again, this time more agitated. The shorter guard slapped the prisoner in the face. “NAME AND RANK. NOW.” The prisoner raised his head a fraction of an inch. His eyes flickered open violently and locked on to the shorter guard’s gaze. “...V...Valerick…” The taller guard could no longer contain himself. He tore off his balaclava and knelt down in front of Valerick, cupping his face in his two gloved hands. “Valerick,” Riwin said hesitantly, “It’s me, the arse-ling, remember? It’s me, Riwin!” Shizune rolled her eyes visibly and also removed her balaclava. Valerick looked at both Riwin and Shizune with blank stares of unrecognition, then he seemed to realize his surroundings. His eyes darted wildly, fixing on random points around the cell, finally settling to some point in the back of the cell. His face twisted in a weary grimace of hate. “Valerick…” he hissed as he thrashed against the chains. Shizune shook her head. “He’s still in some form of deep shock. He’s unintelligible.” “What, he can only say his name?” “That is highly likely. Whatever happened to him in here seems to have broken his mind.” “That’s not likely at all,” Riwin spat. “That’s fucking impossible.” Riwin noticed that Valerick seemed to be staring intently at some point behind them. “Valerick…” he seethed again in a paper thin whisper. “We have to get him out of here,” Shizune said, “Come on, help me get--” Riwin sensed the displacement of air first. He immediately feinted right, springing as far as he could. As he did so, Riwin intentionally collided hard with Shizune and knocked her on the ground with such force that she began skidding on the dusty floor of the cell. Riwin’s lightning reflexes paid off--where he and Shizune were situated just a moment ago, there was now a lone warrior, fist half-embedded in the wall behind the prisoner. He was a grizzled-looking soldier with a scruffy beard, an eyepatch over his right eye, a loose ponytail, and lightweight combat gear. He was incredibly fast, and the blow would have surely injured Riwin if it had landed. However, as was his speciality, Riwin was suddenly absent where danger would have surely ended him. Valerick began thrashing harder against his chain restraints. Despite his emaciated state, he bellowed hoarsely, the sound a perfect blend of fury and horror, as the figure now standing before them recovered from his missed lunge attack and adopted an aggressor’s stance. He turned to Riwin and Shizune, pure menace glinting in his one visible eye. Riwin responded immediately by adopting his favored mobile defensive stance as Shizune recovered from the saving tackle and now regarded their enemy from a defensive crouch. “You’re not any of mine,” the one-eyed man said with a voice like gravel under tank treads. Riwin donned a jackal’s smile. “And you’re no ordinary warrior to be able to sneak up on us like that.” “High Marshall Griggs,” Shizune said like an indictment. Griggs snorted, not once taking his eye off Riwin. “You two got in here, I’ll give you that,” Griggs said evenly. Riwin had meant to respond, but in the next instant, Griggs had launched at them both, somehow managing to close the distance between them faster than either of them had anticipated. Shizune reacted first, drawing a UPFC standard-issue M1911 and snapping off three rounds. To her surprise, the first two rounds somehow missed, but the last one slammed home directly into Griggs’ left shoulder. Somehow, in spite of this, Griggs was still lunging at them at full force. Shizune dove out of the way to the rear of the cell to reposition herself for another pistol volley, but in the next fraction of an instant, Griggs and Riwin met in a tempest of melee combat. As far as anyone in the Turks had known, Riwin Koucha was one of the fastest beings on the planet--an expert at defensive and evasive melee combat. Actually landing a blow on him was an achievement worthy of merit. Fist fights with Riwin usually lasted a matter of seconds at most, as Riwin would simply evade hits until finding the right opening, at which time he would simply strike his foe down. In Shizune’s own experience with the Ace Turk, she had only seen Riwin fight longer than a few minutes on a small handful of occasions, and that was mostly because Riwin was simply toying with his opponents. On one such occasion, Shizune simply headshot the target as a matter of expediency, much to Riwin’s chagrin. Shizune had intended to do the same thing in this situation. Even when she was an Alpha MP, Shizune never had any trouble aiming into melee combat. After rising to full Turk status, Shizune became R0-414’s best pistoleer and marksman. Targets now moved in slow motion to her. However, when she tried to zero her sights onto her target this time, she saw something wholly unnatural--Griggs was attacking at superhuman speeds, comparable to Riwin’s evasion. For the next few moments, Shizune tried to refocus. All the while, Valerick was screaming his own name directly at Griggs as if to curse him, stringy spittle flying and getting caught in his beard. She tried to align and lock her gunsights onto Griggs, but she couldn’t--he was simply moving too fast. To compound things, it seemed that they had thoroughly underestimated the old veteran--every effort he exerted had violent finesse--a clarity of aggressive purpose. Every movement was not simply a shifting of weight to counterbalance or the heaving of exertion--every single movement was an attack, just as much as every movement Riwin made was, in and of itself, a defense. She had seen this fight before. With her gun still trained on the fight, she spared another quick, yet discerning glance at the prisoner chained against the wall. His eyes were wide--livid and filled with absolute hatred--and aimed directly at the man fighting Riwin. He was screaming his voice raw with the same name, over and over again--Valerick. They were saving the wrong prisoner. They were fighting the wrong man. “We’re R0-414!” Shizune yelled at the top of her lungs. “Evan Oris’ unit!” Griggs faltered for a split second, giving Riwin the opening he needed. Riwin knifed his fingers into the side of the man’s neck, causing him to crumble to a heap on the ground, unconscious. He was about to land a killing strike when Shizune reached out as fast as she could and grabbed his wrist hard. “WAIT!” she hissed, motioning to Griggs. “That’s Valerick!” Riwin looked as though he had been slapped. Shizune pointed at the prisoner. “That’s Griggs, chained up and kept in the dark! Valerick did this! He assumed Griggs’ identity as cover! Couldn’t you sense anything specifically familiar in that fight?” Riwin seemed to relax. He and Shizune stared down at the man lying sprawled upon the ground. “He’s an Ace-Turk-level fighter,” Shizune said. “A striker like no other. He snuck up on us, Riwin. Who besides the Boss can do that?” A look of genuine recognition crossed Riwin’s face He smiled. “Hmph,” Riwin scoffed. “Even now, he’s still schooling me on the shell game.”
MAXIMUM SECURITY BRIG, COMMAND PLATFORM UNITED PEOPLES OF FORT CONDOR DISC 03 - JUNE 2011
High Marshall Ernest Franklin Griggs regarded the new acquisition with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, though his men would never know that he experienced any of the latter. The man chained up in front of him was an anomaly--a misnomer in all the ways that were wrong. Griggs had recognized this odd pattern of unknowns, and had come down to the brig to survey the prisoner personally. As was his custom, Griggs was flanked on either side by his personal honor guard. They were armed to the teeth and bedecked in the heavy infantry plating of the UPFC, and they never left his side. And this was precisely why they were having trouble immediately following through on his current orders. “Wait outside,” Griggs said a second time. The guards hesitated awkwardly again. “Sir?” asked the guard closest to Griggs. “I won’t be issuing the order a third time,” Griggs said, this time with some edge to it. The honor guard filed out of the cell and closed the door behind them. Then the prisoner chuckled. It was the low and bassy, and it echoed about the tiny metal cell like a bad omen. The prisoner was dishevelled and looked to have been homeless for some months. He stank richly of the sea. His skin looked like sun-baked leather, his black-brown hair was matted with filth, but his violet eyes shown with an intelligence that betrayed the man’s true power. Griggs clenched his jaw. “It’s nice to be out of the sun for a change,” the prisoner said. “You showed up this morning, claiming to be ‘Rufus Shinra’,” Griggs began, “And then you proceeded to resist interrogation and arrest. Your biometric data does not register with any known citizen of Midgar or Junon, and yet most of the names you had mumbled in your stupor as you were brought to this cell have registered various hits in our own database. One in particular--’Nicodemus’.” The prisoner raised an eyebrow. “So? What about him?” Griggs knelt closer to the prisoner, seeming to want to look him directly in the face. “It is you, isn’t it?” Griggs said with the growl of a predator standing above wounded prey. “Yup.” Griggs seemed genuinely surprised by the nonchalant admission. “I’ve come across people like you in the past. When I was still in the Aeronavy High Command at Junon forward base. You people started to pop up a little after the war. I had always been suspicious of whenever the company had attached civilians to my units. I did some digging of my own. I didn’t particularly like that the company created and made use of people like you.” “People like me?” the prisoner asked, apparently feigning ignorance. “Turks,” Griggs said like a curse. “There is no honor in what you do or how you go about doing it.” The prisoner laughed. “You think I’m a ‘Turk’?” he asked, making quotation mark fingers as he said it. “You know those aren’t real, righ--” Griggs headbutt the prisoner solidly in the forehead, causing the both of them to bleed. “Do you know how the Shinra Special Forces came to be?” Griggs asked, though it was apparent to the prisoner that Griggs was not expecting an answer. “The SSF was my counter-proposal to the Turks. The President wanted a stronger arm of Shinra. Heidegger had put forward his idea of a clandestine spy unit because he reeks of cowardice. I argued that we could accomplish the same goals openly, with a specialized tactical combat unit. As a proof of concept, I founded and trained the first SSF units, personally. The Turks and the SSF are twin siblings who better each other in their attempts to slay each other. You can start being honest with me now, Mr. Goodliffe.” For the first time since they had started talking, Valerick smiled genuinely. The blood from his forehead laceration had dripped steadily down his chin and onto the floor. “You know my true name,” Valerick said. “That means you have power over me.” “I have power over you because you are a broken blade whose aim faltered and was not true. And now this broken blade has fallen into my possession as a part of my collection,” Griggs said as he walked back towards the cell door. “Our day here is concluded, Mr. Goodliffe, but we will talk again in time.” Griggs gave two solid knocks on the tempered steel door, but the knocks made no sound. “We’re not finished yet,” Valerick said clearly. Griggs turned around to see that Valerick had now somehow freed himself from his restraints and was now standing at his full height. To Grigg’s utter shock, he saw himself still standing before Valerick. He hadn’t moved to the door at all. The walls of the cell began to glow a sickly dark purple, and wisps of materia espers were emanating from a glowing violet spot on Valerick’s abdomen. “Kneel,” Valerick said in a voice that was now an entire octave lower than his normal voice. Despite his resistance, Griggs felt an undeniable urge to comply. The more he willed himself against the urge, the more the pain built up within his body. “KNEEL!” The voice was Valerick’s, but somehow, Griggs was also hearing the command in his head. The pain flared in an instant. It was like white hot needles were forcing themselves out of the pupils of his eyes. Griggs fell hard on his knees to the floor before Valerick, whose violet eyes were now glowing ephemerally. Valerick stepped to the side, and through eyes creased with pain, Griggs saw that Valerick’s eyes were leaving after-image trails, as if he had stared at the sun for too long. Griggs glanced briefly ahead of him, and another Valerick was still chained to the wall, arms splayed out. One Valerick was still a prisoner. The other stood to the side, glaring down at Griggs. Both had the same demonic glow emanating from their eyes and stomachs. “What...is...this...sorcery…” Griggs managed to grunt out. The pain was so intense that he was now perpetually clenching his jaw and salivating and sweating wildly. The two Valericks spoke as one, though each now had a different tone which was discordant with respect to the other. “THIS SACRIFICE CAN BE MADE ONLY ONCE.” The walls of the cell were now shifting planes of etheric energy, blindingly bright yet somehow freezingly cold. The Valerick standing above Griggs addressed the Valerick against the wall. He spoke in a voice like the world’s end. “You do not possess enough life force to keep me bound to your service. After this final act, I will be freed from our covenant.” The Valerick in chains spoke in a normal voice. “I understand the terms, and I accept.” Both the Valericks nodded in unison to each other, then turned their etheric gazes upon Griggs. The pain in Griggs’ skull intensified to the point where he wished for his skull to explode, simply to release the pain. His mouth opened wider than he knew it could, yet no scream came--only the rictus pain of muscles locking his jaw bone into place. The demons spoke in unison once more. “THEN LET THE RITUAL COMMENCE!”
When Griggs came to, he immediately felt pain in his wrists and throughout both his biceps and shoulders. Vision came slowly to the old veteran, but in moments he was able to blink away the fogginess. What he saw before him made no sense at all, but he understood it all the same. Griggs saw himself standing before him, looking at him with a devil’s grin. “I know your true name,” the Griggs-thing had said, “that means I have power over you.” He then realized that he was chained to the wall of the cell, shirtless, and covered in filth. He railed against the chains and the feeling was unusual--foreign--as if the body he thrashed with was not his own. He rubbed his fingers together and flexed his toes. Everything felt incorrect. He also noticed that despite the Griggs-thing’s grin, the entity standing before him also seemed to be flexing his fingers and looking at the clothes he was wearing as if he didn’t know he’d put them on. He looked as though he was trying his body out for the first time, stretching his arms out and waving them in circles. The Griggs-thing put a hand to his eyepatch, then slipped two fingers underneath it to feel the knots of scar tissue where an eye had once been. The Griggs-thing chuckled genuine amusement. “It seems fitting,” it said, “that the price of such an exchange would be an eye. How poetic.” The voice that issued from the Griggs-thing was Griggs’ own voice, but the voice that Griggs himself heard in his mind was that of Valerick Goodliffe. Griggs began screaming and thrashing against the chain restraints. “VALERICK!” Griggs screamed in his madness and confinement. “Yes,” the Valerick-Griggs-thing said, “that is your true name now. Have a care with it, or you’ll wear it out.” And with that, the Valerick-Griggs-thing proceeded to the cell door and knocked twice, just as Griggs had when he had attempted to leave. The viewing portal slid open with the sound of metal grinding on metal. “I’m done with the prisoner,” Valerick said. “VALERICK!” Griggs screamed from the wall. As the door locked closed behind him, locking out the sound of Griggs’ screaming, the senior guard spoke. “I’m sorry about earlier, sir. It won’t happen again.” “I know, son,” Valerick said in Griggs’ voice. “He’s insane, I knew it,” said another of the balacalva’d honor guards. “Yes, unfortunately he is,” Valerick said. “But he remains extremely dangerous. None of our staff or assets are to interact verbally with this prisoner at all. I will handle all further interrogations of this prisoner myself. Classification Level Zero.” The honor guards nodded their understanding in unison. As the entourage walked steadily away from the cell, the sound of Griggs’ screaming, though thoroughly muffled by the cell, could still be heard lightly resonating through the concrete-steel wall, like the memory of a ghost.
HIGH MARSHALL GRIGGS’ OFFICE UNITED PEOPLES OF FORT CONDOR DISC 03 - OCTOBER 2015
“Plastic surgery?” Shizune said, still marveling at Valerick’s appearance as Griggs. Valerick nodded, his visible eye closed in thought. “Yes. And thankfully, so far, no one has suspected anything.” The three former Turks sat in High Marshall Griggs’ main office, though for all intents and purposes, this room had been the place from which Valerick Goodliffe had commanded and further developed the UPFC for the last four years. Valerick was seated in a high-backed cushioned leather chair behind a large, elaborately-engraved wooden desk, while Shizune and Riwin sat opposite him in the guest chairs. Not long after their mistaken fight had taken place, Valerick came to of his own accord, and upon actually recognizing Riwin and Shizune, the three members of R0-414 had returned to the office together, their covers still intact. However, there was an undeniable tension in the air, as none of them had really known how to act in each other’s presence any longer. To help diffuse the situation, Riwin tried to tell more jokes than usual, and Valerick poured everyone tea--a ritual he had to acquire from his cover identity’s inventory of visible habits. Shizune sat silent and irritated at her own incomprehension of both Riwin’s jokes and Valerick’s uncanny appearance. Now, the three Turks were sitting in an office in the most securely guarded place in the Eastern Continent--save for Shinra Tower--completely safe for the time being, and yet none of them knew what to do besides drink tea and make small talk. “I’m sorry,” Riwin said, breaking the silence, “but can I just say that it’s really weird and a little bit creepy that you look the way you do? I mean, yes, we can take disguises to the extreme, but wow, you’re like, him.” “Midgar has the best surgeons, because they are all owned by Shinra,” Shizune said. “We have all seen what the best in facial reconstruction looks like, but this… is another level.” “Midgar has a lot, that’s not false,” Valerick replied, “but they don’t have everything. I, myself, was surprised to find certain unique offerings in the UPFC, and this is one of them,” Valerick concluded, gesturing to his face and body. “How did you do it?” Riwin asked. “I got arrested on purpose,” Valerick began. “I played the part of a high-value target, thereby ensuring that I would meet Griggs somewhere. As luck or fate would have it, Griggs decided for some reason to keep his honor guard outside the cell. This took care of a major obstacle. From there, when Griggs’ guard was down, I freed myself, switched outfits and positions, then thoroughly beat myself up. After the guards happened upon the scene, the illusion was complete--they conducted me to Grigg’s private sick bay, where I made arrangements with Nicodemus’ underworld contacts in the UPFC, and my newly-acquired honor guards, who all love me like a father, proceeded to beat Griggs to an inch of his life. Since then, I have ordered ‘Valerick’ off limits to all save for myself.” Shizune and Riwin sat silently, listening to Valerick’s tale. The only other sounds in the room were the soft ticking of the grandfather clock by the opposite wall, and the sounds of porcelain tea cups meeting platters as Riwin and Shizune sipped their tea.
“So, you’ve been Griggs for how long now?” Riwin asked. “Four years,” Valerick said, glancing at the grandfather clock, then around the room at various things. “You’ve been in charge of a mercenary kingdom for the last four years,” Shizune said, though it seemed she was simply processing the implication as opposed to actually talking to anyone else in the room. “Well, shit,” Riwin said, “I would expect nothing less of sempai! Hey--Shizune had her own empire in Wutai, too! Come on, girl, tell him about ‘Wakka-Wakka-Jakoo’.” Shizune had her eyes closed and the tea cup raised to her lips, tilted up to drink just as Riwin was had said that. Her eyes opened in narrow slits and she shot Riwin the homicidal side-eye of doom. “Or not,” Riwin said meekly. “Wa. Kei. Sei. Jaku,” Shizune said slowly, deliberately. Valerick raised an eyebrow. “Something to do with tea?” “That is highly likely,” Shizune said, continuing to send curses to Riwin. Riwin’s eyes were wide. “How in the crap did you figure that out?” “Wakeiseijaku--literally, ‘harmony’, ‘respect’, ‘purity’, and ‘tranquility’,” Valerick explained expertly. “It’s an ancient phrase associated exclusively with traditional Wutaian tea ceremonies.” “Precisely,” Shizune said, smirking at Riwin. Riwin threw his hands up in resignation. “Well, I can’t be Wutaiaphiles like you two even if I tried.” “Valerick is from Junon, and you’re half-Wutaian,” Shizune countered. “What’s your excuse?” “Firstly,” Riwin started, counting out the reasons on his fingers, “I’m not a weeaboo. Secondly, you’re like, 100% Wutaian, so...” “That’s enough,” Valerick said, raising a hand to halt the conversation. “For as nostalgic as it is for me to watch you pups nip at each other’s heels like in the old days, let’s not go there. We have more important matters to discuss.” Shizune and Riwin immediately focused, the rhythm of Turk command an easy routine to fall back into. Valerick produced Griggs’ behemoth bone pipe and began to prepare it with tobacco as he spoke. “As I had mentioned prior, I was on patrol on the plate when Zero Protocol went into effect. I was able to make my way to the Northern Continent with relatively little incident, but I had to neutralize a contingent of MPs and their commanding 1st Class SOLDIER as well. Both Shizune and Riwin stared at Valerick, eyes wide from the news. “A 1st Class?” Riwin asked. “Until now,” Shizune said, “the only one of us who has ever managed to kill a 1st Class on their own was the Boss.” Valerick nodded in acknowledgment of that fact, but it was an unusually solemn gesture. A pregnant silence followed. “Who did you take out?” Riwin asked.
NORTHERN CONTINENT 150 KILOMETERS NORTH OF BONE VILLAGE DISC 03 - 22 DAYS AFTER ZERO PROTOCOL
The SOLDIER dropped. First to one knee, then the other, then face down. He was dead. Most of the MPs under the command of the SOLDIER were dead. Those MPs in the camp who remained were in various states of succumbing to the poison that Valerick had laced their meals with. Many were in delirious states, lying in the snow or in their tents. A chorus of pained groans, growls, and spittle-filled noises echoed at intervals through the camp. The sergeant who led the camp was screaming furiously into his Coms unit. The sergeant’s mad barking halted abruptly in a gurgling smack, silenced by Valerick’s sidearm. He then shot the radio for good measure. Back up would be on the way, but based on the geography and logistics of their position, Valerick knew it would take at least an hour. Valerick then turned his attention back to the corpse of the SOLDIER. He flopped the body onto its back and fished the SOLDIER’s own combat knife out of its leather holster on the front harness. He held the curved knife up to his eye level and inspected it with a detached look on his face. The blade itself was curved forward with serrations running along its inner edge. It was noticeably larger than a standard combat knife, but smaller than a proper machete. The amber light from the campfire glinted off its edges, and Valerick caught the reflection of his violet eyes in the mirror-sheen’d flat of the blade. You are the hammer… He winced, averting his eyes away from the blade, trying to silence the voice in his head that seemed to resurface every time he remembered who he was. You are my unbroken blades… The voice seemed to echo with the authority Valerick had come to trust in. Its familiar, reassuring feeling was a knife in his mind. Valerick dropped the combat knife, placing the flats of his palms against his temples. As the voice rose in cadence and clarity, so too did his vice grip on his own head. The voice spoke again, echoing from everywhere all at once, and most evidently from the body of the dead SOLDIER. You are the fear of death inherent- Valerick roared into the night, the sound low and forlorn, like an ancient beast awakening against its will. His breath misted heavily as he emptied his lungs of every last bit of the cold, Northern air to expel the demon of guilt he had nurtured since Midgar. Valerick bent down at the waist, doubled-over as his diaphragm cramped. He snatched the combat knife from where it had planted itself in the soft earth. He would silence the voice. Valerick grabbed the handle of the knife and went to work beheading the SOLDIER. As he finished his final, sawing cuts across the epoxy-like cartilage between the SOLDIER’s neck vertebrae, he grabbed the purple ornamental plume that jutted from the top of the SOLDIER’s helm and with a grunt of effort, he gave one solid jerk, pulling the head away from the neck. As he raised the helm to his eye level, the head came loose of the helmet straps. It landed face up in the soft earth, staring up at Valerick with a vacant expression of shock somehow still drawn upon it.
HIGH MARSHALL GRIGGS’ OFFICE UNITED PEOPLES OF FORT CONDOR DISC 03 - OCTOBER 2015
“Miyamoto,” Valerick said. “I didn’t know it was him until after the battle had ended.” “Miyamoto made 1st?” Shizune asked with a snort. The thought made her want to vomit into her teacup. “Yes, somehow. Miyamoto was a lackluster 2nd Class at best, and he fought like it when I took him down. We all knew he wasn’t up for promotion to 1st--in fact, last I knew before our exile, was that none of the current 2nd Class roster was eligible for promotion to 1st,” Valerick explained. “If anyone had been, the Boss and I would have been the first to know about it, outside SOLDIER. Therefore, he must have made 1st Class after we were kicked out.” “So what,” Riwin said, “he suddenly get serious or something?” “Miyamoto? No, that can’t be it,” Shizune said. “More likely, his promotion to 1st Class was a reward for services rendered.” “Indeed,” Valerick said, pipe smoke issuing from his mouth. “For Zero Protocol?” Riwin asked, incredulous. “I can’t say for certain,” Valerick said, “but probably.” Shizune’s eyes narrowed. “Intriguing,” Shizune said, frowning behind her teacup. “Promotion to SOLDIER 1st Class requires the approval of a Turk commander.” “Assuming things still work the way they did when we were still there,” Valerick added. “Who would have approved such an asinine move?” Riwin asked. “Well,” Shizune said, “in the absence of the Boss, that could have been anyone at the rank of unit commander, really. It’s all speculation at this point. Still…” Riwin raised an eyebrow. “Why do you even care? You got some vendetta against Miyamoto or something?” Shizune sipped her tea. “Yes, I do,” she said. “He shot my escape pod out of the sky. Technically, I owe him 12 pairs of broken ribs. But what concerns me now is that someone in our former organization lauded him for this action.” Smoke curled slowly away from Valerick’s nostrils as he readjusted himself in his chair. “I think I know who it might have been,” he said.
UNITED PEOPLES OF FORT CONDOR HIGH MARSHALL GRIGGS’ OFFICE DISC 03 - AUGUST 2011
"What are you doing here?" Valerick said with the kind of open contempt that he imagined Griggs might have for his impromptu guest. "I don't want to have anything more to do with you people." Kezu Deprieve smiled, though the gesture was hollow. "And yet, High Marshall Griggs, you parlay with our false informant ‘Nicodemus’," Kezu said nonchalantly. "That's prudence in action," Valerick countered. "Furthermore, that was to get a line in with Shinra, not the Turks." "The Turks are Shinra, High Marshall." "And yet, you're not. I know how the Turks work,” Valerick said, a wisp of nostalgia and regret passing momentarily in his clouded mind. At this, Kezu had to chuckle. "I wish to propose a trade," Kezu said.
HIGH MARSHALL GRIGGS’ OFFICE UNITED PEOPLES OF FORT CONDOR DISC 03 - OCTOBER 2015
“Kezu?” Riwin asked, seemingly taken aback. “From Legal?” “The very same,” Valerick said. “He came here a few months after I assumed Griggs’ identity.” “That doesn't make any sense,” Shizune said. “He's not even a field agent.” “Correct,” Valerick said. Riwin shrugged. “OK, so he's out in the world now. When did he become a field agent?” “Apparently,” Valerick said, “not long after we fled.” The three exiles sat in silent thought for a few moments. Shizune frowned visibly. “Kezu Deprieve… He’s the one who was trying to hit on the Boss at the New Year’s Eve party, right?” Shizune asked. “Yes, he was trying to,” Valerick confirmed. “Badly, I might add.” Riwin laughed heartily. “You make like you never tried to hit on her, yourself.” “I did not!” Valerick and Shizune said at the same time. Riwin’s eyes went wide and he leaned back slowly in his seat. “OK…” he said, eyeing Shizune cautiously. “I was talking to Va-.” “I know that!” Shizune said, her face flush. “I was just…” “Just what?” Riwin asked. “URUSAI!” Shizune snapped in Wutaian. “Alright, whatever,” Valerick said, rolling his eyes. “So as I was saying, Kezu Deprieve showed up to ask for the UPFC’s help in finding ‘escaped fugitives’.” Valerick chuckled. “When he showed me the personnel files of the ‘fugitives’ he was after, I almost smiled and blew my cover,” Valerick said with a grin. “I knew then--you guys had made it. You guys were out there, somewhere, hiding just as well as I had managed to.” Riwin snorted. “Well, maybe not as well as you did,” he said, gesturing to the room. Valerick took a cardkey out of his pocket and slid it into a port somewhere underneath his desk. A hidden panel opened, revealing a safe. “As far as I can tell,” Valerick said, as he spun the dial of the safe to unlock it, “Kezu didn’t realize that I wasn’t Griggs.” Valerick swung open the safe door and reached inside, producing three thin portfolios which he handed to Riwin. “Furthermore,” Valerick said, “according to these files, it seems that Midgar knows very little about us these days.” “These are the files that Kezu brought you?” Riwin asked. “Indeed,” Valerick said. “Now, why would a Turk lawyer be out in the field on a manhunt?” “He’s still a Turk,” Shizune mused. “That counts for something.” “True,” Valerick said, “but something is out of joint.” “Was he just the messenger maybe?” Riwin asked. Valerick shook his head. “No. He carried himself as though he himself were in charge of getting us into custody. He parlayed with more authority than any Turk lawyer could have.” Shizune and Riwin were flipping through the folders rapidly, absorbing every detail as quickly as they could. They read and scanned at the same pace, trading folders at the same time, almost as if the action had been rehearsed. There were three file folders in total, each corresponding to each of the ex-Turks in that very room--there was a file for Shizune Mai, Valerick Goodliffe, and one for Riwin Koucha. Shizune and Riwin seemed to pick up on this at the same time, and she voiced the question that was on both of their minds. “Where’s the Boss’ file?” Valerick wrinkled his nose quickly, as if to ward off a fly that had landed on it. “That’s all I received from Kezu,” he said. Shizune raised an eyebrow, while Riwin, sensing the oddness of the reply, decided to divert the flow of conversation. “They don’t just want us ‘back in custody’,” Riwin said grimly. “They are trying to tie up loose ends.” Valerick nodded. “Theoretical,” Shizune said, “Kezu and Miyamoto gain mutual benefits which stem from getting rid of R0-414.” “Perhaps,” Valerick said. “It’s not hard to link the two in that way--If Miyamoto helps get rid of us in some way, Kezu might have a chance to ascend during the power vacuum. He rewards Miyamoto with a nomination to 1st Class.” “Some reward,” Riwin scoffed. “Miyamoto’s dead now.” “Indeed,” Valerick said. “We needn’t concern ourselves with him. Then again, not like we ever needed to, even in the old days.” Valerick and Riwin turned their heads at the sound of knuckles cracking. “Though I hate to borrow a line from Rosewater,” Shizune said, flexing her interlocked fingers. “Miyamoto was my mark. But no matter now. Thank you, Valerick.” “You’re of course, quite welcome.” “So easy to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when it’s your old butt-buddy Val, but with me, you know what it takes to get a ‘thank you’ out of the ‘Crimson Lady’?” Riwin asked Valerick. “I have to save her from two rampaging SOLDIERs in Rocket Town.” “So,” Valerick said thoughtfully, “That was you two down in Rocket Town last month.” “You heard about that?” Shizune said like a child admitting wrongdoing. “An Ace Turk is in charge of the UPFC now--our intel network has never been better,” Valerick said. “That notwithstanding, you two still managed to make enough noise so that even without my official intel network, I would have heard about it. In fact,” Valerick said, knocking ash out of his pipe and prepping some fresh tobacco, “I heard about the incident from the Shin-koku.” Shizune adopted a quizzical look, while Riwin remained grinning politely, but mostly blank-faced. “The ousted Wutaian biker gang?” Shizune asked. “Indeed,” Valerick said. “They have always maintained a chapter here in Fort Condor. After it officially became the UPFC, Griggs was in the process of evicting them. After I assumed control, I decided to let them be. Now, after years of symbiosis, the Shin-koku are my best source for recon and underground intel.” “Well,” Riwin said, “I wouldn’t trust them completely.” “I don’t,” Valerick said, “but go on.” “The Shin-koku is how we found out about ‘Prisoner V’,” Shizune said. “It looks like they trade Intel in both directions.” Valerick chuckled, seemingly amused at this. “It figures.” A digital chime sounded from a device somewhere on the desk. Valerick pressed an intercom switch. “This is Griggs.” The crisp voice of a young male operator, tinged hollow by standard vox quality, spoke aloud from a speaker on the desk intercom. “Sir, the officers’ quarters you requested are ready for use now.” “Excellent,” Valerick said. “Thank you, Corporal. And what of the Mechanical Forge, is that ready yet?” Shizune’s eyebrow twitched. “Negative sir, but the Engineering corps assures me that the Mechanical Forge will be nominal by 21-hundred hours.” “Copy,” Valerick said, his eyes flicking briefly to Shizune, then back to the intercom. “Tell Quartermaster Norton that if he can half that estimate, his entire team can have two extra days of furlough in Mideel.” “Wilco, Boss.” “Inform me directly as soon as the Forge is ready. Griggs out.” Valerick leaned back in the leather chair and noticed that Shizune looked like she was drooling. “I am remiss,” Valerick said to Shizune, “I meant to-” “You have a Mechanical Forge here? May I-” “Yes, and yes,” Valerick said, cutting her off. The three Turks laughed together and shared a feeling which had been all but alien to them in the last five years of exile--belonging. “It is as close to the old lab as I can provide here at the UPFC,” Valerick added. “Of course, we don’t posses the same computer tech that Shinra has, but what we lack in the digital, we make up for in the mechanical. You’ll still be able to invent and forge weapons and devices there. As you also heard, I’ve had accommodations prepared for the both you, but I imagine that Shizune here will be living out of the Forge for the most part.” The intercom’s digital chime sounded once again. “Go for Griggs,” Valerick responded. “It’s Quartermaster Norton, sir,” said a voice worn gruff by the years, heavily accented in the manner of the Northern Continent. “I’ve got a proposal for you--how about three days of furlough?” “Don't push your luck, Quartermaster,” Valerick admonished. “Aye-aye, Boss.” Riwin laughed. “So, they call you ‘Boss’, eh?” The hammer and the anvil… Valerick seemed to be the only one in the room who could hear her. He became unreadable in that moment. “What of it?” Valerick said. “What do you think our Boss will say about that?” Riwin asked, still chuckling at the small irony. ...fear of death, inherent to every soul… The voices were fragments, dancing just at the edge of Valerick’s hearing. The chittering of their accursed phrases began to steadily rise in a cacophony. Valerick scowled. “The hell kind of joke is that?” he spat. Riwin and Shizune traded uncomfortable glances as Valerick continued to simmer like a volcano on the verge of eruption. “Valerick?” Shizune asked. ...unbroken blades… The voice whisper-echoed in Valerick’s mind with all the care and gentleness of a bullet to the head. “What!?” Valerick snapped at Shizune. “You of all people would let him get away with talking so nonchalantly about Evan?” An uncomfortable silence followed, the moments metered out by the ticking of the clock on the wall. “Valerick,” Shizune began again, “what's the matter with you?” Valerick clenched his jaw visibly, his eyes shifting to focus on some unremarkable spot on his desk. He seemed to be breathing harder. The voices were a tempest now. “So,” Valerick finally said, “that’s how the two of you honor the dead, huh?” Riwin and Shizune looked perplexingly at each other, then back again to Valerick. “What are you talking about?” Riwin asked, Valerick’s face twitched visibly. “She’s dead. Evan Oris is dead.” The voices around Valerick stopped. Shizune dropped her teacup on the floor. She put a hand up to her mouth, feeling suddenly, overwhelmingly sick. “What!?” Irwin shouted. “That's fucking impossible!” “She's dead, Riwin,” Valerick said, his voice cracking in mid-statement. Riwin began laughing incredulously, but the sound was hollow and mirthless. Shizune swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. It took every reserve of willpower she had as well as a few deep breaths to regain emotional control. She blinked hard. “How?” Shizune said, her voice a cracked whisper, “When? Is that why her file’s not here?” How? Valerick thought to himself. In his mind’s eye, a split-second flashback of the scene as he remembered it--blood everywhere, filling his nostrils with its iron stink. The memory was perfect, and it made him visibly flinch with its vividness. “She didn't make it,” Valerick said under his breath, through gritted teeth. Through watery eyes, Shizune began wildly scanning the room as she tried look for something to destroy. Riwin slumped back into his chair. The smile had gone from his face, and in that moment, he no longer wore any of the masks that he had crafted as a Turk. Valerick’s revelation had burned them all away in a funeral pyre none of them could openly honor. “You didn't answer her question,” Riwin said blankly. Valerick suddenly slammed his fist on the desk. “Is this why you two have shown yourselves now?” Valerick yelled, spittle flying from his teeth. “You just decide to bring us all together to remind us all that Evan is dead? Does this amuse you? Have you fallen so low as to play out mind games upon your own?” “When?” Shizune managed between calming breaths. “You think I'm playing?” Riwin asked, as though Valerick had stabbed him in the lung. Valerick scowled. “It's what you do, Riwin--you jest. You prod, and poke, and jab until-” “WHEN?” Shizune said again, this time yelling at the both of them. “What do yo mean, when?,” Valerick asked incredulously. “She was killed a year before our exile from Midgar!” Shizune blinked away tears. “What?” Shizune asked. “Yes,” Valerick said, the anger bleeding away from him now. “That cannot be right.” Riwin looked at Shizune. “What the hell is going on?” “No, Valerick,” Shizune said, barely keeping her anger in check, “The Boss was with me in the HQ when it all went down.” The tempest of voices returned, assailing Valerick and making him wince in pain. Riwin and Shizune saw this and exchanged concerned looks. “What are you talking about?” Valerick said. Riwin sat up straighter in his chair and looked directly at Valerick. “She’s right, Val. The Boss was in HQ with Shizune. She’s the one who ordered Zero Protocol...” “Wait, what? No.” Valerick said, seemingly also confused. “Valerick,” Shizune said, “Who is the only person who could have ordered Zero Protocol?” Valerick’s eyes shifted sharply to the left, as if he was staring at something else in the room with them. Riwin and Shizune both followed his gaze to an old map of Gaia that was on the Eastern wall, but saw nothing of note. They turned back to their former XO. “Val,” Riwin said, “There’s something wrong with you.” “Theoretical,” Valerick said darkly, “the both of you are so blind in your loyalty, that you are both hopelessly deranged. You’re both lost. It’s-” Shizune rocketed out of her chair and buried her right fist in Griggs’ desk, cratering the wooden surface. In her left hand, she held out a USB flash drive, pointing it accusingly at Valerick. “PRACTICAL,” she scowled, “The Boss’ biometric data has hits leading up to at least six months after Zero Protocol!” Valerick’s single eye focused dubiously on the flash drive in Shizune’s outstretched fist before locking gazes with her. “You're mistaken,” he said under his breath. “Valerick,” Shizune said as sternly as she could, “this is how we traced you to Fort Condor. Your biometric data, erased by Zero Protocol, is saved on this drive. Riwin and I used the files to get a lead on you via the InfoNet in Rocket Town.” Valerick’s gaze shifted momentarily to Riwin as if to confirm what Shizune was saying. Riwin nodded in earnest. “According to this data,” Shizune continued, “the Boss survived Zero Protocol by at least half a year. She has registered hits at GPS locations outside of Midgar.” “Where?” Valerick asked slowly and intently. “That's just it,” Riwin said, “since we escaped Rocket Town, we haven't had a chance to confirm the loc-” Before either Shizune or Riwin could react, Valerick shot a hand out and snatched the flash drive from Shizune’s hand, eliciting an uncharacteristic gasp of surprise from Shizune. In the next instant, Valerick had jammed the flash drive into his terminal. The tell-tale creak-snap of plastic breaking shot through the small office. “Careful with that!” Shizune said, stepping around the desk to get closer to Valerick’s terminal keyboard. “Move--I need to unlock it first.” Valerick gritted his teeth and complied, sliding his chair to the side and letting Shizune type her notoriously-long passcode. Riwin stood to join them on the other side of Valerick’s desk. He found standing room just to the right of Valerick. “Val,” Riwin said, “what the hell is going on with you?” Valerick sat silently, fingers steepled in front of his face as his singular eye was locked on the monitor in anticipation of what he would find out. Riwin let out a ragged, exasperated breath, believing that Valerick was simply ignoring him. “She warned us,” Valerick suddenly said under his breath. “But she’s… dead?” “Evan is not fucking dead,” Riwin said with a hint of finality to it. The monitor began rapidly scrolling through a list of GPS coordinates that was several screens long, all beginning with the capital letter “V.” “Fort Condor,” Valerick said, reading the coordinates and recognizing them as his movement patterns over the last several years. “Bringing up the Boss’ coordinates now,” Shizune said. Where Valerick’s GPS hits had been voluminous, Evan Oris’ list was scant by comparison, filling less than half a screen. There were at most two dozen hits beginning with the capital letter “E.” The three former Turks stared at the screen in silence for the next few moments. “That doesn't make sense,” Shizune said. “Why?” Riwin asked, “where is that?” Valerick narrowed his eye. Riwin and Shizune were standing close enough to Valerick to be able to hear his teeth grinding. “It's in the middle of nowhere,” Shizune explained, apparently baffled as well. “What?” Riwin asked. “That's the desert south of Gold Saucer,” Valerick said. “But,” Shizune stammered, “the GPS can only register hits if she has used a biometric terminal of some kind.” “Then there must be some terminals out there in the desert,” Riwin said. Shizune flared her nostrils in irritation. “It always surprises me how dumb you can be sometimes.” “What?” Riwin said, “isn't that a logical conclusion? Isn't that just the Gold Saucer dumping grounds?” “Firstly,” Shizune said, “the coordinates are much further south than that--think, in the middle of nowhere--and secondly, the Gold Saucer jail doesn't have any biometric terminals. It's more likely that the coordinates are buggy.” Valerick stared hard at the screen a moment longer. His eye flicked back to the map of Gaia on the wall. “No,” he said. “Riwin is right.” “Huh?” Shizune and Riwin said at the same time. “There is a hidden super-max facility at these coordinates,” Valerick said, eye closed as he spoke. “It has no formal designation, but we called it Limbo. It's a Turk blacksite, completely off the books--a place where we store dangerous assets for interrogation, reprogramming, or summary execution. Only Turk unit commanders and their XOs have the security clearance to know about it.” Riwin put a hand on the desk to steady himself, and Shizune looked as though she had been punched in the gut. “And the Boss’ last hit was here?” Riwin asked in disbelief. “...four and a half years ago…” Shizune said under her breath.
TURK BLACKSITE ‘LIMBO’ 55 KILOMETERS SOUTH OF GOLD SAUCER DISC 03 - 1735 DAYS AFTER ZERO PROTOCOL
The Shinra Blackhawk chopper stood out like a carrion-feeding fly as it sped across the desert sky, stark matte grey-black armor against a sea of yellowed-bone-white sand dunes. The setting sun painted the entire vista in a dry hue of coppery light. The chopper broke from its bee-line course to begin a circular holding pattern. The sands below the chopper were whipping up violently in the rotor wash. Just then, a cavernous, circular abyss irised open, swallowing entire swathes of desert sand. The angry red of landing lights blazed to life at the bottom of the pit that had formed, and the chopper pilot deftly maneuvered the chopper down into the landing pit. As soon as the chopper had cleared the aperture, it closed above the chopper with a suddenness that seemed unnecessarily dangerous. The Blackhawk descended another 100 meters, bulkhead hatches slamming opened and closed at intervals to let the chopper through as it continued to make its descent into the pit. Finally, the last of the armored bulkheads slid apart to admit the transport chopper into a spacious and generously-equipped hangar bay. Five meters shy of completing its landing proper, the cargo doors of the starboard side of the Blackhawk slid open and a man with a black suit and side-parted platinum blonde hair jumped gracefully out of the passenger bay of the chopper and onto the landing pad beneath. The twin engines of the chopper whined in protest as the pilot struggled to make a last minute emergency maneuver to prevent the chopper from landing directly on top of his eager passenger. As the chopper engines powered down, their machine noises gradually descending in tone, the blonde man strode purposefully toward a biometric handprint scanner at the far side of the hangar. He produced a cell phone from his inner jacket pocket and put it to his ear. “I hope you have some good news,” Kezu said into the phone in an even tone. “We have finished up in Rocket Town,” Tseng said. “it seems that whoever attacked the SOLDIERs escaped by playing an expert-level shell game.” Kezu frowned as he walked. “Go on,” he said. “We are fairly certain that there were only two assailants, a male and a female.” “So, Shizune plus Riwin or Valerick.” “Possibly,” Tseng said, “but I can't be sure just yet.” Kezu halted just before the security scanner. “In your estimate, this was a Turk-level bait-and-switch egress?” “Yes.” “Then it's probably them.” “Ex R0-414 members aren't the only ones that are unaccounted for, Kezu.” “Yes, yes,” Kezu said dismissively, “but you know we are not supposed to talk about that. Anyway, keep on it and inform me when you have anything further. Now if you'll excuse me, I am running late for my regular appointment.” “Of course, your regular appointment...” Tseng replied. “But at this point I am not sure she will cooperate anymore. She hasn't been compliant ever since-” Kezu hung up and pocketed the phone. He exhaled audibly, trying to rid himself of frustration before heading in. Kezu placed his right palm against the biometric security scanner and almost immediately, the door unlocked in an echoing slam of reinforced titanium bolts sliding free. Just after entering the secured chamber, a crooked smile cracked across his thin lips as the doors slammed shut behind him in a clang that rang through the hangar like a death knell.
つづく
To be continued in File 07: MERCY, TYRANNY ENDING: “Not Your Kind of People” by Garbage
MAXIMUM SECURITY BRIG, COMMAND PLATFORM UNITED PEOPLES OF FORT CONDOR DISC 03 - 1735 DAYS AFTER ZERO PROTOCOL
Ernest Franklin Griggs no longer knew if he was alive or dead. In the syrupy darkness of the cell, Griggs had known only his own voice. The pain in his shoulders and arms from having hung from the wall for weeks on end had made him wish for the end. It made him wish for his joints and ligaments to rot away just so that he could fall to the ground and rest upon the earth. A voice. It would start again, he knew. Valerick was coming down to speak with him again. No. The voice was different. The voice was not coming from outside. He could hear it within his head, echoing within his skull and making his stomach ache in waves of nausea. Perhaps, you are ready now, the voice whispered. “...Valerick…” Griggs had mumbled. I no longer serve that one. A crack in the floor of the cell snapped open just in front of Griggs, and a sickly red aether-light oozed from out of it, bathing Griggs’ face in the shades of blood and fire. At first, Griggs looked away, startled by the sudden vision. After a moment had passed, he looked into the crack and saw a spectral eye staring directly into him, its serpentine slit of an iris opening and closing like the ravenous jaws of a hellbeast. Griggs let out a whimper that was half insanity and half shock. His entire being dripped with fear. You are akin to a wonderful fruit. One that has been ripened upon the vine of hatred, vengeance, and fear. One that I choose unequivocally. The irony here is that, in order to go further, it is you who must pick me. Griggs continued to stare into the eye in the cracked floor as it spoke its cacophony into his fractured mind. “What… are… you?” I have too many names, the voice said in a skeleton’s whisper. But, you may call upon me as “Hades.”
