Final Fantasy2
Chapter Ten: "Crimes Against Our Father Angel…"
"I really appreciate your coming, General."
"Where am I?" Celes gazed about and found herself traversing a dimly lit corridor in the Shin-ra building. There was a man beside her wearing an outfit of green that seemed familiar to her. The scenery was also familiar, but hazy and indistinct as if plucked haphazardly from a deteriorating memory. Suddenly everything slid into place—they were on the eighteenth floor, the headquarters of SOLDIER. And this man was…
"Everyone’s acting paranoid as hell," the man was saying, despite his many years speaking with as youthful a voice as he used as a boy. "Especially the younger ones. Nothing like this has ever happened before."
"I know." She understood now—she was dreaming. The realization forced her to relax, allowing herself to observe the memories being shown her.
They stopped at a door marked with the number four and entered. Three men were there, seated around the room in chairs or on the floor. They rose in respect as she entered. "General Celes…" Their voices seemed to echo in her mind, tumbling over and mixing with each other. She knew these men: members of SOLDIER, each one unique and special in her memories. She wondered briefly what had become of them now in her absence.
"What’s going to happen?" the closest man to her demanded, bringing her attention back to the dreamscape. "I heard that the executives are shutting us down."
"Who told you that?" Celes asked, keeping calm and still even as she was being swept away in the images.
"Dyluck told Batts, who told me. What the hell’s going on? What’re they going to do to us?"
"Just calm down," she instructed firmly, adopting the motherly tone that came naturally to her. "Nothing’s going to happen. What happened last week was a mistake—it had nothing to do with the fact that Kefka was a SOLDIER. Nothing is going to happen to us—any of us."
"It’s almost my birthday," another in the group said, his voice timid. "Will I go crazy, too?"
Celes moved over to the youth, kneeling in front of his chair. "You have to be strong," she heard herself saying. "I know you’re all frightened—I am too. I was there. But it’s over now." She reached to take his hand. "It’s going to be—"
As soon as she touched his hand the image shattered, escaping quickly into the shadows of her mind once more. She awoke with a start. She was in the bar at Costa del Sol, slumped in a far booth in the corner. People were glancing at her curiously. I must have dozed off, she thought, rubbing her eyes. But how…that’s not like you, Celes. Pull yourself together.
The general stood, paying her tab and leaving the small tavern. She wondered where Lucca and Nanaki had gone, and what they were doing. By now it was late in the afternoon, and the sun beat down with relentless malice against her skin until she imaged it was burning before her eyes.
Celes paused as she detected a strange sound above those of the birds and the carefree vacationers: a voice, singing very faintly. Curiously she followed, unaware that she was leaving the city. She followed it away from the buildings and umbrellas, away from the expanse of golden sand and sapphire waves. Each note grew louder as she went, until she found herself in a vast plain of tall grasses, one large tree looming over her head. The branches were hanging with tangled vines, and hidden among them was a man. He was singing a strangely unsettling melody that she didn’t recognize. He was also dressed in black robes that seemed to flow about him in the dull breeze along with the song’s rhythm. He stopped singing as she came near.
Celes watched him for a moment, trying to catch a glimpse of the man’s face, but it was enshrined within the dark folds of his hood. "Who are you?" she called, oddly distressed by the termination of his singing. Even if the song was foreign to her ears the voice itself held familiarity in it, and her heart began to beat quickly for no reason.
The man’s head turned so that it was obvious he was looking at her. "I am Fourteen," he replied, and his tone in speaking was the same as it was in singing—smooth but eerie. A tint of blue light shone within the masked skull.
"You’re a SOLDIER, aren’t you?"
"I am Fourteen."
Celes bit her lip. She recognized him at last by his voice—and the singing. It was Gilbert, the one in her dream whose hand she had tried to take. In those older days he had been one of the more timid of the group, even as he was older than most. They had all enjoyed his songs. But now she sensed something else in him, a kind of age and maturity she didn’t remember. "Gilbert, I know it’s you," she told him loudly. "You’re supposed to be in Midgar, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be on a mission. What are you doing here?"
"I am seeking something."
"What?"
He leapt down from the branch, his countenance still hidden from view. "Sephiroth seeks the Black Materia," he said, and she could feel him staring right at her. "He seeks all the power his mother Jenova had, and the Black Materia. I am seeking." He pointed west. "That way. I seek the mountains, and higher, to find my master who will bring forth the Black Materia." He was speaking in a singsong sort of way, as if it was part of his melody, and his body swayed back and forth. "My master, set it free. I will return you. I will serve you. Call the Angels, oh Father. Father, oh father of us."
"What are you talking about?" Celes was about to reach out but stopped herself, fearful that perhaps he would vanish as in her dream. She pushed her anxiety aside and snatched his shoulders. "Stop it," she commanded firmly. "Just stop. Tell me what you mean—tell me plainly. Is Sephiroth alive?" She could feel tears in her eyes. She had to know what was happening now that her world was being turned about. If Sephiroth was alive… "Stop talking nonsense and explain to me what is happening."
He did stop, but for several moments he did not speak, either. When he did, it was another man’s voice that emptied from his throat. "It’s been a while, but you’re still the same: clear cut to the point, to the solution. You’re very efficient, but not as compassionate as before. Is it because I left you?"
Celes stared at him, her face twisting in bewilderment as she recognized the voice. "Sephiroth?"
The hood fell away, revealing the lean-featured face of the man she knew so well. "Hello, Chere."
"Celes!"
She started, and in that lapse the haunting face vanished. The man’s body crumpled at her feet. In the next moment Lucca was beside her, and they stared down at the cloaked mass together. Locke and Glenn were close behind with Nanaki bringing up the rear. They all crowded around to see.
"What happened?" Lucca asked, kneeling down next to the fallen man. She brushed aside the hood, displaying a slim face and light auburn hair. "Isn’t this a member of SOLDIER?"
Celes watched the visage closely, confused by his appearance. A moment ago I saw Sephiroth. "It’s Gilbert," she said distantly. "Yes; he is in SOLDIER."
"Was," Locke corrected, checking over the body. He started to unwrap the thick cloak, and his voice dropped a pitch. "He’s dead."
"What?" Celes pushed his aside so that she could see for herself. Sure enough the SOLDIER’s flesh had paled and grown stiff with cold, and his chest was still. She suddenly felt sick. She’d known this man for an eternity it seemed, since before she joined SOLDIER, and now, in an abrupt act, he was dead. Dead. No, that word didn’t apply to him. It couldn’t.
"I’m sorry."
Celes nodded vaguely. "But I was just talking to him," she said, disbelieving. "He was singing, just like he always does. He can’t be dead—members of SOLDIER are the strongest in the world. They don’t just die."
A strange humming sound alerted their attention, and all eyes turned to Glenn—apparently he was the source. He pulled his sword free from its sheath, and they were startled to see the entire length of the blade glowing bright emerald hues. "It’s starting again," the holder murmured, and his own yellow eyes seemed to shine with it. "The Reunion."
Locke looked up at him. "The Reunion? I thought you said you didn’t know what that was."
"I said I wasn’t sure," he corrected. He crouched down next to Gilbert’s body, as Locke had returned to the task of removing the robes. Beneath them Gilbert had been wearing the green armor and yellow cape that was his typical outfit. Glenn took the dead hand and pulled it closer, and under the sword’s light the roman numeral XIV shone on the back of the palm.
"What the hell?" Lucca leaned in close, studying it for herself. "Where’d this come from?"
"All SOLDIER members are branded with filaments of Jenova’s hair," Glenn explained in an even tone. "In roman numerals to keep it clear. This man was obviously number fourteen—the fourteenth member of SOLDIER to join.
Celes glared at him. "That’s not true. I don’t believe you—no one’s ever told me that." Her own voice was noticeably less reserved despite her efforts to hide her rampaging emotions. As a general she could never show that weakness to an enemy. "How could you know, and why didn’t it show up until now?"
"This sword lets me see." He took her hand then and held it near the blade. There was a mark on hers as well: the number II.
The general snatched her hand back, her muscles tightening as an involuntary response. Her eyes were angry but unstable as she continued to glare at him. "How do you know so much?" she demanded. "You’re not in SOLDIER, and you never were because I know them all. Who are you?"
Glenn sheathed the weapon and the glow was stifled as well as the humming. "That I cannot say right now."
"What do you mean you ‘cannot say’? Who the hell do you think you are?" She stopped, having noticed that Locke was searching Gilbert’s belt and gloves for materia. Without thinking she struck him with such force that he was sent tumbling onto his back. "Stay the hell away from him!" she shouted, piling the robes back on top of Gilbert to hide the many valuable things a thief might want. "Both of you leave him alone!"
Locke sat up, wiping away a trail of blood from his nose. "I wasn’t gonna—"
"Damn jackals," Celes muttered, ignoring him. "Damn greedy, selfish grave-robbing—"
"Listen to me," he instructed with startling firmness, snatching her arm. "Will you just shut up and listen for one second?"
"Damn it, let me go—"
"Listen!" Locke took hold of both her shoulders and hauled her to her feet, trapping her gaze with his own intense eyes. "He’s dead Celes, and I’m sorry."
She muttered a curse. "Like hell—"
"I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you," he continued without falter. "Friends, loved ones, family—don’t think I haven’t lost them all at one point or another, because I know exactly how it feels. But you can’t change that now. Pull yourself together. You’re a general, for God’s sake. Now." His voice lowered, and he paused a moment to make sure she was paying attention. He hadn’t wanted to be cruel, but he knew it was the only way to get through to her in her present state of mind. He pulled out a small colored sphere—the only one he’d had time to take from Gilbert. "See this? Do you know what it is?"
"Materia," she spat, and he felt as if her eyes were attempting to drive daggers into his skull.
"Yes, that’s right." He held it balanced on his palm, concentrating to put the spell into affect. Very slowly the materia began to lift into the air, emitting a faint violet glow. It only was able to levitate a few inches before falling back into his hand. "It’s a special kind of materia that acts like a compass," he told her quietly. "If you concentrate on an object or a person it acts like an electronic trace to lead you there. This ones been activated, and its directing west, to the mountains."
"That’s where Gilbert said he was going," Celes rejoined in a similar tone. "He said he was seeking something. His master, and the Black Materia."
"What?" Glenn spun on her immediately. "What did he say?"
The general shook Locke off her with annoyance. "I just told you," she snapped. "He was in the tree singing, and then he came down and told me he was searching for the Black Materia, and that Sephiroth was looking, too. Whatever it is." She crossed her arms. "He pointed west."
"To the west are the Corel Mountains," Nanaki said, feeling distant from his group members as he had no other helpful information to offer. "If we go through the pass we can get to North Corel, then head south to Cosmo Canyon. I’m sure my grandfather could help us."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Lucca interrupted. "We’re supposed to be waiting for Cloud, remember?"
"How old is Cloud?" Glenn asked abruptly, displaying great urgency. "What number is he?"
"Number? Jeez, I don’t know." The young scientist scratched her head. "But he’s about twenty or so, I think—twenty, twenty-one. Something like that. So?"
"And Sephiroth?"
Celes glared at him. "What difference does it make?"
"It makes a difference." He gazed at her deeply, and could tell that he was making her uncomfortable. She was afraid of him. He didn’t want to play upon this fact, but he reasoned that manipulating her might be the only way to make her see his point. He stepped closer. "You know that, don’t you, General? It makes a very large difference, in fact. Perhaps more than you think."
She stepped away from him, fists tense at her sides. "You have no idea," she hissed vehemently. "Do you even know how many people suffered because of what you did?"
"Do you realize how many people will suffer here and now?" Glenn half shouted, startling her, as he had yet to raise his voice until now. "If Sephiroth can find the Black Materia there’ll be nothing left for any of us—do you understand that?"
Celes swallowed hard, glancing about briefly at the others. "If Sephiroth was alive," she answered at last, "he would be twenty-nine. Just like me. We had the same birthday."
Glenn nodded, as if he already knew. "Good. Thank you." His body seemed to relax then, and he continued in a more gentle tone. "We can’t afford to wait for your friend. There isn’t time, and with the Ancient with him he’ll be fine. I can assure you of that."
"Ancient…you mean that girl?"
"Yes." He paused, staring down at the SOLDIER member’s corpse. "After we bury him we’ll go west, after Sephiroth—if it really is Sephiroth." His eyes landed on each of theirs. "The Black Materia is very valuable, and lethal to everyone if it falls into the wrong hands. We have to find it before anyone else does."
"It sounds like a sensible plan," Nanaki commented. "I will come with you."
Lucca nodded, though she looked disturbed. "All right. I want to call Tifa first, so she knows we’re leaving."
"Go ahead."
Celes knelt down next to Gilbert once more, feeling hollow and strange on the inside. This wasn’t the first dead SOLDIER she would have to bury. She was beginning to understand. It was happening again, just like twelve years ago. Sephiroth’s thirtieth birthday…would it end the same way? Was she doomed to follow the same path, and suffer the deaths of her comrades all again?
A hand took hers, and Locke began to speak very low and very close to her ear. "I know you have a lot of reasons to hate me," he started, and she was too confused and shaken on the inside to say anything she was feeling. "I know you hate Glenn for what he’s done, again with good reason. I know you’re scared because you’ve been pulled out of the only life you’ve ever known, and now everyone is trying to make you question your own identity." She could tell that his words were more directed at himself than at her. "Everything you know is hanging by a thread. I understand that, and whether you believe me or not, I want to help if I can. Don’t worry about Cloud, because I’m sure he can take care of himself, and I have a feeling that you’re the one Sephiroth’s after. I know I’m just a thief, but I’ll help you—protect you—any way that I can."
Celes stared at him blankly. She wanted to say that the things he was telling her were absurd, that she was a general and didn’t need protection from someone like him. But she didn’t speak. She only nodded, and he smiled pleasantly. Then he helped her to her feet.
"I can’t reach Cloud and the others," Lucca said, knocking her head set. "Something’s interfering."
"Then you’ll have to try later," Glenn replied. "For now let us find a suitable place for the body."
Aeris whistled a cheerful melody as she strolled down the length of the rail, watching the ocean as it churned below. They had been able to slip aboard Rufus’ ship undetected, and were now on their way to Costa del Sol. She was anxious to meet Lucca and the others again, for they knew things she didn’t—things about Cloud. Despite the incident on the beach she was determined more than ever to help him, whatever it was he was contending with. She knew that she could.
"Hey there, soldier," a voice came from an approaching blue-uniformed soldier. She recognized it as the disguised Nadia. "No whistling on the job."
"Of course," Aeris said in a clipped, military-type voice. "Sorry, sir, won’t happen again, sir." She saluted.
Nadia broke out laughing, then quickly silenced herself as another group of soldiers passed. "I am loving this," she whispered to her companion once they’d left. "Everyone thinks I’m a soldier—isn’t it fun? But I bumped into some guy a while ago, and I think he could tell that I have breasts." She started to laugh again, and Aeris hushed for quiet. "He gave me the funniest look I’ve ever seen. It was priceless!"
Aeris couldn’t help but giggle, then tried to stay serious. "Just remember where you are," she warned. "There are actual soldiers on this ship. By the way, where’s Cloud and Sabin? I saw Tifa a while ago, but…"
"I think they’re below. Probably peeling potatoes or something."
"Yeah, no kidding."
An alarm began to sound, and both girls yelped in surprise. They calmed themselves just as a voice came over the intercom. "There’s an intruder!" a man’s voice, pain-stricken and terrified echoed across the deck. "An intruder’s in the cargo hold! All soldiers—"
The announcement was cut short abruptly, and Aeris’ face went pale. "He died," she said quietly, fingers twitching at her sides. "Just now. I felt it."
Nadia gulped. "Do you think it’s Cloud and Sabin?" she asked a bit tremulously, remembering her step-brother’s words.
She shook her head. "Not sure. But—" She paused as another uniformed soldier ran up to them. She recognized her quickly. "Good, you’re here, Tifa. Have you seen the guys?"
"No, not at all. Do you think…" Tifa glanced about and lowered her voice. "Do you think it’s Sephiroth?"
Aeris closed her eyes. "I don’t know," she admitted, putting her hand on the railing to steady her. "But I think I can find out."
"It’s Sephiroth," Cloud said, his voice firm in the conviction. "I know it is. I can feel it."
Sabin gazed at him sideways, made uneasy by the flashing warning lights and intermitted siren. "I could be Tifa and the others," he suggested, wishing they were with him. Being with Cloud had always unsettled him, and he knew that his own methods of dealing with the man’s "condition" differed from Tifa’s. He didn’t trust Cloud in the least. "Don’t be so hasty to get into a fight," he advised.
"That sounds funny coming from you," Cloud remarked ironically. "Didn’t figure you for the conservative type."
Sabin glared at him. "I’m no fool," he shot back.
He shrugged. "We’ll see—but later. Right now I’m going after Sephiroth." He turned away and started toward the stairs that lead to the lower cargo bay. With a muttered curse Sabin followed.
They encountered the first body at the base of the stairs, surrounded in a pool of blood that had emptied from its heart. Cloud swore and moved on, quickly discovering several more of the butchered soldiers. Some had been killed by a blade while others were simply crushed and mashed out of proportion, limbs twisted at impossible angles and bones thrust outside the skin that was meant to contain them. It was a sickening sight, one that didn’t affected Cloud, as it seemed. He ignored the littered corpses and kept going deeper into the ship’s entrails, until they reached the last of the cargo chambers.
Several bodies were there as well, mutilated to an even greater extent than those before, and sitting among them was a man in black robes, just like the one in the marsh. His head was bowed. As they approached the head lifted, and despite the thick shadows a face could be seen.
Cloud’s eyes narrowed. "Sephiroth."
Sabin took his arm, giving him a stern look. The last thing they needed right now was a confrontation with this man, and he knew that Cloud would be the one to start one. "Let’s find out what he wants," he said quietly, "before we make trouble."
"Yes, before trouble is made," the man in black said. The hood fell away as she stood. "To have trouble would be unfortunate."
"What are you doing here?" Sabin demanded before Cloud could make a move. "What is it that you’re after?"
"No concern of yours." The stranger lifted a hand, and Sabin felt himself being lifted off the floor. The next instant he was sent flying through the air, and his back slammed against unrelenting metal. He was returned to the ground on his face. He groaned in pain, trying to push himself up. Cloud glanced back, but his attention returned as he was put face to face with his enemy.
From within the man’s black robes appeared a pale hand, reaching out. Cloud reached for his sword. The hand touched his face, the cold, skinny fingers pressing against his forehead, cheeks and jaw. When Cloud tried to pull back he found that he couldn’t, entranced by the glowing emerald eyes. "Crimes against our Father Angel," the cloaked man announced, "I will avenge this night." Trapped by some unknown force Cloud could not escape.
Sabin growled, finally making it back to his feet. "Cloud!" he shouted as loudly as his lungs allowed. "Damnit Strife, snap out of it!"
Cloud started, finally pulling his sword free. But by the time he swung the blade he struck only fabric—the man was gone, leaving only his black robes behind as evidence of his existence.
"Are you all right?" Sabin asked, jogging up to him. "What took you so long?"
"I’m fine." Cloud bent down, examining the discarded clothes, and cursed. "Damn. He got away. But…" He stood and glanced about the wide chamber. "But he’s still here. This…" His eyes narrowed. "Just a decoy," he muttered. "A set up. He wanted us to find this mess. Then…" He broke off and started back toward the stairs.
"Someone’s in trouble," Aeris said, opening her eyes. "They’re in pain. We have to help them."
"Is it Cloud?" Tifa asked urgently, but Aeris was already moving away, toward the front of the ship. She and Nadia ran to catch up. "Who is it?" she asked, pulling off her Shin-ra helmet and letting it clatter to the deck.
"I wouldn’t do that," Nadia advised, retrieving the item. "If we run into anyone—"
A man’s cry of pain quickly gathered their attention, and the three broke out running. They came to the ship’s forward cabin; a struggle was taking place. A man in dark robes was there, his thin hands wrapped around the throat of the white-suited president. Rufus had been pushed up against the steering counsel, which was already scarred with electric burn marks. Blood coated the floor.
Tifa ran forward, trying to pull the would-be assailant back. He glared at her only briefly from within his hood then ignored her useless struggles. As Rufus continued to pry desperately at the fingers around his throat his attacker lifted a huge sword. "I will avenge those crimes against our Father Angel," he hissed.
Tifa grabbed the man’s wrist, trying to pull it back, but his strength was too much. Even with Aeris’ help they couldn’t stop the blade’s progress towards its intended victim. The President gave up trying to free himself and reached his hand across the counsels to the shotgun that lay just beyond him. His fingertips brushed the wooden handle.
Nadia crept forward slowly, watching the events without emotion. She watched the look of panic and desperation on her stepbrother’s face, the pain and the fear. She watched his groping hand pawing at the rifle, and the seven-foot blade closing on his skull. Tifa was yelling, Aeris was straining—both oblivious to the rifle so close—and she was just watching, caught up in the atmosphere. Finally she couldn’t stand it. She ran forward and pushed the gun closer.
Rufus gritted his teeth as his had closed around the weapon. His sight was beginning to fade from the lack of oxygen, but through his own stubbornness he was able to stay conscious. He leveled the rifle and fired.
The two women were thrown back, ears pounding with the explosion so close to them. They landed in a heap with the cloaked man. Tifa sat up slowly, and immediately felt sick; the powerful shotgun bullet had utterly destroyed the assailant’s skull, and blood covered her own face and hair. She pushed away as quickly as possible until her back hit against something soft.
"Don’t turn around," Nadia advised, a look of disgust hidden beneath her visor. She handed Tifa the helmet she’d discarded earlier. "Quick; put it on before he comes to."
Aeris glanced at them briefly, then returned to Rufus, who was gasping for breath on his knees. "Goddamnit," he hissed, rubbing his neck. "What the hell happened here?"
"I’m very sorry, Mr. President," Aeris said briskly, helping him to his feet. "He came out of nowhere, sir. The alarm said that—"
Rufus leaned against her heavily; his head was spinning, and he couldn’t stand upright without her help. "Don’t make excuses," he whispered, unable to manage more with his voice. "He’s dead?"
"Uh, looks that way, sir." She glanced about quickly, not knowing what to do. She caught sight of the form behind Tifa, and thought she might retch. "Heidegger’s dead too, sir," she reported weakly.
He raised his gaze, took in the scene, and nodded. Then, "Where’s Dark Nation?"
Aeris didn’t know what he was talking about, and was starting to panic when Nadia spoke up, bending down beside a counsel. There was something hidden underneath, breathing hard. "Down here," she called. "I think he’s wounded, sir."
Rufus pushed away from his assistant, helping to ease the creature out of the shadows. Its forward left leg was split open and bleeding profusely. Aeris watched it a moment, listening to the animals’ soft whining, then took charge. "Lieutenant," she said briskly, indicating to Tifa, "I want you to take the President back to his room. Don’t worry, sir, I’ll take care of the animal and have him returned to your room once the doctor’s had a look at him. We’ll have this…mess taken care of quickly, sir."
"Good." He allowed Tifa to help him to his feet once more, though when he spoke his gaze was on his injured pet. "Don’t get rid of the bodies just yet—I want them to be taken to the center deck."
"Understood, sir."
As he left with Tifa, Sabin and Cloud finally appeared. They waited until the President was gone to speak. "What happened?" Cloud demanded. "Where’s Sephiroth?"
"It’s okay, Cloud," Aeris told him, taking off her helmet and gloves. She reached toward Dark Nation, but he snarled and tried to pull away.
"Here; let me help." Nadia took off her gloves and stretched her hand out, letting the animal sniff it suspiciously. "He knows me," she said, scratching behind his ears affectionately. "Rufus always hated that he liked me. Will he be okay?"
"He’ll be fine." Aeris laid her hands near the injured limb and, very slowly, it began to heal. The animal watched her progress curiously, as did her human friends. "Anyway," she continued, ignoring their amazed stares, "you don’t have to worry, because Sephiroth didn’t attack us."
"But that’s him." Cloud pointed to the bundle of robes and blood on the floor. His eyes seemed to dance like wild flames in his skull. "That’s him."
Sabin knelt beside the body, inspecting it. There was no way to tell by the face because of the damage, but… "The hair," he reported in an even tone. "It’s black."
"No, it’s not," Cloud retorted, joining him. He pulled out several strands from the mass of bone and flesh. "You’re not looking hard enough. I know Sephiroth, and his hair is silver."
"Strife, I’m not making it up. This man’s hair is black."
"It wasn’t Sephiroth," Aeris said over her shoulder, "because I can still feel his presence, and this man is dead."
Cloud stared down at the body and the twisted, soiled filaments in his hand. He let them fall. "All right," he muttered, wiping the blood on his pants as he stood. "I guess you’re right—it’s black. But then who is it?"
"It’s one of those two guys in the bar," Nadia said. "At least, I think so."
"Then the other one might have been Sephiroth."
"We don’t know for sure." Aeris finished her work on Dark Nation, and he climbed to his feet. He tested the weight and, satisfied that all was well, scampered out of the room after his master. She smiled grimly, and glanced up at Cloud. He had his helmet on so that she couldn’t see his face, but there was a strange aura about him, and he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Cloud," she started hesitantly, "don’t worry about it. Even someone like Sephiroth must have people working for him, and this might be one of them. But he’s dead now, so it doesn’t matter. We’ll find it out later, okay? Let’s just clean this mess up now before Rufus gives us demerits for slacking off."
He nodded vaguely, and they began to work. Several more soldiers showed up eventually to help, and Tifa returned; Rufus was asleep in his room, which assured them of their identities being safe for a while longer. Several hours later they’d reach Costa del Sol, and as the President was quickly being taken to his own private vehicle, Cloud and his group slipped unnoticed into the city.
