Chapter 1: Incidents

The face staring back at him from the mirror was most displeasing. It was a sleep-deprived and tangled-hair type of face, as if the owner—a fourteen-year-old boy—had just awakened from a long, fitful coma. He sighed distastefully, running a stiff brush through the mess of white-blond hair. Thankfully, the locks quickly obeyed his instructions. The next problem was wardrobe, a dilemma which proved to be far more complicated than the last. After quite some time he finally decided on a pair of blue jean shorts and a white T-shirt with the logo of his favorite soft drink. The orange design clashed a bit with his emerald green eyes, but he didn’t care. Cool was cool.

"Collin!" his mother called from downstairs. "Hurry up, your sisters are waiting!"

"Coming!" He finished the outfit by adding a pair of dark sunglasses that, as said by his sister, resembled "some dorky alien eyes." He didn't care for her opinion, naturally. After all, he wasn't trying to look good for her.

Collin snatched his book bag off the floor and left his room, descending the staircase with his usual flourish of thunder. He took the last five steps at once. "No time for breakfast—gotta go." Without waiting for a reply he headed for the door.

"Collin, calm down." His mother intercepted him, carrying a brown paper bag. At least when she packed his lunch she had the sense to not label or decorate it. "There's a bagel in there for your breakfast, since you're in such a hurry," she said, handing it over. "You'll be right home after school, won't you?"

"Mom, I already told you; there's a performance today." Collin stuffed the lunch into his bag, which was already bulging with the many books, binders, and other accessories necessary to a freshman in high school. "You said you and Dad were going to come this time."

His mother frowned, pushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "Collin, you know how your father is about these things," she said. "He's not very enthusiastic about it."

"I know, but it's important." This wasn't any performance, after all. This was a performance being given by the most beautiful, intelligent, talented girl in his grade—no, the school. Maybe the cosmos. "I can't miss it, and I think you two should come, too." He shrugged. "Everyone else promised."

"Hey!" Collin's the oldest of Collin's sisters, Daryl, called from the street. "Come on, or we'll be late!"

"Coming! Mom, please." Before she could reply he turned and ran down the driveway, joining his three sisters on the sidewalk. He waved good-bye to his mother. "I'll see you later!"

"Bye Mom!" the three girls called in unison.

Their mother smiled, waving back as her children started down the street to school. Once they were gone, however, she allowed herself a sigh. She returned to the house to begin her daily chores.

"So what's so special about this ‘performance'?" Samantha, the middle sibling at eleven years old, asked as they walked. "Is it your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Collin protested, keeping at the head of the group. "It's Tess."

Daryl, the eldest of his sisters at age 13, snorted humorously. "Yeah, it's his girlfriend all right."

"I said she's not. We're just friends."

"Yeah—just because our dad's famous."

Collin raised his head and didn't respond. He didn't need to prove anything to them. "Anyway, you'll come, won't you? Marlene and Vincent already promised me—we should all go."

Daryl shrugged and pulled at her short brunette hair; he found her indifference annoying. "Sure. She's good, after all. But it's just going to be another Avalanche story, right? It's like she's obsessed with them."

"’It's how history gets told,'" he quoted. "If no one told it, we'd forget."

"I don't think anyone's ever gonna forget," nine-year-old Elly added, "with our dad around."

"Good point."

Nine a.m. and it was already past eighty degrees Fahrenheit. Marlene sighed, contemplating the office water-cooler; she wondered how much of a mess she'd make if she attempted to pour its contents out onto her head. Probably more of a mess than she was willing to clean up. But it would feel good, this being the third day of an unbearable heat wave. Though summer in Rocket City was never unpleasant in terms of temperature, she was beginning to wish that she lived in the North.

The phone rang. She stared at the offending device for a moment, as if reaching to take the receiver was too much of an effort. Thoughts of her paycheck eventually motivated her to answer. For the past three years Marlene Wallace had worked for Phoenix Lattice, the largest organization left after the Upheaval with Meteor sixteen years ago. The company had taken over the place of Shin-ra Inc., though no one dared voice the similarity, as if the name of the ancient rulers was in itself an icon of bad luck. The President of Phoenix Lattice had, in fact, made many drastic improvements to her predecessor's methods: the company controlled every aspect of life in Rocket City, from the water to the stock market, but instead of all that power in the hands of one man (or in this case, one woman) the company was also ruled by a cabinet, consisting of citizens elected from the city's four provinces. No new laws or ordinances were implemented without consent from all of them. This caused the company to behave more like a democracy, without including words like "government" which made people nervous.

Governments in the new world never lasted long.

Presently, however, Marlene wasn't worried about the politics she was aiding. Her prime concern was making sure she kept accurate messages for her boss. Organization had never been a problem for her—ever since her childhood she'd been very good with numbers and dates. Though secretary work wasn't glamorous, she was good at it, and the pay was excellent.

As soon as Marlene hung the phone up it rang again. "Oh, hello Shera," she said once the voice's identity was revealed. "Hmm? Of course I am. I promised Collin I would. 4:00, wasn't it? Sure. I can try. Okay, okay. I'll see you there. Bye." She hung up the phone and stood, stretching a bit. "This isn't going to be easy." With a sigh she knocked on the door of her boss's office. "It's Marlene."

"Come in."

She twisted the knob and stepped inside the small, cramped office. Three of the office walls were lined with various computer monitors, printers, fax machines, and other equipment. The fourth wall was decorated with mostly pictures, each about the same size, meticulously hung around the small window. Marlene reminded herself every time she entered that there was such a thing as someone even more careful than her.

That someone was sitting in a wheeled office chair, staring at a paper on the desk as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Every once and a while his eyes shifted to the screen to view his work. Marlene just watched for a moment, impressed by the speed he was able to type at—greater than her own. She often joked that he should become her secretary.

"Who called?" Vincent Valentine flicked his head to the left, removing the dark bangs from his eyes and meeting her gaze briefly in one smooth motion. Though he returned to his typing, the golden digits of his left hand clicking, she knew he was still listening.

"That was Shera," she replied. "There's that performance today, remember? Starts at four. Collin's friend is in it, but he's having trouble convincing his dad."

Vincent hummed thoughtfully. "That will be difficult."

"Yeah, tell me about it. He's not as open-minded about it as you are." She chuckled with good humor. "Kinda funny, isn't it? You used to be the last person I'd call open-minded."

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Things change."

"Yes." Marlene could still remember the first time she'd met Vincent Valentine, former Avalanche member and a Turk before that. She'd been only seven years old, but somehow she'd been able to comprehend how different he was. It wasn't just his arm—her father, after all, had had a machine gun grafted to his own. He suffered from a pain deeper than loneliness, deeper than guilt, and she'd seen that. But she wasn't afraid. And from that moment, they'd become friends. Even now, though her adoptive family was caring and encouraging, somehow she always felt that Vincent knew her best.

"I suppose she wants me to talk to him," Vincent was saying, saving his work before shutting the program down. "I don't think he'll like the idea."

"No. Especially...." Marlene bit her lip. "Actually, Collin told me what Tess's piece is about. And...he's not going to like it. I can tell you that already."

The man frowned, raising his red eyes to meet hers. "Oh? Another story about us?"

None of Avalanche's existing members spoke the name they'd once held anymore.  Early on they'd realized that most people connected that old group to the catastrophes surrounding Meteor, and were loathe to be reminded of them.  "Yeah. The word around the school is that she's amazing, but her topic's a little controversial."

"I can't imagine it being any worse then when she tried to convince everyone that Rufus was still alive."

Marlene cringed. "Actually..."

"Never mind. I want to be surprised." Vincent stood, following her earlier example by stretching a bit. "I'll talk to him. We're meeting for lunch, after all. It might be best if you let me handle this alone." He shrugged. "I think he already knows what your opinion is."

"I think everyone already knows what my opinion is," she replied cheerfully, hoping to get a chuckle, or at least a smile, from him.

Her efforts were awarded with the former. "True. Anyway, I have an appointment to meet with the engineers. You'll take care of everything while I'm gone, won't you?"

"Of course." Marlene smiled, returning to her desk. A moment later Vincent left his office with some papers of his. She watched him leave, as always a bit awed by how smooth and perfect his movements were. She didn't know anyone quite like him.

But then, Vincent had once been a very different person. In the past sixteen years many changes had taken place other than the shortening of his hair and the improvement of his wardrobe to include colors other than black; his personality had undergone a severe transformation. The cold, isolated shell that had once trapped so many of his emotions inside had been long since dissolved, revealing a man who was intelligent, thoughtful, and sometimes even charming. And handsome. In all the years she’d known him those same sleek features never changed, never aged. He was the envy of many of his comrades. Marlene smiled a bit at the thought of his youthfulness; she didn't mind admitting to herself that for quite some time she'd even had a small crush on him.

Of course Marlene hadn't known Vincent before they met three years after Meteor. She knew, however, about Chaos, and his history with Lucretia. As far as she could tell there was no trace of the demon inside him at all anymore—he hadn't transformed in nearly two decades. Though the gold claw was a constant reminder of a tragic past, it seemed that he had all but left those regrets behind. And because of that, she was very proud of him.

They won't like this performance the voice of reason told her. A piece about Sephiroth…even I'm skeptical. But it's so important to Collin, especially since his birthday is coming up. She sighed. I hope...he comes this year.

Collin could barely pay attention during class. He wasn't interested in geography. Though he very much appreciated the earth and all it had to offer, he never understood why men had to be so concerned with mapping and charting every inch of it. Who cared which regions belonged to who? Since the Fallout there were only seven inhabitable regions left: Rocket City, Wutai, Cosmo Canyon, Mideel, and the new cities of Sanctum, Alverdon, and Calbren. No contact had been made with Mideel for over a decade, however, as the jungles surrounding it had grown to become even more dense than before the Fallout. All the other great cities had been utterly destroyed, claimed by the planet itself. A world once populated by billions of people was now limited to several million. It seemed to Collin that memorizing the names of inhospitable mountain ranges was somewhat ridiculous.

"Class, please turn to page forty-seven in your books," called the teacher, Ms. Feinder. She was an unusually tall woman with curly brown hair and thin glasses, not quite past her prime but old enough to earn the name "Old hag" from her students. "All of the information in these tables will be on your final, Friday."

The class groaned in unison. Collin merely shrugged. Though he disliked most of his school subjects, his memory was impeccable. He glanced about the room, watching as his classmates hurried to write down the page number in their planners. His gaze was drawn inevitably to the back of the head of a girl sitting in the second row, three seats ahead: Tess Raven. She was fidgeting, as she always did in this class—they only class they shared. He smiled a bit to himself. She must be nervous about today, he thought. It'll be a big audience. Man, she's brave.

Tess Raven was a freshman, just as Collin was, but their similarities stopped there. She was a charming, quick-minded but not book-smart girl with short brown hair and dark, beautiful eyes. Collin, on the other hand, was independent, intelligent, and a bit shy. He'd spent nearly all of his adolescent life idolizing her from afar, waiting for a chance to speak to her. It had come during their second year of Junior High, when Tess joined the school Performance Ring. The class did everything from poetry, to songs, to short skits and interpretation speeches. Her first piece was about Avalanche, and since his father was one of its members, they'd formed an almost friendship as she questioned his family and friends. That was the closest he would ever get to Tess Raven, though. She was too much for him. Not that Collin was disliked in his grade; he simply didn't find it necessary to make an effort to impress anyone until she showed up.

"Attention teachers, this is the Principal," came the announcement over the loudspeaker. All heads turned upward, and the class immediately silenced. They waited expectantly. "Please turn on your classroom televisions to channel 3. The President of Phoenix Lattice is about to give an important message."

The sound of Ms. Feinder's clacking heels was the only sound in the room as she moved to the television mounted on the wall. Collin held his breath. The other students exchanged glances, as if they already knew the tidings they were about to receive. It was not often that the President herself gave speeches, especially at this time of the day. He prayed silently.

"We interrupt this broadcast for an important message from President Mathews," came the news voiceover, the camera focused on a desk with the Phoenix Lattice insignia marked on its surface. The President, Cassandra Mathews, was a slim, moderately attractive woman with dark hair and a fair complexion. Her face was grim.

"Good afternoon, residences of Rocket City," she began, and Collin could only close his eyes, absorbing her words with silent grief. Somehow, he already knew. The thought of it made his blood run cold. "I'm afraid I come before you as the bearer of unfortunate and shocking news. For the past eighteen months the settlement of Vandalee has been under construction, on the southern shore of this continent. We received word this morning, however, that the entire colony has been destroyed." The class exchanged more glances. "This was caused primarily by a clan of wandering New Griffins from the southern islands." Here the President paused, her manner becoming increasingly solemn. "Ten thousand of our citizens were involved in the colonization effort. So far we have only been informed of fourteen survivors."

The boy behind Collin suddenly leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair. "Who?" he shouted at the screen, near tears. "Who? My father was—"

"Benny, calm down," one of his friends tried to assure him. "I'm sure—"

"Aren't they going to say who survived?"

"What about the Griffins? Are they coming here?"

The class began to fall into chaos, and Collin moved to the front of the room so that he could hear the rest of the broadcast. "—to the family members of those involved," the President was saying. "Of course, project Vandalee has been canceled, and all travel outside of the city has been suspended until further notice. As of right now there is no indication that the New Griffin Clan will be heading north, but all citizens are urged to remain calm and review emergency procedures with their families."

"That’s the third one in sixteen years, isn’t it?" said Tess. Collin started, paying attention so closely to the broadcast that he hadn't noticed her presence at his side. "All of them destroyed by the planet, just like..."

Like Midgar, and all the original cities. Nibelheim, and Junon, and North Corel... "I don't understand," he admitted, staring at the screen. "Why? Why would the planet...?"

"I don't know. But there must have been a reason…."

"Yeah." Collin sighed, and had a sudden thought. "What about your performance? After this, they might want you to cancel."

"I can't cancel now," Tess replied instantly. "This is my last chance to use the stage before they close down for the summer. I have to."

He nodded, wondering if he should have said anything more. He settled with silence, watching as the President completed her report and then wished her viewers a safe evening. Collin wondered vaguely if his father had heard the report, and what his reaction had been. When the regular news came back on he turned off the TV and helped Ms. Feinder in calming the class down.

"Hey, Collin?" Daryl asked as the four siblings walked home together after school. "I'm sorry about Tess's performance."

"Yeah. The Principal didn't think it'd be appropriate after everything...but he did reschedule." Collin kept his head up, determined to remain positive. "For Saturday. I feel bad, but it's better than nothing, right? This way I'll have more time to work on Dad."

"You're right. Saturday’ll be good—your birthday." Daryl adjusted the bag on her shoulder, then thumped her brother on the back and began to run. "I'll bea'cha home!" she called, sprinting down the sidewalk.

"Hey! Wait!" He gave chase, their two younger sisters running to catch up with twin shouts.

Marlene sighed, folding the letter and replacing it in the envelope. She dropped it reluctantly into the trash. "Ms Kisaragi won't be coming," she told Vincent, who had returned from his meeting and was taking a momentary break before returning to his work. "She thinks we shouldn't be dwelling on the past. I don't understand—you all are her friends."

Vincent, who was leaning against her desk, shook his head slowly. "Maybe, but I think I understand her feelings somewhat. We keep meeting every year, but what good does it do? We all have our own lives now. Whatever might have connected us back then has gone, somehow." His crimson eyes moved slowly to gaze out the open window. "I don't blame her. She wants to forget it all, and go on with her life."

Marlene paused, noting the tone of his voice. "You're...not upset, are you Vincent? Do you wish I wouldn't do this anymore?" Every year Marlene had taken it upon herself to contact every one of the remaining Avalanche members, arranging the meetings and keeping everyone together. She simply couldn't understand why they wouldn't want to—once they had been an inseparable team, best friends and allies. They'd saved the world; what reason had they to split up? Wasn't it important to remember?

Vincent didn't answer immediately. "I appreciate what you've done for all of us," he started. "If it wasn't for your efforts, we would have lost contact with Yuffie and Nanaki a long time ago. But if Yuffie is tired of it...we might not be able to change her mind." He paused. "I think Nanaki will not come this year, either, as his journey would require him traveling through where Vandalee once was. He also has his cubs to tend to. It would be dangerous, if the Griffin Clan is on the move in that area."

Cid puffed on his cigarette. He didn't smoke as much now as he had once, but now it was late, and he was in a bad mood. "I'm not up to this counsel shit," he muttered—he'd been telling himself that for the past sixteen years, and yet he couldn't bring himself to quit. Though he didn't know much about politics and business, his experience had saved Rocket City from numerous threats before. None of his knowledge had helped Vandalee, though. He hadn’t expected something as sudden as this. And now, he had to explain to the Phoenix Lattice Counsel why the planet had terminated their project.

He didn't know why. He didn't have all the answers. He didn't know why hundreds of monsters had shown up after Meteor, destroying as much of civilization as they could, or why they had shown up now after so long an absence. As far as he was concerned Mother Nature was a bitch with a sick sense of humor.

And then that damn performance. Just after Vincent had convinced him to attend the damn thing, he'd gotten a call from Shera saying it was canceled. Not that he argued the reasoning—it was hardly appropriate after a massive slaughter to even speak of Shin-ra or Sephiroth or Avalanche, all three names sources of bad luck. He was annoyed, however, because most likely he'd change his mind about going over the course of the week, which would mean everyone else trying to change his mind back again.

In any case, it was late, and he was exhausted.

By the time Cid reached home his four children had gone to bed. Marlene had as well—she and Vincent both lived in the house's extra rooms, making them one big happy family. He was glad to have them, as their salaries more than covered their expenses, leaving more money in the "family" bank account. Not only that, but with four kids, he definitely needed the assistance.

Shera was sitting on the couch, and upon further inspection he found that she had fallen asleep. Vincent was sitting in the chair opposite her, reading from a special bulletin distributed by the company concerning that morning's incident. He looked up as Cid entered. "Welcome back."

"God damn, what a day." Cid dropped heavily into another of the living room's chairs, smashing his cigarette into a conveniently placed ashtray. "Everyone's in an uproar. You heard, right?" He groaned when Vincent simply indicated his reading material. "Whatever. What do you think?"

"I think maybe we should give up trying for a while," Vincent said carefully. "Do you realize that, over the past years, out of six projects we've lost three colonies?"

"I know, I know. But what else can we do?" He rubbed his eyes wearily. "This city is growing too damn fast for its own good. We need more room. We need another damn city."

"Be that as it may, the planet is not ready to let us yet."

Cid groaned again. "What a mess. And with Collin's birthday coming up, too. Marlene told you about Yuffie?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes. I was there when she read the letter."

"Don't blame the poor girl. She's got problems of her own."

"We all do." He paused, as if unsure of mentioning something. Cid waited, knowing that the man would spit it out eventually. "I had a strange feeling today," he murmured at last, glancing at Shera to make sure she really was asleep. "Just about the time that Vandalee was destroyed."

"Feeling?" Cid didn't like the sound of that. Vincent's instincts were usually dead on. "What kind of feeling?"

"Eerie. Like there's something more to this than just a Griffin raid." He set the bulletin aside and leaned forward. "Didn't you feel it? Like something...cold."

"No." Now he definitely didn't like the sound of it.

Vincent considered for a moment before climbing to his feet. "I might just be paranoid, but still...have them keep and eye out. We can't take chances."

Cid nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'll let you know when they recover the footage tapes. Just don't mention your spooky stuff to anyone, okay? They're worked up enough."

"Of course. Good night, Cid."

"G-night, Vince." He gently rocked his wife awake, and together they made their way upstairs. As Shera entered the bathroom to brush her teeth—and do whatever it was that women took so long in doing before bed—Cid moved to open the windows. I'll have to get those damn air-conditioners in soon, he reminded himself. Tomorrow's going to be a hot one. He leaned against the window frame, staring absently into the dark night. His gaze was drawn to the canopy of sky, and the stars that dotted it like tiny jewels. Summer nights were always the most beautiful. He sighed, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

But then his senses caught something else. A chill ran up his bare arms, even as there was no breeze. He frowned, remembering what Vincent had told him only minutes before. "Weird," he muttered, unconsciously searching the streets below. Suddenly he found himself wondering if the gun in his dresser drawer was loaded. Just when he was about to dismiss the feeling as simple paranoia over the New Griffin incident, he detected a faint "warking" sound.

A chocobo? There haven't been any chocobos around here for years. Cid leaned further outside, finally catching sight of a dark figure coming down the street. He squinted against the night. It did look like a chocobo—two of them, one of them being ridden by a man.

"Cid?" Shera called from the bathroom. "Is something wrong?"

"Someone riding a chocobo," he replied, frowning deeply. "Strange, huh? Haven't seen something like that in a while." His curiosity gradually darkened into concern when he realized that the rider was heading in their direction.

"Someone we know?" She was standing beside him now, watching as the chocobos stopped in front of their house, warking softly.

"Dunno." Cid tried to get a better look, but it was too dark outside. He watched anxiously as the man dismounted, checking the number on their mailbox. Then, as if noticing their presence, he turned his head upward. Even in the dead of night his glowing Mako eyes shone clearly.

Cid muttered several particularly vulgar curses under his breath. "Shera, stay here," he told her, quickly closing the window and covering it with the curtains. He moved to the dresser drawer and unlocked it, removing the small handgun he'd bought years ago to replace his spear. It was loaded.

"Cid, what's going on?" Shera asked warily, sitting on the bed. "Who is that? What—"

"Don't worry—this is just in case." He shoved the gun into the back of his belt and headed for the door. "Just stay here, alright? I won't be long."

"But Cid—"

"Just stay." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

To Next Chapter

To Chocobo’s Nest