Chapter 3: "All The Way Up"

"Well, here we are."The group stopped, gazing up at the central Shin-ra headquarters with a look of mystified apprehension. Up here they could see the night sky for once, but its silver lights were nothing compared to the startling brilliance of the metal structure, lit up like billions of neon fireflies. It was an awe-inspiring sight, but at the same time oppressive, exciting a chill of fear in all of them.

All save Lucca. She led them confidently around the side of the building, to a small, unmarked, unguarded door. There was a slot for an ID card but that wasn't a problem for her, and she waved them inside. "We can't just stroll through the front door," she said dryly, keeping her voice low. "We'll take the stairs up to floor 59 and then the elevator to 67."

Locke gaped. "Floor 59?"

"Yup. All the way up." She took them down a short hall that opened into a thin stairwell, dimly lit. The steps seemed to lead up endlessly into a tunnel of steel and iron. "Try not to make too much noise—not many people use these or even know about them, and if we're found they may get suspicious. Just let me do the talking."

Edgar took particular care in changing from his elaborate daywear to the more comfortable blue suit he preferred. Each button was a struggle between normalcy and perfection, so much so that the maids all left him out of frustration at how tedious the matter became. He didn't care. Not even that day's cycle of endless meetings and spirit-dulling discussions had worked against his euphoria. Everything was going to be perfect; simply perfect.

Perfect, that is, until the soldier appeared at his door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, your highness," he said politely, "but the President has requested that you come speak with him."

He finished buttoning the silver cufflinks, and set upon straightening every wrinkle from the cotton shirt. "Is it absolutely necessary?" he asked, annoyed.

"Uh, actually, it is, sir."

Edgar sighed, pulling on his jacket. "I have just prepared a very elaborate dinner—" he said with deliberate slowness "—and plan to share it with a remarkably beautiful young woman. If you're about to say something that will ruin my evening, I will personally de-man you where you stand." He cocked an eye as the man began to stutter. "I'm sure you understand my meaning. Forgive me for being subtle, but as a member of the civilized society I am forced to limit my use of colorful language."

"Y-Yes, sir." The guard's face contorted into such an expression of disconcertment that the king would have laughed had he been in grander spirits. "But, you see, sir, I, that is—"

"It's all right, it's all right." He groaned, rubbing his eyes as if a sudden weariness had crept upon him. "Do you know what he wants?"

"No, sir," he admitted, head ducking with obvious fear of the punishment his master had promised. "But I think it has something to do with a meeting."

"Just great." But there was nothing he could do, and with a sigh followed the soldier out of his room. "All right, let's go."

"Edgar—there you are," President Shin-ra greeted heartily, clapping him on the shoulder. "I hope I haven't pulled you out of something important."

"Actually…" He considered truth only a moment. "…No. Not really."

"Good; this is more important than most things, I expect. I've called an important meeting."

Splendid. He entered the conference room with a gloomy air that only worsened as he took stock of who was already there: Heidegger, chief of the police force and military; Palmer, head of the space program and technological department; Reeve, in charge of city planning; and Scarlet. He'd never figured out what exactly it was that Scarlet did, only that she was titled the President's official "assistant". What that consisted of was anyone's guess. Feeling defeated and rather perturbed, he sunk sullenly into the chair reserved for him.

The door opened then, and Edgar glanced up hopefully. He smiled as Nadia entered, who was clothed in a more formal dress than one she normally wore. Immediately her eyes sought his, and she shrugged. He waited for her to take her seat beside him before whispering "Sorry about this, My Lady. Another time, perhaps?"

She nodded, and he detected a very real look of disappointment in her eyes. "We'll talk later."

"I'm very glad you're all here," President Shin-ra started, folding his hands on the table. "You see, we have many things to discuss."

Locke sunk to the floor of the elevator, still breathing heavily and utterly exhausted. "If I ever see another stair," he complained, "I swear I'm going into a coma."

"At least we made it," Tifa said, leaning against the glass. The city stretched far out on the horizon, dark and foreboding with the slightest hint of orange sunset beyond. "This elevator will take us all the way to floor 67. Right, Lucca?"

She nodded. "I can get you in, but getting out will be harder. If you take the stairs they can anticipate and block you off. You might have to charge out the front door."

Sabin watched her for a moment. "You're not coming with us?"

"Nope."

The elevator beeped and then stopped, and Locke leapt to his feet as the door slid open. "This is it," he muttered, the first to step out onto the floor. He surveyed everything with a careful eye: the level was comprised of stainless steel and glass windows and under the vigil of several armed guards. Three hallways left in different directions.

"Follow me and don't look stupid," Lucca instructed, taking the lead. They fell into step obediently. A moment of tenseness came and passed as they entered the center corridor, hoping the guards would stay silent. They did, and the group went on unmolested.

Lucca took them to a small storage room at the end of the hall, out of view of any curious passer-by. "Okay," she said authoritatively, "this is the plan. Cloud and I will go find where they took everyone, while Tifa and Locke try to find the weapon's locker—I'm sure it's on this floor, somewhere. No one should bother you, and if they do, just say you're with Lucca on project CC00. Sabin will stay here." She met his eyes, showing that she understood something the others didn't. He nodded—he didn't want anyone from Shin-ra recognizing him. "Find the stuff and bring it here, and then I'll find you a path out."

"Why are you helping us?" Tifa asked abruptly; a pit of anxiety entered her stomach, a dull fear she couldn't explain. "You're Shin-ra."

She cast a quick glance at Cloud symbolically. "I think you already know. Now let's be quick." Without another word she slipped out the door.

Locke shrugged and followed, then Cloud. Tifa glanced back at Sabin. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked.

He nodded. "Go on. I'll be fine."

"Tifa, hurry up," Locke insisted, dragging her out. Sabin and Lucca were already halfway down the hall. "This place gives me the creeps—never liked Shin-ra HQ. It's the slums for me, even though there's lots of valuable stuff here." He grinned sideways, leading the way for both of them. "Maybe I'll scout out all the stuff I missed last time."

"You've been here before?" she asked, frowning.

"Yeah, but for now let's just worry about the weapons; Glenn's sword is a damn important one."

They made their way through twisting corridors and small rooms, Locke claiming all along that he knew exactly where they were; his sense as a "treasure hunter" would lead them precisely. Tifa was beginning to grow annoyed when he declared: "Ah ha! Found it." He pointed to a cabinet sunk into the wall. It was locked. "I bet this is it."

Tifa looked dubious, and she crossed her arms. "Can you open it?"

"Sure I can open it." He pulled a small devise out of his pocket, inserting it into the lock. "I designed this myself," he bragged, grinning broadly as the mechanism clicked and the door swung open. "Can open any lock, big or small, young, old, whatever."

"Impressive," she conceded, pushing past him to view the interior. It was deeper than it seemed, and cluttered with a variety of guns and swords. "Not bad—you found it."

"Told ya."

She began pulling things out of the locker, instructing Locke to keep an eye out for soldiers. "This stuff's interesting," she commented, pushing aside several contraptions she couldn't identify. She came upon a broad sword, covered in a lavishly decorated sheath. "This your friend's?"

"Sure is." He helped her take the weapon out of the heap of metal, laying it carefully out on the floor. "See what else is in there."

"Hmm…I like these." She discovered a pair of gloves, each decorated with three sharpened claws. They fit comfortably over her hands. "They look like something Sabin would wear. I'll bring him a pair, too." She hooked both pairs on her belt.

Locke nodded absently, sticking his head inside the cabinet. "Hey, hush up for a second. I hear something." He pushed the weapons away from him, trying to get further inside. "There's a grate in the ceiling, like an airduct. There's voices."

"Voices?" Tifa glanced about nervously, then moved closer. "Can you tell what they're saying?" She knew they shouldn't stay out in the open, but the prospect of spying on Shin-ra excited her interest.

"Hold on." She could hear him rattling something, then a loud bang that made her cringe. "Okay, got it," he called. "I'm going in."

"Try to be a little more quiet, okay?"

"Will do." Bracing his back against one side and his hands and feet against the other, Locke was able to pull himself slowly up the small air duct. The closed space didn't bother him; he'd been in every situation known to man already, so shimmying up a thin tube wasn't at all that difficult for him. After about a minute of steady travel he reached another gate that took a moment to remove, and from there emerged into a slightly larger horizontal duct. The voices were louder now, and a little clearer. Being careful to keep absolutely silent he followed them, trying to make out what was being said.

"…A very rare specimen," a rich voice was saying. "One of that legendary race: an Ancient. Or, to be precise, a Cetra. Recently obtained from the slums. She's been taken to Professor Hojo's lab for study."

Locke frowned, shifting uncomfortably in the duct. He kept going, and finally found the voices to be coming from another duct leading up to the next floor. He stopped to listen.

"Also, there's a black man we assume to be the leader of Avalanche, and the SOLDIER Hunter we've been tracking for quite some time. It hasn't been determined why all these important characters were associating, but at least we have them. Once we've questioned the Hunter, we'll have him executed."

Locke muttered a curse, making his way back down the narrow passage. Tifa was waiting when he slid out of the cabinet and onto the floor. "Well?" she asked impatiently. "What'd you find?"

"We've gotta bust my friend out," he said briskly, slinging the blade over his back—he grunted with the effort—and closing the small door. "They know who he is, and they'll kill him."

"What?" She hurried to catch up as he strode quickly down the hall. "What's going on? What are you talking about?"

But he didn't answer and kept going, trying to retrace the path they'd taken. Somehow things seemed unfamiliar to him. He thought he'd found the right way when a guard appeared and ordered him to stop. "I'm with Lucca," he replied smoothly. "Project CC00."

The soldier eyed him darkly. "I was informed of that project's cancellation this morning. You look like some of the others, but still…" He shook his head. "I cannot let you pass."

"Oh, wait," the treasure hunter resumed, not missing a beat. "Did I say CC00? I mean CC01. It's new—just started. Just ask Lucca, and she'll tell you. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

The guard moved like he was going to stop him, so he did the only thing he could think of to do—punched him in the face. As the guard tumbled onto his back Locke grabbed Tifa's wrist and began to sprint, turning a sharp corner.

"Locke, are you crazy?" Tifa cried, trying to keep his pace. "You're going to get us both killed!"

"Better'n being caught!" he hollered back, skidding to a halt in front of the storage room. "Get in with your boyfriend; I'll be back soon." Before she could resist he shoved her inside and slammed the door.

Cloud passed without questions into the area of prisoners, Lucca a step behind. He found it slightly curious that no one had stopped him for identification by now, and assumed it was because of the blue SOLDIER glare in his eyes. Either way, it didn't matter. He moved quickly from cell to cell, trying to locate some sign of the girl that had helped him.

"Hey, Cloud." Lucca stood on her tiptoes, peering into the cell. "This a friend of yours?"

He glanced through the bars himself, and snorted. It was the green-haired man. "Hell no. He's the one that tried to kill me."

In the next cell, Barret raised his head, having been drawn by the sound of their voices. He strode carefully to the door. "Hey, who's there?"

"Are you Barret?" Cloud asked, facing him. A strange look crossed the black man's face, but after catching Lucca's eye he only nodded.

"Yeah, Barret," he grunted. "Where's Tifa?"

"Nearby. I'm here to get you out." He checked the cell next to him, but it was empty. "Where's Aeris?"

"Who?"

Lucca took out her identification card, sliding it through the slot. With a soft clink the door opened. "Be quiet and do what I say," she advised as Barret stepped out. Then she went back to release Glenn, who remained silent. "They must've taken the girl somewhere else."

Cloud moved down another cell, and there came across a red beast curled on the floor. It was built like a cat of some sort with a long tail, which appeared to be on fire. As he looked in, the animal raised its head inquisitively.

"Don't worry about Red," Lucca muttered, noticing his interest in the creature. "He's going to be in one of Professor Hojo's experiments one of these days. Just leave'm alone." She started back with Barret and Glenn following. "Stay quiet and keep close, and if they ask you questions, don't answer—I'm in charge."

"Quite an attitude you've got," Barret grunted.

They rounded a corner, and met head on with Locke. Lucca blinked, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. "Locke!" she hissed fiercely. "What are you doing here?"

"You found everyone? Good—they were talking about executions, and they know about Avalanche, big guy." The black man glared at him with exasperation, but he went on. "We've gotta get out of here, and I mean fast. You got the other girl?"

"Girl? What girl? Why?"

"She's important," he insisted. "I overheard a conference. Something about Professor Hojo—"

"New plan," Lucca interrupted. It surprised them that she could hold her own against men older than her, but at the moment none of them contradicted. "If Hojo wants something with her, it can't be good. Cloud and I are going to get her while the rest of you find a way out of here. Get to the first floor and plow out, if you can. We'll follow. Understand?"

"You heard her," Barret snarled, annoyed by her authority but obedient. "C'mon, men—let's haul ass outta here." He pushed past all of them. "I ain't going back to that damn cell."

Lucca and Cloud again made their way without intervention through the 67th floor. "Here we are: Professor Hojo's lab." Lucca pushed the door open and ordered Cloud to remain put outside. He did so grudgingly. As soon as she entered he could hear voices arguing, and peeked inside to see her speaking to two men in white lab coats. Their words were too far away to be understood.

"Hey, Strife."

Cloud jerked around, expecting someone familiar, but was surprised to see one of the young lab assistants. He was watching him curiously. "I thought you got the axe, big fella."

"Just paying a visit," he replied gruffly, not completely understanding his meaning. "And I wasn't cut—I quit." How does this man know me?

The assistant seemed to find this very humorous. "Yeah, sure thing. Drugged up again?" He patted him on the shoulder. "Stay outta trouble."

Cloud snatched the man's arm and pushed him away—hard, so that his back slapped painfully against the metal dome of a specimen container. "Don't touch me," he hissed, annoyed. But then he paused, staring at the container he'd thrown him into. It was bolted with several locks, and had a name printed in bold above the lighted viewing window: JENOVA.

"Jenova…" The name resounded like silent thunder in his mind, sending a tremor through him with violent force. Without thinking he stepped back until the wall held him still. His body shook. Through the tiny circular window he could see the contained creature: a freak or monster of indescribable countenance, horribly twisted pinkish flesh forming the shape of a woman. Her eyes were open, bloodshot and wide. They stared at him—stared through him, stirring the darkest recesses of his thoughts like the hand of a probing demon. For several moments of endless eternity he could not move nor breathe, until a man shouting jarred him from the spell.

"Cloud, get away from that!" Lucca shoved him suddenly, a laughable effort, her being dwarfed by his size. "You're not supposed to go near that—it's dangerous."

"Stay away from me!" Cloud pushed her aside with half the effort yet twice the force she'd used, and she would have fallen had she not collided with another figure. Ignoring the world around he strode quickly to the container and shattered the glass easily under a heavy fist. Immediately the lab was crazed with the wailing of emergency sirens, or perhaps the cries of the beast itself. He was about to reach inside the dome, but the alarms were soon accompanied by the firing of rifles as soldiers flooded into the facility. Unscathed he retreated into the inner laboratory.

"Stop firing!" Lucca demanded, waving her arms crazily. Aeris was crouched at her feet, startled and stiff from being confined, but unharmed. While Lucca was busy partitioning the soldiers she snuck away, trying to follow Cloud.

The lab technicians were in a panic, scrambling dumbly about as the sirens blared against their ears. Aeris ignored them, trying to spot the man she knew was there. Her eye caught sight of a shifting of movement, and she turned just as a figure jumped onto the platform elevator. She raced over but it was too late: he was already on his way to the higher floor. "Cloud!" She pounded on the glass that surrounded the shaft, hoping to alert his attention, but he was put out of view now and she couldn't see if he'd heard.

Lucca scrambled into the lab, having fled from the soldiers. "Great," she muttered, joining Aeris. "Cloud's gone, and I'm a traitor. Damn it all." She ran a hand through her short purple hair, and adjusted her glasses. "We've got to get out and find everyone—if the soldiers got here this quickly, they'll be in trouble, too."

"Cloud's the one in trouble," Aeris said quietly, her hands still pressed against the glass. "Do you know him? Can you tell me what's wrong with him?"

"Later. Follow me." They moved quickly through the lab and into another hall that led to a flight of stairs. The rattle of gunfire grew louder as they descended. Just as Lucca expected there were soldiers scurrying about everywhere, handing out guns and ammunition. Fortunately they were too busy with their task to worry about a scientist and a woman running about, and the pair made their way back to the others by way of another stairwell.

"It's about time," Tifa said, crouched at a corner. There were soldiers gathered in the adjacent hall, which Barret was now struggling to hold off with his gun arm. Locke was aiding him with a small weapon of his own, Sabin and Glenn nearby. "We were getting worried—where's Cloud?" She glanced behind them, hoping to see his familiar figure. "What happened?"

"I told you to go to the first floor," Lucca admonished, but by now she was running out of steam. Her voice was also going hoarse.

"We tried," Sabin explained. "They blocked off the elevators, and we're pretty much surrounded. If we leave we'll get shot."

"Maybe we can go up," Aeris suggested. "Cloud went that way."

Tifa looked the girl over, seeming to consider something. It passed quickly. "Why isn't he with you?" she asked. "Shouldn't he be with you?"

She shook her head slowly. "No; he's chasing something." Her eyes closed briefly, then reopened with a new glare in them. "Something is here. He's chasing it."

The officials and executives all rose from their chairs as the immense doors to President Shin-ra's office were opened. A man was there, the bodies of dead soldiers leading away from him: a red carpet of blood as proof of his passing rather than an announcement of his coming. In his stained hand he carried a polished metal blade, nearly seven feet in length. The light from its surface reflected in swirling, Mako-stained eyes.

"Who are you?" the President demanded, hands pressed to his desk. He stealthily activated the COM button that was sunk into the molding, but no response came. "That sword was on display," he went on, stalling for time. "It's part of my private collection. It belonged to the great Sephiroth."

The man laughed as he stepped into the room, finding the President's comment very funny. "So it did," he chuckled, an oppressive sound coming from deep within his chest. "So it does."

Edgar was among the delegates, and felt a strange chill. He recognized the man before them now, and could scarcely believe what was happening. "It's you," he said loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "I know you. You…you're supposed to be dead by now."

"I'm not," he snapped back in abrupt coldness. "Take a good look." He raised a hand, and a sourceless wind began to flow about them. The air grew cold. Edgar could feel a faint tingling in his flesh, like the dull energy of some electric devise. He pulled Nadia behind him, fearing what might come.

"Take a look at the power you gave me," the man went on, and the men and women shrieked in surprise as the lights exploded over their heads. "You're all fools. You think you have power. I have power. I am power." Edgar ducked his head as a shower of sparks fell on them. "Maybe it's time I made you understand that."

One of the ceiling beams broke loose, and crashed upon the President's desk with a loud clang that startled everyone. Edgar stared at it a moment; a realization came over him, the first of its kind: he was going to die. All of them were going to die: President Shi-ra, the officials, him and Nadia were all going to be slain by this deranged man. It filled him with a kind of morbid peace. It was almost amusing.

The man was coming closer now; his blade was alive with the reflected light from sparks of mounted electricity. His eyes were very cold. Somehow, though, Edgar wasn't afraid. He was immortal and invulnerable, strengthened by a determination that came from nowhere. Even if he died…but no, he couldn't die. It wasn't going to end that way. He was very sure of himself—he wouldn't die, not here.

The King stepped forward, tall and regal, as he faced this monstrosity. "That's enough," he said loudly, gathering himself to his full height. "As King of this city I demand you withdraw immediately."

"Edgar—" Nadia started, but he cast her a fierce gaze. She understood clearly, turning toward Reeve, the man beside her. "Start getting everyone out of here and out onto the balcony," she whispered. "There's a stairway that leads down a floor."

He nodded barely. "But Edgar…"

"He knows what he's doing. Just go."

The intruder's eyes shifted as the executives began to slide stealthily away, and his hand shifted about his sword's handle. But the President stayed by his daughter at the desk, and that was all that mattered. He glared at Edgar. "You have bravery to challenge me with only a worthless title as your weapon," he hissed. "Stand aside, puppet."

"I'm not the puppet," he retorted vehemently. "You are. Shin-ra used you all along. You're—"

He was cut off as a gloved hand curled roughly around his neck, suspending the breath in his lungs. A moment later he was caught in a searing pain as jolts of violent electricity ran through him. It only lasted an instant, and his body, wracked with agony and scarred with burns, dropped heavily to the marble floor.

Nadia shrieked, leaving her father's side to kneel at Edgar's. He was coughing and gasping at the same time but still conscious. "Can you hear me?" she asked hoarsely, clearing the strands of loose hair from his face. "Edgar? Edgar, please—"

"All right," he moaned, struggling to sit up. "I'm…all right."

"Like hell you are." Nadia rose to her feet, preparing to meet his attacker, but by now he'd moved on, heading slowly towards her father. "Hey!" She ran up to him, and despite her smaller stature confronted him anyway. "Stay away from my father!" she yelled in his face.

"Nuisance." He swung his fists, smashing her in the side of the head with such force that she crumpled to the ground and into unconsciousness. He kept heading toward the President.

Edgar rolled onto his stomach, dragging himself painfully across the marble to where Nadia lay. "You don't have to do this," President Shin-ra was saying, his voice high and fearful. "If it's money you want, or recognition, or power, I can grant it." Nadia was bleeding profusely out of her forehead and temple, as the man's metal armlets had scarred her flesh. He ignored his own struggle in pulling them both away from the deathly scene unfolding, refusing to look back.

"You're making a big mistake. I'm a very powerful man. You don't want to—" The President's voice was strangled by the sound of choking. Edgar tried not to listen. He crawled ungracefully around the corner of the receptionist's desk with Nadia in tow, bracing his back against its metal surface. The still unconscious girl he curled in his lap, enshrining her delicate form in his burned and trembling arms. "Be still," he whispered, even knowing she couldn't hear. He closed his eyes as the smell of blood filled the room. And he waited.

He could hear footsteps, very faint above the pounding of his own heart, and he waited to be discovered. He was fading unwillingly into unconsciousness. Panic aided him in staying awake a moment more, enough to hear the shuffled footsteps again, but he was weary and in pain. Tightening his embrace around Nadia he couldn't help but let the darkness claim him.

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