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"Teefa? Is there a last name that goes with that?" Smoke left Cid's partially opened lips after he spoke. Cocking his head to the side, his cigarette hanging loosely from the left corner of his mouth, the ex-pilot watched Tifa as she walked behind him and Vincent.
Tifa looked up quickly upon hearing her name, or at least something that sounded like it, spoken in the harsh voice of the man Vincent called Cid. "Lockheart."
"Tifa Lockheart." Vincent cast a quick glance back towards the girl. Outside in the gloom of Midgar, made brighter by the coming of the sun, he could make out the girl's face better than within the pollution of the bar. Her brown hair was passed her waist, tied back loosely midway down her back. Still, pieces of hair escaped, dancing across her somber face. Her large, chocolate eyes were glued to the ground when he looked back to her, no longer facing up towards the sky.
Something terribly sad about those eyes...
When he spoke her name a chill ran down her spine. Tifa frowned, keeping her line of vision upon the dirt covered path beneath their boot-clad feet. She glared up at him suddenly, as if she felt insulted by the tone he had used. Vincent sounded indifferent, cold, unsympathetic, like the man she wanted back more than anything didn't matter. By the time Tifa cast that icy stare in the tall man's direction, however, he had already turned around and never saw her expression.
"Why the hell did you break up my fight, anyways?" Cid took his cigarette diligently from out his mouth, looked at the smoldering bud and threw it away onto the ground with a scowl. "That jackass is lucky you came to stop me." Cid felt his cheek for the swell, which was now a slight rosy color, and flinched.
Vincent grinned faintly at Cid, showing bright white teeth against the rather dull appearance of Midgar. "You lost before you even stood up, Cid." Both of Vincent's hands were under his cloak again, gripping tightly onto something unseen. "Look at your face."
Cid abruptly stopped walking, looked at his reflection on the glass window of a store and smiled. Various bruises and scrapes stood out from his tanned face and blood trickled down from his nose. Wiping that away, his smile only widened. "Just a few scratches." He stroked his chin and poked at the new stubble starting to show. "Where the hell are we goin', anyway?"
Both Cid and Vincent glanced at each other, then back at Tifa, who stood but a few feet away.
"Sector 7. That's where my people are." Tifa, instead of casting her eyes away once again when Vincent looked upon her, stared back, holding his gaze steady with her own. And with that she noticed there was something almost familiar about those scarlet orbs of his. Tifa had first thought Vincent's irises to be simply red, but as she peered closer she could tell that there was a haunting golden glow about them in the hazy morning fog. But something almost familiar...
They reminded her of someone she knew. The same lingering sadness, the bitter pain of betrayal; the ghostly stare of someone who was indeed alive, but ceased existing long ago.
Finally she spoke again, her voice sounding clearer than before. "There I can explain to you what happened."
*
They passed the gloomy looking people that hung around the abandoned trains in semicircles. Further down the way, other people huddled before lit trashcans, ablaze with orange and yellow flames. For the first time since he had stepped foot within the walls of this city, Vincent realized just how icy the air was. Hadn’t it been warm just a short time ago? Wherever the dead ventured, so did the cold, apparently. He didn't mind it much, for lately everything felt cold to him. Cid was mumbling curses too fumbled together to be understood and Tifa was off ahead, taking lead to wherever it was that they were headed.
The light from the bonfires and the lingering blush of dawn caused the faces around the little group of three to glow softly. For a brief moment Vincent could have sworn those faces began to blend together to form ugly and distorted creatures. But once he shook his head the people's faces were whole again, though that strange glow still lingered.
"How much further?" Cid's voice called out somewhere ahead of Vincent. The ex-pilot was obviously annoyed, and didn't bother hiding it.
A few people casually turned their heads towards Cid when he spoke, as if they hadn't realized he and his companions had been there for some time. But as fast as those apathetic looks came, they vanished completely; the shadows of dawn did well in hiding most of the faces of the poor, but when the bonfires' blaze came up from below, their haggard expressions shown as plain as the fires of hell.
"We're almost there..." Tifa grunted as she pulled herself up over more debris and fallen parts of metal from the old train carts.
By the time the train station was in full view, the three of them were covered with the soot and dust of the train graveyard. Tifa's pale legs, which showed bare from under her long, black coat, had a number of scrapes (most of which were probably already there, but hadn't been noticed in the dark of night). She brushed her coat and smoothed out the wrinkles before she stood straight again.
"Ah..." Tifa sighed to herself. "Not too far from here, gentlemen." The girl brushed a few strands of hair hastily from out her vision, which then left a streak of dirt across her forehead down to her cheek. "Just try to blend in." She shot a small, amused glance back to Vincent and then turned around and began walking once more.
Vincent looked down at himself before continuing on, Cid close behind and mumbling a string of more jumbled words.
"Try to blend in, eh?" Cid managed a chuckle, then frowned and fumbled over a pipe on the ground. "I hope these damn people of hers can afford bounty hunters." Cid smiled at those last words. Bounty hunters. Yeah, that's me, all right... he thought dryly.
Vincent remained quiet, as he usually did whenever Cid complained. Though he couldn't help a small smile at his comrade's rather candid opinions. If - what was her name again? - Tifa and her people couldn't afford to pay, Vincent and Cid would be gone from this town and on the search for a new one. No reason to stay. Vincent was never one for philanthropy. But the girl did seem desperate. Looking for a loved one, was it? Someone special to her?
"Vincent!"
He stopped walking and snapped his head quickly in the girl's direction. Shortly after, Cid rammed into him from behind.
"This way!"
Tifa was further ahead than before, waving to him from her standing position near the platform, which Vincent guessed represented the train station. No train in sight, only one lonely looking man in uniform waiting forever for passengers to the invisible train.
A damn ghost town... Vincent was beginning to see why Cid doubted payment. Still, he went slowly along, now mostly out of curiosity of the surroundings than interest in their job.
The frosty air caused the hairs upon the back of his neck to stand on end. Not only did it appear a ghost town, but it felt most certainly like a city that had the majority of its population wiped out by some sort of plague. Deathly quiet. Vincent's frown deepened and he looked up again to see Tifa patiently waiting for him and Cid. Once he did reach the train station, though, she began walking again.
Was he toying with her or something? If he walked any slower... Tifa sighed slightly to herself, which came out in a puff of misty air. Of all the people she had to cross paths with, she hires the peculiar stranger with the unreadable mask. Though she supposed all bounty hunters were that way. Or had to be that way. Easier to do a job if no emotional attachment is there for your employers. Still, he could walk faster...
"How much further?" Cid called out once more.
"We're almost there!" Tifa's voice faded as she rounded another corner.
"Yeah, you said that already." Cid huffed, hugging himself. His blue jacket did very little for warmth and protection from the now bitter wind, which kissed his bare skin with icy lips. He watched apathetically as he let yet another cigarette fall from out his mouth, smoldering for only a few moments later after it bounced to the ground. "Damn cold." Cid glanced over to Vincent, who, despite the cold, allowed his red cloak to slip back from off his arms, finally revealing his left hand.
As the two rounded the same corner Tifa had once turned, the fathomless city of Midgar suddenly became even colder. Somewhere above the haze and gloom, Vincent could make out a sign with the letters S-E-C-T painted on them. Obviously meant to be "Sector 7", but the grime had completely blocked out the rest of the writing. Nevertheless, Tifa was home. As he and Cid officially stepped foot within the cold metal walls of Sector 7, Vincent half expected Tifa to be completely gone and only her soft voice leading them forward. For most of this journey it had been that way: Tifa off ahead, unseen, her lovely voice leading Vincent and Cid along like a siren's call.
But she was there, watching, staring at Vincent's left arm. Tifa didn't look surprised, or frightened, simply as forlorn as she always appeared. She nodded towards a particular street, some more of her chocolate colored hair falling into her face. "Down this street is my tavern. That's where we stay."
Vincent assumed that "we" meant her people. And though she did not ask, he could obviously see the question in her large, dark eyes as she continued to gaze at his left arm. From his elbow down shined the golden metal of a mechanical hand. Vincent arched those robotic fingers slightly, neither a moan nor a squeak accompanying it, only a musical hum. He almost seemed amused by her questioning eyes. His lips parted, as if he meant to answer that question, but Cid's harsh voice disrupted the two.
"Hey!" Cid was coming along now, still hugging himself and his teeth chattering as he spoke. "What the hell are you standin' here for? It's cold!" Cid stopped besides Vincent and rubbed his hands together, periodically blowing into them for much needed warmth. "Come on, Valentine. We don't got all damn day."
Without another word, Tifa began walking again, slower this time, looking back every now and then to make sure her two bounty hunters were following.
"Does she think we're gonna run off or something?" Cid shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and padded alongside Vincent.
Vincent glanced at him indifferently, but said nothing. No matter to him. Once they reached Tifa's bar they would get their assignment, bring back this man that seemed to be Tifa's life, collect their money and leave this forsaken City of Ghosts. As simple as that. Everything had to be as simple as that.
Before Tifa opened her mouth to let them know they had arrived, Vincent and Cid could see the neon lights spelling out "7th Heaven", cutting through the murky air like a brilliant beacon of light, guiding the young girl home. She was diligently, despite the pressing matter at hand, climbing up the weatherworn, wooden steps. A few lingering drunks from last night were poking about in the back alleys. Other than that, no soul could be seen at this hour of the morning.
"A friggin' ghost town." Cid mumbled and followed Vincent and Tifa inside the tavern.
Only one person could be seen; he was slumped over the front counter, apparently asleep, his mug of spirits tipped over, spilling over the edge of the recently polished table and onto the floor. He shifted slightly and the rest of the liquid followed to the ground, along with the glass, which shattered into seemingly thousands of sparkling shards.
Tifa watched the broken mug with slight interest, but nothing more than a passing thought came to her mind and soon she turned around, as if signaling that it was fine for Vincent and Cid to enter. "It's not much, but it is useful when you want to disappear."
"Disappear from what?" Cid looked about the bar and headed for the counter.
Tifa brushed more hair away from her eyes. "Life."
Cid didn't hear her quiet answer, for he was too busy inspecting the other girl behind the counter, who was fumbling with drinks and mugs. "From one bar to another. Not bad, eh, Vin?" He peered over the counter and raised a brow toward the girl. "Hey, what's good here?"
The girl, no more than Tifa's age, looked up causally, and a small grin spread across her face. Perhaps it was the various scrapes and bruises that Cid still had that made her smile. She lifted up more mugs, then promptly placed her hands on her hips. "Tifa? These are the people?" She nodded towards the door, indicating Vincent as well.
Tifa swiftly nodded. "Jessie, where's Marlene?"
Jessie smiled again and looked to the left, where soon a small girl's head could be seen. So small she was that her eyes barely made it over the counter to peer back at Tifa and the two men. "She insisted on helping me."
"Future bartender?" Cid grinned, shifting on his barstool. "So, Tifa, these are your people?" He snorted, which was quickly halted when Jessie shot him a discerning glance.
"Some of them, yes." Tifa looked over at the pinball machine, then back at Jessie. "You wouldn't mind looking after Marlene for a little while longer?"
Jessie shrugged. "She's better at this then I am." She placed a hand upon the young girl's auburn hair. Marlene dipped whatever could be seen of her head in what was assumed to be a nod.
"So, do you have any tea here?" Cid took his packet of cigarettes from behind his goggle’s strap and pushed out a slender stick. "Don't mind, do you?"
"First of all, yes I do." Jessie took the cigarette that had found its way into Cid's mouth as she spoke and tossed it to the side, much to his protests. "And tea? Who orders tea in a bar?" She smiled again, but even as she spoke, she was taking from off an unseen shelf a kettle.
A white teacup appeared from seemingly nowhere, small hands accompanying it. "Here you go, mister." Marlene's small voice said.
Vincent glanced attentively about the room. Apparently none of the others that Tifa indicated there were had arrived yet. And the last thing he wanted to do was wait around; that would prolong things more than needed. He brushed passed Tifa and accompanied Cid besides the counter, but unlike Cid he did not sit down. Vincent merely looked at Jessie and Marlene with little interest, then back at Tifa, as if expecting something to happen.
"They're downstairs." Tifa simply said.
"Downstairs?" Cid poked his head up from his newly given tea, looked around the room, and then went back to blowing on the cloudy liquid. The steam rose from his cup in swirls, which were swiftly blown away. "I don't see any damn stairs."
"Not at the moment." Jessie mumbled, watching the drunken man next to Cid, still asleep. "Do you want me to wake him and escort him outside?" She didn't wait for Tifa's answer; she simply gathered the man's left arm in her hands and attempted to pull him up. Cid sighed and left his seat, grabbing the man's other arm and helping Jessie drag him outside.
"So what is so secret that you had to make him leave the room?" Vincent said after the man had been thrown out into the morning light. He looked at Cid's steamy tea and smiled slightly. Vincent could never understand what Cid liked about that terrible tasting stuff.
"The downstairs, of course." Tifa was already over by the pinball machine, which had an ‘out of order’ sign draped over its glass. She glanced over at Cid, who was returning from the outside, already retrieving another cigarette from his packet.
Jessie promptly snatched it away again, then took the rest from the baffled man. "You'll get them back when you leave." She smiled sweetly and joined Marlene behind the counter again.
"Aw, come on!" Cid looked forlornly at his cigarettes, swaying back and forth in Jessie's grip. The ex-pilot frowned and turned away from the girl. "Damnit. You know how much they cost?" He padded his way over to Vincent and Tifa, ignoring Jessie's quiet laughs.
Tifa took Vincent's hand and pulled him closer to her and the game, motioning for Cid to stand too on the metal panel underneath the pinball machine. Smiling at Vincent and Cid's bewildered faces, she pulled the plunger and then kicked the machine.
With a start and a twitch, the pinball machine, the platform beneath and the three people upon it began to descend into the dark embrace of another room. It made the term "downstairs" seem terribly sincere. And as the poorly constructed elevator squeaked and shuddered to its end, Vincent could hear Cid curse softly, followed by a whistle and a well spoken "Damn!".
Vincent's eyes had no problem picking through the darkness and making out several figures by a pale light, somewhere near the back of the newly revealed room. Cid, however, fumbled and stumbled his way off of the machine. A moment later, after Cid had practically fallen into Vincent, the soft glow of the lamp brightened with an almost harsh flash, flooding the room with renewed light.
By that light stood three figures, one of which was the largest and had the most unpleasant look on his face.
"Tifa," the big man scowled deeply, "what the hell were you thinkin'?"
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