By: Mags

It was over. Sephiroth was dead. Vincent had been there; he had helped bring Sephiroth to his grave. Now he could live his life in peace. Live his life with his beautiful Lucretia.

Vincent dismounted his Chocobo and walked up to the entrance of Lucretia’s cave. He waited for a minute, examining himself in the fractured reflection that the waterfall produced. The red in his eyes played off the water light two fireflies dancing over the horizon at night. He blinked.

He finally had everything that he needed in life. Hojo was dead, Sephiroth was dead, his sins atoned for, and Lucretia’s love within his grasp. For the first time that Vincent could remember, he was happy. For the first time that he could remember, he was… nervous.

Vincent was not quite sure how he was to go about this. Lucretia knew that Sephiroth was dead, he had told her so himself. Although it had been a lie when he had told her so, in actuality it had foreshadowed the inevitable. At his and his allies –his friends– hands, Sephiroth had fallen. Now all that was left was for him to live his life with Lucretia in peaceful solitude. But now he was not so sure.

He had known the life of a grunt his entire life. It was who he was, what he defined himself as, and up until the incident with Hojo he had been perfectly fine with that. But then Lucretia had married Hojo and he had felt as though she had ripped his beating heart from his chest and ground it into the pavement right in front of him. But he still loved her. After he learned that she was to sire Hojo’s child, he still loved her.

He had convinced himself that if she were happy, then he was too. But he still loved her.

His desire for them to be happy had made him blind to the truth behind Lucretia and Hojo’s marriage. Lucretia sought a soulmate, someone that could relate to her. Hojo sought only a test subject for his experiments. In Vincent’s opinion, Hojo was as cold as, if not more so than, people accused himself of being.

In reality, Vincent had an excuse. He had been trained to be cold, to mask his emotions. In his line of work, showing emotions of any kind were considered weaknesses to be avoided at all costs. Whether he had taken that concept to an extreme was another issue entirely.

The point was that Hojo’s line of work did not require the heartlessness that his work did. Albeit requiring having a cast-iron stomach, you did not to be the cruel bastard that Hojo had been or that Vincent had needed to be to succeed in life.

The thought did not make him feel any better about himself. Not that he was looking for redemption, for any sort of forgiveness, for his misdeeds in the past. The fact that each death was etched into his mind with a detail no artist could possibly achieve was penance enough for him.

But Lady Fate is a cruel mistress. After he was finally awakened from the haze that clouded his mind, he had attempted to stop the madness behind Hojo’s work and it had ultimately led to his death… and rebirth. But rebirth as what? Certainly not human. Humans do not transmogrify into fantastical creatures that lurk in the dark recesses of man’s own darkest imagination when they are consumed with rage. He would know, he had been human once. But that was a long time ago, longer than he cared to realize.

And it had all been for what? A woman that had never loved him? His own outrageous ego? Perhaps it was out of sheer boredom that he had interfered? He had known once, but that too had been long ago.

It seemed to him that love was more of a blindness, a disease, more than any hate or evil. He had sacrificed his life to save her from oblivion and his reward was to become a tortured soul who would walk the planet as an empty shell of a man, dwelling on days past and what could have been, until the day he dies.

He knew Lucretia hadn’t loved him then. Sure they had been friendly, but never the least bit intimate. But that didn’t stop him from becoming enraptured with her, and for all his effort, for all his suffering, she still did not love him. His only hope was that perhaps she could learn to.

To him, his entire existence, all the suffering he had endured had been for her. Why did everything he gets involved in ruin himself and others? The only excuse he could find for his suffering was that it had been her fault that he had suffered so.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed. It was time. Without another thought, he stepped through the falls and into the cavern hidden behind it.

Once he was inside, all of Vincent’s uncertainties melted away, fortified by his hopes of what might and could be. He walked down the hall, his image reflecting off the crystalline walls.

He did not bother to look at them this time. To him, the images caused him more pain than anything else did. It represented his innermost emotions towards himself. To him, the images that reflected off the walls reminded him that he was not human. They were multiple reflections, none reflecting the whole image, just some of it. It was a constant reminder that he was not human, and never would be again. It was a constant reminder that his human side was dead, killed long ago at the hands of Hojo. In his stead stood a figure that was both more and less than a man. He was not one creature but many, a Frankenstein creature, which Hojo had constructed over the corpse of Vincent Valentine the human, which later rose as Vincent Valentine the monster. A monster so fraught with inner strife that it condemned itself to sleep, to be haunted with the visions of its crimes, its sins, for all eternity.

Vincent forced the thought out of his mind. His resting days were over. Never again would he be consumed with such grief that he would slip into such a state as when he forced himself to lie in the basement of the ShinRa mansion. His sins were atoned for to the best of his ability. He just wanted to live now.

A glimmer of a smile crossed his face as Lucretia came into view. He loved the way she looked… the way she smelled… the way she felt. The luminescence from the crystal cave she dwelt in gave her an almost tangible aura of light, making her look angelic in appearance. She was his angel, his best hope for salvation.

As he drew nearer, more detail came into view. The way her light brown bangs played across her forehead. The sparkle of intellect that dwelt in her big brown eyes. He could see them all clearly now. He was home. This was where he belonged.

His footprints alerted her to his presence and she turned her head to identify the intruder to her cave. Her features softened when she saw Vincent standing there.

Vincent opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand, silencing him.

"Why did you have to come back?" she asked, sorrow in her voice.

"Lucretia…" Vincent began, but was silenced yet again.

"I know that you lied to me about Sephiroth… my son, Vincent. I know that he just recently died Vincent, I felt it. Why? Why did you lie?"

"Please Lucretia, don’t…" he pleaded.

"Why, Vincent?" she demanded.

Vincent hung his head in shame.

"Why?"

"I did not lie to you that day," he finally spoke.

"What?" she cried.

"The son you had was not the same as the Sephiroth I slew. Your son died seven years ago in an accident at Nibelheim. What replaced him, body and soul, was a madman bent on annihilating the planet for his own person gain."

Vincent inhaled deeply and continued to stare at the soft yet cold and unforgiving face of Lucretia. Her eyes revealed nothing, not a hint of the emotion that he had grown to love about her.

"Vincent, I trusted you… once," she began. "Vincent I want you to get out of my…"

"I love you," he interrupted.

She stopped in mid-sentence, caught off guard by his bold statement, her mouth hanging open. Even Vincent seemed surprised to hear those words cross his lips. He retreated back to the entrance of the cave, unsure whether or not to stay.

"Why did you have to say that?" she screamed. "Why?"

"Because I do, Lucretia," Vincent replied.

"Damn you, Vincent Valentine! Damn you to hell! It was so easy to hate you before, to blame you for the death of my son, my precious son, Sephiroth! Why did you have to ruin it?"

She fell to her knees and began sobbing uncontrollably, pounding the ground with her fists. Suddenly, she began coughing spasmodically, rasping for air.

Vincent rushed to her side but she pushed him away. With her other hand, she grasped her neck. Her face began turning shades of blue and purple as air was permanently shut off from her body. In the apex of her spasms, she began coughing up blood and bile. The glow in the room dimmed considerably as the blood changed the color of the room from a white shine to an eerie red.

Finally, Lucretia collapsed onto the floor, face first into a pile of her own blood and vomit. She lay there unmoving for a minute before Vincent took decisive action and carried her outside to his waiting Chocobo, mentally thanking himself that he did not set it free upon his arrival.

He wasted no time in loading her limp body onto the back of the Chocobo and hopping on.

"Go, quickly!" he yelled, digging his heel into it’s side to get it moving. Steering it into the direction of Cosmo Canyon, the Chocobo took off at a blistering pace, clearing mountains and valleys at a fantastic speed. But to Vincent, it was too slow. Every second that she was away from Red’s care were seconds that she could be slipping away, the light in her eyes dimming.

When the Chocobo finally did pull up to the entrance of Cosmo Canyon, Vincent immediately dismounted and carried Lucretia’s prone body up the stairs, past the shocked entrance guard, all the way up to Red’s observatory. Red was currently engaged in a pleasant meditation session, when Vincent banged on his door. Red grumbled as he was aroused from his mediation, but hurriedly made space when Vincent knocked his door down and quickly cleared his coffee table of all his books to make room for Lucretia.

"What’s happening, Vincent?" Red demanded, immediately assessing that something was amiss.

"She’s dying. Fix her," Vincent replied darkly.

"What? How do you expect me to…?" Red began.

"JUST DO IT!" Vincent roared, surprising both himself and Red, whose hair stood on end.

Just then, Elder Bugah walked in, a shocked expression bored into his face. "Nanaki, what happened here?"

"Get me a full medical examination on her, stat!" Red ordered.

Bugah nodded quickly and ran out of the room and called down to some of the other Elders that the medical equipment was needed immediately, Code Red.

Within another few minutes, the small room was crowded full of busy doctors and scientists, attempting to make heads or tails of the nature of Lucretia’s illness.

Vincent squeezed himself out of the crowd and climbed up the ladder into the small bedroom that lay above it. It had once been Bugenhagen’s, but now it was Red’s room. He could tell by the fur, but it did not bother him right now. He plopped down onto the center of the bed and just sat there, dwelling on the worst of his fears and suspicions.

About a half an hour later, Red popped his head up.

"I’ve been looking for you," Red stated. "We need to know exactly what happened to her… if you can manage, that is" Red added quickly.

Vincent gave Red a detailed synopsis of the events that had transpired up to his unexpected visit he had paid Red. Red’s features got more and more grim the more Vincent said.

When Vincent had finished, Red grimaced.

"I won’t lie to you," Red finally said. "The outlook is quite grim. If her condition does not stabilize within the next several hours then I am afraid that she may not live to see tomorrow’s sun rise."

"I have complete confidence in your abilities, my friend," Vincent assured him. "No matter what happens, I know that you will have tried to the best of your abilities."

"Thank you," Red replied.

Suddenly, Bugah popped his head up into the bedroom.

"Nanaki, we need you downstairs quickly! Something’s wrong!"

Red gave Vincent a puzzled look but Vincent’s gaze was empty and distant. Red hurried down the ladder, and Vincent listened keenly as the doctors began yelling while Red attempted to restore order.

"I should be down there, by her side, holding her hand," Vincent though. But he did not move, he knew that it would only complicate things for everyone else and make it that much harder for himself should something happen. He didn’t think that he could take seeing Lucretia die right in front of her, to see the glimmer in her eyes fade, her soft skin go pale and hard. It would be too much for him, so he stayed put. And listened… and waited… and waited.

The waiting was the worst part. The excruciating pause between events where you don’t know what is going to happen. It’s the time when your thoughts are nurtured by your wildest imagination because that’s the only thing you have left, is to dwell on the worst possibilities of the situation. Imagination is a deadly force.

Vincent looked around for something to take his mind off of Lucretia and his gut feeling that for once, things just would not turn out all right.

He sighed and rubbed his temples. He suddenly had a killer headache.

"Must be all the thinking," he mused.

He reached over to a bookcase near the bed and chose a particularly old book with a musty smell. He flipped to the middle and glanced over the text, some archaic writing that he couldn’t read, consisting of what looked like scribbled of ink.

He put the book back and lay down on the bed.

He hated the waiting.

Slowly, he collapsed under his own weight and drifted into a restless sleep, the sharp pain in his head numbing him into unconsciousness.

Vincent awoke in a strange land, alien in its appearance yet with an air of familiarity about it.

It was very dark. Dark and cold. He instinctively wrapped his cape around his bare arms in an attempt to retain some of his body heat.

He looked around for some sign of life, some sign of where he was.

The entire area seemed to be nothing more than a flat plain, he could just barely see the faint glimmer of the sun as it disappeared over the horizon.

But something was wrong. It could not be the sun; it remained steadfast in its position, unwavering. The glow it gave off remaining constant, not a single twinkle to it.

He unconsciously began walking towards it.

After what felt like hours but could only have been a few short minutes, the source of the light began to come into view. The brightness began to become overwhelming, causing him to shield his eyes with his arm as he advanced.

The light was overwhelming. It gave off no true heat but he began to feel a strange warmth about him as he neared the source.

As he pressed on the heat became incredible.

His clothes began to peel away as he pressed on. When he was within twenty feet of the statue, he felt like he would melt and his cape caught fire. The buttons on his suit had long ago melted into molten plastic pools that seared his half-exposed chest. Yet he pressed on for reasons that he was not quite sure of.

Finally, he reached the source. He was wreck. His hair had been burned off his head and his clothes were literally dripping off of him. He reached his hand out and reached out to touch the source, his eyes drying out from behind his molten claw which had melted into his arm, fusing it solid.

His hand met cold stone, and at that moment, the heat began to subside.

Slowly, the glow began to fade, and as the heat retreated as well, Vincent could finally get a good look at what he had gone to such extreme measures to reach.

It was a statue. A cold statue, of an angel.

He walked around to the front of the statue and to his surprise found the face to be an exact replica of Lucretia.

He touched the side of the statue, and as though the hand of god was touching it, the statue sprung to life.

Vincent stepped back in surprise.

Blood began to roll down the statue’s cheeks and it looked around, and smiled when it saw Vincent.

"Oh Vincent, my dear Vincent…" the statue cooed, "Our time together was too short."

"What… what do you mean?" Vincent queried, already dreading the response.

"Can you not see that the light of my soul has dimmed? My time left on this planet will not be for much longer. I will finally meet my son in the Lifestream," it proclaimed proudly, but will a melancholy tone.

"Please do not leave me," Vincent replied softly, tears welling in his eyes.

"I do not have a choice," it replied. "I have lived too long as it is, nurtured by an unnatural force that yet attempts to destroy me on my deathbed. Be wary Vincent Valentine, I am giving up my own life to save myself from this malevolent force. You may yet be strong enough to counter this force, but not if your thoughts are filled with self-pity and grief. You must choose to live if you are to have any hope of surviving at all."

"What is this force you speak of?" Vincent asked, already having a pretty good idea of what she was talking about.

"You already know the answer to the question you ask, but if you still insist, then look at the base of this statue for a definitive answer."

Vincent’s gaze was ripped from the angel statue’s face to it’s base, a solid marble stand that was covered with some odd-looking throbbing green veins that crushed and encircled the base, squeezing the life out of it.

"Is that… is that Jenova?" Vincent asked warily.

"Yes."

"Will this happed to me?" Vincent replied.

"It has already started. You must remain vibrant and alive if you are to survive. I want you to survive, Vincent. Promise me you will survive."

"I promise," Vincent responded.

The statue’s face went grim.

"Time will tell," was it’s only response.

Vincent reached out and attempted to touch the throbbing tentacles of Jenova as it began to rise up and strangle the statue. His hand passed right through it as though it was not there.

"I’m dreaming," he realized.

"Yes, this is the astral plane of your mind," it replied, its voice wavering as its gaze drifted to the Jenova that began tearing up its lower half as it rose throughout the statue in an attempt to consume the light it produced and squelch it. Soon it was nearly dark, the statue only giving off a faint glow.

"I haven’t much time left," the statue whispered.

"Please," he begged, "Don’t leave me."

"I have no choice," she replied. "But do not fear for me, I truly died long ago. I know that you will not forget me. Looking into your mind has convinced me of that. Your mind is a dangerous place, Vincent Valentine. Everything, even the way this dream was played out, has meaning to your subconscious mind. I certainly hope that you can learn to control your imagination in the future, lest you wind up hurting people that care about you."

She gave him a half-smile and slowly began to succumb to Jenova’s relentless assault on her while Vincent was forced to look on helplessly.

"How do I get back," he wondered aloud, realizing that he didn’t know what to do.

As though in response his question, the angel’s wings enveloped him as the Jenova began to eat away at her upper body, her wings shielding him. Slowly, the Jenova destroyed the rest of the statue, leaving Vincent trapped in total darkness as he heard the deathcry of his beloved as the wings crumbled, toppling down on him, crushing him.

Vincent awoke with a start, his forehead and upper body drenched in sweat. He shuddered as the events of the dream came to him. Of all the nightmares he had ever had, that one had been the most horrible.

He wiped his brow with the end of his cape and sat upright on the bed and looked around. For a minute he could not remember how he got here, but then the horrible truth came back to him. He listened intently for the sounds of the doctors still working, some sign that his dream had not been a prophecy or have had any truth, that she was still alive on some level down there, still holding on.

He heard nothing and that scared him more than anything he had ever known did. The silence screamed into his ear deafening words of remorse and penance.

He flinched involuntarily as his headache returned. He was reminded of Lucretia’s words, that what had happened to her was happening to him, whatever that was. She had not specified. He lay his head back down on the pillow, but consciously forced himself to stay awake, afraid that he would have another dream like the one that he had just had. But he was very tired and soon found himself drifting off again despite his best efforts.

Red coming up the ladder saved him from his dreaded rest.

He rose up to greet his friend, scrutinizing his face for any sign of good news.

"What’s the good word?" Vincent questioned, hoping that Red’s solemn face was not intentional.

"Vincent…" Red began.

"The news is good, right? I mean, she’s going to be all right, right? Just a few pills every few hours for the next few days and she can go home, right?" Sweat began to dribble down the side of Vincent’s forehead, but he paid it no heed.

Red remained silent as Vincent began babbling uncontrollably.

Finally, Vincent grabbed Red by the collar of his neck and pulled him up to him.

"Tell me she is all right, Red," Vincent growled, staring into Red’s green eyes intensely, as though he were trying to stare down his reflection he saw in Red’s eyes.

Red pushed himself away from Vincent’s grasp.

"Control yourself Vincent."

Vincent remained silent, his hands dropping limply to his side. He bowed his head.

"Sorry, you are right. Please, tell me how she is."

Now it was Red’s turn to bow his head.

"I’m sorry," he stated solemnly, "We were unable to save her. She’s dead Vincent. The Jenova in her was destroying her internally. She was too far-gone for us to be able to do anything. The Jenova had literally begun to eat away at her brain. I’m sorry."

Vincent remained silent.

Suddenly, Red’s head shot up.

"Do you think that the same thing could happen to you, Vincent? I think I should have the doctors take a look at you. Please come down…" Red continued.

But Vincent did not hear him. He had stopped listening to him after he had answered his one question. Red’s melancholy voice echoing painfully inside his skull. ‘She’s dead Vincent.... Jenova destroying her internally... I’m sorry…’ the words, now incomprehensible became jumbled masses of noise as they played on an endless loop through his brain. The room felt like it was spinning, his vision became blurred and Red became a series of moving orange and red blotches as his eyes began to water, blurring what little bits of vision that his mind recognized.

Finally, his own body could not support his weight and he collapsed his addled brain unable to support his body anymore as it shut down. With a bestial cry that was masked by the screaming in his head, he fell into a catatonic heap.

"…If it happened to her then it is quite feasible that it could happen to you, so…" Red continued until Vincent suddenly collapsed in front of him. Red stopped in mid-syllable as Vincent gave a bloody cry of rage and anguish and fell face first off the bed onto the floor, a pool of blood forming out of the corner of his mouth.

Red rushed over to Vincent’s prone body and began shaking it with his paw.

"Vincent… Vincent… VINCENT!" Red cried.

But Vincent could no longer hear him. Vincent could no longer hear anything. No longer see anything, move anything, or think anything. For all intents and purposes, Vincent Valentine’s body was a lifeless shell, Vincent’s consciousness having retreated into his twisted psyche, leaving his body at the mercy of the one thing that still retained alive, the Jenova cells. Jenova instantly began invading his own body cells, destroying them and building upon them a Jenova-based body. Since their host had destroyed their own body, they would destroy his and rebuild their own body using his as a vessel. If cells could laugh maniacally, then they would have.

Red immediately got to the PHS and called the others.

Cloud and Tifa were out riding their Chocobos when they got the call and immediately agreed to come over when they heard the news

Yuffie was going through some documentation that her father had given her regarding the issue of constructing a museum on the far side of Wutai. She immediately jumped at the chance to get out of her stuffy office and get outside.

Cid was about to fly at Rocket Town’s, soon to be renamed but none chosen yet, first annual Aviation Show when he got the call. His plane’s flight was increased a bit as he took off for Cosmo Canyon, but managed to work in some barrel rolls and a quick buzz over the crowd’s bleachers while he was at it to give the crowd a show.

Reeve was attempting to find a way to increase Mog’s maneuverability without reducing its damage-absorbent bulk when Cait was rung. Quickly patching Mog up, Reeve sent Cait and Mog on their way.

Barret was speaking to the newly formed Committee in Corel about the importance of borrowing money from another town for internal improvements when he was paged. He quickly had his assistant, a skinny man named Kenji Ericks, take over for him as he excused himself. As he was preparing for his leave, he received a fax on the machine Cid and Shera had given to him for his birthday. He quickly shoved it into his jacket pocket as he rushed out the door.

Barret and Yuffie arrived at the same time and quickly raced up the stairs as the sun began to set over the Canyon, casting long eerie shadows on the canyon walls. The low wail of the phoenix echoed throughout the canyon walls as they reached the top of the stairs, greeted by Elder Bugah.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice. The others are already here, so please head on over to the Eternal Flame."

"Ain’t ya gonna tell us what this is all about?" Barret asked as Bugah led then to the large bonfire that rested at the center of Cosmo Canyon.

"Nanaki will tell you everything you need to know," Bugah replied.

Barret and Yuffie walked over to the flame. Barret plopped himself down in between Cloud and Cait. Yuffie chose a spot between Cid and Tifa. The only spot that was empty was the area reserved for Red, who bounded up to the fire and into the empty spot between Cait and Cid.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Red began, addressing the group as a whole.

"No problem. Anything is better than signing papers all day," Yuffie mused.

Red grimaced.

"I wish that we could be meeting under better circumstances," Red stated solemnly.

"You wanna tell us why we’re here, then?" Barret inquired.

"Yes, well…" Red began.

"Say, where’s Vincent?" Cloud interrupted, earning him an elbow in the ribs and a steely glare from Tifa.

"Let him finish," Tifa hissed.

"No," Red said, "Cloud’s observance is important. The reason Vincent is not with us right now is the nature of this call."
"Something wrong with Vinnie?" Cid asked.

Red ran off his entire encounter with Vincent and Lucretia, including what Vincent had told him of before they had arrived. When he was over, he looked up at the group.

Tifa and Cloud were pale as ghosts, the color drained out of them as though they had been dipped in white paint.

Barret grumbled something under his breath. Yuffie just stared at Red wide-eyed. Cait looked shocked, and Cid’s cigarette had dropped out of his mouth.

"It gets worse," Red finished.

"That’s not very comforting, Red," Cloud replied.

"Unfortunately, no. As I said, we were unable to save Lucretia because she had an advanced case of what I am referring to as Jenova sickness. Basically, the Jenova in her body literally began eating away at her nervous and circulatory systems, causing her to go into epileptic shock and finally, go into cardiac arrest. She was about 40% Jenova when Vincent showed up with her, and once she went unconscious, it accelerated to about 70% in under three hours. She died literally of asphyxiation, the Jenova cells ripped apart her lungs."

Tifa looked in horror at Red, as though he was suddenly a horribly disfigured monster instead of the gentle and benevolent creature that sat before her. Ever so slowly, her gaze drifted to Cloud who seemed to share her same thoughts. Red noticed their change of attention to Cloud, whose mouth was hanging open.

"Cloud, in answer to the question hanging on the tip of your tongue, I do not think that you are in any danger. Vincent and Lucretia were injected with a much larger quantity of cells then any of the SOLDIERs with perhaps the exception of Sephiroth. You should be fine."
Cloud breathed a heavy sigh of relief and wiped his brow.

"So what’s wrong with Vincent, then?" Yuffie asked.

"Although Vincent has a very odd metabolism due to Hojo’s experimentation on him, although his body suppressed the Jenova’s assault on his body, the fact that he is now in an unconscious state leaves him open and vulnerable to an internal attack. We need to find a way to wake Vincent without disturbing his fragile mental state."

"I believe I may have a solution," Bugah offered from the dark corner he was standing in. "I know that Nanaki has not had time since he came back from his quest to look at everything that this Canyon harbors, but I have. I know of something that might be of use."

"Well spit it out then," Cid demanded.

"As you may or may not know, Bugenhagen used to work for ShinRa under the old President before Rufus," Bugah began.

Some of the group had puzzled or shocked faces.

"Its true," Cait agreed.

"Anyway, at one point the company attempted to produce a mind reading device for the military to use on Wutai POWs. However, funding for the project went dry before anything but a prototype could be developed. It did at one time work, but it runs on Mako and is quite ancient, but could be the answer you are looking for. The machine hooks up to the POWs’ head and had connecting tubes for up to two people who want to enter that person’s mind. I know where it is if you think that it would help."

"Please," Red insisted almost jubilantly.

Bugah ran off and Red turned his attention back to the group.

"A spark of hope has been attained," he declared proudly, despite belaboring the obvious.

"Now we just need to decide who goes in," Tifa pointed out.
"Indeed," Red agreed. "Obviously I cannot due to the fact that I need to aid Bugah in maintaining it from the outside."

"I don’t think that my dad would appreciate it if I missed any more work," Yuffie added. "So I’m out."

"I’ll go in," Cloud offered.
"I will too," Tifa quickly added.

"So will I," declared Barret.

"You might need my help maintaining that machine, so I’d best stay, too" Cid stated.

Red nodded in agreement.

"I doubt I’d be of much help in this situation," Cait declared with melancholy. "This machine requires you to have a life force. My generator is a poor substitute. I have to sit this one out."

"So its Barret, Cloud, or Tifa." Red finished. "Which two are it going to be?"

"I’ll ro-sham-bo you for it," Cloud said, turning to Barret.

"Just try it," Barret countered, raising his massive fist menacingly.

"We’ll decide after Bugah gets back," Red declared.

Cloud and Tifa began discussing with each other their concerns of each other going inside the machine and the others started up idle chitchat.

Barret, meanwhile, remembered about the fax that he had received on his way out and pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of his jacket pocket.

Upon scanning it quickly, his eyes went wide. With a bellow of rage, he crumpled the paper and threw it on the ground, earning him the attention of the entire group, as well as anyone else within earshot.

Barret was seething with rage.

"What’s wrong," Tifa asked, placing a comforting hand on Barret’s shoulder. He turned and gave her an icy glare.

"Read the paper," he growled.

She picked up the crumpled piece of paper and flattened it out on her thigh. She walked over to the fire to get a better look at it, as Cloud and Cid gathered around her to read over her shoulder.

They gasped at what they saw:

300,000,000,000 gil and the Ultima Materia to the

hThe Familiarh