Chapter Text
Feeling- and seeing- sunlight upon Its vessel for the first time in thirty long-short years was a euphoric experience. We shall never condemn the sun for existing ever again. Ah, what a glorious, wondrous Planet We serve!
Chaos grunted from the depths, shying away from the sunlight like it personally offended Him. Vincent had to take a moment to adjust his eyes to the brightness, blinking away the burning that came with it with a frown underneath his collar. Well, to each their own-- Order was going to enjoy the outdoors while the novelty of it lasted.
It turned out, rather miraculously, that Cloud Strife and his companions did know of an Edward Hojo, who was now the head of Shinra's Science & Research division. With this knowledge in mind, it didn't take Vincent much convincing to join Cloud Strife's group in their travels, and here they all were: outside after thirty years of rotting away in a coffin, the sky as their limit. So much to do, and with all the time in the world to do it... It was a shame that Its vessel still needed to be worked upon in order to properly use Its full power. Though perhaps that was for the best; Vincent was in no state, physical or mental, to handle the strain of taking on Its image at the moment... and It doubted Edward Hojo made the monstrous transformations painless.
Human travel was rather boring, It had to admit, even with monster encounters. The sun's light quickly became irritating to It, and It went to hiding alongside Chaos when It could no longer bear the rays. It was an entity that was more used to the cool underground caverns, not the searing heat of sunlight. Vincent noted Its sinking with suspicion, of course, but also with the slightest hint of amusement. If he were not Its Host, It would have immediately strangled him for daring to be so presumptuous. Only Chaos was allowed to tease It, being Its more-or-less opposing equal! Fool humans and their fool ways, honestly...
Something interesting happened, for better or for worse, about half-way through the Nibel mountain range. "Sonic speeds!" Cloud Strife barked in warning just as the little annoyances swooped in on them, slashing at one near him. Their entourage dispersed and slid into the motions of fighting like a well-oiled cog, even Vincent. This was the third time they had encountered monsters in a single hour, if Order had counted right, and frankly, it was getting very tiresome. Having to sit by the sidelines due to Its vessel's restrictions was boring. Chaos felt the same, it seemed. These things... did not bode well with Vincent, nor the three beasts that lay within him. They were all tired, angry, and miserable-- a terrible state for an unstable man to be in.
Vincent's fury spiked as one of the sonic speeds dove at one of his companions, and suddenly Galian Beast snapped, howling from the inside and forcing their Host to cry out in pain. Order held the other beasts back as their vessel underwent an abrupt and incredibly painful transformation, bones snapping and flesh tearing into the form of a Behemoth-like creature born of hellfire. Peeking through the corners of the beast's eyes revealed that the other humans were now in pandemonium over the monstrous transformation.
It could feel Vincent's open shock and terror as he was wrested out of control, and It sighed. Chaos, calm him. We shall make sure Galian doesn't eat our allies.
Chaos grumbled, but It ignored Him and simply kept a close eye on Galian as it lunged for the nearest sonic speed. It caught the monster within its jaws and crushed it to a pulp, hot mako-blood bursting into its mouth and making it hungry for more. Another of the monsters dove in for revenge and got shredded by massive, beastly claws, barely crying out before it was already dissolving back into the Lifestream. Galian reared, insulted, wildly enraged, but Order pulled the beast back down and directed its fire- literal fire, It discovered- towards the last of the bunch. Their allies swiftly moved out of the way of the fire and picked the weakened monsters off, ending the fight.
Galian growled for more blood, more things to kill, but Vincent surged back up and threw it back down into the deep unconsciousness. Order receded before It too was thrown and watched Its Host go through the pains of transforming back, heaving on the ground as if about to throw up. Humans were so fragile, sometimes.
Do not make me babysit him again, Chaos growled. He is a menace when afraid.
It rolled Its eyes. He is human, of course he is. After this, We doubt he will be as much of a pain.
Vincent ignored them both, standing on shaking limbs. A Cura settled over him and gave him much-needed relief.
"Are you alright?" Aerith Gainsborough asked, gentle and worried with the slightest hint of fear.
He silently nodded after a time, not willing to elaborate on what happened... because he, himself, didn't quite know what happened.
A transformation, dear Host. Order stated. It seems that you do not remember the experiments-- a wise choice, for a human.
Cloud Strife gave a quick check of the team, patching any stray injuries with potions and healing materia, and then gave the order to move on. They went back to their travelling formation.
"Transformation..." Vincent mumbled, quiet enough that no one heard him. The questioning tone gave way to understanding, and then deep horror.
You have felt them before, Host, do not play blind. It was only a matter of time before one of them forced your hand. Chaos said, His presence brushing over Galian's sleeping mind like a barrier. It was His way of being merciful in that moment.
When you regain your strength, you will handle it easier. It added calmly. Before long, you shall be able to shift into all of our forms, from Galian's to Ours. Be ready for that day, Host.
Vincent walked on without reply. It let him be, knowing that he would eventually understand in time, and escaped from the sun's light once more. They eventually exited the mountains after fighting a materia keeper, a tough, spider-like foe of many talents. Vincent was far more careful with his anger, not letting himself alert the beasts into coming out-- which Order could not blame him for, the transformation was quite painful. The sun was setting, blanketing the land in streaks of dark gold, and so a camp was made. Where the other humans- and half-Cetra- conversed and relaxed with one-another, Vincent strayed and kept watch on the outer edge, refusing food and offers to sleep. Order did not have the energy to wrestle with Its Host's stupidities then, so It left Chaos to torment (read: annoy) him during the night while It slept. They kept watch over the camp and killed a monster before it awoke their teammates, apparently.
Their group moved on early, slow and graceless with the way some of them protested, and soon found themselves travelling amongst cool summer grasses, green and yellow swaying in the wind. More monsters, more fighting, less interesting moments. It wasn't long before they reached a town, a place that simply called itself Rocket Town, and several of them breathed sighs of relief at civilization.
Order gazed up at the giant rocket in the distance, slanted and tinted green from disuse. We should like to know the story behind this. This town did not exist before.
They split into two groups: one that Cloud Strife headed and called Tifa Lockhart and Vincent to follow, and the rest that headed for the inn to recuperate. The three of them talked to the townspeople for information to pass the time. According to them, Rocket Town used to be the site of a rocket launch that failed, something that Shinra funded before they found mako more profitable. Now all that was left was a tourist-like town with a decayed rocket as its main attraction and a man the townsfolk referred to as the 'Captain' residing over it. So now they were looking for this Captain, mainly to see if he could give them any further insight. A woman named Shera Whitman helpfully directed them to the rocket when they asked her, and also mentioned something about a 'President Rufus.' Ah, yes, he was the successor to the Shinra throne, wasn't he? A bad sign indeed, according to their current companions.
They made their way to the rocket, which looked in even worse shape up close. Its stands were tilted and threatened to fall at any moment, and the rocket itself had terrible rusted-out spots despite being taken care of. Vincent dutifully climbed up the ladder after Cloud Strife, and followed him and Tifa Lockhart into the interior.
The Captain, whose soul identified him as Cid Highwind, was a blonde, muscular man in a blue pilot's jacket, green pants, and sturdy military boots, rubbing down the interior metal with tired, gritty motions. He radiated impatience and bitter nature, light sweat mixing with the perfume of oil and dirt. Vincent quietly went back outside to escape it.
An interesting man, Order mused, watching Cloud Strife gain the Captain's attention and begin to talk with him. His lifestream is complex. Lively, for a human. An uncrushable, stubborn spirit.
I do not like his insolent manner. Chaos narrowed His metaphorical eyes at Cid Highwind as he went into an angry fit, cursing Shinra- and Shera Whitman, apparently- out for ruining his dreams of going into space, and then deflated into a depressed mess. I barely tolerate the well-behaved humans as it is.
They went back into town proper and told Shera Whitman of their efforts, who sheepishly excused Cid Highwind's cantankerous attitude for him. It was then that they were surprised with a visit from the man himself, taken aback by the way he loudly shoved the door open. "Shit, Shera! What are ya, blind?!" Cid Highwind barked, face set in an annoyed glare. "We got guests! Get some tea, dammit! Fuck!"
"S...Sorry!" Shera Whitman stammered, and rushed to the kitchen to start making said tea.
Cloud Strife watched her go with vague discomfort and a slightly demure glance. "Don't mind us, we were just-"
"Shut up! Sit down in those chairs and drink yer goddamn TEA!" The man fumed at the audacity of his guests, shaking his head. "Argh! Damn, I'm pissed! SHERA! I'll be in the backyard tunin' up the Tiny Bronco! Make sure t' give 'em some tea, alright?!"
"Y-Yes, Captain!"
He stomped off to the back of the house, slamming the door shut on the way. They were left in a ringing, uncomfortable silence.
Vincent was the first to sink down into one of the chairs, unsure what to think of Cid Highwind's... hospitality. Chaos growled something about rude, idiotic humans that didn't know how to display respect, making the beasts shift uneasily. Order only watched the woman at the stovetop and wondered how she could stand such behavior.
"Poor Shera..." Tifa Lockhart murmured to herself, staring at the spot where the pilot was last seen.
Cloud Strife sighed and turned to Shera Whitman. "Sorry. This is our fault."
She shook her head, setting a kettle full of water on the stove and lighting the flame. "No, no, it's alright. He's usually like that."
Vincent looked at her with narrow, contemplative eyes. "...It's a wonder you can stand it."
Another shake of her head, this time with a sigh. "No, it's... It's because of my stupid mistake. I was the one who destroyed his dream..."
"What happened?" Cloud Strife asked.
Shera Whitman explained to them that on the day the rocket was scheduled to launch, she was testing the oxygen tanks for stability. The results kept coming back as unsatisfactory, so she ended up staying there right until the launch countdown started. The Captain found out about this and tried to make her jump ship, but she refused, claiming she didn't mind-- she just needed to fix the one busted tank. The countdown started, and she was fully prepared to die, but Cid Highwind cancelled the launch just before it was complete, setting their whole crew back six months and saving her life.
"After that... the Space Program was cut back and the launch was cancelled indefinitely." The tea was steeping at this point, almost done, and Shera Whitman wrung her hands guiltily. "It's my fault his dream was destroyed... so... That's why it's alright. I don't care what the Captain says, I'll live my life for him. It's the least I can do now..."
A distant clatter rang from outside the house, and the Captain stormed back in with even more of a temper than before. "Shera! Where the hell's the tea at?!"
"S-Sorry, it's almost done!" She squeaked, fumbled a bit at the kettle, and then carefully poured rich tea into five cups, heading over to the table with them. She gave Vincent his first, as he was sitting, and placed three other cups down on the table.
Cid Highwind sat roughly, accepting the tea from Shera Whitman's hands with a grimace. "Thanks," was the only gruff acknowledgement he gave her before kicking his feet up, and he eyed the two still awkwardly standing. "Hurry up an' sit down! Or is my hospitality not good enough fer ya?"
Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart sat as if they were caught misbehaving. Order gave a little laugh.
The man rolled his eyes. "Least one of ya got the memo before," he said, gesturing to Vincent before promptly ignoring them and burning holes into the front door.
Insolent worm! Chaos snarled, the force of it almost making Vincent choke on his drink.
Behave. Let our Host drink. Order none-too-kindly kicked Chaos before He could start causing His namesake. As much as It felt annoyance toward the situation, It would rather sit through this than end up in a nasty fight.
Vincent waited until the two of them were done and took a better drink, appreciating the dark brew. He observed the reluctant way his two companions took their cups of tea into their hands, and the way Shera Whitman very slightly relaxed as she held hers, and the way Cid Highwind growled under his breath, muttering about the new President being late.
A balding man in a yellow suit strolled through the door a few moments later, rotund and smiling rather idiotically. His soul named him Bentley Palmer, the head of the now defunct Space Program. "Hey-hey! Long time no see," he chirped, his voice childlike and completely void of depth. "So how have ya been, Cid?"
Order grimaced at the sight of him. That... thing... is supposed to be a human...?
Get it out of our sight, Host, it's disgusting. What a pathetic creature! Chaos said indignantly.
Cid Highwind beat them to the punch in terms of dealing with the man. "Well, if it ain't fat man Palmer! How long were you figurin' on keepin' me waitin'?!" He sprung from his seat, leaving his tea untouched, and rolled his shoulders once before strolling on over with something of an eager expression. "So? When's the Space Program gonna start up again?"
Bentley Palmer shrugged and gave him that same stupid smile. "I don't know. The President's outside, why don't you go ask him?"
The Captain went into an angry fit at the incompetence. "SHIT! Good-for-nothing, fat fucker!"
"H-Hey! Don't say fat!"
But he was already out the door, shoving Bentley Palmer out of the way to go talk to the President. The head of the Space Program was left to stare after him in bewilderment, as if not understanding why he'd be so angry, but then soon noticed Shera Whitman with her kettle of tea. "Hey-hey! Tea! Can I have some too? With lotsa sugar, and honey, and... oh, yeah, don't forget the lard!"
Vincent lost what little of his appetite he had in a sudden shock, setting his half-drank cup of tea down on the table. His companions seemed to have similar thoughts. Poor Shera Whitman was stuck with wasting the Captain's good tea on such a wastrel; Order was rethinking through Its neutral and careful attitude towards humans at that moment; Chaos was frothing in anger from the man's banality. What an utter mess!
Cloud Strife broke the absurd spell by standing up, his curiosity outweighing the second-hand embarrassment. "C'mon. Let's see what Rufus is up to this time."
Vincent stood as well, letting Tifa Lockhart go first before following behind. He stopped at the threshold just as the blonde swordsman stepped outside, and became privy to an argument in the making.
"What the-?! You got me all excited fer nothin'?!" Cid Highwind shouted, crossing his arms indignantly. "Then what the hell'd you come here for?"
"I want to borrow the Tiny Bronco," Rufus Shinra replied coolly. "We're going after a man named Sephiroth, but it seems that we've been going in the wrong direction. We've pinpointed his location across the ocean, but... it requires a plane."
There was a moment of silence, and then- "You FUCKER!" The Captain roared, enraged at the news and unafraid to make it known. "First the airship, then the rocket, an' now the Tiny Bronco! Shinra took outer space away from me, an' now you wanna take the sky away from me too?!"
Rufus Shinra narrowed his eyes at him, hackles raised at the disrespect. "You seem to forget that it was Shinra, Inc. that let you fly in the first place, Mr. Highwind."
"The hell you on about?!"
A quiet shuffle drew the three of them from eavesdropping, revealing Shera Whitman with a worried expression. "Excuse me... This way, please."
They went back in with curious, open ears. The woman hesitated for a moment, glancing at the back door worriedly before giving them a determined stare. "I hate to ask this of guests, but... You three seem capable, and... I think Palmer may be trying to steal the Captain's plane while he's occupied... I couldn't stop him, I'm sorry."
Cloud swore under his breath and immediately made for the back. "C'mon," he said, putting a hand on his sword's hilt, and Tifa Lockhart and Vincent readied their weapons as well as they followed.
They burst out into Cid Highwind's backyard and found Bentley Palmer suspiciously examining the Tiny Bronco in question. "Hey!" Tifa Lockhart yelled, gaining the man's rather poor attention as she settled into an aggressive fighting stance. "What are you doing?!"
Bentley Palmer blinked at them for a few moments, nervous from being caught in the act. "I'm, uhh... I'm just inspecting the plane! I'm not..." And then he looked at them closer, particularly Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart, seeming to recognize them. "Wait a minute. I've seen you somewhere before... Oh, I know! The Shinra Building! When the President was killed!" He paled and gulped. "Ulp! Se... security!!"
As ridiculous as it sounded, they ended up fighting him, though only for a brief moment. Bentley Palmer pulled a strange gun out from his fat breastpocket and shot at them with blasts of fire, ice, and electricity like he was wielding materia. Vincent dodged the magic blasts with narrowed eyes and lunged for him, swifter than the wind, and the way the balding man's eyes widened in fear was satisfying. Just as Vincent grabbed him and incapacitated him with a chokehold, the others were accosted by two Shinra infantrymen, forcing their attentions elsewhere. Bentley Palmer squirmed, squealing in fear as sharp talons threatened his neck, and Chaos rumbled for death-- this pitiful creature deserved no less.
An engine purred to life, kickstarted by some unknown party, and the Tiny Bronco's propellers began to turn. After a few seconds the plane began to move, clumsily swerving towards them, and Vincent was forced to duck or get his face chopped off. Bentley Palmer used the distraction to wriggle free and escape Vincent's hold, running away from the scene like a coward. Vincent glared after him, a growl escaping his throat as he cocked his gun-
Order roughly pulled Its Host to the ground again to avoid the plane's errant nose. Forget that thing-- focus on your companions and this irksome contraption!
Vincent narrowed his eyes and obediently shot one of Bentley Palmer's guards, downing him with a bullet to the chest. Tifa Lockhart gave him a shaky but grateful glance and hopped up onto the Tiny Bronco to deal with its conniving driver. She yanked him out of the cockpit and disposed of him with a swift kick, just in time for Cloud Strife to strike down the remaining guard and join her.
"H-How do we stop this thing?!" Tifa Lockhart yelled over the noise, fiddling with the controls.
Vincent heard a faint, shrill "What the fuck is goin' on?!" from the other side of the house, and silently grimaced. It looked like the Captain had finally noticed the ruckus.
Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart yelled as the Tiny Bronco suddenly lifted, hovering further and further off the ground by the second. "Forget stopping it! Vincent!" he barked, waving at Vincent to board the plane. "Get on!"
Is he serious? Order demanded. We are safer off that thing than on it!
"They may need my help," Vincent muttered under his breath, as stubborn as ever, and jumped on just before the Tiny Bronco took off, much to Order's chagrin. In his haste to hold on, his clawed hand carved deep gouges into the right wing, making the delicate wires beneath spark and fizzle dangerously. Both Order and Chaos recoiled from the noise and the hot flash of electricity, but there was no time to worry about that.
Cloud Strife took to steering the plane very quickly-- he had to, or else. It wobbled under his inexperienced touch, but it kept aloft, circling around wide to escape town. Vincent tried to stay on as best as he could, but the wind turbulence was incredible. The only reason he stayed on at all was due to Chaos' quick thinking and some bestial instinct telling him to hunker down low.
A bullet whizzed past him then and suddenly they were under fire, no doubt from the Shinra flunkies that accompanied the president. Vincent dug his claws into the steel of the wing and shot back at their assailants, ignoring the way electricity sparked around and through his metal hand. He nearly missed his next shot when the Tiny Bronco got jostled, making Cloud Strife yelp out something unintelligible. Strangely enough, it was Cid Highwind on one of the tails, yelling obscenities at them all. How interesting-- few humans had such gall once danger was imminent.
"What the FUCK do y'all think yer doin'?!" Cid Highwind roared, scrambling to hoist himself up onto the bridge. "Get the fuck off my baby before I- WHOA!"
The tail Cid Highwind was sitting on sparked and then began to make an incredibly disturbing noise, half-shredded by stray gunfire. He nearly fell off in his haste to escape the newly-live electricity, but he was nimbler than he appeared and clung to the opposite wing just fine. "Shit! Tail's been hit!"
Vincent looked back towards where they were going and found themselves headed straight for the ocean, thankfully in some sort of landing motion instead of a crash. He tried to pry his claws out of the metal they were encased in, but he gave up after a few nasty shocks and the loud complaints he got from both Order and Chaos. He would worry about it later, after surviving this.
Cid Highwind swore at length-- again. "This 's gonna be a big splash! Hold on to yer drawers an' don't piss in 'em!"
Hilarious, Chaos deadpanned with a heavy amount of sarcasm.
Well, he does have a point, Order said, light and amused.
Why don't you go inhabit that ingrate instead of our Host if you like him so much?
They crashed into the ocean soon after.
Vincent was soaked from head to toe, his hair heavy with salt water and sticking to his face in all the wrong ways. Tifa Lockhart and Cloud Strife didn't look much better, though Cloud Strife's hair still seemed to defy gravity. The only one not inconvenienced was Cid Highwind... and he seemed far more pissed about the situation than the three of them combined. The pilot had quickly booted Cloud Strife out of the front and tinkered around with the Tiny Bronco until it bubbled to life again, and then very carefully maneuvered it back to the shore, spitting out expletives and death threats alike. Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart looked rather abashed to be caught in these circumstances; Vincent could only barely bring himself to care.
Once they were on dry land, Cid Highwind shut off the plane and stood. "Alright, you nimrods, fuck off! Can't fix shit with yer fat asses on it!"
Vincent's two teammates immediately hopped off, sheepish. Vincent himself attempted to extricate his hand again, growling slightly when it once again refused to cooperate. He awkwardly perched there, twitching as another shock ran up his arm, and turned sullen eyes onto the Captain. "...I cannot."
Cid Highwind rounded on him with a glare that intensified once he finally saw the scope of Vincent's mauling. "You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me," is all he said before he hopped over and knelt, grabbing Vincent's metal wrist and tugging at it. It didn't budge. "How the fuck did you do this, Dracula? Got knives fer fingers 'r somethin'?"
Order hummed. Something like that, yes.
Chaos growled so violently that Vincent swayed, pale and pained. He breathed out. "...Sorry."
"Fuckin'-" The blonde stood again, grabbed at the prosthetic with both gloved hands, and then pulled. Vincent pulled with him and the wing squealed as it tore, crumpling like a flimsy tin can. Wires flailed out as they were broken, sparking wildly and causing Cid Highwind to let out another string of swears. "Goddammit! What a fuckin' mess! You goddamn punks!"
Vincent watched the man seethe for a while, unsure of how he was supposed to react, and got none-too-kindly shooed off the plane when the Captain noticed him again. He slid off the wing and landed on the sand silently, flexing his prosthetic to get the static out. He located Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart off to the side, conversing amongst themselves; Vincent merely began wringing the water out of his hair, grimacing minutely at the cakey, salty feeling that was setting in. Order found Itself sympathizing-- it was very unpleasant.
Cid Highwind spent the next three hours patching up the Tiny Bronco, muttering to himself and occasionally making a big racket with his tools. Vincent's two teammates briefly checked to see if Vincent was injured, and swapped around inventory to even things out. It was a rather long wait... but eventually the plane seemed to be fixed. Or, partially fixed, judging by how strained the Captain looked.
"She won't fly anymore," Cid Highwind told them, snappish but far less likely to fly into a rage. "'Least, not without any replacement parts."
Cloud Strife grunted, trying to be sympathetic. "Can we use it as a boat?"
The pilot laughed derisively and swore. "Fuckin' hell, do whatever ya want! Ain't like I give a damn!"
"Um..." Tifa Lockhart started awkwardly, "What'll you do now?"
It seemed like a very odd question to ask, considering the circumstances, but Cid Highwind didn't seem to mind much. "Dunno," he sighed. "I'm history with Shinra, an' I gave up on Rocket Town a long time ago."
"What about your wife, Shera?" Tifa Lockhart asked.
Cid Highwind recoiled and gave her an incredulous look. "Wife? Don't make me laugh! Just thinkin' 'bout marryin' her gives me the chills!" He shook his head and threw the grease-soaked rag he had onto the back of the plane. "She'll fuckin' survive without me. So, what's y'all's story? Some kinda terrorist vigilante bullshit?"
"We're going after a man named Sephiroth," Cloud Strife said after a cautious pause. "We'll take down Shinra, too, someday. Hopefully to save people."
"Huh." Cid Highwind leaned against the Tiny Bronco, sizing their leader up for a while before shrugging. "I don't know 'bout any of that, but..." He cracked an ugly, wide grin, one indicative of a man with nothing left to lose. "What the hell! Sign me up! Ain't got nothin' better t' do!"
The three of them blinked at him, and then amongst themselves. Wasn't he just tearing their heads off for banging up his property not three hours ago? Why was he wanting to join them? Tifa Lockhart looked back at him, visibly confused. "What?"
"Look, lady, I'm still pissed at you lot, but maybe yer some kinda sign that I finally need t' get my ass outta Rocket Town. New beginnings an' shit like that," Cid Highwind drawled. "Maybe if I babysit yer clumsy asses fer a while, I won't feel the urge t' fuckin' rip yer throats out every time I see ya eyein' my plane."
That is... illogical, Order said, eyeing the man skeptically. There must be some other reason for his decision.
Chaos humphed. I doubt he will tell, if there even is such an ulterior motive. He could simply be crazy.
You think all humans are crazy.
Because they are!
Vincent shifted and made the two of them focus on the outside world again. Cloud Strife shrugged, accepting the strange reasoning. He had apparently heard stranger things. "Alright. I guess we wouldn't mind an extra set of hands... and a vehicle."
"Great! Glad to be aboard, numbskulls!" Cid Highwind jeered, thumping the side of his plane. Some seawater dripped out of the cracks of the hull, much to the blonde's irritation.
Order watched the man bicker with Cloud Strife and mused that things were about to get very, very interesting.