Act Four ---currently a WIP----
Act Four
Reminisce (Something Wicked This Way Comes)
Steam filled the shower room, one of the many facilities that all squads, sponsored or not, shared. Hannah was alone--everyone else was already on the training field, except for her squad, Squad Alpha, and Squad Omega, who were on the reserved training field getting a small taste of what was to come. Though a little lonesome, she was glad for the privacy as well, for she knew the male cadets, seeing her (the only female in the entire compound) naked, would be on her like flies on manure.
Wisps of her maroon hair floated down to the off-white, tiled floor. She had saved what she could from the clutches of the road tar, but it wasn’t much. Most of the tar had already dried before she even woke up, so the only way to get it out was with a shining pair of scissors and a lot of elbow grease. She dropped the scissors after a moment to see if she was finished mutilating her once-beautiful locks.
She ran her fingers through the scant remnants of her hair, making sure she had gotten all of that vile black substance. Satisfied that she had, she turned the shower-head on again and stepped under the almost-too-hot water. She absently watched the hair that was once hers circle the drain and disappear while she let the water rush over her, triggering memories of home and how she had gotten into this situation in the first place. She tried to block those thoughts, but failed miserably, and sank to her knees with a sob.
‘Pathetic…’ she thought to herself as she wiped away the sudden onslaught of tears. ‘Here I am crying over a haircut and running water. Get a hold of yourself, Hannah. Yes, it may have been the second haircut you’ve had in less than two weeks, but you have to be strong. You have to stay strong or you’ll never get to go home again…’
‘Home…I wonder if everyone’s noticed I’m gone yet. I’m sure Matron and Patron know what’s going on--they know everything. I hope they don’t worry about me too much…I’ve got to find a way to contact them, to let them know I’m alright…But for now, there’s not much I can do. Guess I’ll just have keep on slugging and wait things out.’
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the cold tile, relaxing and letting comforting thoughts of home take over…
Running water, gushing and gurgling and splashing…
***
The river. She knew it well; it was the center of her life, and the life of her family. It gave them water and fish, provided them a place to wash themselves and their clothing, acted as a pointer should they lose themselves in the dense jungle, and was a big game magnet.
Hannah was there today for the latter. Crouched in the bushes near the bank with her handmade spear at the ready, she crept silently toward the back of the largest Ghagigandhi she had ever seen, perfectly open to attack while it drank from the life-giving blue waters of the river. Just one of those lizards would feed the whole family for a week, and this huge one would surely last twice that long. Her mouth was watering just thinking about it. Ghagigandhi stew, Ghagigandhi kabobs, roast Ghagigandhi…
Suddenly a human shout of surprise ripped through the mostly-silent air, causing her target to look up with curiosity. Hannah stiffened and went stock-still so as not to be seen or heard. After a moment, the creature went back to its leisurely drinking.
She was torn with what to do next. It was now or never for the Ghagigandhi, but that shout had chilled her to the core; she hadn’t recognized it. She could only recall one time in which Outsiders had gotten this deep into the jungle, and it hadn’t ended well for that poor biologist and his crew. If she did nothing, the one who had called out would surely be dead soon.
After a moment of consideration, she crept away from the riverbank and took off in the direction the voice had come from, her long maroon hair streaming out behind her. She regretted giving up such a large kill, but she knew she would regret it more if something happened to the Outsiders (she knew there had to be more than one--she had always been taught that Outsiders usually traveled in groups). If anything happened to them, Patron and Matron had said, more Outsiders would come to find the lost ones. If more came, more could get hurt, and, more importantly, they could find her family’s Fountain.
She never quite got why Outsiders finding their Fountain would be a bad thing. If more people knew about it, she thought, then more people could use it and benefit from it. Whenever she offered that theory to Matron and Patron, though, they simply shook their aged heads. “Child, you have much to learn. You may be twenty-one, but you are still naïve,” Matron would say. Then Patron would follow that up with, “Outsiders would misuse and abuse the Fountain’s gifts. In fact, they already do. Hopefully you’ll never have to see this firsthand, but trust us, Hannah--It would be the end of us if Outsiders found our Fountain.”
Another shout, much closer this time, followed by a reptilian roar and a different shout, disrupted her thoughts. She knew that roar anywhere--the Outsiders must have accidentally stepped into a Ghagigandhi’s nesting ground. A deeper version of the earlier roar confirmed this; the Outsiders, whoever they were, were getting attacked by a mother Ghagigandhi guarding her eggs, and her mate who was guarding her. She picked up the pace of her running, leaping over tree roots and ducking to avoid branches when necessary. If she didn’t hurry, the Outsiders were doomed.
***
Reno yawned and continued climbing up the stairs to his Junon apartment, arms laden with groceries. He hadn’t slept yet, and was eager to get the morning (or rather, since he was a night owl by nature, the ‘evening‘) over with so he could hit the sack…Hence, the 0600-hour-ish grocery run. As for his mission, he knew Hannah would be safe today, thanks to the events of yesterday. All that was left was to get to his door, open it, put the groceries away, then plop onto the nearest semi-comfortable object (be that his couch, his computer chair, or hell, even the carpeted floor of his living room) and get some much-needed shut-eye.
When he got to his floor, however, he noticed that his apartment door was standing wide open. Immediately the drowsiness wore off and he quietly set down his groceries so he could reach into his pocket for his EMR. He pulled it out and swung it slightly to get it fully extended, then proceeded cautiously toward the doorway.
This wouldn’t have been the first time he‘d been burglarized…But it would have been the first time he’d seen a burglar dumb enough to hit a building owned and run by Shin-Ra. Growing up in the slums, he’d encountered some pretty dumb people…But no one that dumb.
Once he was in the doorway, he could hear voices. The first one he heard sounded old and rough, like an old soldier aged even more by battle. The second was childlike and oddly distorted, like it was coming through a microphone.
“You’re sure this is the place, kid?”
“How else would we have gotten in if it wasn’t, Ice?”
“Hmph. I expected something a little nicer than this dump…”
“I dunno…It seems to me that someone may already be staying here.”
“That’s nonsense, Fishbowl. Why would Shin-Ra send us to one bedroom apartment if there was already someone here?”
“Then why am I picking up residual heat signals on the couch and whatnot? And why is the computer on, then?”
“…Shut up, you junk heap whippersnapper.”
“You old fart, no one says ‘whippersnapper’ anymore! And who are you calling a junk heap, you sexagenarian dim-wit!”
Reno, who had sneaked inside during the conversation, could finally see the two intruders.
He had been correct on his guesses; one looked to indeed be an old, battle-worn soldier, and the other was shorter and smaller, like a child. The older one could’ve been anywhere from his mid-fifties to his late sixties and sported a thick white mustache, angular features, and a monocle on his left eye. He looked like his face was stuck in a constant glower. The younger one was wearing what looked to Reno to be a space suit of some kind, glass dome helmet and all. What further perplexed him were the boy’s hands--They were robotic. Upon closer examination, much of him stuck Reno as man-made, giving him the appearance of a cyborg.
‘Okay, so what are G.I. Joe and RoboKid doing in my apartment?’
“Why you little--” Suddenly, the old soldier (the kid had called him Ice) looked up. “…Fishbowl?”
“…I feel it, too, Ice…”
Without warning, Fishbowl spun around and slammed his mechanical right arm into Reno’s throat, pinning the redhead against a wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him and caused him to drop his EMR. Ice joined his comrade and put a large, military-issue knife to Reno’s neck.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Fishbowl asked, his voice deeper with seriousness.
“Who am--Who the hell are you?! I live here, you jackasses! What are you two doing in my apartment, yo!?” Reno managed to say angrily, despite the cold metal fingers threatening to crush his windpipe.
“You didn’t answer the questions, redhead. Who are you and what are you doing here!?” Ice hissed as he pressed the knife against Reno’s skin, nearly cutting it.
“Alright, alright! I’m Reno Rosetti, and I work in Shin-Ra’s Administrative Research Department. My I.D. card is over there by the computer if you don’t believe me, yo. I’m here in Junon on assignment, but I can’t discuss my mission with non-Shin-Ra personnel.”
“A Turk, huh? Ice, would you kindly go check that I.D. card while I hold him, please and thank you?”
“…” Ice lowered his knife and walked over to Reno’s computer desk, finding the said I.D. card and reading from it. “’Rosetti, Reno A.; Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, Military Branch, Department in Administrative Research; Cleared for access to all floors in the Midgar building.’ Hmm…The picture matches.” Ice scrutinized the card, looking for faults, and, finding none, said, “…And it doesn’t appear to be counterfeit. Let him go, Fishbowl--he may be a punk, but he’s not a liar.”
Fishbowl released Reno and stepped back, giving the young Turk a chance to catch his breath and pick up his weapon. He rubbed his neck where the robotic arm had clamped it while the owner of the arm smirked and turned toward Ice.
“I TOLD you there was someone living here!” he jibed, voice childish again. “I told you so, I told you so, I told you so!”
“Can it, brat, and show the Turk our identification.”
Pouting for being chided, the robot-like boy opened up a compartment on/in his left arm (Reno couldn’t help but stare at this) and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out two I.D. cards similar to Reno’s, which he handed to the redhead before closing his arm up again. The Turk read over the cards to himself.
‘Okie-dokie, they’re from the Company…Now, let’s see where in the Company, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t know them. ‘Ice; Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, Military/Science/Weapon Development Branches; PRIME, First Commander No. 3; Head of Unit IV; Cleared for access to all floors in the Midgar Building and access to all areas of the remote headquarters. Note: Also cleared for access to confidential files.’, ‘Fishbowl; Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, Military/Science/Weapon Development Branches; PRIME, Third Commander No. 2; Head of Unit VIII; Cleared for access to all floors in the Midgar Building and access to all areas of the remote headquarters. Note: Also cleared for access to confidential files.’ …Hold on a sec…… “PRIME!? You two are officers in PRIME?! Sweet Ramuh, what are two PRIME Commanders doing here, yo?!!?”
“You first, Turk. You tell us your assignment, and we might tell you ours,” Ice said coldly.
After staring at the two of them in awe (PRIME, here!!!) he went and closed his apartment door, deciding to go and get his groceries out of the hall later, and turned to them to begin explaining himself. They were his superiors, after all. “…My assignment is ‘Mission: Guard’. My duties are to protect SOLDIER Cadet Number 177395, Hannah L. Tenofski, while she’s in the Academy and protect her from preventable harm while she rises through the ranks of SOLDIER.”
“Oh, I get it now! That’s why the Company sent us here!” Fishbowl exclaimed. “It keeps costs down if people on the same assignment stay in the same living quarters!”
That statement caught Reno off guard. “Wait, what?”
“That’s our mission, too. We’re to look after the girl while she’s in training. Looks like she‘s going to need it, too, now that she‘s crossed SOLDIER‘s pride and joy,” Ice clarified.
Reno was flabbergasted. Had news of Hannah’s escapades reached the remote headquarters, where PRIME was (rumored to be) stationed, already?
Ice saw his expression and laughed. “Don’t look so shocked, kid. We know about her misadventures because she’s our responsibility. We’re the one’s that found her, after all.”
Now Reno was confused. “…No, me and Rude found her…”
“Technically, you may have seen her first, but we’re the ones that brought her to the Company. So, too bad, you shouldn’t have let her go. She counts toward our score now,” Fishbowl pointed out matter-of-factly.
The ‘score’ he had referred to was something of Shin-Ra Electric Power Company’s version of an inside joke. The employees from the various departments of the Company’s military, science, and weapon development branches had a bit of a contest going to see which department could get more people recruited for SOLDIER, and whose recruits got higher ranks. The Turks and PRIME had long been running neck-and-neck in this contest, but with Hannah, PRIME had just pulled ahead. But Reno didn’t care about that right now--he had almost forgotten about that silly little contest.
He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of “When the hell did she run into you guys, yo?” when Ice cut him off.
“I know what you’re going to ask--don’t. It’s none of your business. All you need to know is that PRIME and The Administrative Research Department aren’t trying to get into a turf war over this woman, and therefore we should just do what our bosses want and work together to accomplish ‘Mission: Guard’. Look at the three of us--Fishbowl can’t go out in public without attracting attention, you couldn’t defeat Sephiroth if your life (or rater, Hannah’s life) depended on it, and I have no patience for the bureaucratic bullshit that comes along with an assignment like this. So, like it or not, I‘m going to have to work with a whiny brat and a transvestite pincushion, and you’ll have to put up with this stubborn old goat.”
“……Fine. Whatever,” Reno said, slightly annoyed by the insult. “We’ll work together, and you two can stay here. It’s not like I have the power or authority to kick you two out anyway, yo…”
“Exactly. Now, there’s only one question…” Fishbowl said.
“And that is…?” Ice said exasperatedly.
“This is a one bedroom apartment…Who’s going to sleep where?”
Reno chuckled wryly and sat down on the couch while the two interlopers began arguing again. He tuned them out and let his sleep-deprived mind wander.
‘So, she ran into PRIME after she left us…I wonder what happened between her and them…PRIME’s not known for leaving survivors, so how did she end up impressing them enough to live and get sent to the Academy? I knew she had potential, but she refused our offer to come with us back to Midgar. I was shocked when I learned she was being put into the Academy…I mean, why, though? What made her change her mind?’
His brain summoned the image of Hannah with long, flowing maroon hair, wielding a handmade spear and wearing clothes made of large leaves and vines. A wild woman…he liked that image. It was difficult to see her look so…’civilized’ was the wrong word, as her small village was anything but ‘uncivilized’. Perhaps a better word would be ‘artificial’.
-------------------to be continued-------------------------------
