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“Shinra has no jurisdiction here!”
It was almost pitiful the way the frantic cry was swallowed up by the clamor filling the rows of shops, few even bothering to look. One really could find all types in Wall Market, which meant merchants could ignore a scuffle taking place right in front of their walkway, eagerly talking up their offerings to passersby unhindered. True professionals far too accustomed to the ilk who tended to congregate in their district to let it hinder their work. You had to respect them.
The tantalizing smells of grilled meat and fried dough were already beginning to waft through the cool evening air. Night was descending, and the walled-in district was transforming, an even greater number began emerging from their stalls to hawk wares of a more salacious sort.
But Roche was here for work, not play.
He didn’t even bother to unsheathe his sword, delivering a well-aimed kick directly towards the rump of the squealing man –-a member some group called ‘Beck’s Badasses’ according to the briefing delivered to his PHS that afternoon-- and sending him stumbling forward to crash face-first into the dirt path.
“You’re telling me!” He agreed, not unkindly, holding the fallen thug in place as he reached down for the stolen contraband he was sent to retrieve. “But I’m afraid you chose the wrong people to rob from. And you left a nice little trail leading right to your door.”
This was the kind of work SOLDIER, Shinra’s elite, mako-augmented fighting force was being dispatched for these days. Rounding up petty thieves in the slums? Surely troopers would have sufficed, fears of Avalanche involvement or no. Sure, many of his colleagues preferred the new SOLDIER under Heidegger’s leadership with its benign, predictable missions. But Roche?
Roche was bored.
He just wanted to let his engine roar to his heart’s content, soaring along the roadways and crossing blades with worthy opponents—
And there it was again, the spark in his chest. The one he kept feeling whenever he thought of that certain ne'er-do-well he’d been assigned to dispatch on what should have been another routine mission. The way he deftly handled his mount and weapon in tandem. Clad in the uniform of a practically defunct SOLDIER rank. And most telling of all, the mark of heavy mako exposure making his eyes glow like gemstones…
“And the rest?” Roche casually tossed the bag of grenades up and down in his hand. “I hear you commandeered an entire truck. Bold of you.”
“I don’t know, and even if I did-“
The thug’s words were abruptly cut off by the heel of a boot impatiently slamming once again into the man’s fleshy behind. Much harder this time.
“C-Corneo! We sold it to Don Corneo!” He cried. “I just wanted to make a quick gil man, I didn’t know I was getting Shinra on my ass, please-“
Roche extricated his boot with a hum, watching with disinterest as the man flopped over onto his side and laid still in surrender, outright blubbering now.
How dull.
He carelessly pitched the bag back to where two troopers assigned to him waited, merely watching the whole time. Cries of oh no ensued as they both clamored --and failed-- to catch it, bouncing it back and forth between themselves like a footbag in an attempt to get a grip on it before they ended up summarily knocking it away. The flammable explosives soared several feet into the air before landing in the dirt with an innocuous plop. One of the two SOLDIER hopefuls quickly scrambled to retrieve it, sending a nervous look his commander’s way.
Shame, really. An explosion would have spiced things up.
“You’re done here!” He announced to the troopers with a long wave of his hand in the manner his colleagues told him again and again was insufferable. “Why not take the confiscated items back to HQ, then and take rest of the shift for yourselves?”
A cheer went up from the pair at the early dismissal, both immediately scampering off to do Gaia-knew-what in the red light district before they headed back to Shinra headquarters.
Roche himself continued along the path towards Don Corneo’s mansion, the gaudy building impossible to miss from its prime location atop the distant hill looming over the district. Or at least he tried; no sooner had he taken three steps when suddenly the path before him was twisting beneath him. His head spun as the chatter of customers and shopkeepers around him faded and slowed to a dull rumble. He ground to an abrupt stop, gritting his teeth and pressing his fingers up to his temples as though that might soothe the throbbing.
He’d admittedly forgotten the amount of discomfort involved as one's body adjusted to the injections in the years since his promotion to 3rd. It had been scarcely 20 hours since he'd gotten the new augmentations and he was already fed up with waiting for the sudden waves of vertigo and sharp pain piercing his skull to abate.
At the time of his decision…
“Why are you applying now, after all this time? Your talent’s gotten you nominated for rank advancement several times already despite your, uh, quirky personality, but you never expressed any interest.” Kunsel was one of the few colleagues who could tolerate his “theatrics” as their superior officers liked to call it. If he also felt Roche’s behavior was surely nothing short of lunacy, well, he was polite enough to keep his opinion to himself. “If you’re expecting better assignments than 3rd, you’re in for a disappointment. You might feel stronger, but they also make us master more materia and complete extra hours in the trainers.”
Why now? Surely it was obvious. Roche now knew what his heart longed for.
Of course, the first thing he’d done after that fateful meeting was pore over the ID scanner logs. He was registered under a fake ID, of course, but when the same ID number was scanned the very next day on a train bound for Sector 4…
An Avalanche terrorist, hmm.
A turncoat, then. Someone like him, unable to find fulfillment outside of battle, surely. Likely serving in that eco-terrorist organization to fill the void left by SOLDIER.
He didn’t even know his name, but the static-charged energy he felt coursing through his very being was sure he would find out. He had to know more about him. The engine was compelling him, undeniable, refusing to let him push thoughts of the mysterious blond from his mind—
He’d found the one person who gave him the thrill he’d been seeking his entire life.
He felt alive.
Well, his next action was already decided the moment he’d directly opposed his employer to assist a complete stranger, was it not?
“You’ve got it bad, man.” Kunsel’s faintly amused tone finally cut him off after his third (perhaps slightly dramatized) recounting of the fateful evening. “Good luck, then. Just don’t get yourself hurt, huh?”
Roche was never one to deny his own instincts in favor of reason.
---
It was faintly more than a sigh-- a grumble really-- coming just as Roche prepared to explain once again that he needed to inspect the premises for contraband stolen from Shinra and would these kind gentlemen please cooperate before he had to ruin a lovely evening for them-
“Two in one day. Are all SOLDIERs so damn persistent…?” The silver-haired young man in a cap murmured under his breath. And it was enough to immediately give him pause.
Surely not even Heidegger was incompetent enough to forewarn Corneo that SOLDIER was sniffing around his supply chains by sending someone ahead of him.
The breath caught in his throat.
“Wait.” Roche looked towards the lackey with a frown. “You there. Did you say…”
No, even if another SOLDIER had been ordered here, it would have been mentioned in his briefing.
Then…
The possibility came crashing down on his head with the force of a bad wipeout. Before realizing it, he already had the Corneo henchman’s jacket collar clenched in his fist.
“What did he look like? Did he have spikey blond hair? Big sword? Eyes like mine?” Anxious hope seeped into his tone, using his free hand to point to his own eyes while dimly noting the way his other trembled from excitement where it gripped fabric.
As the sour-faced man in the cap merely made a face and scoffed, roughly batting his hand away, but the one beside him with close-cropped hair clapped his hands together in excitement.
“The champ, right? Yeah, we all know him! He and his girlfriend mopped up the floor with Sam’s boys real good in yesterday’s Corneo cup! I’m kind of a fan, actually…” The man’s smile instantly faltered when his comrades sent him matching glares. “Yeah, uh, he hasn’t come around since we turned him away before. The Don probably had him disposed of…”
The words cut off when his gaze flicked back to Roche. His pupils went wide as he took a few steps closer to his companions.
It was possibly due to the immense grin Roche could feel threatening to split his face.
He’d found him. Oh, it had to be him alright.
That incredible electricity was back humming through his veins like a turbine, making his heart race. He couldn’t help recalling his solo spar with the enigmatic man when they mentioned the colosseum, and oh, to have been there himself, partaking once again the delight he’d tasted first hand. When was the last time Roche had experienced ebullience even comparable to that which he did during that fleeting waltz? Had he ever?
And then he couldn’t stop himself as the laughs spilled from his lips, nor did he particularly feel like trying. Nothing could dampen his mood now.
It morphed into a roar that echoed through the entry hall, the men in front of him freezing. He could feel their eyes on him, the same bizarre mixture of curious, annoyed, and nervous that Roche was accustomed to having directed at him from friend and foe alike.
“Thugs like you? Dispose of him?” He barely managed to get the words out before he had another fit of chuckles, neither hearing nor caring about the perturbed murmurs the group exchanged. Had these fools truly seen the man fight? “Please. That’s outright absurd!”
Corneo’s henchmen continued to watch for the several long moments before he finally took a deep breath, satisfied smirk firmly in place. Then he simply flipped his hair with a dramatic flourish, turning and sauntering back out through the entryway gate, all thoughts of work entirely forgotten. He was impervious to the stares digging into his back as he departed, crossing through the mansion’s front gardens as he took long, meaningful strides towards his new destination… the colosseum.
Yes, the colosseum of course, where he would stake out the facility for days if necessary-
“…!”
He reflexively reached out without thinking as the impact came, placing a steadying arm around the back of a young woman he’d practically bowled over coming up the stairs from falling backward. He needn’t have bothered; the woman had lightning-fast reflexes herself, managing to remain steady on her feet, albeit slightly ruffled from the crash.
His ears were indeed tuned to the female voice, however, and he faintly noted that her firm grunt of surprise was not the cry he might have expected from a lady dressed up so richly in a town like Wall Market, and certainly not one on the way to do business with the Don…
She slowly lifted her head, and he opened his mouth, a casual apology at the ready...when the words died on his lips.
All thoughts were dashed from his mind as he took in the woman's appearance and a glare --cold and fierce but also faintly hesitant-- landed on him.
“You…” Lips painted in a light pink gloss faintly parted in shock. The body beneath his hand flinched.
“So we meet again, my friend.”
Of course he recognized him. Every cell in his body was alight. There was no mistaking the way his blood positively sang in delight at the sudden proximity to one who filled a gap in the core of his soul. Especially not when their bodies were so close that traces of faint sandalwood perfume tickled his nostrils. Alas, the realization flashing in opposing glimmering blue was far from pleased.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The ex-SOLDIER snarled, roughly tearing himself away from Roche’s hold and putting several steps between them. “Why are you here?”
“Duty calls. Even here occasionally.”
A woman in red had been keeping her distance on the stairs behind them, watching their exchange with a considering look. She chose that moment to step forward, leveling Roche with a stare that bored right through him; as if she could see through everything.
But suddenly, she softened. “He’s an old friend of yours from SOLDIER, right? We’ve still got some time before the auditions anyway.” She broke into a dazzling smile. “I’ll go let them know we’re on our way, okay? Don’t take too long catching up!”
“He’s not- wait-!”
“It’s okay!” She waved off his protests. “I’ve got this!”
The smaller man could only watch helplessly, a long-suffering expression in place, as the strange woman ran off. He clicked his tongue and whirled back around to glare at him, twintails swaying.
“Look. You-“ He paused, as though struggling to find the right words. “You helped me out before. I’m not sure what you’re here for, but…I need to rescue someone from Corneo.” He took a breath, seeming to swallow his pride before looking up, faintly pleading. “Can you just turn a blind eye…?”
And oh, how his stomach did somersaults when he considered the other was certainly swallowing his pride to earnestly request his help. And as much as he wanted to oblige-
“I’d love to help you, friend. But I do have just one- no two conditions?” It was a complete bluff, to be sure; the thought of doing something that would only hinder his time in the company of the tiny powerhouse was ridiculous, and besides, his mission briefing didn't mention looking for Avalanche.
The Avalanche member eyed him dubiously. The taller man ran a hand through his hair in what he was sure was a dashing pose.
“You really can’t figure it out?”
At Cloud’s deadpan expression, he enlightened him.
“Another dance with you, of course!”
“Again?”
“I told you, didn’t I? I didn’t get my fill before. And I’m beginning to suspect it’s impossible I’ll ever truly have enough.”
Cloud suddenly looked downright exhausted, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with perfectly manicured fingers. After a moment, he nodded. Reluctant, certainly, but an assent nonetheless. “Fine.”
Yes, yes, yes-
“Well then, how about we head out-”
“I’m a little busy here. And I’m not exactly dressed for it, if you haven’t noticed.”
Why yes, he had noticed. Was struggling not to, in fact. Indeed, how did one with such a slim waist swing around that enormous sword like it weighed nothing?
“Then…” He tapped his fingers to his chin in a mock appearance of thought. “How about your PHS number? We can schedule a time to thoroughly enjoy one another’s company free of interruptions.”
“Eat shit.”
“Then I’m afraid there’s no deal.” He singsonged, adoring the dangerous flash that suddenly crossed the other blond’s eyes. “It’s not linked to the company network, I assure you. Don’t you worry your pretty little head over that.”
An eye-roll followed by a pause of consideration. “Fine. Give it here.” Roche eagerly scrambled to hand over the device and watching carefully as the other blond input a sequence of numbers.
“And there was a second condition…” he reminded in his best honeyed tone, unable to keep still despite himself and bouncing one heel as the shorter man passed back the PHS.
“What now?”
“Tell me your name.”
The ex-SOLDIER actually looked relieved at that, even visibly deflating. “It’s already in your PHS. So, we’re finished here.” He turned away, silk skirts swaying, obviously eager to get away as soon as possible.
Roche almost dropped said PHS in his enthusiasm, eagerly flipping it open to confirm the new contact entry: Cloud.
The adrenaline surging through him was positively euphoric. Biting down the triumphant cackle bubbling up to his throat, he managed to keep his tone composed and confident as he called after him.
“Well, then. I’ll be waiting for that third dance, Cloud. Don’t forget.”
The man never stopped walking. Without turning around, he responded simply,
“Yeah, thanks… Roche.”
He inhaled sharply in response to his own name spoken in his—Cloud’s – voice, plain and disinterested though his tone may have been. He’d been listening carefully when he gave his name before, even when they were racing along the highway together…
Grinning softly, something vibrant and oddly warm filling his chest, he watched the other man's back disappear through the manor gates, wondering if the next day’s news would be reporting on Don Corneo being found dead in his own bedroom.
---
It wasn’t precisely “found dead in his own bedroom”, but Roche was nevertheless unsurprised to find himself dispatched the next day to root around Don Corneo’s mansion on suspicion of sabotage. They found nothing, of course, and the Don was long gone.
The SOLDIER wasn’t sure what transpired in the manor or what had gone on with Sector 7’s plate. But he was entirely positive of who had placed the Don in the precarious position of fleeing Shinra. The lecher was probably all the way to Wutai by now.
The gentle breeze outside the city grazed his face as he adjusted his sword on his back – his own personal beauty of a blade this time, not the standard-issue SOLDIER sword– and leaned back against his beloved bike.
He flipped open his PHS to gaze at Cloud’s number on the screen for what had to be at least the thirtieth time that week, as if just looking at it provided him with some connection to his heart’s desire. He’d never dialed it -- it was even possible it was fake. But somehow, he knew it was genuine.
The reports of the disaster that had occurred right inside Shinra headquarters the prior evening…
“There was this crazy chase along the highway and everything—you know, the topmost one they’re still working on?”
When Kunsel had relayed the events, Roche had initially gnashed his teeth in frustration because of course it would happen on his day off. He’d been away from HQ entirely, in fact. “That Avalanche group has likely left Midgar now. The brass sure has their work cut out for them, huh?”
But his chest also swelled with something like pride. Because he’d already accepted his new course, hadn’t he?
And that was why Roche stood here now, parked on a desolate highway running through the Midgar Wasteland, taking a break on the way to Kalm just to stare at a number he wouldn’t dial while numerous bounty requests pinged his PHS.
“I take it back. You’re don’t just have it bad.” Kunsel had called down the hallway as he strode out of the barracks that morning with a small pack of his belongings. “I’m not even sure what this is.”
But the fire roaring in his heart refused to be denied. And there was only one thing capable of both stoking and quelling the flames.
Roche confirmed the latest job request on his PHS with a grin and hopped back onto his bike.
Time to get started.