Unsynced, Chapter 3

[sinnatious]

Title: Unsynced, Chapter 3

Summary: FF7. Someone in ShinRa HR mixed up assignments, and Kunsel gets sent to Nibelheim instead of Zack.

Author’s Note: This chapter is pretty short and still stuck in familiar territory, after next chapter things should hopefully get more interesting. I kind of wish I just timeskipped but eh. Hope you enjoy.


Chapter 1
Chapter 2



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Chapter 3

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Kunsel rolled out of bed - his boots and helmet on in record speed. In a matter of seconds he was dashing outside.

Into what could only be described as a nightmare.

Nibelheim was burning. The houses were wreathed in flame, the water tower collapsed, its contents soaking uselessly into the ground while the town went up in smoke. The air had turned hazy, and carried an acrid taint that burned his throat. All he could hear was the constant crackle and roar of flame, punctuated with screams and pleas for help.

And at the far end of the square, in the midst of the inferno… Sephiroth.

He glanced up, slowly. Gaze sweeping cruelly across the destruction.

Then he turned, and left.

Kunsel didn’t have time to wonder or process what that meant. He was too busy scrambling for the nearest body on the ground.

The General Store manager. Already dead, eyes glassy and mouth slack, embers settling on his blood-soaked clothes. A gash that nearly rent his body in two. Kunsel cursed, and ran for the next one. And then the next. And the next.

He couldn’t do anything. Not for any of them. Every time he reached for his Restore materia, it was too late – too far gone. And all the while, the buildings burned, oppressive waves of heat forcing him back. Of all the missions to leave his Ice materia back at ShinRa-!

That was when he saw the flash of ShinRa blues amidst the orange flames.

“Cloud!” He skidded to a stop and dropped to his knees next to the trooper, frantically checking him over for injuries.

Thank Shiva, he was conscious, and coughing, but coughing was fine because that meant he was breathing. Some light burns, and likely overcome with smoke. He must have been trying to help. His clothes were damp – from the water tower’s collapse. It probably saved him from worse.

“Sephiroth,” Cloud croaked.

“He’s not here,” Kunsel replied. “Save your breath. You’re okay, Cloud. You’re gonna be fine.” He held out his Restore materia to hit him with a quick Cure anyway – wanting to do more, but in a situation like this, he didn’t dare tax his resources more than necessary. Cloud would be on his feet again just as soon as he had his wind back. “Your Ma. Is she-?”

The anguished scrunch to the trooper’s face told him everything.

It was too cruel. This was a tragedy.

“Sephiroth...” Cloud muttered.

Kunsel didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to think about it. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything, wouldn’t be able to help.

“Gone,” he repeated. “Stay low, okay, Cloud? Less smoke by the ground. Get your breath back. I have to go see if I can help anyone else.”

Don’t think. Just move. He had to keep moving.

An anguished wail cut through the night. Kunsel jerked, momentarily torn between going for his sword or his Restore. He immediately sought out the source of the noise – back by the inn. A familiar girl, cradling the body of an older man.

“Tifa?”

He’d missed her on his dash from the building. Guilt made his stomach lurch, but looking closer, the blood on Tifa’s hands told the story. The mayor had been slain. He’d never had a chance.

Another person he couldn’t help. Kunsel turned his eyes away.

Tifa shot to her feet though, with a suddenness that made him step back. Her fists clenched and unclenched. Her shoulders shook.

"This was his doing! Sephiroth!" Tifa's eyes were wild with grief and hatred. She spun on her heel and ran for the mountain trail.

"Come back, you idiot! Tifa!" Kunsel shouted.

She didn’t listen – just disappeared through the flames into the darkness beyond.

Idiot! Did she want to die?! It was suicide for anyone to go against Sephiroth.

The smell of burning flesh and the echo of Tifa’s anguished cry hung in the air. The fires still churned, lashing the night sky with burning tongues of light, replacing the stars with smoke and embers.

He couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t turn his face from the truth, however much he wanted to.

Sephiroth had gone mad. Genesis had been right after all. This truly was the work of a monster.

“…Tifa…” Cloud coughed.

Kunsel stared around him, at the raging inferno and fallen villagers.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and took off down the trail after her.

There had been enough death already today.

………………….

The path up Mount Nibel was deathly silent. No wolves, no dragons, no needlekisses.

Kunsel fumbled for his PHS as he ran, stumbling over rocks in the dark, SOLDIER reflexes all that kept him from face-planting more than once. The screen lit up, painting his surroundings a pale electronic blue.

No signal.

“Shit!” He slapped the PHS shut again. He couldn’t even call for backup.

The Reactor was a beacon in the darkness, bathed bright in floodlights. His steps slowed as he approached, gaze sweeping his surroundings for any sign of Tifa. He hadn’t passed her on the way up, but he’d been hoping that was because she’d taken a different path.

No sign of her – or Sephiroth. But the entrance to the reactor stood open, a dark mouth to the interior.

That… wasn’t great.

His hands shook as he reached for his materia stash. One by one, they slotted into his bracer. Magic Boost, Barrier, Poison, Time, Lightning.

It was an arsenal compared to most SOLDIERs’ equips. It looked woefully insufficient for the situation.

No time to waste, or to second-guess. He just needed to keep Tifa safe. No fancy heroics. Grab her and get the hell out of dodge, until he could call for backup. That was the smart thing to do.

Kunsel took a deep breath, and ran inside.

His footsteps echoed eerily through the metal corridor leading into the reactor’s heart. The walls thrummed faintly with the distant sound of mako being pumped and processed and converted into energy.

And up ahead, a girl’s voice.

Kunsel put on a burst of speed, and arrived just in time to see Tifa thrown against the reactor wall.

She crumpled to the ground with a cry, and lay still. And across from her…

Sephiroth.

Had his eyes always been so mako-green, so serpentine?

So cold?

He chuckled, low and menacing. “Mother… they’re here again."

Kunsel kept a wary eye on him, even as he dashed to Tifa’s side. She was hurt, but still alive, thank Shiva.

“Tifa, can you walk?” he urged in a whisper. “We have to get out of here.” She didn’t respond. He reached out to grab her shoulder. “Tifa!”

Nothing. Unconscious.

“They came and took this planet away from you,” Sephiroth murmured. “But don’t be sad, mother. I’ll fix it.” He watched them with a strange light in his eyes. A madness that chilled Kunsel to the core.

Letting out an unsteady breath, Kunsel stood. The exit rested five strides to the right, then some five seconds at a sprint to the outside. Silently inviting.

But if he took it he would be leaving Tifa defenceless, at the whims of a SOLDIER gone insane.

His lips were chapped, and when he ran his tongue across them, tasted of smoke. “Why did you do it, Sephiroth? What did any of those people do to you?”

“Those people?” Sephiroth’s tone turned as dark as a thunderstorm, his voice like black oil spreading across a sea of ice. “Those inferior dullards stole the Planet from mother, and I shall take it back.” He stalked forward, steps slow and deliberate and his intention unmistakeable.

Kunsel shook his head in disbelief. It wasn’t just Nibelheim… Sephiroth was going to wage war against all of humanity? “You’ve lost your mind.”

“On the contrary, I am seeing clearly for the very first time.”

He wasn’t getting out of this. There wasn’t any escape. He could see that now. Not even if he abandoned Tifa and made a run for it.

He was only Second Class. The difference in their strength was laughable.

There was no one else who could, though. No backup.

“Haste,” Kunsel murmured. The spell seeped into his body like a gulp of hot coffee on a freezing day, making his skin tingle and his senses hyper-aware.

Not a moment too soon.

Even with the Haste spell active, Kunsel barely raised his broadsword in time. Masamune crashed against his block, jarring his arms and sending him stumbling.

“I am the chosen one,” Sephiroth murmured. “I have been chosen to rule this planet.” Masamune slashed again, and the energy lancing off it tore a crevasse in the wall. “And you’re getting in the way.”

Kunsel couldn’t spare the breath to respond. He just flung himself desperately to the side, getting any distance he could on the General, and threw the strongest Bolt he could summon in his wake.

Lightning lashed around him in a maelstrom, snapping and crackling. Three of the pods exploded, raining glass and putrid mako across the catwalk.

Sephiroth didn’t even flinch.

And Kunsel realised that, Haste spell or not, he was screwed.

Sephiroth advanced - each slow, deliberate step punctuated with a sweep of his blade, cutting razor-thin wedges in the catwalk beneath their feet. Masamune sang, again and again, as Kunsel desperately parried, their clashing blades a deadly symphony of steel.

Then Sephiroth, without any warning, disappeared into black mist.

Kunsel lurched to a stop, scanning his surroundings wildly. A teleport? But he hadn’t seen any materia-

Boots landed, ever so lightly, on the catwalk behind him.

Kunsel whirled around just in time for Masamune to slice through his chest.

“Gah!” He stumbled backwards, choking, as blood poured from the wound. The Haste spell was all that had let him react fast enough to avoid being cut in two.

Silver arced through the air again, impossibly powerful. He tried to parry, and was thrown halfway across the chamber.

He crashed into the remains of the one of the pods, metal and glass crumpling under him. His head rattled in his helmet, and his broadsword spun from his hands, clattering down the stairs.

And with that, the Haste spell faded, leaving him cold, numb, and exhausted.

Forty-five seconds. He’d lasted all of forty-five seconds against Sephiroth.

Sephiroth watched him for a moment, but when he didn’t move, simply turned away, disappearing up the stairs into the room beyond. Jenova’s chamber.

Kunsel lay amidst the crumpled metal and shards of glass, wheezing.

Cut from right shoulder to left hip. Bleeding out. The mako in his blood would slow it down, buy him time, but if he didn’t move…

Somehow, despite the flare of agony that ran across his chest, he managed to raise his arm. His fingers were clumsy, reaching ineffectively for his Restore materia. Why the hell hadn’t he put it in his bracer? Should have swapped it with the Poison. Stupid. He’d never needed it actively equipped before. But then he’d never been bleeding out on the floor like this before, either.

His fingers closed around the warm green marble. Arm shaking with effort, he pulled it free. Struggled to clear his head, long enough to focus.

His strength failed before he could finish. The materia bounced from his grasp and rolled into the gap between the pods.

Kunsel laughed. It turned into a choked sob.

This was the limit of Second Class, huh?

At least nobody would blame him for it. Who could ever expect a Second Class to do anything against Sephiroth? Maybe if Zack had been here, he might have stood a chance…

A new set of footsteps entered the Reactor. Smaller. Lighter.

Kunsel struggled to focus. Caught three points of red light. A helmet.

Cloud.

“No, Cloud, run!” he croaked.

The trooper either didn’t hear him, or didn’t listen. He stooped – picking up Kunsel’s fallen sword - and stalked into the Reactor after Sephiroth.

For a small eternity, there was only silence. Only the hum of the Reactor, and Kunsel’s shallow, ragged breath, and the drip of his blood against metal.

He blinked, and then Cloud was lurching past him again, back to Tifa. Alive. How-?

A broadsword – his broadsword – clattered back against the stairs. The blade was stained red to the hilt. Cloud had…?

The trooper threw his helmet aside and dropped to his knees next to Tifa. It sounded like she was coming around.

Then, like a nightmare, another set of footsteps rattled the catwalk above him. “How… dare you…”

Sephiroth. Injured, one hand pressed against his abdomen, blood spilling between his fingers – but still alive.

“Cloud!” Kunsel warned. His shout was weak, and barely travelled the distance.

The trooper carefully laid Tifa back down, running back over to the broadsword.

“Don’t… push your… luck…” Sephiroth hissed.

Cloud said something back. Kunsel couldn’t hear. Everything felt blurry. There was movement. A scuffle. Outside of his line of vision, and he didn’t have the strength to turn his head.

This time, Cloud didn’t come back.

Neither did Sephiroth.

With the last of his strength, Kunsel fumbled for his PHS. A single, pitiful bar of signal flickered perilously on the screen. His fingers slid awkwardly across the keys, leaving bloody smears in their wake.

To: Contacts, All

Subject: (None)

‘Send help.’

Message sent, the PHS slipped from his fingers, and tumbled to the floor.

Next chapter

Comments

[lenine]

Aargh!