Chapter Text
Recapture- to capture again; recover by force; retake
Sept 29
Zack can’t stop thinking about the golden rain.
It’s been hours; the storm has all but dried up, and the sun sank out of sight hours ago. Yet Zack still can’t make sense of it. He really needs to focus on wiggling through the mess of metal and concrete that’s separating him from the Slums right now, but instead, his exhausted brain keeps drifting away. He’s caught himself swaying in place and staring at nothing at least three times in the last hour. Without the soft noises Cloud has been making, he probably would have passed out already. It’s just that the sudden shower of golden light won’t move from where it’s imprinted itself onto the back of his eyelids. What WAS it? Side effects of some Shinra madness? A hallucination caused by massive amounts of blood loss? Those shadows, he’d been seeing them for years now, and they’d been swarming Midgar. Thicker than fog, darker than black. And all of a sudden, they’re just gone?! Woosh! In a shower of golden dust that revealed Midgar in all its glory, and sent a hair-raising prickle all up his spine.
Was it a warning? A sign? Should he turn around? The thought could make him sick- he’s so close! If he can get through this pile of discarded construction equipment he can slip into Sector 6, and from there it’s only an hour's walk at most to Aerith’s! He fought a whole fucking battalion to get this far! A short stroll should be a walk in the park!
Instead, his vision keeps weaving in and out, and it feels like every other step sends him careening into another pile of junk. Without Cloud’s returning ability to grip onto the back of his shirt, Zack is pretty sure he’d have dropped the poor guy by now. The tight weight of it makes it feel like Cloud is just as annoyed at the stumbling as he is.
Zack is stubborn though, and he ignores the building frustration. They’re getting close, and he isn’t giving up now. Not after fighting so hard, coming so far -dodging shadows and bullets both. Frantic, praying to every god that could listen that no one would get it into their head to wander behind those rocks-
Aaaaand he’s shaking again. Zack scrambles for a moment, grip tight on Cloud’s waist as his thoughts try to fly away from him. Deep breathes Zack, he can practically hear Cloud say, nearly there.
“Nearly there.” he repeats aloud, a sad attempt at self reassurance. Gods, he’s so tired.
It’s not the kind of tired he’s ever been before. Deeper than his bones, sinking into his very being. Beyond dead tired, because at least the dead can rest, and Zack absolutely has to keep moving. He’s got people waiting for him, depending on him, and somehow those facts are both the light at the end of the tunnel and even more weight to bear.
No giving up. Zack reminds himself. No giving up. He can nearly hear Cloud agree, memories from the labs.
Practicality peeps up again, also in Cloud’s voice; then stop and rest. He has to shove it away. Zack isn’t sure that he would be able to get back up again, for one. For another, there is no way Shinra is not RIGHT on their tail. He’d spotted two helicopters sweeping around the wastes after the storm faded, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that an entire battalion went silent without someone looking into it. Thirdly, he’s not an idiot- he’s not in good shape. He goes down without some form of healing right now, and the chances he’ll ever get back up are so low you’d have to dig to find them.
Cloud sways slightly against him; to tug him forward or urge him to sit down, there isn’t really a way to tell, but it brings Zack back to the present all the same, and he’d curse if he had the breath. They have to move.
Each staggering step feels like an eternity. Step, stagger, rebalance, breathe, repeat. He’s feeling floaty and cold. Cloud is a scorching line of heat across his shoulders and down his side. Every time he blinks he sees gold dust. It’s no wonder it takes him so long to realize he’s finally left behind the maze of broken Plate and exchanged it for run-down warehouses and piles of trash. Somewhere in the distance, out of sight, he can hear the faint, rowdy riot of sound that is Wallmarket -which is to be avoided-.
Zack turns Northeast towards Sector 5, the trickling bubble of adrenaline clearing his head for a moment. They are so close. Sector 6 is trashed, but the people living down here have put effort into at least clearing pathways and restoring some of the storage. There are spray painted gang tags just about everywhere, and the occasional shitty lean-to, but the paths themselves are well-traveled and well-guarded. It’s unfair, actually. He keeps having to pause, lean around corners, and find workarounds to avoid the various thugs lingering by warehouse doors. His hands are going numb by the time they finally reach the next debris zone that divides Sector 6 from 5. He can’t shake the cold that’s started working into his muscles.
This debris zone is mostly made of the remnants of collapsed Plate. Luckily, there are signs of ‘cleaning’ anyway. Mostly meandering pathways, with assorted chunks of concrete and metal shoved up and to the side to create a high-walled maze. No more signs of habitation in this area, just the skitter of wererats and the always present rotten egg smells. The quiet clattering noises the critters make help keep him on his toes, and it almost feels like Cloud is taking a bit more of his own weight. Zack winces as he straightens up a bit more, ribs screaming in protest. He can practically feel the bullets rattling in his chest every time he breathes too deeply. Shit. Happy thoughts Zack. It's a fucking miracle that Cloud’s doing so much better, so quickly. Maybe it’s a hallucination too. Zack just wishes he could summon up anything besides exhaustion when he voices his encouragement anyway. The words keep falling out of his mouth though, basically a meaningless drone at this point, the neverending, repetitive chant of ‘that’s it, Spikey, nearly there. You’re doing so well. Can’t believe it, look at you.’ type of stuff. Cloud makes a humming noise and tries to raise his head again, but can’t seem to manage it for more than a moment, stumbling over his feet. Their feet. Whatever. At least if this is a hallucination it’s a good one.
Zack rebalances them and forces his eyes to refocus on their surroundings. He feels as hollow as the space around them. There's a chunk of collapsed plate to his left, and a long, deep crack, roughly 8 feet across, to his right, both edged in piles of trash and cement. The path continues on a ‘ways to a rundown warehouse, and beyond that, another section of debris. Past that, if he squints his eyes, he swears he can see the glimmer of golden lights from Sector 5.
He catches himself relaxing too much, swaying to the side. It takes a monumental effort, but Zack manages to straighten up. “Nearly there,” he says again. He’s said it so many times before, he wonders if the words hold any actual meaning anymore. Are they just routine noise now, to Cloud’s ears?
Cloud doesn’t respond to him, blinking blearily around, feet shuffling along and head bobbing whenever he tries to raise it. Zack is careful to skirt the pathway as far from the crevice as he can. He doesn’t like the sounds he’s hearing down there. Clicking and rustling. Could be a monster nest. It’s too dark for even him to see, and his eyes flit around, searching for the familiar swirl of black cloaks and finding nothing. He can’t tell the faint noises from the grinding of his own teeth in his head.
That golden light…what had happened?
His head is spinning too much to figure out anything right now. He needs to focus. Get to Aerith. Nothing else matters. They got this.
He doesn’t realize the grinding noise isn’t just his teeth until it’s too late, of course.
“Target sighted” he hears, and it feels like he dies right then, with how fast he goes cold. He whips around to see over his shoulder, dragging Cloud off his feet, and he sees them. Gray military attire, strange helmets, about 7 of them, all armed.
God no, he’s so close.
There’s barely enough time to tighten his grip on CLoud and lunge around the corner of the warehouse before a high-powered rifle sends a round after them, clipping the building and leaving a fist-sized hole in the edge. There’s shouting, and Zack isn’t sure if the cramping in his stomach is pain or dread, all he can hear is the one in charge snapping “For fuck’s sake, ALIVE dammit!”
“Order’s said Dead or Alive, sir!” someone snarls back, and there is a thud as Zack hauls Cloud back into place over his shoulder and stumbles away as fast as he can. He doesn’t get time to comprehend the words, he’s all but sprinting towards the debris when 3 more of the gray soldiers round the other corner between him and freedom.
One is dropping to a knee to aim their rifle, and the other two have swords- SOLDIER class broadswords, shit. Are they enhanced?
They’re so fucked, the rest of the squad have rounded the corner behind him, and there’s only one way out now.
The Buster Sword should feel reassuring in his hand when he drops Cloud against the warehouse wall and draws it, but his hands are cold and heavy, and his grip is too pinched, like his palms are swollen. His arms don’t shake, but they feel like they want to, every muscle protesting as he sinks into position and uses the very last of his Mana to cast Haste. He can’t let himself think about it. He's got this.
Gunman first; the one who hadn’t cared if he brought them in cold. Zack gets lucky, the guy hadn’t been expecting it, in the middle of aiming his weapon. One hard, vicious slash and he’s not getting up again. The guy next to him stumbles back and into a comrade as the Captain starts to shout, cussing them out.
Zack doesn’t give him time to issue orders and brings The Buster right back down in a devastating blow. Had the man not been enhanced, it would have cut him right in half, but he definitely is, odd gray uniform notwithstanding, and he manages to brace himself behind his standard-issue broadsword enough to redirect the force down and to the side.
It makes his spine all but shriek like chalk on a chalkboard, but Zack swings himself around to follow up, and hauls his sword right back up and forward, smashing right into the dude’s side.
For a second, he almost lets himself hope they can make it, but the crack of a rifle and the hot whizz of a bullet biting into his hip shoves him back into reality. Cloud is attempting to lever himself up on shaky arms, eyes still glazed with Mako Poisoning, and the three enemies on their 6 are closing in fast. Zack responds almost on instinct, slamming the broad side of the Buster Sword across the two men who remain in front of him and shoving as hard as he can to knock them back and off their feet. He doesn’t even have time to make sure that it works before he’s whipping back around and throwing the buster right over his shoulder with all the power he can muster.
One of the three doesn’t move fast enough and is slammed right into the ground as Zack legitimately pounces on the other two, fists swinging hard. There’s shouting, and choking noises, and the thud of blows as he lets loose and aims for the head. The remaining rifleman is scrambling to reload, and the other two behind him are scrambling back to their feet, so he decides to make some room and basically throws the poor sucker he’s been whaling on a good 15 feet into a pile of scrap metal.
Crack! Goes the rifle, and there’s barely time for Zack to jerk back as another bullet grazes his arm. Dumbass was using a single-shot? His hip is burning and numb all at once as he twists to grab at the Buster Sword again and slashes outward, driving their attacks back and out of range by a good 6 feet as he plants himself firmly between them and Cloud. There’s a frustrated grunt behind him, and he can hear Cloud’s boots scuffing against the dirt.
He still needs more room, to make sure he doesn’t hit Cloud in any backswings as they move. The rifleman is reloading again. No, seriously, who still uses a single shot these days? He’s got this, 4 left, all seemingly watching him warily from behind those stupid-looking helmets. They look worse than the ones the Infantry infantry uses, poor bastards. He just hopes they don’t have infrared.
Time to go.
Another lunge forward, and although the guy manages to block, the force is enough to send him skidding a good 20 feet back, struggling to maintain his balance. One of the others must be an absolute clutz because they windmill wildly when they attempt to move out of range and tumble into the chasm behind them with a startled yelp. The skittering noises that follow immediately after swallow up the startled shout the poor bastard lets out.
The third guy is fast though, practically teleporting right inside Zack's guard and striking out with his sword. Zack twists again and swears his hip disintegrates when he twists to catch the blow with his pauldron. It stops the cutting power, but the force sends him staggering backward and nearly knocks the Buster out of his numb fingers.
The attack has given him room though, which is what he needed. A quick turn, and he rushes down a path and around a corner, where he spins back around and catches the guy off guard with another blow from the Buster Sword. His buddy, unfortunately, is right behind him, shouting nonsense into a com unit and readying a materia. Not good. Zack has to duck down and roll forward, slashing at the other guy with his sword and striking out with his other fist at the dude's knee.
He doesn’t quite manage to land the blow, just to knock the man off balance again. He has to spin back around to block the other guy when they swing out at his unprotected back. The Buster sword screeches like a banshee when the gray-clothed man disengages, sparks flying. The third tries to step in, but the pathway is too narrow, and he can’t seem to swing his broadsword correctly in the tight space.
For one second, he actually believes he’s got this. Everyone followed him, so Cloud is good for the moment, and all that’s left is three stumbling goons attempting to swing broadswords in a narrow alley. His hip might have phased into another dimension or something, but the Buster is still in his hand, and he has 30 more seconds of haste to overwhelm these guys and show them what a real SOLDIER can do.
So of course that’s when the dart hits him.
Nice and sharp, a tight little pinch, right in the neck. For a second he thinks it’s shrapnel, and swings out with the Buster again, but then feathers tickle his chin and he feels the too-familiar burn of Hojo’s favorite serum start to spread down his collarbone and up his jaw. That’s when he panics.
He’s aware of the new arrivals as he whips the Buster around, slashing at the nearest target. He can’t think fast enough, everything’s a jumble of ‘oh god no, so close, Cloud, what can I do, do something, NO GIVING UP’. Adrenaline means he’s running out of time fast. Haste means he’s running out of time even FASTER.
The Buster sword smashes into the side of the pathway and sends concrete and metal tumbling back down, pelting everyone with fist-sized shrapnel. Zack swings again, and again, and again, until the pathway is completely buried, and his targets covered in slashes.
His vision is starting to go black, the weight of his own bones feels like it’s doubling, his knees are buckling, so he puts his back into it and hauls The Buster over his shoulder. Like hell Shinra will get their hands on Angeal’s legacy. They don’t get Cloud, and they don’t get-
He heaves on the pommel, using his shoulder as the fulcrum, and lets gravity do the rest. The Buster whips up and over the wall of metal and concrete, then back down, somewhere on the other side. Zack turns and tries to start climbing, concrete skittering under his feet and tingling hands scrabbling for a handhold-
The second dart hits him in the shoulder, but it doesn’t matter- his vision is already going black, and his fingers have gone slack as he tumbles downward once again, into the dark.