Emerald Crisis--Final Fantasy VII--Disc One, Mission 1

Edge: Seventh Heaven Bar\

            Yuffie was sleeping, as they say, the sleep of the dead.  Her arms were dead, her legs were dead, and the rest of her was simply numb to the world.  Late the night before, she came back to the bar and climbed in through the window, collapsing face-first onto the mattress in the spare bedroom which Tifa loaned out to her.  A few seconds passed, and then she was soundly asleep until the very late morning.

            Her senses returned to her slowly, starting with sound.  The continuous ringing of her alarm drilled into her ears and forced her into a state of partial awakening.  She groped across the mattress, across her messed blankets and pillows, to her nightstand, where her bracer rested. Thumbing the holographic display, the silenced the small, neon alarm clock that was shaking insistently at her. The ringing stopped and Yuffie, body hanging partway off of the bed, landed with her face to the floor and groaned.

            Her room was lit already by the midday sun, its warm yellow light panting the walls and the floor.  She winced as she opened her eyes and pulled the sheets from her bed off and over her.  They gathered about her neck and chin but left her aching eyes uncovered.  A final groan, and she laid there in defeated frustration, glaring sullenly at her window.

            The sun glared back while the curtains danced.

            Outside Edge was alive with people.  Cars hummed up and down the street.  Steam drifted in and out of view, moving wherever the wind willed it.  It was nothing but a grimace to her as she struggled to standing and, in a final act of frustration, threw her crumpled sheets back onto the bed.  She checked the time and took the holographic interface from her guard, fixing it to the belt of her shorts.

            She shuffled to the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth.  This was followed by a more half-hearted attempt at further grooming, which was mostly her patting her hair and muttering at lot.  At one point she scratched her rear.  After that, she made it back into the hall and started toward the stairs.

            The night had went long.  By the time the paperwork was done, Yuffie was crawling into her bedroom at around dawn.  The trouble was the W.R.O. command structure.  The Hunters had limited holding cells and those only for the worst, who would be shipped out to W.R.O. HQ for interrogation or incarceration.  Street toughs and low-level dealers were taken to the wardens, which was a chore on all sides.

            When given the assignment, Yuffie had taken it under the assumption that the problem would be solved quickly and carried that with her into each new assignment.  Edge, in particular, seemed incorruptible with its close proximity to the W.R.O. HQ, as well its deep roots in the organization.  Even with its location—being so close to Shinra things were bound to be dug up—she never thought there would be so much work.

            She was wrong.  A month after her arrival, the Hunter’s Lodge—their makeshift HQ—was still undergoing finishing touches and materia smuggling was still unchecked.  For the time Yuffie stayed with Tifa, who offered permanent housing in the bar for friends, and offer that was quickly taken and then taken advantage.

            Back in her room Yuffie found socks and a shirt.  Then, she lazily tied her boots.  Her PDA chimed.  She tapped it.  “I’m awake already.”

            “Good afternoon, Yuffie Kisaragi.”

            Yuffie frowned.  “Shelke, did you set my alarm?  I don’t remember setting it last night.”

            “Yes, I did.”

            “How?”

            “It isn’t difficult.  The encryption on the model TPK-73 Holographic...”

            “Know what?  I don’t really care.  Just don’t do it again.”

            “Noted.  We’ve process the dealers from last night and looked into their information.  Interviews and interrogations were completed this morning.”

            “I interviewed him yesterday, you know.”

            “These interviews were formal, and the name came up again between all of the dealers.  Wasteland Bar.”

            Yuffie stretched.  “Tell me about it.”

            “It is technically within Edge, being built on the fringes, near Midgar.  Records state that it is already being watched by warden forces due to suspected criminal activity.”

            Yuffie grunted.

            “It may be a staging area.  Orders from Reeve are to go there and gather information.”

            “Of course they are.  Like he needs to tell me how to do my job.”

            “This is infiltration, Yuffie Kisaragi, nothing else.  Whatever you see, do not engage.”

            Another yawn as she sauntered into the hallway.  “Ah-huh.”

            “Daisy will serve as back up.  She should be there in thirty-minutes to pick you up, traffic permitting.”

            Yuffie sighed.  “Sounds like fun.”

            “Good luck, Yuffie Kisaragi.”

            “Yeah, yeah, won’t need it.”

-Disc One-

            Yuffie made her way downstairs to the bar, where she found Marlene and Denzel having lunch while Tifa cleaned the counter.  She could smell freshly cooked bacon and bread as she staggered through the room to steal a chip from Denzel’s plate.  He gave her a glare, and she patted his bushy auburn hair and slumped into the chair next to him.

            Marlene gave a smile.  “Good afternoon, Yuffie.”  She slid her plate over to Yuffie.  They were having BLTs, crusts removed and sliced into halves.  Yuffie took one half and started eating.

            “Yuffie, you’re not stealing their lunches again, are you?”  Tifa had her back to them when she asked, busy prepping for the evening rush.  Her new 7^th Heaven was every bit as popular as the old one.  Yuffie always called Tifa’s ability to see things without actually seeing them motherly instinct.  Tifa had no children of her own, but she didn’t seem to mind.

            Yuffie stuffed the sandwich into her mouth and choked.  “No.”  She winked at Marlene, who giggled politely.

            Tifa turned.  “If you can wait, I’ll make something for you.”

            “No time.” She stole a drink of Marlene’s water as she stood.  “Got work.”

            “Of course, you do.”  Tifa smiled.  “When did you get in this morning?”

            “Yeah, did you stop anything big last night?”  It was the first time Denzel spoke, but he always got excited about her jobs.

            Yuffie turned to him, smiling.  “I saved the world.”

            “Yeah, but we already know about that.”

            Yuffie laughed and blew him a raspberry.  “Just a small-time materia deal in the Midgar ruins.  Whipped some butt, interrogated some guys.  We’re checking out the information we got from them.”  She turned back to Tifa, who was busy checking her drawer for the night.  She was counting bills out on the counter.  “Hey, Tif, you ever heard of the Wasteland Bar?”

            “Yeah.  That’s where all the sorry riffraff I kick out of here go.  Why?”

            “It’s where I’m heading.  Got anything?”

            “Not much.  I hear they’re open pretty much all hours of the day.”  She stacked the bills, sorted them, and eased them back into the register.  “Rumor is that the place is dangerous, Yuffie.  Be careful.”

            “Dangerous?  Please, I’M the great ninja Yuffie.”  Her PDA chimed, and Yuffie thumbed it.  “Yeah?”

            “I’m pulling up.”

            “Right.”  Yuffie ended the call and grabbed a handful of chips from Denzel’s plate as she passed.  “Well, you all have a good day. And Tifa, make sure you feed those kids.  They’re all skin and bones.”

Edge: Streets\

            Daisy’s car was sleek and red.  It had two doors and two seats, and she took it with her everywhere, driving without a care, the canopy down, glasses on, her dark hair whipping in the wind.  Yuffie hated it.  She hated the glossy finish.  She hated the leather seats.  She hated the polished rims, and she hung over the door, head down, trying her hardest not to vomit on the street as asphalt by.

            Only a few years ago Edge, was grassland and dust.  The air was fresh then but had stagnated since.  The streets were narrow, each meticulously planned and measured for maximum efficiency.  The Midgar wastes were not a place where life flourished, at least not human life, and they had to use every inch to its fullest potential.

            Since its founding, Edge had developed the strong, musky scent of a city, and it choked Yuffie as they passed.  She was born in Wutai and raised on the road.  City’s always stunk to her, felt oppressive with all of their towers of stone and endless highways.  Daisy, on the other hand, was at her best in the city.  The country always gave her allergies.

            The unchecked growth of Edge frightened some people, Yuffie included.  Those who could remembered Shinra’s rapid development, Shinra’s military, and Shinra’s abuse of power keep a close eye on the growing W.R.O. and the cities it runs.  Shirna Inc. still lingers in their minds like a specter, haunting them.  Still, others flock to the security given by this new regime, once having lived with technology and unwilling to part with it now.

            They came to a stop at a traffic light and Daisy peeked at her over her sunglasses.  “You’re looking well.”

            “Ugh.”

            “You read the briefing?”

            “Not a word.”

            Daisy laughed and shook her head.  They started moving again, and Yuffie’s stomach did a flip.  At the end of the street, Daisy took a turn and started toward the outskirts of Edge.  “Wasteland isn’t in the best area, as its name would imply.  We’re there to gather info.  Which means this is espionage.  We’re their usual clientele, or at least not Hunters.  We gather information, we do not engage.  Get drinks, sit on them.”  A glance at Yuffie, who was green by this point.  “Understood?”

            Yuffie hung over the edge of the car.  “Blrk.”

            “I’ll take that as a yes.” They passed truck.  “They’re supposed to be a lot of criminals in there, including smugglers.  This is where they live, so there’s other W.R.O. investigations going on there.  So, stay sharp and be careful.  No guns blazing.”

            Yuffie groaned.  “Don’t. Use. Guns.  Grgh.”

            “You, uh, going to be okay?”

            “No. Promises.”  Yuffie hardly got the words out before she vomited over the edge of Daisy’s sleek, red car, and lefts a long trail of bile across the door.  This bile followed them to the bar like drops of wet paint.

Edge Outskirts: Wasteland Bar\

            Wasteland Bar was mid-sized and square.  The exterior was shoddily made, looking as if it were composed of various materials haphazardly thrown together.  At one point in time, Yuffie figured, it had been a regular Edge building, but frequent bar rows or, perhaps, the attack by Bahamut Sin less than a decade back required improvisation on the owner’s part.

            The inside, the girls found, was not much better.  The light was dim and smoky, and the room went quiet as they stepped in.  Women were likely a rarity there, or so they imagined, especially two young women such as themselves.  A sea of beards, tattoos, and shifty glances greeted them.  A thin man with a thin, gray mustache watched them from the bar.  He didn’t smile.

            Everything was quiet, save for the music in the background, and it wasn’t until Yuffie and Daisy took a booth that any life returned to the room.  The patrons were hunched over their tables, gambling or plotting and, whatever they were doing, they kept a close watch on the them both.  The thin man from the bar approached and took their drink orders.  Daisy asked for something light.  Yuffie got a tonic water.  When their drinks arrived, they sat on them, watching the patrons while being watched in return.

            Yuffie swirled a straw inside of her glass and made a small whirlpool.  She placed her finger over the top and drew the straw out, sucking her drink from the bottom before setting the straw aside.  Across the room, three thugs had moved to the doors.  “We’re getting some looks,” Yuffie said.

            “Of course, we are.  Aren’t you supposed to be a ninja?”

            “What does that mean?”

            “It means that you’re not exactly inconspicuous.”

            “What, you want me to scowl more?”  Yuffie shrugged.  “So, sue me for having a bit of presence.”

            “You waved at someone as we entered.”

            “That’s just being friendly.  Anyway, you’re the one acting all shifty-eyed.”  Yuffie hunched and darted her eyes back and forth.  “Oh, gosh, I hope no one notices that I’m spying.”

            “Yuffie!”

            “Then again,” Yuffie sat up in her seat and took in the room, “Everyone else here is pretty shifty-eyed, too.”

            Daisy yanked Yuffie back down into the booth.  “Would you sit down? We’re supposed to blend in.”

            “We don’t have enough tattoos for that.  Or yellow teeth.”  She looked at a large man at the bar.  “Or tattoos OF yellow teeth.”  She tilted her head.  “Really, guy?”

            Daisy sighed.  She looked around and found all eyes fixed on them.  The bar was slowly winding back up again.  The music got louder.  So did the chit-chat.  No one stopped watching them, though, and it was becoming apparent that each one had a weapon ready.

            “Think they recognize me,” Yuffie asked, sipping at her water again.

            “From what?”

            “From the war,” Yuffie said.  “Any of them. All of them. I’ve been in it since the beginning.”

            Daisy sighed.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.  Probably.  Just our luck.”

            “Oh, relax, Daze.”  Yuffie crossed her legs, swayed one foot in tune with the jukebox.  “If you act like you don’t belong, then you won’t belong.  Ninja Rule #1.”

            “I thought Ninja Rule #1 was to end the fight before it started.  Or there was the time you said it was to move like the night.”

            “The Ninja’s have a lot of rules, the importance of which change to suit the context of the situation.”

            Daisy sipped her drink, winced, and spat it back into the bottle.  She decided to hold it by the neck and pretend that she was enjoying it.  No one seemed to believe her.  “They’re still watching us.”

            “Of course, they are.  It’s cause we’re so pretty.”

            “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

            “It should.”  Yuffie turned her cup around in circles.  Then, she set it on a napkin and watched it form a wet ring at the napkin’s center.  “And, hey, at least it’s better than Junon.  You remember that one place?  With the guy with the toupee?”

            “Oh.  Don’t remind me.”

            “My point is: we’ve done this before.”

            The bar was back in full swing.  All around them, people were laughing and carrying on.  The only clue that anything was amiss was the way everyone glanced, was the people at the door, was the bartender hovering around one part of the bar and patrons coming to him.

            “I don’t know.  This feels somehow different.  This time, I think they know.”

            “Oh, they definitely know.  It just doesn’t matter.”

            Daisy sighed and stared at her drink.  “This was all such a mistake.”

            “Yeah, looks like it.”

            “Well, what do we do then?  We can’t gather information if they know that we’re looking for it.”

            “Hmm? Oh, yeah, that is a funny anecdote.”  Yuffie stood.  “I’m going to the bar to get my drink refilled.”

            “You’ve barely had any of it.”

            “Yeah, good point.”  Yuffie left the table, marched through the crowd and toward the bartender.  People parted to let her pass and watched her as she went.  It was at that point Yuffie was sure they recognized her, which suited her just fine.  It got all the pretense out of the way.

            At the bar, Yuffie took a stool and sat down.  The bartender gave her a long stare and stood, arms crossed, cigarette burning in his mouth.  He took it out and blew a haze of smoke in her face.  She coughed and waved it away with her hand.

            The tension had returned, and Yuffie could feel it in her neck.  Everyone around her had shifted collectively, each of them reaching for a weapon.  The bartender stared her in the eyes.  “What do you want, girl?”

            “Another drink and, if you’re open to it, a moment of your time.”  Yuffie gave a smile.  It was easy-going and somewhat lackadaisical considering the situation she was in.  “I’m willing to pay for both.”

            The bartender took a glass out and poured something clear and sour-scented into it.  It poured out the sides, leaving pools of beaded liquid around it.  He shoved it at her.  “There, on the house.  Drink it and leave.”

            “Well, now, that’s no way to treat a customer.”

            He crossed his arms again.  “You’re no customer.”

            “I’m not?  Then, what am I?”

            “W.R.O.” The air tightened further.  All eyes were on her back.  Yuffie circulated through her head the placement of each thug. She accounted for potential movement around her based on the scuffling of feet or particularly heavy breaths.  The bartender, meanwhile, spat.

            Yuffie pursed her lips, bobbed her head, shrugged.  Then, she took the glass and held it to her lips.  The smell was stronger up close.  “You could call me that.”  In her periphery, she could see guns drawn and knives ready.  “You could also just think of it as me being curious.  Actually, it’s better to just think I’m curious, because whatever the case is, I’m going to find out what I want to know, and curious saves you a lot of clean up.  Maybe also a few cracked ribs.”

            “We ain’t afraid of you,” the bartender said evenly.  He leaned forward to stare her in the eyes.  “We killed before.  Even government dogs like you, Yuffie Kisaragi.”

            “Yuffie? Kisaragi?  Me?”

            The bartender gave a scoff and smiled like he was in on a secret.  “Recognized you from the moment you walked in.  All them broadcasts years ago.  Hero of the Jenova War.  Well, you ain’t a hero here, honey.  You’re just outnumbered.”

            “Hm.  Good point.”  Yuffie looked over her shoulder.  “Hear that, Daze.  They did recognize me.”  She leaned forward now, drink forgotten on the bar.  “Assuming I am her—which I am—what makes you think that you can kill me then?”

            “Cause you ain’t never been hero.  Other’s did all the work.  All you did was take the credit.  Now.” He reached into his pocket and produced a pair of brass knuckles.  Flexing his hand, he said, “Finish your drink and get the hell out of my bar before I kill you.”

            “Hear that, D?”

            “Of course, I did.”  Daisy frowned and sighed.  “Reed is going to love this.”

            “We’ll call it self-defense.”

            Yuffie grabbed the bartender by the head and slammed him, face-first, into the glass on the bar.  She gave him another hard strike before kicking back at a man with a knife behind her and punching another nearby.

            Gunfire echoed around her as Yuffie spiraled through groups of people.  She kicked at them, struck at them with her fists, used her momentum to land blows with extra force.  One particularly tall man she tossed over the bar by hooking her legs about his neck and swinging around.

            Smoke filled the room, venting through bullet holes left in the wall as Yuffie darted around.  She disabled a group of men, dismantling their guns as she knocked them unconscious, and soon all that were left were two men, one thin and the other older, carrying a steel pipe and a knife, respectively.  Yuffie stared them down, hip cocked, as she dropped the bits of the last gun she took.

            “You two really think you can win this?”

            “No,” said steel pipe, shaking, “But...”

            “But?”

            “Them was our friends,” said knife, but he said it without feeling.  It seemed to her that a life of crime was only a hobby for him, and then something he only just started doing because his son was into it and he wanted to connect with him, and like this was all a huge mistake.

            “Ah.  Honor before reason.”

            “Something like that.”  Knife took a deep breath to collect himself, and he lunged.  Yuffie hardly had to move to leave him on the ground, his switchblade in her hand, her tossing it up and down while she kept him pinned with her foot.  She looked at steel pipe.  “You give?”

            Steel pipe dropped his weapon and whined.  “Don’t hurt me!”

            “I won’t.  In fact, I’ll let you help me make the world a better place, but...”  She kicked him into a chair, which slid back into the wall, and tossed the blade into the wood just between his legs, pinning the fabric of his pants to the seat.  As she approached, she kicked the blade deeper into the wood and leaned forward on her knee.  “Talk fast or I’ll stomp them to dust.”

            He swallowed, loudly, and began to sweat.  “But I don’t want to be a squealer.”

            “You’ll a squeal a whole lot more if you don’t talk.”

            Another loud swallow.  It almost sounded like he actually said ‘gulp.’

            “What do you know about the materia smuggling going on here?  Who are the dealers? Where are they getting it from?  And if you don’t know, who would?”

            “None of us,” he squeaked, and she shifted her foot.  “W-What I mean is, we ain’t dealers!  We doing running is all, and for someone else.  Big group, led by a man with a mask.”

            “A mask?”  Yuffie glanced at Daisy, who was watching from behind her.  “And who is this man?”

            “I don’t know, but he ain’t just into smuggling.  He’s been doing more, lots more.  Has a whole group of people doing for him but don’t want us in his numbers.  All he wants from us is to move his stuff without getting caught.  That’s it.”

            “And say I wanted to get some materia, how would I get a hold of it?”

            “They don’t hire, but they’s always recruiting.  People who go there, they go normal and come out talking all kinds of crazy.  Say they’re fighting for a cause or some like it.”

            “A cause?”  Yuffie snorted.  “Real original, these guys.  And where do they do these recruitment drives?”

            “All over.”

            Yuffie applied pressure to his genitals.  “Where is that?”

            “Midgar Ruins!  Sector 3!  Tonight only!  Rally!”

            “A rally, huh?”  Yuffie lifted her foot, positioned it between the knife handle and the chair.  With a flick of her ankle, she flipped the blade up and caught it in the air.  Then, she turned and tossed it, hitting a man behind Daisy with the butt of the handle and forcing him back to the ground.  Without looking back at the boy, she said, “You can go.  And take your daddy with you.”

            He and the older man were nearly out the door when Yuffie bid them to stop.  They stood, stiff, and swallowed.  The young man, formerly steel-pipe, now trying to turn his life around, turned.  “Y-Yes?”

            “Just out of curiosity, if I wanted to go to this thing—I mean, it does sound like fun—what is it for?  Who are these people?”

            “Th-the Emerald Lotus.”

            “Emerald Lotus?  You’re sure about that?”

            He nodded.

            She tapped her chin, knitted her brow, and then she laughed.  “Okay.  Thanks.  Have a good day now and stay out of trouble.”

            “Y-you, too?”

            Both men left as Yuffie walked the bar.  None of the men were dead.  She saw rubber bullets scattered across the floor and looks Daisy in the eyes.  Daisy met the look with a frown.  “I brought them because I knew, I just knew, you’d cause trouble.”

            Yuffie shrugged.  They started toward the exit.

            “And what was that ‘stomp them to dust’ crap about?”

            “Something I picked up from Tifa way-back-when.”

            “You people,” Daisy said, holstering her guns and climbing into her car.