Little Angel, Don't Cry

Little Angel
chapter two: Seconds to Live?

VVL69: I really have not a clue where this is going. But, anyway, on to the show.

~

He awoke to find himself on a table, many hands prodding at him and instruments being poked into his body. Pain flashed through his senses vulgarly and he tried to lift his head, but found he could not move. 'Blast. Where am I . . . ? The last thing I remember, my prototype and I were fighting against terrible men in blue suits . . . and they hit me with something . . . something small and sharp, and painful . . . '

A clink on the nearby tray sharpened his senses. His eyes--or, one eye, he couldn't see through the other--flickered to the tray, finding numerous small, round objects coated in sanguine red.

"He's going to die," a voice above him said. "He was shot through the eye, and in the femoral artery, and into the carotid . . . he's still bleeding . . . there were eleven entrance wounds that had no exit, and we removed ten of the bullets. The last is in his spinal cord, and we can't remove that one."

'Oh, is that why I'm feeling so weak? And why I can't move?' He grimaced. 'You dunce. You idiot. It's not enough that my prototype had to come after me when he was almost at the end of his lifespan . . . it's even worse that we had to fall through a portal into here, wherever here is . . . ' And then Vivi's restraint had snapped, and he had killed all of the men, before a dark shadow had descended upon him and punched him through the eye . . . then sliced his head cleanly off with a long, malignant sword . . . and then through his back . . . and as Vivi's head had tried angrily to cast another spell, had simply kicked his body over and gutted it . . . 'Well, had it not been for that, the prototype likely wouldn't have known he was dead. He probably saw that shadow carry me away.'

"What is he?" another voice wondered.

'I'm a Genome, you blithering fool. A Genome. If I were native to this world, I probably would have taken your soul a long time ago and used it in my Mages.' He became distantly aware that his pain was returning in milling droves, like ants crawling over him and smothering him. Choking, he gasped in a breath, and was shocked when a mouth pressed to his and raped him with sour air.

"Wake up!" A hand slapped across his face, burning it in white heat. "If you can hear me, you're in Wutai. It's a while away from Midgar, but the General was occupied with something else, and we couldn't leave you in Sector 6."

"Sector 6? Wutai?" he croaked out. "I'm sure it's far from Gaia. Where is my prototype, what did that bastard do with the body?!?"

"The General killed your escort and disposed of him in Midgar's scrap yard." The man above him taped something over his eye and lifted him into a waiting gurney. "The boy is gone. You can't do anything about it now."

The ceiling began to move, with squeaks and shuffles. He was dimly aware that he was being pushed somewhere . . . "My name," he gasped, "is Kuja. K-u-j-a. And I want to see someone in authority, so I can retrieve my prototype and repair him. I have to find him . . . he was my ultimate mage . . . stronger than the Black Waltzes," he raved, "much more powerful than the other Mage dolls . . . without him, I cannot function in this place." At any rate, he needed someone to do his bidding. And if Vivi wasn't willing, he could make another, but not without remembering the recipe he'd used for Vivi . . . and without souls, he wouldn't even be able to repair Vivi . . .

"What you'd want with a dead boy is something I don't know," the man said above him and injected him with something soothing, warm . . . and soporific . . .

He drifted off to sleep, rambling about mages and Waltzes, and about that shadowy man . . .

~

"Oh, my head." Elsewhere, a wing unfolded weakly in the stale air of a cell. The occupant was alone, and definitely female, as there was an ache behind her breasts that turned her nipples to stone. "Drat that Brahm . . . he'll be an early arrival for certain . . . but I don't want to bring him out here . . . not here . . . " A lavender-gloved hand lifted and clenched, moonlike slivers appearing in the cloth and darkening with demonic blood. She gritted her teeth with an approaching contraction. "Not here, Brahm!" she cursed aloud, yowling like a tigress.

From the next cell, a high voice shrieked, and a little bell tinkled. Snowflakes drifted down to cool her heated brow underneath its wide-brimmed hat. "Sealion!" The male voice shouted. "Where are you, bloody Sealion? Get your arse out here and fight! I don't want to be in this cell, RELEASE ME---" Claws raked sharply against the walls, sending her ears into agonized throbs.

"SHUT UP, ONE---I AM TRYING TO STOP MY BIRTH PAINS, YOU BLATHERING IDIOT!" she rasped loudly.

The voice was immediately silent, as were the claws.

Adjacent on the other side, a smooth, concealed voice whispered softly. "Two, dear, you know better than to howl like that . . . no one can hear you, and they certainly won't come to your rescue. Are you trying to overexert yourself?"

She whimpered. "Three . . . for Kuja's sake, Three, you have to help me . . . Brahm is coming, and he won't stop until he's out . . . oh, what a time to wonder if Waltzes lay eggs . . . "

. . . Wait, couldn't she teleport?

Concentrating, she saw the walls blur past her, and she landed bonelessly in Three's arms, in a different sort of cell. This one was metal, and fitted with electricity . . . oh, what a pity they didn't know that that was his element.

Almost kindly, Three crooned to her and reached underneath her hat to stroke her hair. "Relax, Two dear," he assured. "Let me help you. If we let them come and deliver Brahm, they will take him away. It's best you keep your mouth silent for now." Almost gently, he kissed her forehead and hissed breath against it. "Now, you have to maintain your consciousness . . . and you also have to keep your wits about you. And don't teleport out of here just yet . . . or at least not until we figure out what's waiting for us on the other side."

"I almost wish that prototype were here," Two wailed quietly. "He would have the care to sit and help Brahm, even if he doesn't like us. It's terribly odd that instead of dying, we were sent here . . . and to be held at sword point by that silver-haired monstrosity is inexcusable . . . they broke my right wing, those bastards . . . " She flinched as he lifted her broken wing and tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her dress to bandage it. "Why did I have to be the only one to be able to teleport?"

"I have a plan, if One can stop his insane machinations for a moment." Three lowered his lips to her ear. "First, One can attract the guards by tinkling a blizzard into this prison . . . and then, I can harness the electricity from my cell and drain the power. You can teleport and slit their throats; the cells will be vulnerable, and we can simply break them open as easily as squashing an oglop."

"You are a genius." Two was spellbound, but her awe dissipated as another contraction seared its way through her, cramping her lean, light muscles into knots. If she'd been able to fly away like the other two, they wouldn't have been caught, and wouldn't be in these cells . . . but Brahm, he was a hope . . . he would have the skills of both his father and his mother . . . "Now please . . . please help me . . . Brahm will be here very soon." Her distended belly quaked with pain.

"Yes, yes." Three soothed, and the plan was begun . . .

~

In the darkness of Shin-Ra's prison, a baby wailed and squalled. Tiny, bloodsoaked golden-black wings flapped about in the air, searching for purchase. "Yes, that's it, Brahm," Two cooed as the prison grew steadily colder with falling snow. Already the bed below her was frozen solid, and she'd tipped the top one over to conceal both of them.

"Hee-hee-hee!" One chortled, ringing his bell. "Come, you bastards! Come and die cowards' deaths! Oh, we're geniuses, we certainly are. No one toys with a Black Waltz and lives!"

"Yes, that's it," Three said. "Kwa-ha-ha-ha . . . they'll certainly die quickly . . . " He watched as Two unlaced her dress and sat Brahm into the collar, where he latched his mouth busily onto her nipple and sucked at it.

"Now, Brahm," Two began, "Mother wants her little angel to be a good boy and behave while Mother kills all of these bad men. Mother won't take long." In her arms, Brahm lifted his head for a moment, then squawked like a little crow and resumed feeding. "Such a good boy," Two praised and snuggled him tightly.

Footsteps pattered down the hall, crashing into the door.

"Shit!" A voice cursed. "I can't feel my fingers . . . and I can't turn the handle . . . it's frozen solid . . . What the hell is going on in this place?"

The door handle squeaked and turned, and both Three and One watched as the door opened and guards swarmed in.

"So it begins," Two said gleefully, but her glee was replaced with panic as Brahm simply disappeared from her arms. "Brahm? Brahm! You come back to Mother this instant!"

"Oh my God," a voice whispered outside. "A monster!" The whispering grew frantic as agonized screams rang out, and horrible sounds of teeth shredding flesh were heard, firearms discharging uselessly into the air. Sprays of blood showered the cell they were in with crimson, and electricity flickered out in a spatter of blue.

Then, the room was still, silent, and black, and humming sounds were heard as the cells all began to unlock. "My," Three hissed, pleased. "He certainly takes after his mother . . . " Lifting Two into his arm, he shoved the cell door aside and strode out.

The scene before them was a cadaverie.

Blood coated all the frozen walls, sizzling with errant jolts of electricity. Brahm sat atop a heap of bodies, chewing lustily on the arm of one of the guards, and burbling to himself. "Mama," he said placidly and flapped clumsily over to Two's arms.

"If only I had feet," she sighed, "I would walk out of here. But you have to carry me, Three, because I can't." She lifted Brahm into her arms, and all four of the Black Waltzes departed the room.

~

Six hours later...

~

Phones on Heidegger's desk screamed in the otherwise silent room. The corpulent executive was lifting one after another, shouting into them. "Yes! I understand the power went out! Yes! The prison? It's covered in blood and sixty-one guards are dead? The prisoners are gone? Damn it all!" He pounded the desk, sending the phones flying. "If only General Sephiroth were here . . . He's out searching the scrap yard for that boy he killed, and now we have what appears to be four winged monsters menacing Midgar!"

The phones all rang and buzzed on the floor, giving him a headache large enough to shame Gold Saucer's seizure record.

"Damn it," he cursed. "This just isn't my day."

~

"Excuse me, is your name Kuja?" Vincent inquired of a stranger. Vivi was belted to his back, his head and body held together with ragged stitches and a crowbar the ex-Turk had found.

"No."

Vincent turned to another stranger. "Are you Kuja?"

"Piss off."

'I grow impatient, manling. And so does the boy,' Chaos rumbled. 'You had better find this Kuja before my patience is tried enough that I do eat this boy, golem or no.'

'Please,' Vivi insisted, crying out. 'Please! You have to find him!'

Vincent nodded. "I know," he said aloud, several people turning in his direction. He was below the Plate, so no one would be looking for him--below the Plate, people didn't pay attention to your average freak, and that's just what Vincent was. Nothing but an average freak looking for a bit of fun, so to speak.

Fun . . . ? Wait a minute . . . the Honey Bee Inn! Vincent's heart pounded in his chest. Maybe he'd find Kuja there!

~

VVL69: So . . . I guess I know where this is going now, I think you'll like it . . . Come again soon.