I slaughter the last of the hounds that ambushed us and wipe the blood off my blade. This time the modified dogs were led by a bright orange member, one that was particularly fast. I shake my head.

"Come on. It can't be too much further," I call over my shoulder, already letting my feet carry me away from the bloody scene.

Vincent starts to follow, only to pause a moment later. I turn, ready to call out a warning, when he swivels around and slashes his golden claws down the body of a pesky hound that stirred back to life, kicking the beast away before sending a trio of bullet through its skull. He holsters his gun, keeping his eyes on our destination as he passes. I scoff, walking (distantly) at his side. We come to a ridge that surrounds a wide gap in the road. It quickly makes me uneasy.

"This is a bit suspect," I mutter.

"Agreed."

Sure enough, the rumble of engines surrounds us. I sigh, watching a circle of six motorcycles rise up around us. By the time I've conjured Sacrifice, Vincent's already shooting. I fire an arrow, accurately predicting just where a rider will be judging by the speed of his bike. The arrow pierces the side of his gray helmet, sending him into the ground as his motorcycle skids away.

Another two men are taken down by Vincent. I'm so focused on attacking one person that I don't notice the rider charging toward me until the moment before his bike slams into my stomach. I clench my jaw and grip the front of the motorcycle with my knees, hardly missing being sawed in half by the bladed wheels inches from my legs. The rider swerves, trying to throw me off, but I merely summon Nightmare and jam the blade up through the underside of his jaw. I dive off the bike just before it crashes into the canyon wall. I wince when my feet hit the ground, the impact carrying all the way up to the sore spot where the bike first rammed me. I press my hand over the throbbing injury, drawing away with a hiss when I feel sticky heat.

"#$%^, what do they put on the front of those things?" I grumble, accepting a potion from Vincent.

"I'd imagine something sharp," he replies dryly.

"You'd imagine," I scoff, allowing Nightmare to dissolve into a pile of black sand. "Vincent, no offense, but I don't picture you having much of an imagination. And even if you did, it'd all be angst and dreary #$%^." Vincent shakes his head and holsters his gun. He starts walking as soon as I finish downing the slimy curative; I toss the glass vial to the side and jog to catch up. "It's weird to think that the people of Midgar thought the only people living underneath them were the people who couldn't afford to live on top of the plates. Really, Shinra was building an army the whole time."

"Odd, yes." Vincent frowns, looking lost in thought.

"What is it?" I prod, raising an eyebrow.

"Hojo had you during the beginning stages of Deepground's development," he murmurs, brows furrowed. "Do you think perhaps... He tested their treatments on you before they received them?"

"What?" I frown, trying to recall any sort of memory in which Deepground was mentioned. "I never thought of that, but maybe..."

"I heard that Shinra commented on your excessive strength—supposedly he said that it may bypass the power of Chaos." Vincent's eyes meet mine, something lighter twinkling in his. "Though, I have yet see such strength from you. You still manage to trip over yourself every other fight."

"It's coming, you'll see," I snap playfully, rolling my eyes. "I don't know what he was talking about. There could be other ways that Shadow caused, right? It doesn't have to be Deepground."

"Of course," he nods, turning his gaze away. "It was merely a theory."

I sigh, looking at the wasteland around us. But... what if he meant I'm going to turn into one of those people? The Tsviets? Those monsters... I shudder.

"But... what if you're right?" I shake my head. "What if... Hojo set up some trigger and then it happens without me knowing. I lose it and then—"

"Violet," Vincent cuts me off, sighing. He turns around sharply, catching my eye. "Forget I said anything. I didn't intend to create a problem."

"... But what if you're right?"

"Why does it matter?" he counters, resting a hand on my shoulder. I look up with an eyebrow arched, stubborn as ever. "It will be alright. We've been fine for over three years, correct?" I nod. "I see no reason for that to change now." I want to argue, but I'm too tired. Sighing, I reach my arms out and tug him forward, squeezing him into a tight embrace. My face buries into his shoulder and I take a deep breath, smelling leather and gunpowder.

"Sometimes," I murmur, "I think you're the only reason I haven't completely lost my #$%^ yet."

~|~|~|~|~

When we step into Edge, the city is a drab and dull as ever, even with the morning sun rising over the foggy horizon. The streets are silent and devoid of all life. The two of us stick close to the gray bricks of the town's buildings—just in case. My muscles freeze at the echoing sound of a cackle.

"Wait," I hiss, stretching an arm out to stop Vincent. "Did you hear that?" The sharp laugh comes to an end, but Vincent's already heard; he nods. I peer around the corner of the closest building, my heart racing in my chest. At the sound of high heels clicking against the pavement, both of our weapons are drawn and aimed at a strange woman's head. She, too, drew her gun, a determined look shining in her single eye.

"Who are you?" I demand, my arrow trained on her face, waiting for her to make a move. She stares at Vincent and he stares back, crimson eyes flitting to the badge clipped onto her white lab coat. The mere sight of the thing makes me shudder.

"You're WRO?" Vincent asks, his voice low and his brow furrowed.

"Who's asking?" she snaps, flicking a strand of red hair out of her eyes. My fingers twitch, itching to release my arrow. Vincent watches her for a moment longer before sighing. He holsters Cerberus.

"Vincent Valentine. Reeve sent me."

"And who's she?" the woman demand, motioning toward me with her handgun. I glower at Vincent defiantly at his glance, stubbornly locking my jaw. After a long, tense moment of silence, I huff, letting Shadow dissolve into black sand that trickles through my fingers and melts into the wet pavement.

"Violet Crescent," I answer curtly. Her sharp glare falters and her gun falls to her side immediately. I frown, looking over her odd, tattered getup.

"My apologies. Shalua Rui of the WRO." Her blue eye scans over the two of us. "The commissioner has told me much about you both."

"What happened her?" Vincent asks, looking around at the dim city as rain begins to fall.

"Huh," she straightens. "That's what I'd like to know. I'm here on other business, but something's not right. It's too quiet."

"Yeah, you think?" I retort. She ignores me.

"I've seen no trace of Deepground or the squads that were sent to fight them. Also, where are the five hundred people who were supposed to be living in this sector of the city?" She frowns. "Well, this is getting us nowhere. Like I said, I have business to attend to. I'll see you around." Shalua starts to walk past us, an empty sleeve flapping at her side where the coat merely drapes over her left shoulder. She pauses at my words.

"What business?"

"The commissioner keeps telling me that I'm wasting my time searching," she murmurs.

"Searching for what?" Vincent presses.

"For my reason to live."

I frown at the puddles gathering at my feet as she continues on her way. Me and you both... I thought I knew what I was fighting for, but it turns out that reason is far too unpredictable. I glance up at Vincent. We're trapper in an everlasting awkward silence while he watches her go, lost in thought. Finally, he turns and walks the other way, leaving me little choice but to follow. We navigate our way through the dull streets, slowly getting soaked to the bone as the rainfall grows heavier. Vincent leads on instinct, though I suspect Chaos is hissing something in his ear, because we finally find life.

A man in a WRO uniform is propped up against a rough wall. His breaths are shallow and his hand clutches a bleeding wound on his chest, blood trickling down into puddle gathering beneath him. I hurry to his side, kneeling and grasping his cold, bloody hand. The man's brown eyes roll over to me, his blue lips rasping out his final, forced words.

"Ambushed... By solider in... in red... Squad wiped out... Warehouse... On the edge... of town..." He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "They... were gathering... civilians..." His chest heaves and he swallows hard, falling still—limp. Lifeless. I can't tear my eyes away from the blood streaked down his youthful face.

"It's freezing..." I say in a hushed voice, as if I might wake the dead soldier. "Any other survivors will probably be dead soon."

"I don't think there were any more," Vincent murmurs, the air passing his lips puffing out in white clouds. I force my eyes upward, catching sight of a nearby tower, its structure supported by triangular shapes build by iron bars.

"Hang on. I think I'll be able to find the warehouse from up there." I push myself to my feet, brushing the knees of my black leggings off and starting to head toward the tower.

"Violet," Vincent says sharply, stopping me.

"Hm?" I glance back over my shoulder, eyebrow arched. He hesitates, shaking his head.

"Be careful."

I nod and find my footing on the slick rungs, climbing quickly but taking enough time to make sure that my boots stay in place. I make it almost all the way up before turning my head to look around at Edge from my vantage point; my fingers are numb from the cold bars. I spot a large building separated from the town just slightly. It's surrounded by a chain-link fence—which is in fairly rough shape. I peer down at Vincent.

"It's about a mile east!" I call. He nods, looking fairly anxious as I start to make my descent. Of course, my name wouldn't be Violet Ann Crescent if I didn't get excited and slip somehow. My left boot slips backward, leaving both my legs dangling. My fingers weren't ready for the sharp tug caused by my weight, and the cold rain makes catching myself impossible. I'm left free-falling toward the concrete. I hardly have time to try and turn over; my back hits two rather hard objects unexpectedly, my hands instinctively clinging to their source.

"I thought I said to be careful."

"Ah, my knight in leather armor," I grin shakily, taking a deep breath and pulling myself closer to the safety of my savior. That catch must've hurt. "Gods, did you think I tried to jump?" One of my hands relaxes, falling and resting on his chest. I fight a smile at the rapid thumping of his heart and shudder when the breeze of his breath fans across my skin. I bury my face into his shoulder. "Geeze, Vince, I think you're actually having a heart attack."

"Had," he corrects under his breath, his voice loud in my ears because of my proximity. I let out a light laugh.

"Aw, I scared stone-hearted Vincent Valentine?"

"This isn't a humorous situation," he huffs, drawing his face away as much as he can. I grin up at him. "Why are you smiling?"

"It's nothing," I shrug, pressing my lips together and kicking my feet. "Put me down already!"

"You're shaking," he notes, raising an eyebrow. And my face is red. There's something so smug in the simplest expression.

"I'm fine," I scoff. "My nerves have just been weird lately."

"Very well," he sighs, setting me on my feet.

I take a relieved breath once the soles of my boots hit the solid ground. He watches as I wring the water from my hair and follows when I walk away like nothing happened. I shake my head, taking a deep breath. That really shook him? I chew on the inside of my cheek, ducking around a rusted dumpster. What would happen if I left?

Regretting your agreement?

Absolutely not. I can't have Lucy be the center of our lives for the rest of eternity. It's me or her.

"Quiet." I jump, turning to see Vincent glaring at the ground. Frowning, I draw my bow, an arrow at the ready. "No, not in front of..." His jaw clenches, brows pinched together tightly. "I said...!"

"You alright?" I ask, breaking him from his thoughts. His eyes snap up to mine and he scowls.

"Don't worry about me; we have to find Deepground."

I sigh and turn forward, letting him continue his nonsensical muttering in peace. He's finally lost it.

Finally? He lost it long ago.

And so did I, but you don't see me talking to no one out loud all that often.

But you still do occasionally.

Not anymore, not since we've been together for so long.

And yet you continue to choose—

Just shut up.

You just said that out loud.

#$%&*^.

I glance back to meet Vincent's raised eyebrow. Pretending I didn't say anything, I keep moving forward, eyes set dead ahead on our distant destination. Who's the soldier in red, I wonder, thinking back on the dying man's words. And what exactly happened at the warehouse? My stomach tightens and I sigh; something's really wrong here. In the next street, dozens of WRO soldiers lie dead on the ground, each covered in his fair share of blood.

"Who did this?" I frown, crouching beside a boy who was sixteen at the very most.

"Deepground, most likely," Vincent replies, watching me brush the blonde bangs out of the boy's closed eyes. I shake my head.

"No... That guy mentioned a soldier in red. A Tsviet, maybe?"

"Possibly."

I sigh and straighten, leading the way into a clearing in the street. Unsure of which direction to take, I pause, trying to gauge our location in relation to the warehouse. I can't see its flat, broad roof from the ground. Suddenly, Vincent's gun fires to my right, startling me out of my thoughts. I turn sharply to see a Deepground soldier tumbling to the ground from his position on the roof.

"Snipers," Vincent says, glancing down at me as I summon Shadow and fire at the head that pops up over the edge of another nearby building.

"Man, they really want us dead," I scoff, jumping when two bullets hit the concrete beside my feet. I pick the first sniper off easily; Vincent kills the second. "What the #$%^? If you choose people to be your snipers, make sure they can shoot first." One of the snipers ducks under arrow after arrow, waiting for me to either give up or falter. Huffing, I fire an explosive arrow at the crate behind him and effectively end the lives of three soldiers.

When I turn to shoot down the sniper on the roof behind me, I catch sight of a fleeing boy. A survivor? A bullet tears through my shoulder and I grit my teeth, watching the soldier collapse as three bloody holes are torn into his chest. A pained cry slips out as another bullet pierces my side; I take down the shooter. The boy reappears again, standing beside a door. He sees me staring and quickly waves for me to follow him.

Without a word, I let Sacrifice dissolve and chase after him. Vincent follows after firing another shot, though he's not entirely sure of what I'm doing. The boy sprints into the house and I follow, hot on his heels. I turn a sharp corner only to see him duck under the elbow of a trio of soldiers. Startled, they all fire at once, leaving me with a chest full of ammunition. I stumble back into Vincent, feeling a scorching heat swarm over me as he presses a vermillion feather into my hand, Cerberus easily ending the Deepground soldiers. Ignoring his look of disdain, I chase after the boy as my wounds heal. We wind up back outside, where two soldiers have cornered him. An arrow and a trio of bullets take care of that.

"Thanks!" the boy wheezes, running toward us. His clothes are soaked and muddy, his round face streaked with dirt. "The warehouse, I know how to get there. It's through that gate." He turns and points to a glowing blue barricade like the ones we saw in Kalm. How did he know where we're headed? "You have the key card?" Vincent shakes his head, watching as the kid's face breaks out into a grin. "Come on, I know someone who does!"

With a sigh, I follow the boy as he takes off again, slaughtering each soldier we come across to protect him. He takes us through an occupied house and across the tops of buildings, forcing us to shoot down a few more unsuspecting snipers and Deepground hounds. He then unlocks a door with a tiny silver key and motions us in. A soldier immediately fires upon seeing intruders. Vincent charges forward, slashing up the man's throat with his claw; I leap forward and drive Nightmare through the man's skull. He falls to the ground, lifeless. Kneeling, I pull the gleaming white card from his pocket.

"There, that should let you through," the boy says, leading us out of the house. I frown at him, absent mindedly rubbing my sore shoulder. The Phoenix Down healed me up, for the most part, but everything still hurts.

Shadow?

No response. But her sword came when called, so I suppose she's just ignoring me for now. But... If something really is wrong, I'm screwed. Every weapon I own is tied to her; if she suddenly goes MIA, I'll be in trouble. I sigh. I guess I shouldn't rely so much on her strength.

"Right. Thanks, kid," Vincent replies, as stone faced as ever. The boy shakes his head, glowering at the ground.

"Avenge..."

"Huh?" I frown, head cocked to the side. Vincent stands at my side, listening in silence.

"I couldn't do... Mom and dad. Right there, but I couldn't move... I was too scared. But..." The boy's voice trails off, his eyes flooded with bitter tears. He looks up sharply. "Please! Help me avenge their deaths!"

Vincent's eyes flit to the cobblestone street, a puff of cloudy breath dissolving into the cold air before he gives a slight shake of his head and turns on his heels, walking toward out destination with his soaked cape swaying behind him. I bite down on the inside of my cheek and look down at the dejected child, resting my hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I'll see what I can do alright?" I kneel, making sure he's paying attention. "But revenge isn't everything. It won't bring them back, right?"

"Yeah..." He sighs, nodding. "Thanks, Miss."

"No problem. Now get yourself somewhere safe, yeah?"

"Okay."

I nod and hurry after Vincent, the memory of his momentary gentleness leaving me wrestling a smile. He tries too hard to be cold. I find him waiting by the barricade. I slip the keycard into the slot on the barricade and it sinks into the ground, allowing us to press on. More troops attack us, more injuries hinder us, and more soldiers die. On and on and on and on it goes, a never-ending cycle that leaves me craving something other than bloodshed for once. It looks like the Planet is in for another war, only this time it isn't Shinra against the world. It's Deepground versus the WRO versus the world versus demons. Who's for what side? Who can possibly say?

We enter the warehouse finally, stepping past the open door and into the empty, wide building. It's far too quiet. I hear a clink and a large man wielding a sword the size of Cloud himself steps into the open. He motions with a hand and several soldiers