It's another Norco Fanction!! That is, a fiction by Norco.
I own nothing, except for my computer, the clothes on my person, and my sanity. 
Sometimes not even that...
norco@fantasysquare.com

The Soldier of Fear - Chapter One

-=Christopher=-
I don't like hospitals. I never have. They are sterile, and they make me feel 
helpless, because the doctors say that everything will be okay. Which is exactly 
what they said to the man lying in the bed in front of me. I'm sure he doesn't 
like hospitals. I picked up his hand, once full of strength, strength that 
soothed or punished me as a child. It was almost limp, as if it had given up and 
died before the rest of him had.
  "Father, I'm here," I told the wizened figure. "The doctors say they can't do 
anymore." I didn't really want to tell him that. I'd resolved to lie to him, but 
my conscience had gotten the better of me, as usual. I choked back tears, and 
smiled thinly. "I was going to lie, but you brought me up better than that." I 
doubted that he could see me. Blindness was one of the final stages in the 
illness he suffered. For the first time in a week, the figure opened his eyes, 
what good they were, and spoke.
  "Christopher, my son, it is time. You must contact your mother, and the 
others." His voice, like his hand, had become fragile, quiet and not like the 
father I knew. 
  "Yes, father." I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "I shall 
return shortly," I said, and left the room. Under my long black shirt was a 
bracelet. Not a woman's bracelet, but a magical one. Like a ring encrusted with 
a ruby, this bracelet had a large ball firmly wedged into it. Summon Materia. I 
focused on it, and with a whirl of wind, a Chocobo raced onto the scene, 
scattering papers, nurses and doctors, causing mass confusion as it did so. It 
stopped outside of Father's ward, and as gently as I could, I picked him up, and 
draped him over the Chocobo's back. My godfather, a very volotile sort of 
person, had named this chocobo Mayhem. Sort of fitting, I thought, as the 
chocobo rushed through the hospital, definately causing mayhem as it did so.

By the Midgar City Hospital security reached the ward where the disturbance 
occured, we were out of Midgar. 

Mother didn't look happy as she boarded the airship. But then, I hadn't expected 
her to be happy. Any woman losing her husband to an insect bite when he was the 
hero of a dozen dangerous episodes, the hero of the world, was wrong and stupid. 
But she did look a lot happier than I had expected. I was expecting tears, 
perhaps tantrums. Instead, she was composed, however stony faced, and she 
carried herself like she always did; with grace. I had always admired her for 
that. My godparents, four of them, were on the bridge of the airship, waiting 
for us. Not a word was said as the ship lifted silently into the air. It 
rotated, and shot off towards a secret, and forgotten place. 
  "How long do you think he has," Cait Sith asked nervously. Barrett just glared 
ahead. Vincent,  as usual, was quiet. I can barely remember him ever speaking. 
Cid was the pilot of the ship, but still the most vocal. 
  "I don't know, I just don't know." Cid said sadly, his gnarled hands steering 
the wheel.
  "It had to come sometime," Vincent  said quietly. Every head on the bridge 
turned to face him. He gave us a funny look, and we all turned away.
  "Vincent, yer a cold bastard, ain'tcha?" Barrett growled. 
  "Barret, it had to happen!,' Vincent spat. I think it was the first time that 
anyone had heard him raise his voice. "There's no evil left in this world, a 
world that no longer has need of heroes like him. Or us," he added quietly.
  "Like Hell!!," Barrett roared. "He's the hero, he AIN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE FROM A 
FRICKIN INSECT!! He survived the Sephiroth dilemma, when he found out he was a 
clone. He survived and stopped the first and second Mako wars. He's the hero, 
and he is supposed to die, in his sleep, a wrinkled old man, not painfully from 
an insect bite. He deserves that much." Cait Sith seemed to cringe. I had never 
seen my four godfathers so enraged. 
  "Maybe," Cait Sith said hesitantly, "It's an oppourtunity for a new hero to 
emerge." Five sets of Eyes, two of them fake eyes, stared at me. One pair, the 
pair belonging to Cid, didn't stare long, as he realised that he still had a 
ship to fly. A lump started to grow in my throat. I'd heard of Father's 
exploits. He was a little older than me of course, and he had special powers. 
That helped a bit. I was nobody! Just a normal boy, about 17, and a short sword 
at my waist. No special powers, no nothing. I wasn't a hero. An uneasy silence 
settled over the bridge as the ship sunk to the floor. We had arrived at 
Father's final destination, the Forgotten City.

Our procession was a silent and solemn one, one large mog-creatre, myself, three 
men, and a woman, and a decrepid old man in a wheelchair, as we made our way to 
the pool of water. We moved the chair to the edge, the back facing the water. 
Mother moved towards him, and hugged him tight. 
  "Take care of yourself, Cloud," she said, and kissed him. Father smiled.
  "I will. Make sure you hold up your end of the bargain," he told her. "And 
remember, that I will always love you Tifa. Always." The tears started to flow 
fast from my mother's eyes, the wrinkles becoming smooth with tears as they 
filled. Cid gently tapped her on the shoulder, and she moved away, sobbing 
quietly. "Chris, where are you?" Father asked, searching wildly, with eyes that 
he could no longer see with. I came to him, and placed my hand in his.
  "Yes father, I'm here." He smiled, although I could see he was in great pain, 
and not from the illness.
  "Your mother has a gift for you, at home. I want you to use it. Stand up for 
all that is good, my son. Don't let people be opressed. Free them. Stand up for 
what is right." His voice had become hoarse, as if he'd spoken too much. Another 
lump made itself known in my throat. "They are coming," he hissed, straining to 
make himself heard. Even though he was maybe a few centimeters away, I could 
barely hear him. "Never doubt that. They are coming. I won't be here to fight 
them, you must fight. Fight, Chris Fight." Tears were now streaming down my 
face. My father was most probably senile, and didn't know what he was talking 
about. Which made it all the more discomforting. 
  "Goodbye, Father." I said quietly, and stepped away. He said nothing, and I 
went numb. He'd passed away, before I could say goodbye. I collapsed in a heap, 
unable to watch as Vincent gently picked my father up and lowered him into the 
pool of gel-like water. He floated, for a moment, and then slowly sunk, as a 
friend of his had done nearly a decade ago. 
  "Goodbye, Cloud." I almost didn't hear Vincent over my own ragged breathing. 
And then, he was gone. My Father, Cloud Strife, the hero of our planet, was 
gone. Forever. I already missed him terribly. I stood up shakily, and hugged 
Mother. We hugged each other tightly all the way back to the Highwind.

* * *

"There's lots of other planets in this universe, Chris. People are everywhere. I 
once travelled to another world, once, and helped save the people there. Did I 
tell you that one?" Father was starting to get a little forgetful in his old 
age. 
  I smiled at him, and said, "Yes, father, you have." At which point I realised 
I was asleep. And dreaming of my father. Dozens of scenes flashed by, playing 
catch, the first time he and I went to the gold saucer, the first time he and I 
participated in the doubles special battle. The times we went to visit Aeris at 
the Forgotten city; When we went to Cosmo Canyon to teach me the studies of the 
planet, and the first time I flew with him in the Highwind. I awoke with a 
start, drenched in sweat. Another nightmare. I listened hard against the pouring 
rain, trying to see if I could hear what had woken me up. I heard a soft 
sobbing. Mother. I padded into her room. She quickly tried to hide that she was 
crying, saying that she had something in her eye. But I knew it wasn't so. There 
was a silence, as usual, for a few akward moments. 
  "Mother, just before father .. left .. he said that you had a bargain to 
uphold. What was it?" I asked gently, desperately hoping that it wouldn't set 
her off. She'd been incredibly touchy of late, probably since it was a year 
since he'd passed away. She dried her tears and looked at me.
  "Do you remember how your father and I visited that other world?" It was a 
statement, not a question. She knew that I'd memorized all of his adventures. 
Everything from his posing as a woman, to the whole becoming a farmer thing. 
"Well, he told me of a dream he had afterwards. It was of the young man, Squall. 
He spoke with a large being of unknown powers. A creature that would come to 
devour our galaxy. He made me promise to give you the Ultima Weapon a year after 
his death, if nesscessary. Or sooner. He knew he would die. He told me of a 
vision he had the next night. We then forgot about it, and got on with our 
lives" I could she was on the verge of falling apart again. I placed my hand on 
hers. 
  "At the end, I didn't believe him .. I thought he was senile. He never told me 
about the visions. But now .. I will fight, Mother. For you and for father." I 
had never felt so bad in all my life. Except when I colored on the walls with 
permanent ink. But that was nothing like admitting to your greiving mother that 
you never believed your own father on his deathbed. I expected her to hit me or 
something. But as usual, she didn't meet my expectations. She exceeded them.
  "For a while .. I never believed them myself. But he had several more visions, 
that's how he was able to save all the people in the wars. After I found out he 
knew before they started .. well, I knew they were true, and my days with him 
were numbered." Her gray hair shimmered in the candlelight. She turned to leave. 
I just stared at the massive sword in my hands.
  "Tomorrow will be a busy day. We have an appointment with Dr Richlas," Mother 
said, halfway down the stair. "You should get some sleep." I thought about it 
for a moment, and did so, taking my new weapon with me. 

-=Augella=-
The target was quick, I'll give him that. He bounded over a small mountain of 
metal debris, and then, instead of going up another mountain, so I could shoot 
him, he ran around the upcoming heap. Not stopping to aim, I raised my weapon 
and fired. I missed, and a small pile of metal disintergrated. Cursing myself, I 
continued after the vigilante. Maybe I should back up a bit. My name is Augella, 
Agent Augella Brackenshire, of the Turks. My assignment? Lower Sector 
rehabilitation. In other words, I was to help clean up the slums, as a part of 
Shinra's new "Help the People" concept. Personally, I didn't really care, I 
didn't have a problem with those in the slums. I just did my job. The target, a 
thief who'd stolen weapons from a local store, was coming into view again. He 
was running ragged; he hadn't been trained for endurance like I had. Slowing 
down, he attempted to scramble up a particularly steep mountain of debris. Big 
mistake. I stopped, took my aim, and blasted the metal above his head. The 
effect was instaneous, and all I could have hoped for. He tumbled down the 
slope, cursing and making a general ruckus as he went. He laid face down on the 
dirt. I wasn't about to waste all my effort now, by falling for the possum 
trick. Oh no. I placed the mako pistol back in my weapons belt, and pulled out 
the tranquilizer, a recent and new addition to the Turk's outfit. And as far as 
I was concerned, a useful one. I shot the man in the back, counted to five, and 
then stepped over to retrieve the dart. He was out cold. Placing the gun back in 
my belt with one hand, I picked up the thief with one arm, and draped him across 
my shoulder. For a scrawny man, he was quite heavy. Don't get me wrong, I'm no 
weakling. I trained in the Turk gyms every day for the last five years. I'm just 
as strong as any man. My quarry groaned. I shifted his weight, and grabbed the 
gun. I dumped him on the ground.
  "Now listen here, and you won't get hurt," I said, gesturing at him with the 
gun. "You stole items from Wall Market Weapons. I want them returned, 
immediately" Instead of opening his eyes and looking at me, he just grinned. 
  "You have no idea, who I am, do you?" He asked, still not opening the eyes. 
Something wasn't right here.
  "No, but I'm sure I'll find out," not letting my unease slip through my voice. 
And for the first time, the man opened his eyes. The shock of what those eyes 
represented, combined with the eerie sight made me gasp. His eyes were totally 
black. He could see perfectly fine from them; the iris had been colored. It was 
also the mark of the Free Midgar Wave. They were a small but deadly group, 
determined to see the Turks removed from the slums forever, saying that did more 
harm than good. And I was a Turk. I stood there, staring at those eyes, when I 
heard the familiar 'click' of a weapon. A small pistol, from the sounds of it. 
Not as advanced as our Mako guns, but still quite efficient at making a large 
hole in your guts. I didn't even bother to turn around. My weapons clattered to 
the floor, my eyes still locked onto those of the theif. He stood up, and 
brushed himself off as two thugs came from behind me and frisked me over. One of 
them got a little too carried away, and ended up with a broken nose for his 
trouble. Before the thugs could retaliate, however, the thief ordered a stop to 
it.
  "She's a Turk, and probably trained in fighting. I wouldn't like to find out 
how many of you she could take out before we're able to stop her, would you?" 
This seemed to somber the remaining thugs a little. I saddened. This thug was 
certainly clever, and I admired that, even though his group was hindering our 
efforts. His voice sliced through my thoughts. "An interesting toy," he said, 
kneeling down and picking up the tranquilizer. "I wonder how it works," he said, 
his voice dripping sarcasm. He pointed the weapon at my stomach, and inspected 
the device. As he did so, the thugs around him laughed. His face lit up, as he 
'found' the trigger, and fired. As the darkness rushed to meet me, the last 
thing I remember hearing was their triumphant laughter. They'd gone out of their 
way to kidnap a Turk. And now they'd succeeded. What did they want with me?

* * *

The smell of an unsanitised room greeted my nostrils as I awoke. This was the 
first fact that I registered. The next fact was that I was in an almost dark 
room. And I was all alone. I looked around my surroundings. As I did so, a 
rectangle of light opened up; it looked like a short flight of stairs. And if 
that was a flight of stairs, then the rectangle was a door. Squinting from the 
light, I looked towards the figure who stood there. Short, and wiry, like a 
teenage girl. 
  "You're a Turk, aren't you?" the girl asked, her voice confirming my 
hypothesis. It was a statement, not a question.
  "Agent Augella Brackshire, Service number 189437320," I said, looking straight 
at the figure.
  "Don't waste that on me, I'm not going to interrogate you. You're not a 
prisoner, you're a hostage. You're being held to ransom. The price? The Turks 
must leave the slums. Or, you will be killed. If they refuse after that, then 
the Shinra headquarters will be blown up. If they agree, on the other hand, you 
will be returned, unharmed." I sat in silence during this small speech. Things 
were not looking good. We were just trying to help the people. The young girl 
glared at me for a moment, then slammed the door. We wer just trying to help. 
Weren't we?

END OF CHAPTER ONE