The City

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

Vincent silently trekked across the emptiness, surrounded on all sides by a half dozen of Bradley’s soldiers. Each was clad in armor with matching helms that obscured their visage, vestments the color of the emptiness around them. As they marched, the cloaked man caught sight of the formidable firearms hanging from their sides. He wondered why his passage to the empire necessitated such a battalion; for his protection, of for theirs? As the fountain shrank behind him and the far-off archway began to grow, the gunslinger wondered what his course of action would be.

Siding with an Empire, Vincent thought. Not exactly the safest bet, if history were any indicator, nor was it something he was known to do. That being said, what choice had he? The path that would lead him home was the route he needed to take. If that meant wandering into a totalitarian regime and completing some unsavory task to appease a greedy emperor, so be it.

The pale man frowned, glancing at his surroundings for the umpteenth time. Omniverse… He recalled the name once more. How had he happened upon this realm? Had Omni saved him from death, or just as likely, had Omni orchestrated the events that led him to the Rift in the first place? Though the ‘god’ had told Vincent that he had come here because he was of interest, how could he be sure that he was not still on Gaia, held hostage by some devious organization. Shinra? he thought at first, quickly dismissing the though; not quite their style. Vincent was not quick to trust in those who called themselves ‘Gods’, though this was hard to argue. Have to see what unfolds… he thought, fingering the ornate revolver obscured by his cloak.

Despite the events that had happened over the last few hours, he still thought only of his home. Indeed, this world was intriguing and mysterious, but the ever-present worry for his loved ones squeezed his heart like a vise. Whether the rift was a ploy to bring him here or a legitimate danger, he could not leave his ‘family’ alone. Danger and strife haunted the raven-haired man, bringing constant sorrow in its wake. He simply had to return. His mind traveled back to the airship, to Cid, Tifa and Cloud. He smiled at the thought of Yuffie freaking out over his disappearance, of Barret’s vain attempts to silence the woman. He thought of Shelke, his adoptive daughter since the events at Deepground. He thought of his long lost Lucrecia, comatose and frozen in time.

“Approaching the portal, Sir.” One of egg the troopers spoke into his walkie-talkie. The sudden commanding tone shook Vincent from his thoughts.

“Excellent,” came the reply. “Take him in.”

At the order, the squad changed formation, making a U-shape with Vincent at the trough. This, he thought, implied he’d likely be entering the city alone. Bradley couldn’t likely afford to part with so many guards for so long. Moments later, he was proved correct as the troops slowed and fanned out as stood before the shimmering archway, the soldiers falling back to form a slightly bulged line behind him.

“Enter,” the nearest soldier grunted, gesturing with his rifle toward the stone archway.

The ‘portal’ as it had been called looked like a run-of-the-mill archway, though it looked to harbor some variety of magic. As there was nothing to be seen behind it, the gunslinger surmised it was likely a teleportation spell or a transport of a similar variety. It could just as likely been a trap, some lethal incantation, though he doubted they would want him dead at this point. Vincent scowled at the doorway before glancing back at the trooper. A rifle jab at his back came in response to his nonverbal question. Feeling vaguely prisoner-like, he stepped through the portal.

- - -

Vincent blinked as he stepped through the portal, the world of the Nexus disappearing for a brief moment before a new world met his opening eyes. There was no obvious sign of any movement or teleportation; no sound or flash of light. He was simply somewhere else now: Coruscant.

The city was an immense metropolis, complete with towering futuristic skyscrapers nearly obscuring the clear blue sky. The city was not dissimilar to Midgar, packed with technology and a feeling of stifling authority. Images of intimidating looking officials, or possible police force members, appeared on buildings and across billboards. The faces wore wide, friendly-seeming grins, though their eyes betrayed them. All too reminiscent of where Edge now stood, though it lacked its characteristic smog layer and near universal grime. It lacked another important feature as well: people.

As Vincent strode down the empty streets, he noticed only a few people here or there, save for the occasional shop vendor or person rushing toward what he could only guess was the center of town. Vendors yelled to him from their shops, waving memorabilia and trinkets stamped with the Imperial logo, the same logo he had seen on virtually every sign and building he had passed. The Prime approached one of these shops, glancing at the television on the wall behind the excited shopkeeper, displaying an immense crowd bustling around a string of floats. Festive music could be heard through the TV, and echoing faintly from down the street.

“Imperial Pennants!” The odd-looking humanoid yelled, though he stood just feet from the Prime. “Celebrate your Imperial pride with these lovelies! Palpatine Bobble-heads!” He shook the toy violently in Vincent’s face, showing off the apparent ‘bobblyness’. “Collectibles worth a fortune some day! Judge Dredd dartboards! Don’t let them catch you with those, mind you.” He winked and gave a hearty chuckle. “Whaddya say, brother?”

Vincent continued to stare at the video feed of the event. He pointed a gloved hand at the TV. “How do I get there?”

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The raven-haired stranger strode silently through the empty streets of Coruscant. Night had fallen hours ago, with time slowly stifling the normal cacophony and bustle. Vincent had dwelled in this city for months, though it took him just a few days to shun daytime altogether. He was far from xenophobic; no, he simply preferred silence and solitude over noise and constant bother. The deafening racket of everyday life in the city rubbed the gunslinger the wrong way, he had found that the only way he could hold a thought in his head was to avoid the noise and seek the solace of the night.

During the daylight hours he resided indoors, though he did not sleep. His body did not require rest as normal humans did; years ago he had taken up a similar practice that mimicked sleep to others: meditation. He had taken to mentally ‘checking-out’ and meditating for the duration of a normal sleep cycle, allowing his brain to recover and sharpen while providing him with something closer to a circadian rhythm. Vincent found that this helped him have a better grip on the passage of time, something he had struggled with since his becoming functionally immortal. For the duration of daylight, he would shut himself in the hostel he had rented in a quieter part of the city, emerging after its inhabitants had fallen asleep. The owner of the establishment allowed him to live there rent free, provided that the gunslinger deterred imperial intrusion into his illicit activities, should such an event happen. So far this had amounted to spooking a few of Judge Dredd’s goons on a few occasions. He had avoided any bloodshed for the time being, the retreating owing mostly to his vampire-esque appearance.

Over the past few months that he had spent in Coruscant, walking the night and conversing with some of the more knowledgeable nightwalkers, he had gathered some quantity of information about where he had wound up. The Omniverse: a dimension separated from his own, controlled by some alleged deity named ‘Omni’ that cherry-picked those he deemed worthy. ‘Interesting’ was the adjective repeated by most with whom Vincent spoke. Those of ‘interest’ to Omni were taken from their homes and thrust into this corner of reality, a corner which had its own set of rules governing it. Physics seemed to be a joke in this reality; the burliest, muscle-bound brutes were routinely trounced by little girls. Coins and bills were completely worthless, with the currency instead being an odd substance referred to instead as ‘Omnilium’. Vincent wondered if the nomenclature was all vainly named after the deity, or vice versa.

His red eyes glanced over his surroundings, taking in the information around him. Though the citizens on this particular street lay sleeping during nocturnal hours, the lights bathed everything in a neon glow. Vincent tilted his head back slightly as he walked, taking sight of a large flashing billboard. The date and weather zipped across, along with this evening’s lotto numbers, zodiac (all 42 of them), complete summaries of the week’s most popular holovid program episodes, the latest celebrity gossip (updated 3 minutes ago) and finally, the time: 0230.

Two-Thirty, he mused. Shelke’s birthday. His thoughts wandered back to those he had left behind: to Shelke and Yuffie, to AVALANCHE, the people that had become his family. Vincent was not known to be a warm man, though the thought of those precious people in peril drove a spike through his heart. His warp from Edge to the Omniverse meant that whatever was threatening the planet remained so. Vincent desired one thing, to return home. He turned his glance away from the blinking billboard, picking up his pace purposefully.

Time was ticking by as he strode the streets, in search of answers.

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The tavern door slammed shut, though the noise was all but swallowed by the din of the establishment. The pale Prime stepped through the crowd wordlessly, carefully eyeing the crowd around him. Vincent had learned by now that Coruscant was as unpredictable as it was loud; more than once he had been accosted in the streets with no provocation. He kept a gloved right hand on his firearm, obscured by his tattered cloak as he slid past the bar.

“What can I get ya’?” A tired-looking grey humanoid called to him from the other end of the bar. Vincent ignored him, striding steadily past. Receiving no response from the newcomer, the creature went back to polishing glassware “Tch, suit yourself.”

The ex-Turk took a seat at an empty table, pushing aside the empty plates and scraps of food from the last diner. He unbuckled the top of his cloak, allowing the lower half of his face to be seen. It was not often than he visited such establishments; his nightly treks normally took him through back alleys and past such activity. Tonight, however, he desired a change. The pale gunslinger had reached a dead-end in his research; no one he spoke to seemed to know more than basic knowledge of this realm, though they were fine going about their lives normally. Such was civilization.

“I need information.” A voice from behind him asserted. Vincent directed his attention to the booth behind him, remaining motionless.

“Yeah, and I need another beer,” his co-patron responded, slugging down his current brew. “We all need,” he cackled.

“I’m serious; I need to find out where my brother is being kept!” Person A snapped, slamming his fist on the table. “The Empire can’t just take my family like this!”

“Yer brother was a traitor,” Person B responded, “Or, at least that’s what they’ll tell ya’ if ya’ ask Dredd’s men.”

“I’m sick of their lies!” The first man yelled, slightly louder than he should have. “I need information, and I’m not getting it from the Empire.”

“Ya’ want my guess? An upstart like yer brother probably wound up in Impel Down,” The second man said flatly, placing the empty bottle on the table. “He knew too much and pissed off the wrong people. He’s as good as dead.”

The first man slumped back into his seat. “Impel Down?! It can’t be; he doesn’t deserve that! I need to get him out of there. I need to save him before it’s too late!”

“Even if he’s not toast already, ya’ can’t just walk into Impel Down and ask nicely to have a snitch set free. Trading in information is a dangerous game. Just let it go, kid.”

The duo fell silent. Vincent thought for a moment; he was not normally one to butt into someone else’s business, much less someone of whom he had been eavesdropping. Still, the mention of a man that traded in information had struck his interest; could this man know of a way to obtain what he had desired? At the very least, the pale Prime thought, it would be a start. Anything would be better than spinning his wheels where he was. It seemed his options were to take this dangerous lead or continue to walk the streets of Coruscant hoping for something that may not come. Normally, Vincent was not the type to make such a rash decision, though the circumstances were far from normal. Tonight, his frustration and restlessness got the better of him. The ex-Turk was on his feet in an instant, facing the pair that he had been spying on.

“I can help.”

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The words had no sooner left his lips than he began to regret them. Here he was, in a dive bar during the wee hours of the morning in an alien world in a different universe, starring down a pair of barflies. The idea of it was almost comical; he could scarcely believe himself. Such an outburst was far from his usual cool-headed demeanor. Perhaps, Vincent thought, his friends had rubbed off on him more than he had acknowledged. Approaching such unsavory folk with intent to violate the laws of the land was an open invitation to get him killed. Somehow, though, the possible benefit outweighed this cost. The cloaked man wasn’t even sure he could die, though he would gladly risk it if it meant saving his loved ones.

He stared down at the pair of diners. They had frozen for a moment, eying the cloaked Prime. The first of the two- the brother of the prisoner, Vincent wagered – was a tall, slight man with a worried expression and dark brown hair. The other was a short orange skinned humanoid with a knitted brow over his single eye. The pair blinked a few times, looking him over.

A bit taken aback, the drunken orange alien scowled up at the newcomer. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I can help you.” Vincent repeated, directing his comment toward the neurotic-looking man.

“No one asked you, pal.” The Cyclops insisted. “Back off if you don’t want any trouble.”

The gunslinger ignored the creature. “I want no payment other than information. I will get your brother out of prison.”

“H- how can I to know that you are to be trusted?” the man inquired.

“You can’t,” the raven-haired Prime said simply.

“Oh wow, awesome deal. Random creep at the bar wants to break the law with you. What could go wrong?” the creature
spat, “Why don’t you leave my client and I alone, eh?” The cyclopean alien pulled a rusty firearm from beneath the table and leveled it at Vincent.

“Hey hey hey! Put that away, Draxl.” The human began, pushing the gun away. “So you’re saying you’ll follow me to Impel Down and help get my brother out?” The pale Prime nodded in response. “What kind of information do you need?”

“I need to find out how to return home.” The ex-Turk replied, glancing back at the squat alien. His gaze was met with a scowl.

“You wouldn’t last 10 minutes, string bean.” The combative alien snorted. “Why don’t you run back to your Prime and leave us be?”

Vincent thought back to his introduction to the Omniverse, “I am a Prime.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Emperor’s mother.” The alien guffawed. He raised his gun over the table, aiming at Vincent.

In an instant the gun clattered to the floor, its wielder doubled over the table in pain. The Prime withdrew his right fist from the alien’s gut, snatching the pistol from the ground with his left as he straightened up from a squatting position. He drew Cerberus from her sheath, leveling the trio of barrels at the Cyclops.

“Woah, I’ve seen enough! You’ve got yourself a deal,” the human said with a grin.

- - -

“Name’s Ral.” The man said, glancing over his shoulder.

Having little knowledge of the layout of Coruscant, Vincent knew not how to reach this ‘Impel Down’, though his companion seemed to be familiar. He followed the man silently, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

“Vincent.” The ex-Turk responded.

The duo made their way through the dark streets, through winding alleys and busy streets. Night still ruled the skyline, but the denizens of the city were beginning to awaken.

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The pair traipsed through the dimly lit streets quietly, navigating through innumerable alleyways and side-streets. It seemed that Vincent’s guide new the layout of Coruscant quite well; the cloaked gunslinger had long since lost track of where they were, though they had been walking for nearly an hour now. Ral strode quickly, never checking to ensure his mercenary was still following. Was this a symbol of trust, or of foolishness?

“Not too much farther now,” Ral spoke over his shoulder, sidestepping a gruff-looking alien. Vincent followed suit, scanning the area with his keen eyes. “We should be there in a few minutes. Sorry about the scenic route, I’m not exactly on the empire’s buddy list.”

The ex-Turk smirked. “I figured.” The circumstance under which they had met said as much. “So, your brother,” Vincent began, changing subjects, “he’s knowledgeable?”

The guide chuckled nervously, “Tal knows more than he should. It’s what got him in trouble in the first place.”

Vincent chuckled. “Ral and Tal?”

“I know, I know. Our dear dad was that sort of man. We usually go by our middle names.” He glanced backward at his cohort, “Anything you need to know, Tal can find it out for you.”

The pale prime was not so sure. His mind flashed briefly back to his home, the smiling faces of his friends waiting for him. ‘Let’s hope.”

Moments later they emerged from the darkness of the alley to a brightly lit courtyard. Daylight had arrived, bringing with it the energy that Coruscant was known for. The usual smog of the city was not quite as thick as it soon would be, industry only beginning to spring back to life after its slumber. A small crowd had been developing over the last few hours as workers began to awaken, noise following them; lifeforms of various shapes and sizes now pulsed through the area, some commuting and others visiting the local shops. Frantic humanoids waved from their stalls, contributing to the din.
The duo of newcomers weaved their way through the crowd, headed toward a large building adorn with still larger blinking billboards. Vincent cocked an eyebrow at the building, noting that the advertisements seemed larger than the establishment itself. Indeed, every square inch of the building seemed to crawl with various marquees and ads. Ral and Vincent headed straight for this building, leaving the gunslinger to wonder how this building could possibly be associated with any kind of prison.

“Here we are.” Ral muttered, stopping abruptly at the door. “You’d better lead,” he said, donning a pair of dark glasses.

“Not that I anticipate any issues.”

The prime nodded, pushing the door open. “Where are we?”

“West 3,423rd station, just follow the crowd.” Ral answered from close behind Vincent. It unnerved the ex-Turk to have someone he barely knew out of direct sight, though it scarcely mattered a moment later, as they stepped into the crowded building.

The facility was deceivingly large, with vaulted ceilings and the overall footage stretching much farther than he could make out. This, he admitted to himself, was likely due to the huge throng of people he was navigating though. Many were taller than he, and many more were wider. Vincent could make out the outlines of three separate gift shops, a food court and a half dozen or so performers forming a pyramid up ahead. Slightly confused, the cloaked man continued to follow the others, glancing around frequently to take in the rest of the building.

“Toward the travel desk, on the right.” Ral muttered from behind him. He had since donned an odd-looking hat, not dissimilar to a traffic cone.

Vincent took heed, parting from the crowd to head toward a long metal desk, behind which stood many bored-looking attendants. The sign over their heads flickered continuously, showing various schedules and time zones. He thought it looked very much like what one might find at an airport.

“Vasty Deep.” Ral whispered into his ear, passing a small felt bag into his hand. Vincent nodded, taking the sack and making for the desk.