Author: Rhyssa Fireheart
Pairing: None to begin with. OC featured though. (Implied Vincent/OC)
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Word Count: ~11,200
Disclaimer: Don’t own it, never will. Just like to play around with it in my mind.
Timeline: during Advent Children
The large crowd gathering around the central monument was unusual, as was the yelling. She skimmed the edges of the crowd, simply wanting to get back home from the marketplace as quickly as possible. This was one of those days, when working in the shop was far more preferable than dealing with the other residents of Edge. Their voices were competing with the others she heard, giving her a headache.
But the yelling turning into screaming, and people began to run wildly. Bumped and pushed repeatedly, she finally lost her grip on the bags, letting them fall to the ground with a crash. A man running towards her tripped over one of the bags, falling at her feet and revealing the beast chasing him. Her hands flashed, grabbing the guns from their holsters and firing. The monster disappeared in a cloud of foul smelling smoke, fading into the breeze.
There were more beasts rampaging through monument square, grabbing people and causing chaos and havoc around them. She took aim and shot another beast running past, but this time, the bullets went through the creature and struck sparks against the pavement. Apparently, they could adapt to the attacks, and the possibility of shooting someone didn’t appeal to her.
The screaming seemed to stop suddenly, as if terror held its breath, just for a moment. Then the ground tilted and she was thrown to her knees. Blue flames washed over the central square, and debris rained down on everyone. Unfortunately for her, some pieces were larger than others, but this headache was worth the pain of still being alive.
Lying on her back, she could see the beast clearly, and the much smaller figures of those who fought it. The smaller beasts seemed to have disappeared, but that was all right. Having to worry about anything but that monstrosity in the sky was too much to deal with. She closed her eyes again to better hear over the continuing screams, listening for the sounds of battle.
There! The whirr of a thrown weapon, underscored by the harsh percussion of bullets. Claws rang against pavement while sharp teeth ripped and tore. The whistle of a spear whirling through the air before thunking into flesh. And then, she heard it. A new song had joined the tumult. This one brought her to her feet, staring upwards in an effort to see, to confirm what her ears were telling her.
Again, the song rang out. She could always hear them, all of them when they sang, especially this one. It was a true song of death, a dirge sung to the enemies of its wielder. So, he was here as well. She watched his red cloaked form leaping, attacking, striking back at the beast, while she just stared and did nothing. Watching him had always been enough for her; and she’d never really had a chance to see him fight before. But when the higher pitched song of a sword – another sound that she could easily recognize – joined the battle, she finally found the remains of her purchases and continued walking home.
Her shop wasn’t close to the town center, a fact she was grateful for now. The streets were quiet, and with a little chime, the front door closed behind her.
Timeline: ~4 months after FFVII ends
The door opened with a little chime, then closed again behind him.
The inside was almost barren, and he considered going back outside to confirm that this was the shop he was looking for, but there was someone already coming out from the back.
“Welcome to Charter Arms, may I help you?” The woman’s voice was low, almost musical and her appearance surprised him. She was as tall as he, dressed all in brown leather, pants, boots, vest and elbow length gloves. Even the apron she was in the process of removing was leather. Her short dark red hair was pulled back and goggles hung around her neck. She’d obviously been working on something when he’d come in, judging by the sheen of sweat covering her face and arms.
“I’m told you are a weaponsmith?” he replied.
“Well, yes. That would be why my store is called ‘Charter Arms’ after all,” she replied with a slight smile. “How can I help you?”
“I need to have my gun checked out. I think the main sight is off.” He pulled the large gun from the holster he kept it in and laid it on the counter between them. “Can you work on this?”
Her face changed, the friendliness washing away and her eyes seemed to harden. Her hands clenched the edge of the counter, and then she reached out, almost touching the gun with a shaking hand. He could barely hear her whisper.
“I’m sorry; I will not work on this weapon. You’ll have to speak to someone else.” She turned abruptly and headed back through the door she had come through.
“Wait! What do you mean you won’t work on it? Why not?’
“Just what I said, I will not work on that gun. I’m sorry; you’ll have to leave, now.”
Feeling rather confused, he picked the gun up and reholstered it before turning for the front door. He paused when her voice came from behind him.
“If you want some advice, I’d suggest getting rid of that gun. Its song is not a peaceful one for anyone to hear.”
Without looking back, he answered her, “What weapon is peaceful?” before closing the door behind him. At least he had a name for his gun now – Cerberus.
Timeline: ~9 months after FFVII
Five months later, the door again chimed as it closed behind him. There was another customer in the shop, so he waited patiently, watching her speak. Why did her face pull at his memories? Her smile lit up her eyes (that brown color didn’t seem to belong for some reason) and she seemed genuinely glad to help the other person out. When she finally turned to him though, he wasn’t surprised to see the expression on her face.
“I see you’re back.”
“I guess I couldn’t stay away.” His words fell flat, her face not changing or even acknowledging the attempt at a joke. “I think I’ve spoken to every weaponsmith in the world, and not one would even consider my request once they saw the maker’s mark on the gun. Each and every one told me I had to have it done by Charter Arms.”
“Did they really? How interesting.” Her voice remained flat and emotionless, refusing to budge. “It sounds like you have quite a problem then, doesn’t it?”
“Look, why can’t you…” The chime of the door interrupted him, and he was startled to see someone he knew come into the shop, carrying a largish box in his arms.
“Hey, Morgan! I brought that delivery from Kalm you asked for. Sorry I wasn’t here this morning, I got held up on another delivery.”
“Hi, Cloud. Just put it in back, will you? And don’t worry about it being late; I don’t really need those items until tomorrow anyway. Oh, and I’ve got something to show you later if you’ve got the time.”
Her voice had changed, once more becoming friendly, welcoming. But that warmth disappeared again when she turned back to him. She just looked at him, refusing to even glance at the gun resting on the counter between them.
“Vincent! What are you doing here?” Cloud sounded happy to see him when he returned to the front room. He also didn’t seem to notice the tension in the air.
“I came to have my gun looked at…” he began at the same time she said “You know him?” to Cloud. Cloud laughed and answered her first.
“Yeah, Vincent is a friend of mine. He was one of the people who helped us save the world from Meteor. Haven’t you listened to any of the stories going around?”
“Cloud, I wasn’t living in Midgar nine months ago when all that happened. I was down near Fort Condor at the time, so I must have missed all the news reports. How was I to know this “Vincent” was a friend of yours?”
“Heh, well, now you know. Oh, I have some ideas about what we discussed last week. You want me to tell you about them?”
“Not right now. If you have time later today, I’m not working on anything important. Plus I have something to show you that might help out with your deliveries. Guy needed some work done and he wanted to give me a bike in exchange. I don’t need it, but I told him you might be interested. You could probably fix it up some to use.”
“Sure, that would be great! I’ll get his name from you next time I’m here. I’ll see you later then. I’ve still got some deliveries to make today.” He left with a wave to them both.
Vincent watched the younger man leave, putting off looking at her as long as possible. He could feel her eyes on him though, considering the news she’d learned. He turned back to the counter, trying to think of a way to convince her to do the work.
“Where did you find this gun?” The question surprised him. Her voice had lost the hostility, but little of the coldness. Now it just sounded distant and remote. For some reason, he didn’t want to look her in the eyes. Something about them reminded him of someone.
“What difference does it make? I found it and right now I just need it fixed. Since you’re the only gunsmith around calling herself ‘Charter Arms,’ it apparently has to be fixed by you.” He was a bit surprised to realize how bitter he sounded.
“Very well, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do the repairs for you and in exchange, you’ll tell me the story of how you came to be using Cerberus.”
“That’s all? Repairs for a story? How long will the repairs take?” This time she did glance down at the gun before looking up again.
“Should take about a week, no longer really.”
“A week,” he sighed. “I don’t suppose you sell other guns do you? I really don’t want to go that long without a weapon.” In fact, he preferred to not go without a weapon at all, but after getting her to agree to do the repairs, he wasn’t about to complain. “And when do you want to hear this story? Somehow I doubt you want the short version.”
“Oh, I’ll give you some time to come up with the story first. In addition, I’ll provide you with a gun to use while I’m repairing Cerberus. It won’t be an exact replacement, but I’ll come as close as possible.” She looked at him closely, “Do you agree?”
“I’m not exactly in a position to say no, am I? Not if I want my gun back. Why do you keep calling it Cerberus though?”
“Because that’s its name. He’s chosen you to use him, so you should know his name.” She turned and walked to a cabinet against the back wall, opening one of the drawers with a key. Pulling out a wooden box, she returned to the counter and set it down. Another key, this one on a chain around her neck, open the two locks on the side of the box. From inside, she withdrew a gun and laid it on the counter next to his.
At first glance, the guns were identical. Looking more closely though, the new one had only a plain disk hanging from the chain attached to the grip. The engraving on the barrels was a slightly different pattern and instead of hellhounds, there were the faces of women screaming in anger at the ends of the barrels. He looked at her in surprise.
“Sound and Fury.” She said softly, staring at the two guns before her. “Song and Cry. Dirge and Lament. Cerberus and…what? I never named this one, she was always just ‘Fury’ to me. That’s why there’s a disk attached instead of a figure like there is with Cerberus. I recognized the dirge immediately, almost as soon as the gun was finished. A song of death. But I never found a name for this one.” She looked up at him guiltily. That wasn’t something she usually told strangers, even if they did have a gun with her maker’s mark on it. “Fury won’t be an exact replacement, but it’s close enough. She’s a bit point heavy. If you can use one, you’ll be able to use the other.”
Timeline: ~32 years prior to FFVII
Morgan sang to softly to herself. Her singing seemed to bother the other engineers for some reason and when they were upset, the Director got involved. Apparently, being the best weaponsmith in the division didn’t carry any weight with that woman, so Morgan tried to keep her voice down. It was difficult because of how her father had taught her. Creating anything was a gift he’d always told her, and so you had to celebrate that gift. That meant singing, bringing out the song of the item. The other engineers didn’t believe in doing this though, so their creations were harsh sounding things, without elegance or beauty of any sort. Or so it seemed to her.
Footsteps clicked across the tiles, stopping in front of her work table. Without looking up, she knew who it was â€“ the Director. Morgan almost never used the Director’s name, even in her thoughts. It was better this way. She was watched closely enough as it was, being the youngest weaponsmith ever in the organization. So many of her co-workers resented having to listen to someone who seemed to be only 20 years old, when they had been contesting among themselves for years to gain status. It was better if she kept to herself and worked without complaint on the projects the Director assigned.
“Are they finished?” The Director’s voice was cold, harsh, demanding.
“Yes, ma’am. They are.” She slid the guns across the table, prudently keeping the barrels pointed to either side. It wasn’t worth considering what the Director would do if she even thought that Morgan was trying to hurt her. It had been just over two years since she was rescued the first time; she doubted it would happen a second.
“And you followed the specifications exactly as I wrote them?”
“Yes, ma’am, exactly as you put in the description. I did have to make some adjustments for the cartridges so they would revolve properly, but that wasn’t difficult to do. I hope you aren’t offended by the engraving though. The weapons seemed too plain otherwise. I felt that something you requested needed to be special.” Morgan held her breath, hoping the woman wouldn’t be upset. The guns hadn’t felt finished without the engravings and embellishments to help bring out their songs, but she wasn’t about to mention that to the Director.
“No, they are certainly beautiful. You’ve done well, weaponsmith.” The guns were placed into their cases and the footsteps retreated. She wondered if she would ever see them again. Sound and Fury. Dirge and Lament. Morgan quietly placed the emblems on their chains into her pocket. Those hadn’t felt right, not yet. Maybe not ever, but eventually Morgan knew she would give the guns their final names.
Timeline: ~1.5 years after FFVII/~6 months before AC
He stepped through the door, but there wasn’t any chime of bells this time. It was propped open to let in the spring day and Vincent heard music coming from the back. He could hear someone singing, but the music itself had no words. He paused near the counter, wondering if he should call out or just walk into the back. Morgan had let him back there once, making him carry a box for her. The song trailed off, and he heard her footsteps coming towards him.
“Vincent! Back already? What did you break this time?” Her voice had lost the hostility in the months since they’d first met, and now she tended to chatter at him while working on Cerberus. None of the repairs needed had been as extensive as that first visit, so she usually finished any work the same day. Still, he didn’t mind listening to her voice; it was interesting to hear all the gossip that she collected.
“Was that you singing in the back?” he asked abruptly. The singing had reminded him of something he’d heard a long time ago, from before he’d met Lucrecia. It was a memory that he just couldn’t place, along with the mystery about her eyes.
“Oh, uh… yeah. It’s a habit of mine. I tend to sing when I’m working. Most people think it’s strange, and I used to have some co-workers that absolutely hated it. They liked to make trouble for me when they caught me doing it.” Her voice sounded guarded when she mentioned co-workers, as if thinking of something she’d much rather forget.
“Oh, it sounded nice though.” He looked at her thoughtfully, remembering something she’d said to him once. “Is that why you talk about weapons having a song to them? I’ve noticed that you mention that some items have a song or music to them.”
She blushed and stammered a bit before replying. “I think you’re the only person I’ve met who’s ever noticed that before. It’s related, but that’s a long story. Something from my childhood that my father taught me. Now, what have you done to Cerberus?” She was obviously trying to change the subject and he decided to let her.
“Nothing, actually. I just wanted to ask if you had a spare cartridge. I lost one of mine somewhere.”
Cheerfully grumbling about his carelessness, she went into the back room to get him a spare cartridge, and he left shortly afterwards. In a week or so, he’d bring this one back, saying he’d managed to find the original. For some reason, he enjoyed coming to see her. He hoped to figure out why he kept thinking about her eyes.
Timeline: ~1.5 years after FFVII/~4 months before AC
“Hey, Tifa, is Cloud around?”
“Morgan! No, he’s out on deliveries, as usual. I actually haven’t seen him in a few days.”
Morgan looked at the younger woman, hearing the sadness in her voice. Tifa gazed back at her, and Morgan decided not to ask any questions. She could tell it would just hurt Tifa to think about whatever was going on.
“Well, I have a few deliveries to Kalm for him. Can I leave the packages here for him to pick up? They’re pretty small, if that’s ok with you.”
“Sure, that’ll be fine. How’s everything been with you?”
“Eh, pretty busy. People keep asking me to make them jewelry for some reason. Not that I mind, but it’s a bit strange.” Morgan had a sudden idea. “Actually, I need to head to the market to pick a few things up, want to come along? You aren’t exactly busy at the moment.” The bar was empty except for the two of them. Even Marlene and Denzel were out.
“I don’t know, someone could come by…”
“So what? Let them wait around until you get back. We’ll play hooky!” She grinned at the other woman, feeling the need to cheer her up a bit, if only for the afternoon. Even if she couldn’t make Tifa forget her problems, maybe Morgan could forget her own. He hadn’t been by the shop in over a month now, and the fact that she missed his silent presence as much as she did was surprising.
“Ok! Let me lock up the back and we’ll go.”
Timeline: ~6 months after AC (May 3rd to be exact)
Vincent stood at the door, arms crossed, waiting patiently.
“Vincent, I have an order to finish for tomorrow. I really don’t have time to go anywhere tonight. Can’t this wait?”
“No, it can’t. And you can afford to take a night off. This is a special night and you’re going to come along. Besides, we’re going over to Seventh Heaven. You haven’t been to see Cloud or Tifa in almost two months.”
Vincent watched the rebellion fade away when he mentioned how long it had been since she’d been to see the others. He knew it wasn’t exactly fair to use that as coercion, but if it worked, he didn’t care. His job was to make sure Morgan was at the bar tonight.
“Oh, all right!” Morgan cried, throwing her hands in the air. “But I need to get cleaned up. I’ve been working at the forge all this afternoon.” He almost smiled at how sulky and put-out she sounded.
“That’s fine; we have some time before we need to arrive. Don’t get any ideas about disappearing though. I need to get something from my rooms in the meantime.” He turned to climb the side staircase to the top floor where his apartment was.
It was odd how he’d ended up there. Morgan had been complaining about the previous tenant, and how difficult the person had been to deal with even after she’d kicked him out. So he’d offered to rent the upstairs rooms instead. It had been an impulsive offer and he didn’t think either of them knew why she’d agreed to the arrangement.
“You’d probably just chase me down or something if I did try to disappear. Cha, let me get ready then.” She pushed past him to head up the stairs to her own rooms on the second floor, saying as she passed, “Lock up then, so no one else comes in.”
After getting the small package he needed from his own rooms, Vincent settled down to wait on the stairs. After a half hour, he heard her coming down the stairs again and turned to look up. He couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping slightly at the sight of her.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I just can’t remember if I’ve ever seen you not wearing those brown leathers. It’s quite an improvement.” She was dressed all in shades of grey tonight: dark grey knee boots, pearl grey pants and a silvery turtleneck. The long coat swirling around her calves was a steel blue shade and her hands were covered by pearl grey gloves. All of it making her hair glow a deeper, richer shade of red. Suddenly he smiled, surprising her even more than the compliment did. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, let me just grab my own guns.” She seemed almost hesitant, giving him an odd look. Walking to the locked cabinet where he knew she kept her personal weapons, she opened it to bring out two smaller revolvers. He hadn’t noticed the holsters hanging on either side of her lower back until she moved the coat to put the guns away.
“Do you think you’ll really need those tonight? We’re only going to the bar, you know.”
“And how are we getting there? Walking? Then I’m taking the guns. Besides, I hadn’t noticed you taking off your hardware. Even though Kadaj and his gang are gone, that doesn’t mean the other gangs disappeared as well. Thugs and bullies never seem to go out of style, unfortunately.”
“That is true.” Walking side-by-side, they headed out into the early evening.
Timeline: ~6 months after FFVII
The door chimes rang and a shower of rain followed her visitor into the shop.
“Morgan, I brought the new sketches over.” Cloud walked towards the back of the shop, heading towards the singing he could hear back there.
“Cloud? Come on back.”
Once in her workroom, he laid out the pages he’d brought with him, explaining why he wanted the swords made in a certain way. They talked for several hours, going over the design details. It would be a fairly complicated creation, but she felt sure it could be made. This might actually be fun.
“It’s going to take me a little while to get the metal composition right, but I’ll let you know when I have the final designs for you to see. You’ll have to help with some of the forge work once I get started, you know.”
“Huh? Why’s that? I don’t know anything about making a sword, just using it.”
“Well, now you can learn something. It’s to be your weapon; you should be here when it’s made.”
Timeline: ~1 year after AC/~2 weeks prior to DoC
Morgan walked over to Seventh Heaven to visit Tifa. Usually afternoons at the bar were so slow that she and Tifa could just sit around talking. But today she was surprised to see the bar was almost busy, and even more surprised to see Barret leaning up against the bar chatting with someone she couldn’t see. Barret shifted and she saw Vincent sitting near the bar. It had been over two months since she’d seen him last.
“Hi, all! What’s the special occasion? I know it can’t be for me,” she said with a smile. Everyone except Vincent returned her greeting; he just sat there expressionless. There were days when she wanted to slap him, just to see if she could provoke a reaction of some sort. He never seemed to mind her chatter when she repaired his gun, but even after almost three years, he still didn’t talk much. It surprised her sometimes when he did open up, even a little bit.
“Why’s Vincent being so sulky today?” She asked Barret quietly. When Vincent turned his head to glare at her, she realized it wasn’t quietly enough.
“I’m not being ‘sulky’ as you put it.”
“Hmpf. Could’ve fooled me. Nice scowl, point it at someone else, why don’t you?” With a dismissive wave, Morgan turned to back to Barret to ask him how the new mine was coming along. She couldn’t keep from looking Vincent’s way though when he wasn’t paying attention. There was a tension in the bar that the laughter couldn’t disguise. Why did it seem like everything was balancing on edge today? General talk filled the room, and she helped Tifa get drinks for everyone.
“Reeve asked me to go to Kalm for the Revival Festival there. Why should I? What is there to celebrate? It’s not like it’ll matter.” Vincent’s voice came to her, responding to something Tifa had said. Even though she’d missed the question, Morgan immediately knew what, or rather who, was being discussed. And the tension inside her snapped.
Stalking over to him, she grabbed the front of his cloak and dragged him out of his chair, pulling him towards the back of the bar and the open space outside. Shocked by her actions, the others trailed behind. Vincent had no choice but to follow, too surprised to react differently.
“I am so sick of seeing you mope around like this!” Morgan yelled at him once they reached the center of the clearing. “Why is it so damn difficult for you to accept what life is now and move on?”
“What are you going on about, Morgan?”
“Oh! Glorious wonder! He actually knows my name and can use it!” The sarcasm in her voice cut him, even though he had no idea what had started this. “I was beginning to be afraid that actually speaking to other women was too much effort.”
Morgan stalked in a circle around him waving her arms in the air while the others stood near the door, watching in confusion. Oddly enough, he noticed that Tifa had a slight smile on her face, as if she knew what was going on.
“Morgan, what is this about? Yelling at me isn’t going to do any good you know.” He retreated into his usual remoteness, trying to see if he could get her to calm down.
“How do you know that? Maybe I want to yell at you? Maybe yelling at you is the only way to get you to listen! I am so sick of you thinking no one cares about you. Thinking that you alone carry the burdens of the whole world upon your shoulders. What melodramatic garbage!”
“I do not think that.” He couldn’t understand what had set her off like this. She never yelled at him; in fact, he’d never seen her get upset with anyone before. It was enough to make him wonder why he got special treatment. The others just stood watching against the back wall of the bar, no one making any attempt to stop Morgan’s tirade.
“You don’t? Then tell me why you won’t go to the Revival Festival in Kalm? I heard you telling Tifa you weren’t going. Tell me why you don’t even bother to use your phone to just call your friends, even to chat? Did you know that Yuffie’s been calling me even, complaining that you put her on ignore? It took you long enough to get a damn phone, now you won’t even use it. I can’t imagine your social skills deteriorated that badly while you were sleeping. Stop moping and blaming yourself for something that happened over thirty years ago that you had no control over!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about! You know nothing about what happened back then!”
The feel of her hand across his cheek shocked him. He hadn’t even realized she was standing that close before the blow landed.
“You have no idea what you lost back then either, apparently. What was it? Oh yeah, your girlfriend’s husband shot you and instead of getting you to a doctor, she started experimenting on you. True love conquers all, I suppose.” If anything, the sarcasm in her voice was thicker than before. “But wait, I forgot that you’re the only person in the whole world who’s ever had anything bad happen to him. Oh woe is you, poor Vincent!”
Again the slap came without warning. Why wasn’t he seeing her do this?
“Here’s a news flash – you aren’t the only person in this world who ever lost someone. You aren’t the only person in this world who’s ever had something bad happen to them. You aren’t alone! Stop acting like you don’t have any friends you can talk to. Stop acting like you have to be alone all the time!”
“Stop pretending you don’t have any feelings! I’m so sick of you being calm and remote all the damn time. React like a normal person for once!”
This time, he saw the blow coming and blocked it left-handed, not caring if the clawed glove caused her pain. Her other hand came up instead and without thinking, he pulled Cerberus from its holster. When it went flying from his hand, everyone in the courtyard was shocked.
“How. Dare. You. Don’t even consider using one of my own weapons against me!” Once again Morgan drove her hand towards his face, but this time she was holding a blade in it. He again blocked with his claw and jumped back from her, trying to gain some space to fight in.
He only caught a glimpse as her coat flared out, just enough to see she was wearing her own guns. Somehow, Vincent knew she wouldn’t use them, but he still didn’t want her armed. He tried grabbing the right side gun, but she twisted away at the last minute and pulled it out herself. It landed on the ground before the others, the left gun joining it shortly after.
The two combatants paused, taking each others measure before she attacked him again. Vincent saw that she wasn’t actually holding daggers; they were the blades she wore attached to her forearms. Still, he had his claw and boots to attack with, so they should be evenly matched.
Cloud looked over at Tifa and asked “Are you sure about this?”
She nodded and replied “Yes. Morgan knows what she’s doing. We’ve talked about it a few times, and she’s been pretty fed up with how Vincent acts sometimes. She’s pretty sure she can keep up with him for a while at least. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. He won’t hurt her.”
Meanwhile, Morgan and Vincent continued their argument. They kept it confined to the area of the courtyard only, and stayed away from the spectators. Neither wanted anything to happen to their friends nor were they willing to stop the fight. After a few minutes, he realized she was singing to herself as she tried to hit him, and offering self-commentary on each attack.
“You are insane!” he yelled at her. “How can you even think of taking notes now?”
She just gave him a tight grin and stabbed her left hand at his head. When he ducked, her knee was waiting instead, knocking him back. When she tried moving in closer, he turned sideways a bit and thrust her away using his left arm, keeping his claws turned inward to avoid doing too much damage. His kick caught her hip, spinning her around.
Morgan changed tactics and began to talk to him during the fight, pulling his concentration away from what they were doing and making him pay attention to what she was saying.
“How on earth can you still love her? She’s the one that changed you, and did this to you. You weren’t the first and I doubt you were the last either. Some of the things she helped research, some of the things she and Hojo did to test subjects… you can’t imagine. Why do you persist in having this angelic view of the woman? She’s dead! Dead, dead, dead! Why can’t you accept that and move on! Stop pining for her!”
The fight looked like it could last for a while when it happened. It wasn’t much of a mistake, but it was enough.
She was getting tired finally, and wasn’t paying as close attention to the ground as she should have. He’d taken to holding the fingers of his left hand together so the claws on his glove formed a point as a counter to her blades, but she’d dodge each time he struck at her.
She hadn’t realized one of her guns was lying there until her left foot came down on the gun and slipped sideways. She tried to curve her body to the right in order to avoid a thrust from his claw, but instead of getting out of the way, her body lurched directly into the path of his attack, and the blow took her under the rib cage.
Time stopped, and they stared at each other.
“Oh, Vincent. I’m so very sorry!” Her whisper caught him off guard. Her shocked eyes held his for a moment, then her hands came down to rest on his arms and her head fell to his shoulder. How could he have forgotten she was as tall as he?
Vincent held her as they both fell to their knees, afraid to move. Tifa was beside them suddenly, telling him not to do anything. Cloud was behind Morgan, supporting her body and keeping her from falling over. Why couldn’t he hear anything?
Tifa reappeared with a healing potion (where did that come from?) and shoved a towel into Barret’s hands. With Barret using the towel to put pressure on the wound, they slowly pulled Morgan away from him. He could see the horrible gaping wound in her stomach before it was covered up. Tifa pried Morgan’s mouth open and poured the healing potion down her throat. Some of it came back up when she began to cough and then Barret was carrying Morgan inside with the others helping. Cloud told Vincent to wait where he was until they got back.
He knelt in the courtyard, watching the blood drip from his fingers.
Timeline: ~6 months after AC (May 3rd to be exact) – continuation of section 7
“Oh my! I think I’m a bit drunk!” Laughing, she stumbled over a curb and he caught her arms before she fell on her face. “Hehe! This is fun. Thanks for making me come tonight.”
“When I dragged you to the bar tonight, I wasn’t expecting you to get drunk,” he told her quietly.
“But it was a party! I didn’t know it was Tifa’s birthday until you said something. Now I feel bad since I didn’t have a gift to give her.” This time he couldn’t grab her arm in time to keep her from falling to her knees.
The few other people on the streets looked at the pair as they went past – a singing drunk woman and a man trying to keep her from hurting herself. They made it back to the shop without any further incidents and he opened the door one handed. Morgan seemed to have fallen into a doze, but at least she was walking.
Her door was locked and he had no idea where her key was.
He sighed and pulled her out of a slump against the wall, heading up the next flight of stairs to his rooms. Once inside, he got her sitting on the edge of the bed while he pulled off her coat and took her guns and holster off. The turtleneck was sleeveless and he was surprised to see that she had what looked like daggers strapped to her forearms. It didn’t take long to figure out how to undo the straps, but he never suspected she even had a weapon like that. After pulling her gloves and boots off, he got her lying down in the bed and pulled the covers over her.
He stood there looking at her sleeping form for a few moments, then pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down, stretching his legs out along the floor.
When the sunlight finally woke him up, he was disoriented at first. His neck was killing him and he was in a chair. And something was poking him in the knee.
“Mrpfh. Vin, why are you in my bedroom?”
“It’s my bedroom and we’re here because you passed out and I didn’t know where your key was to open your door. I also didn’t think I should search you to find it. Agh, my neck hurts.”
She pushed his legs off the bed where they’d been propped and sat up. Almost immediately she tried to lie down again, moaning.
“What happened? Why does my head feel like someone is beating me with a hammer?”
“You got drunk at the party last night. Don’t you remember?”
“I think I’m dead is what I remember. Ohhhh, this is why I don’t drink.”
“Well, get up. I’ll go downstairs and get us something to eat. Momi-san should have something ready by now.” With that, he walked out of the room and downstairs. The small foodshop two doors down was open and the proprietress behind the counter serving customers.
“Good morning, Momi-san. I came down to pick up Morgan’s breakfast for her. She’s feeling a bit hungover right now.”
“Who’s that? Oh, it’s you. You’re that young man she’s been pining about, aren’t you? About time; it’s only been several years now. Well, no matter, I’ll get breakfast made up for the pair of you and then you can just go right back up and eat together.” With quick efficiency, the old woman made up a packet of food, pressed it into his hands and pushed him back towards the shop. When he paused to look back at her, she just winked and shooed him along again.
As he headed back to the apartment, he thought about what the old woman had said.
Timeline: ~1 week prior to DoC – continuation of section 9 (~1 week later)
“Morgan, I don’t think this is a good idea. You’ve barely finished healing from the fight and now you want to leave?” Cloud was standing at the bar, Tifa seated in the chair next to her.
“No, I need to get away. It’s nothing wrong, I just need some time to myself, away from Edge and everything else. Sitting around isn’t going to help me finish healing and it’s been years since I’ve done anything but make weapons for other people. I need a break from civilization.”
She looked listless and washed out just sitting in the chair. There were dark circles under her eyes, her skin was pale and even her hair looked faded. Cloud and Tifa glanced at each other, concerned about their friend.
“Since I don’t think we’ll be able to stop you, you can go only if you promise to keep your phone on and with you, just in case. And don’t hesitate to call for any reason.” Tifa’s voice was insistent and Morgan smiled slightly.
It was a week later when she came back to Seventh Heaven one evening with an envelope in her hands. She was wearing the grey outfit that she seemed to prefer and found Cloud at one of the tables planning some deliveries.
“Cloud, I have a favor to ask.”
“I just stopped over to say bye. I’m going to head out tomorrow morning and I wanted to see you, Tifa and the kids first. And give you something to deliver for me.”
“Tifa and the kids should be back in a few minutes. What did you need me to deliver?”
“It’s for Vincent. I put a note in there explaining what I’m doing, just in case he asks. If he asks,” she said sadly. “I also left the key to my weapons cabinet for him. I checked over Cerberus and it’s in his rooms. Just do me a favor and don’t give him the envelope for at least a week. Please.”
“He’s only going to Kalm for the festival. Why wait a week?”
“It gives me some time to get away.”
Timeline: ~3 months after DoC
It wasn’t until almost three months after the fight against the Deep Ground soldiers that Cloud had a chance to give Vincent her package. He hadn’t meant to take that long to deliver it, but sometimes events got in the way.
Vincent took the package back to the shop, pausing on the way up the stairs to stand outside her door. Morgan had disappeared after their fight and no one seemed to know where she’d gone. Then everything with Deep Ground happened and he hadn’t had time to worry about it.
He’d read the letter inside; it explained what both keys were for and how to view the disk. It felt wrong to unlock the door to her room and go inside. He’d never realized how much noise she’d made just by being there. She was always singing or chattering or just moving around. The silence was oppressive.
The player was where she’d said it was, and he turned on the TV before inserting the disk. It started up almost immediately and she appeared on the screen, sitting back down after adjusting the camera.
“Hi, Vincent. Since I’m hoping Cloud got this to you as I asked, I’ll just assume you’re watching me now. I’ve got a few things I need to say and it’ll be easier if I don’t do it face-to-face.” A quick laugh, “I guess I’m too scared to do this in person.
“Anyway, first thing I wanted to say was ‘I’m sorry.’ Sorry for the fight, sorry for provoking you into the fight, sorry for what happened. I didn’t plan for that to happen. I mean, I wanted to start an argument with you, just to get you to react. I even figured that if I had to start a fight that was okay as well. Well, I hadn’t planned it for that day. That just seemed to work out as it did. What I didn’t plan for was my own clumsiness. I can’t believe I stepped on my own gun like that. Stupid of me.
“But none of that was your fault.” She said emphatically. “You’d been growing more remote again, pulling away from everyone and it was frustrating. Just when we thought you were getting socialized finally, there you go and start reverting. Even if you didn’t talk much, you were at least around more. I guess I just missed that; I know the others did as well.”
She sighed and leaned back in the chair. He noticed she was dressed for travel, her grey gloves lying on the table before her. He could see her coat hanging on a hook behind her, leaving her arms bare. The blades she used were already strapped to her forearms.
“So, one of the reasons that I wanted to leave this recording is because I needed to say good-bye. I’m leaving in the morning. I need to get away for a while and think things over. I’ve been trying to do something and it’s not working out right. In fact, I’m not even sure I’ve been doing anything right, especially since I ended up having to pick a fight with you after all.”
Vincent wondered what she was talking about. Why would their fight have anything to do with something she was working on?
“I’m guessing this makes no sense at all. I’m probably being pretty confusing, so maybe I should start at the beginning. That’s as good a place to start as any. And it’ll explain some of the things I said, well, actually yelled at you when we were fighting.
“I went to work for Shin-Ra when I was about eighteen. My parents were so proud of me, especially my father, since I was the youngest weaponsmith the family had even produced. We’re rather proud of our weaponsmiths like that. The day I received my maker’s tattoo was one of the happiest of my life.
“It was fun work and for almost five years I enjoyed myself. Of course, I was too young to realize that my skills could cause problems in the department. No one else had ever been jealous of my skills, so why should my co-workers? I was stupid and they caught me.
“I never did figure out what they gave me, but I remember feeling sleepy. I woke up in a laboratory to some maniac laughing. I think my habit of singing to myself is the only thing that kept me sane over the years. I found out later that I’d been in that lab for just over three years total, but I didn’t know that at the time. It was a small mercy.
“The Director – Scarlet – found me there on one of the regular progress update tours. One of her aides recognized me somehow. Turns out she’d actually filed a report when I went missing; it messed up one of her secret projects that I was working on and that upset her. At least someone cared.
“She got me out of the lab and away from that madman Hojo. Unfortunately, her kindness didn’t include releasing me from my contract, so once I wasn’t catatonic anymore, she put me back to work. It wasn’t doing much at first; I just made weapons based on the specifications she gave me. But it gave me time to put myself back together again.
“President Shinra didn’t think Hojo had done anything wrong and he was allowed to keep experimenting. I think shortly after that was the first time I ever saw you. You’d been sent to pick up some weapons from our shop. There was another Turk with you but you were the one I noticed. So arrogant and sure of yourself, I thought. You seemed so familiar the first time you came to my shop three years ago. I didn’t make the connection at first, not until Cloud said your name. That’s when it clicked who you had to be.
“I used to see you around and I think I would try to find ways of just glimpsing you, even for a second. I don’t think my mind was up to handling what I was putting it through and I used my glimpses of you as a…reward in a way. Well, a reward and because I think I just liked watching you. Trying to rebuild yourself when you’ve been shattered isn’t easy, not on your own.
I went home to visit my family once, but everyone seemed strange to me. Heh, I probably seemed even stranger to them. It was obvious I was still the “great weaponsmith” I’d always been, but I wasn’t the same Morguenna I’d was before. I think it was around then when I started going by Morgan.”
He felt like pieces of a puzzle were coming together and some of the edges were taking shape. When she said the name “Morguenna” though, it started to become clearer.
“Where was I? Oh yeah, my family visit. I never went back again. That part of my life was dead.” She paused for a second. “I take that back, I went back when my parents died, but I didn’t let anyone else in my family know. How sad is that?
“Whatever Hojo and his assistant had done to me; I never found out the full details. I’m not even sure I’d want to know even now. But about a year after I started really putting myself back together, you were assigned to protect the scientists in Nibelheim. That was the last I’d heard about you until you walked into my shop and put Cerberus on the counter. It was a shock to see that gun lying there. I’d thought it was lost when the Shin-Ra headquarters were destroyed.
“You know, I just realized. You never did tell me the story of how you found it. You still owe me that.
“I kept working for Shin-Ra, until about five years ago. I finally managed to retire of all things. I didn’t interact much with my co-workers during those years, mostly because they hated my singing. Well, that and the fact that I seemed to have only aged about five years for the past thirty-five. I’m think I’m safe in guessing that one of the things Hojo messed with was how my body ages.
“There were other changes that I can’t help noticing, of course, like my strength and speed. It’s enough to give me an edge if I have to fight someone, and I even managed to keep up with you for a while. And there are a few other changes that I try to avoid making obvious to others. Like this one.”
After saying that, she placed a small case on the table before her, and looked down, away from the camera. She sat that way for a few moments before reaching up to her eyes and doing something. After closing the case up, she remained staring down at the table for a while longer. With a deep breath, she raised her face and looked straight into the camera.
The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
Timeline: ~34 years prior to FFVII
“Lady and gentlemen, if you’ll please follow me this way, I’ll show you more of the samples and the progress we’ve made in the genetic tests.” Professor Hojo led the other Shin-Ra executives to another part of the laboratory where several tubes filled with mako were set up. “Now, sample one has shown remarkable resistance to the introduction of Jenova cells and no obvious changes have been detected. However, we’ve seen a marked increase in strength, regenerative and cognitive abilities. Currently, we are testing to see if these increases are directly related to the infusion of Jenova cells or from another step in the process.”
“Madame Director!” Her aide’s urgent whisper pulled Scarlet’s attention from Hojo’s words and she looked at him in irritation. “The last tube, ma’am. I think I recognize the test subject.”
“So what if you do?” She hissed at him. “Why should I care who Hojo does his tests on?”
“Ma’am, I think it’s our missing weaponsmith,” He replied. “She certainly looks like the girl that went missing three years ago.”
Scarlet turned towards the last tube, trying to see through the glass. The young woman in the tube was curled up against the wall, and she appeared to be singing to herself. The Director listened to the song, her face growing grimmer as the words became clear.
Everyone stopped at her shout, staring in her direction. She stalked over to the scientist, grabbing his tie to drag him over to the end of the row.
“Madam Director, please explain yourself!”
“No, you explain yourself.” Scarlet pointed at the young woman lying on the floor of the tube and demanded, “Who is this test subject and how did you get her?” Professor Hojo looked through his notes, finally settling on one of the pages.
“Oh yes, name is Morguenna Charter. Age is approximately twenty-six years old. She has been of particular use in the aging tests, although the extreme mako poisoning is something of a problem. However, the genetic manipulation we’ve subjected her to has appeared to significantly slow down the aging process. Jenova cell testing has had no adverse affects and produced the usual physical and psychological improvements. The only downsides are persistent catatonia and that infernal singing she’s constantly doing. May I ask why you’re interested in her?”
At hearing the woman’s name, the Director looked angry, but the remainder of Hojo’s words made her furious. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” She screamed at him.
“Now, Scarlet, why are you yelling like a shrew at one of my scientists?” President Shinra’s amused voice cut into the discussion. She whipped her head around to stare at him, surprised by the interruption. She’d forgotten there were others present.
“Sir, about three years ago, one of my top weaponsmiths disappeared. I personally put in a report about this matter because she was so promising and her talents were so in demand. Her name was Morguenna Charter.”
“Oh, and you think this is the same woman?”
“Sir, I’m sure of it. In fact, I’ll bet if we check, she’ll have a tattoo on her left shoulder of the Charter Arms maker mark. The whole family has it, especially the ones that become smiths. She was working on a special project for us at the time she disappeared. I’ve since had to cancel that because it couldn’t be completed without her skills.”
President Shinra stared at the woman lying on the floor of the tube before him, her singing carrying faintly to his ears. He looked at Professor Hojo and said “I hope you have an explanation for this?”
“Mr. President, sir, it’s not my job to worry about where my test subjects come from. She was brought to me and I used her. I’m not sure what else there is to say. If Director Scarlet wants the woman back, I suppose I can do without her. Although, I’m not sure how much use she’ll be without a mind. Mako poisoning can be so detrimental sometimes.” Hojo’s voice grew sly on the last sentences.
Scarlet ordered her aide to take care of the woman, giving him careful directions on where to take her. He ordered two guards to assist him, and they stood the still singing woman up between them, walking her past the board members. Scarlet stopped them as they passed, lifting Morgan’s face to stare into her glowing blue eyes. Catatonic and suffering from mako poisoning. This could be difficult.
Timeline: ~6 months after DoC (morning of August 11th or 19th, depending on which date you prefer)
The door opened and someone paused in the opening. Tifa looked up but the light was behind the person. The visitor stepped forward, letting the door close and cutting off the bright summer dazzle. Whoever it was, they still weren’t close enough to see clearly.
“Hi again, Tifa.”
“Morgan? Is that you? How are you? Where have you been? You haven’t called in over a month!” Tifa came out from behind the bar to give her friend a hug, looking the other woman over closely.
“I’m good. I finally got back in late last night. I figured six months was enough of a vacation and I needed to get back to work. Plus, I was getting tired of talking to myself,” Morgan laughed easily. “And I missed all of you back here, so it was time to come home.”
Tifa stood back and looked at her friend. She looked tired, but the marks of strain were gone from her face and she even had a tan. The hair was longer and the clothes definitely worn, but Morgan looked better than she had before she’d left.
“You’re back just in time. We’re having a party tonight for Cloud’s birthday and you had better be there.”
“I know. That’s one of the reasons I pushed to make it back here. I knew it was coming up and I thought a party would be the easiest way to make my grand return.â€ She paused before asking quietly, “Will he be there?”
Tifa didn’t have to ask who Morgan was referring to, she just nodded. “He’s actually been spending a lot of time around here since the main fighting ended against Deep Ground. Have you heard about that?”
“Yeah, I got updates when I stopped in Costa del Sol on my way back. I ran into a few rogue soldiers in the wilderness before that and took care of them, but that was before I knew who they were. How bad was Kalm?”
“There are still some repairs going on there and around here in Edge, but Reeve knows what he’s doing. Maybe now we can finally get on with just living and not have to worry about saving the world on a regular basis.”
They both laughed at that and Morgan left to get some more rest after promising to return later that evening for the party.
Timeline: ~6 months after DoC – continuation of section 14 (evening of August 11th or 19th, depending on which date you prefer).
The party had already started by the time he arrived, but that was fine. It felt good to just be with his friends. After telling Cloud happy birthday, he went to the bar to say hello to Tifa.
Her voice behind him caught him by surprise, and he turned around quickly. She really was standing there, dressed in grey just as he remembered. Tonight her coat was deep reddish instead of the usual steel blue-grey, and the rest of her clothes were almost black in the light, but it was her. He just stared.
“When did you get home?”
“Late last night actually. I stopped by to see Tifa this morning, but then I just had to go home and sleep for a few more hours. I pushed it to get back when I did. Just impatient to see you… everyone… again.” She looked away, embarrassed. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine. I did a lot of thinking about what you said in that recording and realized a few things as well. Gwenna, we need to talk.” She flinched at the nickname.
“Yeah, we probably do. But not now, not here.”
“Will you do me a favor though? Will you take out those lenses?” He held his breath, hoping she’d agree, knowing she wouldn’t.
“I can’t, not tonight. It’s too early. I’ve been wearing them for too many years now. It’s easier than answering other questions.”
Timeline: ~8 months after DoC
A/N: I made an assumption about how someone would recover from mako poisoning, so please don’t hurt me. I’m guessing that even with help, you’d have days when nothing seems right in your head, and that Cloud would suffer from this occasionally as well.
Cloud and Tifa sat across from her, wondering what was going on. Vincent stood behind her chair and the kids were out playing, enjoying the early days of autumn while they could. All Morgan would say is that she needed to show them something important.
“So, you’re probably wondering what’s going on. I just needed to show you both something that might help explain a few things about me. Besides, Vincent’s insisting I have to do this eventually, so it may as well be now.”
The other couple looked at each other while she took out a small case and bent over it. Her hair hung forward, blocking their view of whatever it was she did. Cloud could only stare when she finally raised her head and looked at him with eyes like his.
“You’ve had mako treatments,” Tifa said in wonder.
“I’ve had mako poisoning actually. And treatments, and other…changes done to me.”
“How did you cope with the poisoning?” Cloud asked quietly.
“Singing mostly. It always was a bad habit of mine. Made my co-workers nuts to hear it, which probably explains why they handed me over to the labs to be experimented on in the first place. It took me almost two years to pull out of the catatonia completely, and another year before I’d rebuilt my personality to the point where I could function normally again. Since then, I’ve had almost thirty-five years of being ‘me.’ It does get easier as time goes by.”
“Thirty-five years? How old are you?”
“Technically, I’m about two years older than Vincent. Like I said to him that day, he’s not the only one that had ever been experimented on. I tend to not dwell on what happened to me, mostly because I’ve managed to not remember much about the three years I was there.
“I’ll be honest though. I still have days when I can’t remember who I am, or what I’m doing. I hear too many songs in my head and it can be overwhelming. Those days get fewer and fewer as time goes by though. I rarely have that happen more than a few times a year if that. It’s not the most comforting thing to hear, but I thought you might need to know.”
She stood up and put her hand on Cloud’s shoulder.
“It will get better.”
Timeline: ~6 months after DoC – continuation of sections 14 & 15 (evening/night time of August 11th or 19th, depending on which date you prefer).
“Thank you for taking care of the shop, by the way. I didn’t mean to assume you would, but I really do appreciate it.” They slowly walked side-by-side through the quiet streets, talking around the things they needed to discuss. The party was probably still going on, but they’d left early. Everyone watched them leave together, happy to have her back.
“You know, I only saw that recording about three months ago. You had disappeared and then everything happened at the Revival Festival. Cloud never had a chance to give it to me before then.
“It explained a lot of things that had been puzzling me about you. I knew something was wrong with your eyes, but until you took out those lenses, I never suspected that you’d been exposed to mako like that.”
“Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t exactly recommend mako poisoning as a method of changing your eye color. Just something about having your personality shattered into little pieces is a bit troublesome, you know?” Her voice was wry and a bit amused. He glanced sideways to see her smiling at him.
“No wonder you never had a problem looking Cloud in the eyes. Most people can’t handle that for any length of time.”
“Hmm, I never thought of it that way, but I guess you’re right. I’m used to seeing it in myself, so it doesn’t bother me to see it in others.”
They continued walking and by unspoken agreement turned away from their destination. It seemed easier to talk in the dark like this; the quiet streets provided them with neutral ground to meet on.
She listened as he told her about the Deep Ground attacks and what had happened in the fights. He told her about the last fight and how Chaos had finally left him to rejoin with the planet until it was needed again. And he told her about saying good-bye to Lucrecia in her cave; about how he needed to move on with his life. It took hours to relate everything, but neither seemed to notice the passage of time. It was as if time had stopped in the dark streets, and they were the only two alive.
“Morgan. Gwenna, look… I’m not sure what’s going to happen now. All I know is that I realized some things when I found out you were gone, and later on in that cave. I’d already begun to move on with my life, I just hadn’t accepted it yet.
“I skipped a large portion of my life sleeping in that basement, and I couldn’t accept what had happened. So when I met you, I wasn’t even prepared to get to know anyone else. But that didn’t seem to stop you from getting to know me.
“In the fight, when I hit you, it scared me. I was afraid you were going to die and it would be my fault. Once I found you were going to live, I think it scared me even more. Because I hadn’t known how much I enjoyed just hearing you talk, or watching you work in the shop. You just treated me as a friend instead of some freak, and made me feel welcome.”
“The others do that as well, you just never noticed it before.”
“Yes, they do, but with you it’s different. Our group went through so much together fighting Jenova and Sephiroth. Of course there was a bond there. As far as I knew, I was just a customer of yours, but you treated me like a friend. I found I enjoyed just standing in your shop watching you work, wondering about your eyes and why they fascinated me so.
“I had a hard time figuring out why you always seemed so familiar to me. But once I saw your eyes, everything clicked into place. Everyone called you Gwenna then. You used to wear your hair long and pulled back from your face. That’s why I could see your eyes so clearly those few times we met. I remembered thinking how tall you were back then as well. Funny how I never put any of it together before this.”
“You weren’t meant to; no one was. I’ve spent a lot of time changing myself to blend in with everyone else and just be normal for once.”
“It worked. I guess what I’m really trying to say is that I’d like to see where we can go from here. I’d like to spend more time with you.” He stopped and turned her to face him, raising his right hand to touch her cheek gently.
“I’d like that as well.” Her hands came up to rest on his waist.
“Well, what do we have here? Looks like we’ve got a lost pair of lovers, boys. How sweet! What should we do?” The harsh voice startled them both and they looked around. There was a large man walking down the middle of the street towards them, and shadowy figures shifted against walls. The click of guns being readied echoed softly.
Vincent looked back at Morgan and she gave him a small smile. He smiled back and nodded slightly before turning in her arms. Cerberus was in his hand pointing steadily at the speaker. The man stopped for a moment before laughing loudly.
“Oh my! Do you see this, boys? We’ve got ourselves a lively one tonight! Seems like the lover boy has a gun.” The voice turned harsh and demanding. “Now put it down before we decide to do more than just rough the two of you up.”
Blocked from view, Morgan moved her hands to her sides, drawing her own weapons slowly. She tipped her head forward to rest it against Vincent’s, then spun to stand back to back with him, her guns pointing towards those sneaking up behind them.
“Just so you know, I don’t have any reloads on me. Once my guns are empty I’ll have to switch to my blades.”
“Just be careful.”
Seeing her armed as well, the leader began to curse and roughly ordered his men to attack.
Then the songs began. A dirge for his enemies, wails of sorrow for hers.