Kingdom Hearts III: 1939

Chapter II
Cerberus

"I will not tolerate contradiction! No one here understands things as I do!"
The Fuhrer slammed his fist on the table, sending pens and map rolls bouncing away. His eyes flashed and fixed on one particular officer. Colonel Wilhelm Herlande.
The man didn't flinch under the volatile dictator's gaze, staring back unblinkingly with his one good eye. The other eye was covered by an eyepatch-- lost in the Great War, though he never went into how. Another scar-- running from his left jaw to his nose-- had been the work of a bayonet. He wore his long, grey-streaked hair in a ponytail.
"I understand, mein Fuhrer, it was you who pulled Germany from the dust, you who alone was capable of action," Wilhelm said, "but I cannot, on my honour as a Prussian officer, not object. To strike against Britain immediately will be a disaster. We are not ready." Okay, so maybe he'd embellished the flattery, but with Hitler, one could never overdo it.
"You should be!" Hitler roared back. "What has this military been doing all this time that it is not ready?!"
The room went quiet. Wilhelm sighed.
"Hm. That's what I thought," Hitler spat. "Now, all of you, get out of my sight! I have plans to make!"
The generals snapped to a flawless salute, their boots clicking satisfactorily together, before they filed out of the room. The others didn't even glance at Wilhelm as they passed. He knew it was because they felt he was too much of a troublemaker-- a shit-disturber, if you will. He contradicted the Fuhrer too much for their taste.
He chuckled to himself. If only they knew, he thought, just how much.
Once away from the generals' prying eyes, Wilhelm slipped into one of the private phone rooms. The tiny, enclosed space was like a confessional, a single phone sitting on a small table. A fan and a naked lightbulb were the only other things in the room. Wilhelm took a breath and dialed the phone. A full minute passed before someone picked up on the other end.
"Stauffenburg?" Wilhelm asked.
"Where the hell are you calling me from!?" Stauffenburg's voice hissed.
"And since when did you answer your own office phone? Don't you have a secretary for that?"
Stauffenburg obviously wasn't in the mood. "Where are you phoning from? It had better be a secure line."
"The Reich Chancellory. Relax. These are some of the most secure phones on the planet," Wilhelm replied. "I just finished the meeting with the Fuhrer."
"And just why did you feel the need to call me?"
"Because," Wilhelm growled. "I have an idea. To deal with Hitler once and for all."
"You're suggesting we assassinate him?"
"Not us."
"Who then? Others have plotted against his life and failed, who exactly do you think is going to have the fortitude to try again?"
"What about Cerberus?"
"The terrorists?"
"Freelancers, I believe, is what they call themselves."
"Semantics," Stauffenburg retorted.
"I also believe you have a contact with them."
There was silence on the other end of the line. When Stauffenburg finally spoke, his voice was lowered conspiratorially. "How did you know that?"
"Information is not hard to come by when you have my rank and status," Wilhelm replied. "So?"
"No." Stauffenburg said. "I am not hiring those hacks. Hitler is a German problem, Germans will deal with him."
"But--"
"There will be no further argument!" Stauffenburg paused. "If you so badly want to contact them then have them deal with Hitler's new pet; Gerhard Milden. He's our greatest problem right now."
"How do you propose I call them?"
"Call Kaden. He'll get through to them."
"And where exactly shall I tell them this Gerhard is?"
"Hitler's been keeping him up at Berchtesgaden. They've got some operation going on up there; they've had dozens of SS officers coming in and out for the past few months."
Wilhelm frowned. "Very well."
"And, Wilhelm?"
"Yes?"
"Don't call me from the Chancellory ever again!"
"Whatever you say."

It was dark, and dank, and cold in the cell that the German bastard called Vexen had thrown her in. The only light came from the space underneath the door, and a small fire in the cell next to her-- which mysteriously, hadn't grown or gone out-- and it wasn't enough to see by. The room smelled of mildew and blood, and other things that Naomi didn't want to imagine.
Earlier, she'd thought she'd heard a sound like claws on the concrete floor, but had heard nothing since. She hoped it was her imagination, but nevertheless, she had moved as far from the bars of her cell as was possible.
She shivered, huddled in a ball on the floor. She had tried to hold back her tears, but had eventually relented. She knew her parents were dead, or soon to be. She'd already had to watch her little sister seizure and die after being given an injection by one of the supposed 'doctors' that supervised the camp she was kept at. They had killed her friends-- all of them dying in the doctors' horrific experiments. The camp guards had told her it was because she was Jewish. They had said she was filth. When she talked back, they beat her. Every day they had drilled it into her that she was inferior. That she was less than human.
And now here she was, locked in a pitch-black cell, freezing in the wet rags that passed for clothing, and wishing she could just go home.
"What makes them so special," she whispered to herself. She was completely unprepared for a voice to answer.
"They have power. Nothing more."
Naomi scrambled to her feet, trying in vain to look around herself in the darkness; but her eyes were useless. She hugged her arms to her chest, her heart hammering. All this time, she thought she'd been alone. She hadn't seen anyone when Vexen had brought her in here. The light had bathed the little room, and Naomi hadn't seen anyone.
But then again, she hadn't really been looking.
"Who's there?" she asked, her voice shaking.
"A friend," the voice answered. It was low, deep, and gravely. Naomi heard something in the cell next to her shift, and the little fire moved. "I am sorry if I startled you."
"Don't worry, lassie. He startles most everyone," a second voice said-- this one with a thick accent that Naomi didn't recognize.
"Why didn't you say something earlier?" she asked. She shifted nervously on the floor. "I didn't think there was anyone else here."
"We thought it best to allow you some time alone with your thoughts," the low voice said.
Naomi remained huddled in the center of her cell, unsure of what to make of the two other occupants of the room. She still couldn't see, and was beginning to doubt she ever would, so there was no way to tell what her new neighbours looked like. But there was something ... different about them.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"That, little one, is a long story."
"Oh, aye."
"Well," Naomi replied. "It's not like I'm in a rush." She moved closer to the bars, sitting down on the chilly floor.
"She makes a mighty good point, she does," the accented voice said.
The other voice chuckled, a deep sound almost akin to a growl. "That she does," he said. "Well. Make yourself comfortable."

Spring had just arrived in the Bavarian Alps. The sun glinted off wet roofs and the trickling springs that ran down through the sloping fields. Snow was still visible under the tall pines, but flowers were already blooming in amongst the green grass. A cold wind still blew down from the mountains, but it didn't bite the way it had a month ago. It was just warm enough to be outside enjoying the sun and fresh air.
From the porch of the old abandoned farmhouse the view of the mountaintops was stunning. White clouds drifted through a flawlessly blue sky, pierced only by the snowcapped mountain peaks. The sun beat down on Curt's skin, permeating him. Reclined in his chair, he was in that perfect middle-ground between cold and too warm. The breeze ruffled his spiky blonde hair, and he closed his eyes. Like that, he could almost imagine he was home. Not the home he'd been raised in, but before that, in another lifetime.
Curt, most people would have thought, was dressed rather ... well, strangely. Leather, belts, a black ribbed vest, and single clasp in the shape of a lion head ensconced his lithe form. One arm was bare, warmed in the light of the sun, the other covered by a long black sleeve. Nothing he wore could be considered ordinary ... at least, not in this world.
The door to the porch creaked open, and gave way to a slim young woman, her chocolate curls cascading over her shoulders. She paused, close enough for Curt to feel the air shift when she moved.
"Kaden called. He's got a job for us."
Curt opened his eyes, blinking against the bright sky. "Another Gauleiter?" he asked. "Isn't the pointlessness starting to sink in yet?"
"Are you suggesting we give up?" the woman-- Avalina-- asked. "We've all lost a lot for this operation. If we just abandoned it all..."
"I know. I was just saying." Curt paused. "The Nazis ... they're like a Hydra. You cut off one head, three more take it's place."
Avalina laughed, taking the chair next to Curt's. "At least we're doing something."
"I suppose." Curt looked up, his eyes meeting the deep emerald of hers.
"Tania's taking the call," Avalina said, getting back to her point. "I just thought you'd like to know."
"She and Vincent can handle the details."
Silence engulfed them, and they let the birds serenade them. The wind carried the smell of moist soil, the mint of pines, and the heady musk of wildflowers. Curt looked over at Avalina, watching the sunlight play over her skin, her hair glowing a deep golden-brown, as if she were absorbing the sun's rays and sending them back out again.
"How's Edward?"
"He'll make it."
"Still trying to get you to graft that gun to his arm?"
"Yes," Avalina replied. "Not that I would even if it was possible."
Curt grinned. "You know he'd put it to good use."
"I'm sure he would." Avalina smiled bitterly, looking into the distance.
"I know. You don't approve of killing in any way, shape, or form." Curt watched a flicker of pain dart across her face, her eyes darkening. Her brow furrowed, and her gaze fell away from the mountains.
"I feel it too much. Like I'm feeling their life slip away."
Curt swallowed. "It's not a weakness, if that's what you think."
Avalina said nothing, blinking and clearing her throat before looking over at Curt. "Sid's making fish and chips. You should come inside."
"Can't miss that, can I?" Curt paused in the doorway, looking out over the field again, letting the wind hit him full on as Avalina retreated into the house. Sometimes Curt hated remembering everything the others didn't. He had assembled the group of Freelancers one by one, tracking down everyone he could, knowing they may never remember. But they were still themselves, still the people he knew. Even though only Reno shared Curt's-- Cloud's-- memory of the past.
Sometimes he wondered if by bringing all these people together he was being selfish. After all, so much had gone wrong in their lives to get to this point. He'd caused so much pain. Yuri had lost her parents when their connections to the terrorist cell Cerberus had been discovered by the Japanese authorities. Vincent's family had been detained trying to flee Berlin, Sid's sent to Dachau after being captured in Danzig. Tania's were executed in Rome as traitors to the Duce, and Cloud had had to hold Avalina back as the Nazis torched her entire town trying to flush her out. It was probably only a matter of time before the fascist bastards figured out who Reno was and went after his family. Cloud figured that was why he'd stopped sending letters. At least Roger, Edward, and Leon didn't have to worry about their loved ones. They were safe in Canada and America, far from the reach of the Reich.
With a final glance at the mountains, Cloud turned and entered the house.
Inside it was warm, the smell of greasy, beer-battered fish drifted to Cloud's nose. Loud, happy voices emanated from the dining room, Sid shouting from the kitchen: "Hold yer horses, dammit! These fish ain't gonna cook themselves!"
And then again, maybe he was wrong. Maybe bringing them all together again had been the right thing. After all, doing the right thing wasn't always easy. He'd learned that in his first life.
"Hey, Curt," Reno said as Cloud entered the room. "Thought you told Kaden we were on vacation."
"I did. He just doesn't listen all that well."
"And the Nazis don't vacation from being pricks," Tania added. "So, naturally, there's always a baddy to kill."
The conversation was interrupted by Sid, bursting into the dining room with a spitting pot of oil. "Ladies and gentlemen, proper fish and chips, straight outta the beautiful British Empire," he announced. "Lacking only some good English beer. Had to settle for this German stuff."
"Well, don't you know," Cloud said, grinning. "The only thing we Germans are better at than making war is making beer."
The laughter at the table was genuine and Cloud felt for a moment that everything was perfect. Here was his real family. People that had been there for him when no one else had. Even if they didn't know it.
"So, Tania," Cloud inquired as Yuri poured drinks-- French wine from Reno's family's vineyard. "This job Kaden's got for us? What is it?"
Tania got a darkly mischievous look in her eye, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin and swallowing hastily before pulling a notepad from her pocket.
"Kaden got a call from a German soldier, calling himself only Weiß Adler. He's an associate of Stauffenburg, or so he says." Tania stabbed her fork into her fish, pointing the piece of meat at Cloud. "Anyway, he wants us to take down a high ranking SS officer: Colonel Gerhard Milden. He's been up at Berchtesgaden, working on Hitler's latest occult thing. Get this for a description: long, white, spiky hair, dark skin 'for a German', gold eyes." The Italian woman grinned, stuffing the fish in her mouth.
Cloud exchanged a glance with the tall, lean, ponytailed redhead at the opposite end of the table. The description had obviously peaked Tania's interest purely for its eccentricity, but he and Reno had nearly dropped their forks for an entirely different reason. This was no garden variety Nazi.
Last time Cloud had met him, he'd been calling himself Xemnas.
"Tell him we'll take the job."
Tania looked taken aback. "Just like that? Don't you usually think about these things for a few days first?"
"I'm turning over a new leaf."
"No," Vincent said. "This sounds like a vendetta. Do you know this guy?"
Cloud looked around the table. Every eye in the room was on him. "No. I don't know the guy." He put down his fork. "This is the first major job we've been offered. If we can pull off an insertion onto Hitler's mountain retreat, we could deal a serious blow."
"It would also put us at the top of their hit list," Roger remarked.
"We're already at the top," Leon retorted. "We have been since Hamburg."
"Yes," Roger argued. "But they still don't see us as all that much of a problem. If we raid Berchtesgaden they'll start to treat us as a real danger. Is that what we really want?"
"Of course!" Tania exclaimed. "Let them be afraid for once!"
"What happens when you back a viscious animal into a corner?" Roger asked. No one answered the question; even Tania seemed to have lost her thunder. The room went quiet.
"It strikes back," Cloud replied, his eyes flicking from Roger to Tania, before stopping on Leon.
"Exactly," Roger said.
"However..." Roger frowned as Cloud continued. Tania sat back in her chair. "If we succeed, then the strike back will be worth it. We'll have proved that their dictator isn't as safe as he thinks he is, and we'll have shamed their precious SS."
Tania smiled. "So we're doing this?"
Cloud nodded. "Yes. We're doing this."
"I hope you know what you're doing," Roger said. "If we trip up it'll be a massacre."
Cloud shrugged. "Don't trip up."

The sun was just over the horizon when Charlie woke again. The surf was crashing amongst the rocks, but stopped short of reaching them. Light cascaded upon the roaring waves, making each droplet of frothy seawater sparkle like a diamond. The rocks and glistened-- wet and dripping.
The fire had gone out, apparently a while ago, but the embers still glowed. Residual heat made the air around the ashes waver, and warmed Charlie's feet.
Charlie sat up, wincing as his side throbbed. He could feel the wound rather acutely-- and gasped as he felt fresh blood moisten the bandage. He looked around at the sand, the rocks, and spotted Alex, watching the beach over a boulder with a set of small black binoculars.
"Morning, Alex," Charlie said, hoarsely.
Alex jumped, flipping around and dropping into the sand. He sighed, relaxing when his eyes fell on Charlie.
"Jeez! Warn a guy before you scare him like that," Alex said. "You're lucky my brain works faster than my trigger finger."
Charlie gulped. "Sorry."
Alex's eyes sparkled in the sunlight, his hair glowing like a crimson Halo around his head. His gaze flicked to the ashes and embers in the sand, and the fire instantly flashed back to life. "Hope you can stand rations for breakfast," he said, rummaging through his pack. "Luckily, I got my hands on some British rations, cause my country prefers to give its soldiers shit and pass it off as food."
Charlie watched Alex fuss with a small portable stove for a few minutes before growling frustratedly and tossing it aside. "Why the hell do I even bother?" He poured the contents of a few paper packets straight into the mess tins, filled them halfway with water, and held them tightly. Before Charlie's eyes the mixture in the tins came to a vicious boil.
"Porridge?"
"Yup." Alex grinned. "Don't complain. I could have handed you Spam."
"I wasn't going to complain," Charlie said. "I like porridge."
"Really?" Alex looked up skeptically from his tin. "You seriously like this stuff?"
"You really are American aren't you?"
"Hey!" Alex feigned a hurt expression. "No need to be harsh."
Charlie swallowed a mouthful of admittedly bland porridge, squinting against the sun. "It's better with sugar."
"Yeah, probably." The redhead tossed his empty mess tin into the sand. "Well. We're gonna want to get away from the beach today. No doubt the Nazis'll be looking for stranded soldiers like me." He peeked over the black rock. "Surprised they didn't find us last night. They were sweeping the place pretty thoroughly, but they didn't spot us."
"Lucky."
"Don't worry, I woulda woken you if we'd needed to skedaddle."
Charlie scraped the last spoonful of his breakfast from his tin, tossing it down beside Alex's. The surf was still crashing, but he could hear engines and voices now, coming from the beach. They were German, no question, but Charlie felt surprisingly calm. Alex didn't seem alarmed, so he figured they weren't in trouble yet. It wasn't until a few gunshots split the air that Alex took notice.
"That would be our cue to leave. Apparently fascists see better in daylight."
Charlie peaked over the rock he'd been leaned on as Alex gathered their supplies. Down the beach, closer to the water, a tank stood guard over a clutch of German soldiers. Several of their number were trudging through the rocks that provided the only border between the beach and the fields, while a few others dragged out the bodies of the men they'd shot a moment ago. All three bodies were British men.
"Come on, kid," Alex grabbed Charlie's arm. "Stay close. If I tell you to get down, don't hesitate."
Charlie nodded, tearing his eyes away from the spectacle, and following Alex. He dearly hoped that the man had a plan for dealing with his very noticeable hair. It wasn't exactly conducive to blending in.
At least he knows what he's doing, Charlie thought.

It took them an hour just to find a spot where they could get off the beach and into the fields without being spotted. The German's had put up a damn good perimeter. Several times, as they crept along, they heard shots; unfortunate soldiers who thought they'd found a hole in the Nazi line, and had been wrong.
Charlie spent that hour in silence, following Alex without speaking or even looking back. He was afraid of what he might see if he did.
Alex's eyes were intent, scanning their surroundings constantly like a cat stalking its prey. With his unusual appearance the intensity did come across as somewhat predatory. More than once, Alex summoned the Chakrams, only to have the unsuspecting Nazi sentry or guard that had alarmed him miss them by a matter of inches, and wander away. The hour passed without incident.
When they finally stumbled through some thick brush and into a field, Charlie realized just how far they'd gone. The beach he'd woken on glistened in the distance, a golden-white line visible above the hedgerows.
"So, now what?" Charlie asked, his voice lowered.
Alex looked cautiously around. "We find a road and figure out where we are." He ran his fingers through his unnaturally spiky hair.
"How are we going to get back to England?"
Alex's expression darkened. "We're not getting there any time soon, Charlie." He rummaged through his pack, pulling out a map and stuffing it in his pocket. "The Germans'll be looking for people suddenly interested in buying boats."
"So we're stuck here?"
"Pretty much."
Charlie sighed. This wasn't exactly the situation he'd imagined being in today. He'd expected to be at school; expected to be playing in the park with Oliver and Cath, all the while being scolded by Tom. He hadn't expected to be running for his life in French fields.
"Come on," Alex said. "I think I see a road."

The road had started to wind not long ago, and Hilda could tell that they were going up rather sharply. Out the car window, she'd watched farm fields give way to trees, and now to a steep, rocky slope. The road was smooth, but the car rumbled with the engine's efforts to push itself up the slope. Hilda sat through the ride in silence, trying to ignore the man in the seat next to her.
Kadaj was as creepy now as he had been when Hilda had first met him. His presence was like a malevolent force; dark, foreboding, and soul-sucking. It was like sitting in a car with the devil. She'd been more than happy last night when the man had left for a few hours, leaving her alone in the hotel. He'd been unbearably smug afterwards, and had mentioned something about a 'Marluxia', and 'failing to capture Roxas'. She'd tried to ignore most of what he'd said.
Hilda felt the car level out, gaining speed now that its engine didn't have to work against gravity. Kadaj looked over at Hilda. "Do you know where we are?"
"No."
"Take a look," the man said, gesturing out the front window.
Hilda looked. Her eyes swept over trees, grass, the fresh black pavement. Then she looked up. Before her eyes was a massive building, standing overbearingly on the mountaintop. It's white walls glowed in the morning light, one of which was taken up by a giant window-- probably affording a gorgeous view of the mountains to those in the room. Swastika flags flapped in the wind, and SS soldiers wandered this way and that, armed with rifles.
"Is this...?" Hilda trailed off, staring at the building.
"Berchtesgaden," Kadaj replied. "This is where we'll be working."
Despite her disdain for the Nazis, Hilda couldn't help but be in awe. This was the Berghof. Hitler's own mountain retreat. A literal fortress. She had just entered the Nazi equivalent of a beehive. One wrong move within its gates could mean execution.
What the hell had she been thinking?
"You'll have your own room," Kadaj commented. "And you will be provided with everything you need, and any luxury you desire within these walls. We ask only that you cooperate with us, and that you tell no one of what you do, hear, or say here."
"Of course," Hilda replied.
"Xemnas will want to speak with you when we go in. There is a man-- who may or may not be there..." Kadaj paused. "He goes by Sephiroth. You would do well not to provoke him."
Hilda gulped.
"But I doubt there will be any ... incidents. Sephiroth rarely bothers with us anyway."
The car sputtered to a stop before a wide flagstone stairway. The driver-- another uniformed SS officer-- jumped out, opening Kadaj's door for him and then moving around to open Hilda's. She nodded in acknowledgment as she swung her feet out, bouncing from the black vehicle. She was nervous, there was no denying it. She was here without her parents; amongst so many adults who seemed to know a hell of a lot more about her than she did. She was afraid of making any sort of misstep, of angering someone who wouldn't think twice about ending her life. God knew there were enough people like that here.
"Fraulein Bergen, I presume?" a voice called from the top of the flight of stairs.
Hilda looked up, her eyes finding a man dressed-- like Kadaj-- in a full SS dress uniform. His silver hair-- a lot like Kadaj's-- came down to his stomach. His eyes were the same shade of blue-green that Kadaj's were, and pierced her with the same predatory intensity. At his side he wore a strange weapon; something between a gun and a large knife.
"Yes," she replied.
"Hilda," Kadaj said. "This is my brother, Yazoo."
She reached the top of the stairs, holding out her hand politely-- despite her inner debate over the strangeness of his name.
Yazoo took her hand, shaking it, imparting on her the same chills that Kadaj had. She shivered, and hoped that he didn't notice.
"Xemnas has requested your presence, Fraulein." Yazoo said. "He is waiting in the main reception room."
"I will take her," Kadaj said.
Yazoo bowed out of the way, his arm pointing the way. "Enjoy your stay. The Fuhrer's fortress is always ready for guests."
Hilda hesitantly followed Kadaj up a white gravel path toward another stairway, this one leading to the entrance. She said nothing as they walked, unsure of what to talk about. What did one talk about with a trained killer?
The large entranceway gave way to an ornate reception area, where military officers came and went, moving from room to room. The buzz of activity was a shock after the stillness of outside. Hilda stuck close to Kadaj out of sheer instinct. She didn't really want to get lost in here.
Kadaj led her to another large door, knocking once before letting himself into the room beyond. Inside there was a long table, covered in paperwork and maps, and paintings on the walls. The panoramic window that Hilda had seen from outside filled one wall, bathing the room in sunlight. A truly spectacular view was visible through it, just as Hilda had imagined.
In the center of the room were four men, all dressed in SS uniforms-- one of them a doctor. The simple fact that she didn't even blink at their strange appearances was a testament to how weird her life had become overnight.
The first, standing in the middle, and apparently in charge, wore his hair long, spiky, and snow white. She could see from his hands that his skin was dark. Next to him, standing attentively, was a man with scrappy, cobalt blue hair and a viscious scar in the shape of an X on his face. The other two stood off to the side, close to each other. One had long, full, pink hair, and the other, long, straight, flaxen hair down to his waist. All four of them turned when she and Kadaj entered the room.
"Xemnas, I've brought the girl, as you requested."
The white-haired man turned, gold eyes fixing on Hilda.
"Hilda, this is Xemnas," Kadaj said. He gestured toward the blue-haired man. "That is Saix. And those two are Marluxia and Vexen."
Hilda felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her gut when she looked at Marluxia, but she couldn't explain why. Surely she had more to worry about with Kadaj than a man with pink hair who smelled strongly of roses.
Xemnas stepped forward, stopping a few feet from where Hilda stood, wringing her hands anxiously. "Namine. It has been too long."
"I'm sorry ... Namine?"
"That is your true name. But of course, Kadaj informs me you remember nothing."
Hilda swallowed. "I have dreams. But they're just that. Dreams."
"Dreams are where suppressed memories often find a stage." Xemnas circled her. "The subconscious mind is an interesting place. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I suppose."
"You say you see things. Memories of someone else's life?"
Hilda nodded. "A boy. A blonde boy. I don't know his name. But he seems to appear often in my dreams. Always he is with this red-haired man."
Xemnas seemed to have been expecting that, because he nodded. "Let us hope they have not yet found one another, or this will be difficult indeed."
"What, exactly?" Hilda asked. "Kadaj told me I could be a weapon...?"
"Ah, yes. Of course." Xemnas stopped in front of her. "But first. You must remember your other life."
"How?" She didn't bother asking about his sanity. It didn't seem appropriate.
"You will see in due time."
Xemnas nodded to Vexen. "Take her to the caverns."
"Of course, Superior."
Hilda gulped.

The old creaky barn was still in the mountain's shadow when Cloud wandered inside. Morning light hadn't yet reached its black roof and dew was clinging to the grass.
Inside it smelled of dust, gasoline, gun oil, and axle grease. Along one wall were locked wire mesh cabinets filled with guns, grenades, bombs, land mines, and a cruel assortment of other weaponry. Another wall was covered with racks and hooks that held every imaginable mechanic's tool-- wrenches, hammers, nails, screwdrivers, a blowtorch. In the center of the cleared space an imposing black machine rested-- cockpit, landing gear, long rotor blades, and machine guns all sparklingly clean. It was a Shinra-style helicopter.
Reno had built it from memory, and after several frustrating hunts for parts, some trial and error test flights, and some design tinkering, it had become their main mode of transportation.
A clank and a crash sounded from inside the aircraft. "God damn it!"
Cloud watched a red haired head pop up from behind the controls and kick the inner hull. Reno pulled up his goggles, spotting Cloud and grinning sheepishly.
"She doesn't run like she used to," he said.
"You mess up the wiring again?"
"Nope," Reno replied. "She's made for a more refined fuel. Even the best stuff I can get here clogs her engine."
Cloud shrugged. "Until we find a way home you're gonna have to make do. Can you make her fly for this op?"
"Depends. How much are we expecting?" Reno asked. "Fly? Yes. Hover for any extended period of time? Maybe. Outmaneuver Messerschmitts? Probably not."
"Do what you can."
"Look. If you could find Reeve and an oilfield all of our own, all our problems would go away," Reno said. "Any chance of that?"
"Not likely."
"Well, there you go." Reno dropped a large, heavy wrench down on the dashboard. There was oil on his coat, and his hands were smudged with the black liquid. He scowled, jumping down from the cockpit to join Cloud on the floor.
"You okay?" Cloud asked. Reno had been in a relatively touchy mode since the last op. The one Ed was recovering from.
When Reno spoke his voice was lowered. "We almost lost Rude back there. And he would never have known."
Cloud watched an uncharacteristic flash of fear and pain go through Reno's eyes. The man's features looked drawn, and he hadn't been his usual upbeat self since they'd come back.
"I would have died before I let you lose him," Cloud replied. "I know how much he means to you."
"I hate remembering ... when he doesn't." Reno frowned. "There's so much ... so much we had, and he doesn't remember a minute of it."
"I know what you mean." Cloud glanced toward the door.
"At least you get to be with Leon. Me and Rude... I have to pretend we're just friends." He paused. "I mean, I remember things about him that he probably doesn't know about himself."
Cloud swallowed. "Why don't you just tell him how you feel. He's still him, he probably--"
"I don't want to ruin what little we do have," Reno replied, cutting him off. "If I lost that..."
Cloud nodded. He knew exactly what Reno was worried about. He'd felt it often enough himself. That feeling that every moment, something else of his previous life slipped away. Being one of only two who remembered made it even worse. The thought of losing something, or someone, else had drove Cloud to do some pretty reckless things in the past.
The last op had been Reno's turn to be reckless. They'd been outside Nuremberg, attempting to kidnap the regional Gauleiter when they'd been ambushed. Cloud, Tania, Ed, and Rude had been on the ground; Yuri, Sid, and Leon on the roof; and Vincent and Avalina in the chopper, with Reno flying it. Kaden had told them to expect sparse resistance, but had warned that his information wasn't necessarily a hundred percent accurate. Wasn't necessarily accurate turned out to be flat-out wrong.
There'd been sixty Waffen SS men waiting for them when they struck. Ed had gone down pretty quick, and was still in critical condition. Rude had taken a shot to the side, and that's when Reno intervened.
He'd brought the chopper down in the courtyard, swinging her around so low and so fast he almost crashed. With expert-- if somewhat insane-- precision he'd angled the vehicle to use the spinning blades to cut down the lines of German soldiers. The carnage had been impressive but gruesome. Reno had ended up being shot twice for his trouble, but as he saw it, he'd saved Rude's life, and that was what mattered.
They'd almost lost the chopper, Reno, and everyone on the ground, but Cloud knew he would have done the same in Reno's place.
"Right. Sorry." Cloud looked up at the helicopter. Its black hull didn't carry a trace of the blood it had been soaked in after that night. Even the glowing white letters of its name-- Shinra-- were spotless.
"Don't worry. Sometimes I ask myself the same thing."
Cloud let silence fall for a moment before taking a breath and saying, "I called Kaden. Told him we'll do it."
"What did he say?"
"He seemed pretty surprised I got back to him so quickly." Cloud grinned. "Says he'll send the layout and security schedule for the Berghof to us in a few days."
Reno shrugged. "Should be a cakewalk."
"Yeah," Cloud snorted. "If you say so."
"Aw, come on, dude. Do you think they seriously expect anyone to be nuts enough to attack the mountain. They won't see us coming until we're leavin'!"
"I hope you're right."
"Although..." Reno added. "Taking down Xemnas will be interesting. You might want to deal with him yourself."
"Yeah."
Reno stepped back to his chopper, cocking his head to the side and studying the open engine compartment. "I think one of those bastards got a shot into the engine. There's some charred wiring, and I can't get the heaters to respond."
"You know I won't be much help when it comes to this stuff."
"Suppose not." Reno smiled, brushing stray strands of crimson hair away from his eyes and leaving black smudges on his cheek. He looked thoughtful for a while before glancing back at Cloud. "What do you think he's up to? Xemnas I mean."
"I don't know. But by the sounds of the activity up on the mountain recently, it's big." Cloud looked into Reno's green eyes. "We might want to be careful."
"This is the first hint we've had that we're not the only ones." Reno's voice was apprehensive, but at the same time held a hint of hope. "If they have a way home..."
"Don't get your hopes up."
"If it's there?"
"We give them the choice." Cloud held Reno's gaze.
"And if we can make them remember?"
Cloud sighed. "Let's just wait and see." He turned toward the door. "If you need any help I'll send Sid down."
"We've all lost a lot because you couldn't handle being alone," Reno called after Cloud's retreating form. "You owe us the chance to get away from all this."
Cloud said nothing. He paused for a moment in the doorway, as if trying to concoct a response, before walking away. Reno didn't try to stop him. He wasn't angry, he just wanted things to be perfectly clear to Cloud. They didn't belong in this world. They never would. They had all been part of something bigger and-- as conceited as it sounded-- more important. All Reno wanted was to be able to go back to that.
He hoped that his answer was waiting at Berchtesgaden.