Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ I Know What Lies Beneath the Snowfields ❯ Chapter 65 ( Chapter 65 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

"I Know What's Beneath the Snow Fields"
Chapter 65

This whole madness had lasted a mere ten seconds.

One ferocious explosion rocked clean through the delivery system; so
powerful the shockwaves reached the walls and even floor below. It occured
directly above a huge open corridor, which in itself haughtily overlooked
another hall down below.

Vincent landed safe here. At the same time, he witnessed a huge pipeline
come crashing down in a fiery path, having just been blasted out of the
network above. It tumbled madly across the hall, completely out of control,
until it collided head-on into the wall. Such violent impact slammed a
crater into the concrete as the pipe fractured open. Dust flew about.
Finally, the overhead rumble trickled to total silence. It was over.

Vincent remained tiredly squatted upon one knee. From a short distance
away, he beheld this brutal wreckage of metal scrap, wires, and stone. His
crimson eyes, like the stern grip on his gun, waited in silent
anticipation. They both awaited Davoren.

Short wait. Soon, the debris began to rattle against some movement trapped
beneath, at first faint but growing stronger. At last, force won over
weight. Davoren shoved off a heavy metal scrap, then angirly kicked aside
another to free his crushed leg.

Out of the two, Vincent had been the luckier to escape that deathtrap in
time. The security program had caught Davoren like a rat inside the pipe,
then expulsed that pipe in hopes of killing him.

Or in this case, degrading his invinsibility level further. As much
discomfort as this alliance caused him, Vincent had to praise Reno again
for devising such an effective blow.

Now would have been an excellent opportunity for another attack.
Unfortunately, Vincent lacked the strength to stand, let alone engage in
new battles, not with this wretched state and wounds. He needed a moment to
breathe.

Nor seemed the battered gunman ready to resume combat either. Instead, he
hunched over to press his temples amidst harsh gasps, perhaps even restore
focus to his shattered senses. This insane war had finally started to take
its toll on him.

A minute dragged by. The gunman recovered first. Shaking off the last bit
of feebleness, he climbed back up to his feet, then staggered a few steps
out of the metal wreckage. His thick white hair hung in dishevelment before
his dark, sinister eyes.

There shone murder in that venomous glare. Vincent felt it drill into his
core. He had ignited a deadly fire; for all the successful blows he'd
scored, for all the times he'd resisted. Now Davoren would go beyond
all-out to kill him.

Yet Vincent refused to be intimidated, even in face of such hostility. He
too struggled up to his feet. He stood his ground tall and firm, with
fingers tightly gripped around the gun.

Vincent didn't flinch as he watched Davoren tear off the remnants of his
suit-jacket, then fling the tattered garment aside. He wore a
double-holster harness, each one strapped along his shoulder. His collar
was ripped open, and that scorched tie loose. The shirt, though torn and
frumpled from endless combat, subtly revealed his fine-toned frame; there
still remained ample power in that body.

Davoren only bothered to pull up his sleeves before taking both
semi-automatics into his gloved hands. He then drew them close. His face
expressed no emotion, as if chisled from cold marble. Vincent, careful not
to miss any movement, tensed in anticipation.

There was no need for words between these two men, for they both
understood. Around them lingered silence. The calm before a storm.

They lunged in for each other like hunger-crazed wolves, eyes hard set on
the enemy ahead. Vincent blasted rapid fire straight at the target, who
unfortunately had already foreseen that attack. Without losing momentum,
Davoren instantly sprung high over the gunfire. So high, with his back
arched inwards, he almost seemed to fly towards the alarmed Vincent.

Graceful yet quite deadly. During the descent, Davoren suddenly unleashed
a full-scale bombardment upon his enemy below, two guns at once. Vincent
rolled aside. He narrowly evaded the wild hailstorm, then Davoren as he
landed down, slamming his mighty foot into the floor instead of Vincent's
head.

Another near-miss, but the gunman wasn't disheartened. Far from it, he
made a headlong charge straight for Vincent, who alas couldn't recover in
time to parry.

One slip up would be his doom. Vincent gasped a hideous grunt as the
powerful blow rammed clean into his chest, almost shattering his breastbone
with impact. Sensation was lost. Davoren, in fact, had used both butts of
his weapons for the initiative strike. Next he hammered in a series of
vicious blows, one into Vincent's injured side, and two others against his
head. If he couldn't shoot him, then he'd certainly beat his brains out.

The unmerciful barrage hit hard and fast, without a chance to defend, not
even breathe. Amidst such savagery, it was a miracle Vincent still kept
upon both feet, even though every blow sent him staggering back in blind
stupor. Pain battered sense. His sight went red: there was blood in his
eyes; his own no doubt.

Davoren would have dealt another blow when he suddenly discerned a
familiar presence attack from behind. At once, he parried aside with his
arm uplifted, just as a disappointed nightstaff thrust straight through.
Apperently, Reno had found his way to this battle too.

So as a welcome, Davoren gave this astonished young man just a taste of
his ally's agony. He wheeled around sharply, thus slamming one gun right
against Reno's head, then a brutal kick to send his spiralling back with a
grunt.

Poor Reno, though stunned blind by such incredible strength and his own
dismal failure, nevertheless managed to tumble onto one knee, but not fast
enough to recover his dazed focus. Nor did Davoren wait: he opened double
fire at full frenzy; he'd finish off this bothersome pest for good.

Reno blanked out. Undoubtedly, the mad torrent would have riddled him
straight through had not something big and fast tackled him from the side,
thereby sweeping his clear from danger. They both skid across until Reno
sprawled onto his side, a bit shaken but alive. On looking up, he
discovered a half-anxious,
half-angry Rude squatted down, still holding him down for protection.

"What the Hell are YOU doing here?!"Reno furiously demanded.

"Saving your stupid punk-ass, what else!" retorted Rude.

Not the most touching reunion, to be sure. Much vexed by this
interference, Davoren moved in for another try when a harsh claw suddenly
clamped his wrist tight. A loud "WHAT?!" betrayed his disbelief. Indeed,
Vincent, though battered and breathless, had used that brief distraction to
flank the gunman's side; fast enough to catch him unawares.

Time for some serious retribution. Vincent quickly and ruthlessly twisted
the whole arm around so as to force an opening in Davoren's side. There, he
delivered his hardest blow, striking his gun at such an angle it snapped
the gunman aside. Vincent then exterted all his might into one beautiful
arm swing, which brought his gun like a ram directly into Davoren's face.
Steel collided hard into bone.

The impressive impact sent the gunman tumbling back. However, he soon
recovered enough balance to flip over again, where he crouched down like an
untame animal, both guns still in hand.

An untame animal, indeed. Savage anger raged bright across those pink
eyes. His grit teeth were bared as hard gasps fumed their way through.
Davoren's muscles bristled with keen hatred. They could fight on forever,
yet neither man it seemed would ever overpower the other!

Endurance definately would choose Vincent to embody it. He stood slouched
up right before Davoren's hateful sight. A thousand aches and pains,
bruises and wounds plagued his body. Exhaustion and dizziness burdened his
shoulders. Yet he bore the ordeal with an unnaturally stoic face.

Such coollness struck a sharp contrast to his miserable, tattered
appearance. He had lost all sensation of his chest. His claw clutched his
injured side, already soaked red from the treacherous wound. Every
desperate breath wrangled his soul more, with this murderous pain leading a
carnage through his torn lungs.

Blood was everywhere, hot and moist. It clogged his throat. It seeped
through his wounds, sometimes dripped onto the floor. A thick red colour
smeared along his pallid face. It added such deadliness to his crimson gaze.

Amazing he hadn't collapsed yet. Even standing itself seemed to require
effort. But Vincent returned Davoren's glower with icy sterness. He would
suffer an eternity, if in the end it meant retrieving *her* back into his
arms. That determination kept him firm upon both feet.

Just a few more minutes, he repeated to himself,
just a few more....

They should have resumed battle, for neither man would surrender to the
other. However, Vincent was perplexed when he instead noted Davoren's whole
face darken from rage to fearful dread. His pink eyes tensed, as if he'd
just detected something he loathed most to see. Davoren slowly turned his
anxious attention to the side. Similarly, Vincent and the two ex-Turks
looked in that direction.

Rufus stood but a short distance away, staring wide at the ruined gunman,
and no one else. For the first time since this war began, they looked each
other straight in the eye. Deep blue fastened upon fiery pink.

Absolute silence chilled the heart. Time itself froze to watch this scene.
In truth, nobody knew where Rufus had appeared from, or how much he had
seen. But it was clear this sight shook him to the very core.

His blank face reflected the stunned state of his mind. He stood in plain
view, unafraid, with both hands loose by his sides. His eyes shone many
emotions floundering in an inner storm. There was terrible confusion.
Tension. Anxiety. And so much horror, not from the gunman himself, but what
this scene meant.

Strange enough, Davoren remained locked in place more rigid than a statue.
His gaze absorbed all those emotions, perhaps more than he cared for, yet
failed to flinch any reaction. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the
boy's, even though it aroused such a fierce turmoil inside.

So fierce, in fact, it suddenly sparked Davoren to intense, red-hot rage.
He broke away from those eyes by force. Whatever the reason, Rufus'
presence here provoked him to violence; a violence which errupted into
instant action.

All his anger targetted Vincent again, whereby he bellowed some wordless
battle-cry. The gunman charged forth at a phenomenal speed. Vincent barely
managed to block as this madman tackled him head-on, thus sending them both
tumbling over the balustrade. During the plummet downwards, Vincent
forcefully wrenched himself free, just in time to land on the hall floor,
then dash away. Davoren flipped feet-first onto the ground, and persued at
once.

Rufus rushed up to the balustrade. From his place above, he caught sight
of the two enemies disappear into the labyrithine corridors below. His gaze
strained to an intense gleam, frought by horrible premonitions and
confusion. If one were allowed just a glimpse into this boy's mind, it
would be impossible to unravel his flustered thoughts from an entanglement
of memories.

That man...whoose eyes betrayed a dangerous killer inside, whoose aura
emanated such menace...was that Davoren? No.
It couldn't be. Blood and battle had transformed him into something savage
and so ugly.

Or was this the truth? The truth he had been told about,
the truth Davoren had simply concealed from his view.

Rufus' anxious thoughts ran clear: he couldn't understand the gunman. But
there was something hideously wrong in what he had just witnessed. There
was something wrong with the Davoren he had just seen. This madness must
cease...somehow...right now!

A mad buzz swarmed about Reno's head. Rude held him up by the shoulders
while he sat hunched over, still struggling to sort his entangled senses.
Hot blood streamed down his face. It seeped from a large gash along one
side of his forehead. No mistake, Davoren had dealt his a severe blow.

"Reno! Hey Reno! Get a hold on yourself!" cried Rude, fearful the man may
faint any minute.

"Argh..s-shit..," he forcefully shook off this giddiness, then glared
straight at his friend, "I thought we agreed you'd take the kid 'n hide
somewhere safe!"

"I did! We hid HERE till you guys came crashing through... which is
something you should be very thankful for!"

"That ain't important now!" declared the exasperated Reno, "Take Rufus 'n
get outta here quick! Before things get crazier!"

Rude had to postpone his rebuke for later, in which he nodded in
agreement. However, on turning around, both men were astonished to discover
the boy had vanished. Their eyes searched around in confusion, then
apprehension. Not a trace. Rufus had been standing there just moments ago.
Where could he possibly have...

Suddenly, both men looked at each other in wild alarm, having grasped the
answer at the same time.

"THAT CRAZY IDIOT!!" snarled Reno. All injuries and feebleness were
instantly forgotten as he scrambled onto his feet, then darted away at top
speed. He headed for the battle-grounds below.

**************************************************

No Hell could match this wild war-zone. An inferno of corners and
corridors, which through this insanity zipped by as a grey haze, full of
sinister shadows and shapes. Here two demons fought their final battle.
Victory meant the enemy's life, failure meant greusome death. There were no
restraints or logic here. Bullets blasted about indiscriminately. Two black
figures chased each other in a frezy for blood. Wherever they stormed
through, chaos and destruction followed.

To stay alive, Vincent had to keep both speed and sense alive. Despite his
ruined condition and howling lungs, he fought at such a frantic pace,
oblivious of everything save this war. It wasn't a battle of wits and
tactics anymore, but sheer survival. Indeed, Davoren was down to his last
few minutes.

His tight grip choked the gun. He couldn't hear anything except the crazy
cross-fire. Sometimes, he almost shot the gunman. Other times, Davoren
almost ambushed him. They swirled around deeper and deeper in these
senseless circles. It never ceased. They had simply drifted far beyond
control.

Yet Vincent had to wonder back on that scene just now, when the boy and
gunman had met. The unexpected encounter had only lasted a moment, then
dissolved to violence again. But in between those two events, Vincent had
noticed (quite keenly) how profound the effect had been on Davoren. He
could understand Rufus' shock, but the gunman's?

Why hadn't he shot the boy on sight? Rufus had stood there wide open and
unarmed. All it would have required was one bullet. Instead, he had taken
the battle down here.

Almost as if he wanted to escape.

Escape what? The boy, or his own turmoil? Davoren had only shown Rufus one
mask. Was he..angry...even afraid now that the boy had clearly seen the
other one?

Vincent's expression darkened further. The more layers he peeled through,
the more perplextion he uncovered. Memories floated by. He remembered the
moment he shot Davoren, so vivid he could still see the man lying dead in a
pool of blood. He remembered their first encounter thirty-one long years
later. How much he had changed! Vincent recalled that brief time in the
park, when he caught pain..real anguish.. flicker across those pink eyes.
He recalled the gunman's rave, especially his bizarre tone while he
obsessed about blood shed...he said the sight kept him "alive".

What did it all mean? Davoren...what happened to you?

He had twisted himself into an enigma no one would dare approach, let
alone solve. He was locked behind a door, and had discarded the key into
the grey mists of oblivion.

Despite this thick fog, Vincent still ventured in. He searched around when
he accidently groped something so small. It slowly took shape in between
his fingers...slowly as he sought revelation from its touch.

All thoughts suddenly dispersed as Vincent perceived danger up ahead. At
the very end of this long hallway, Davoren himself skid out into full view,
having now intercepted the enemy's path. Without hesitation, he made a
headlong dash straight for Vincent, both semi-automatics bared out. Nor did
Vincent stop. He darted forth, drawing out his own gun. They ran on a
collision course towards each other, each man at top speed.

There was an edge to Davoren's movements, ruthless and cuttingly brutal,
even more than before. His eyes flashed brilliant pink; the glare of a madman.

A dark demon drove Vincent forward. Its crimson eyes glowed through his
own, brighter than blood set on fire. He ran at full charge.

In the end, however, it came down to a simple ratio:
two guns to one.

Vincent took aim to fire, when much to his astonishment, Davoren hurtled
one semi-automatic right at him. The weapon spun wildly until it struck
Vincent's wrist, so hard it knocked his own gun clean out of his grip.

It all lasted a blink. Before Vincent even realized he had been disarmed,
the insane gunman was right infront of him, still charging forth. Davoren's
follow-up came swift: he sprung towards the enemy, at the same time
slamming one knee hard into Vincent face. Perfect form, full-impact, no mercy.

It felt as though a concrete ram had collided into his senses, easily
sending his flying back in a whirl of painful numbess. Vincent tumbled
backwards, over and over, until he crashed back-first into the wall, then
slumped down to the ground.

Raw sensations tingled his consciousness amidst a buzz of noises. A blurry
haze clouded his eyesight. The mighty blow, in fact, had knocked him back
to the end of the hall.

He now saw Davoren still lunge towards him. He saw the other
semi-automatic flash at him. Yet awarness and action lingered far apart. In
his feebleness, Vincent could not move.

"Hell awaits you, Mr.Valentine!" bellowed Davoren in a victorious frenzy,
"Now DIE!!"

In rushed frantic footsteps to intercept right between the two foes. With
arms spread wide out, Rufus suddenly flung himself fully in the line of
fire, shouting, "DAVOREN STOP!!!!"

Eyes widened from shock.But by then,it was already too late.

One bullet rang out.