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FF7 - The Sentry Objective
by Ixx

NOTE: Many of the characters presented in this story are my own. The ones that aren’t (and you should know who they are) are not. They belong to Squaresoft, and should be respected as such. This fanfic picks up at the same time FF7 begins, with the first mission at Sector 1 in current progress.


Enjoy! Send feedback to


CHAPTER 1 – Sector 7 Midgar


It was always considered night outside... in Midgar anyway. There was no daylight; the upper city plates blocked it. This was something Zymon had gotten used to. In fact, he even grew to like it. He always had appreciation for the night. It helped him hide better from Colonel Melkampf, who was always on the hunt for him. A few years back, Zymon had committed treason against the Shinra military. Now he was a secretly hunted man with a hefty price on his head. He was lucky though - the contract was only available to anyone who worked for Shinra’s military. Regular Midgar citizens didn’t even know about it. After all, according to Shinra’s records, he was officially dead. Any citizens that actually did know about it were promptly... disposed of.


Zymon hated the Shinra as much as everyone else did, except that he actually wanted to do something about it. The rest of the citizens were unmotivated, lazy, and afraid to do anything useful to the cause. Zymon’s attempts to get back at the Shinra were subtle. Any blunt attempt at them would undoubtedly get him killed. He was officially listed as dead anyway by the Shinra, and he was also sure they’d love to follow through with their bullshit claims.


He lived in the Slums of Sector 7 and sold materia for a living. He lived inside his store as most sellers in town did, and sometimes got his shipments illegally. That wasn’t uncommon where he lived. Everything was so damn expensive around there that sometimes you had no other choice. The wandering soldiers hardly noticed. They couldn’t say much. They did things that were even more illegal – like rape, homicide, and unwarranted search and seizures (which often led to undercover theft).


Of course, every shit spot has its highlights. In Sector 7, there was Tifa Lockheart’s Seventh Heaven bar. Great place to go – you could get drunk off your ass and then gawk at Tifa’s ass the whole evening. Some guys (particularly new people in the area) took a little too far once in a while with Tifa. She was delicately beautiful, but she wasn’t defenseless. Any guy that took it too far with Tifa first wound up with pretzel bones, and then another assload of pain would follow. The third step is to have Mr. Wallace’s huge gun pointing at your temple, then you’d literally get thrown headfirst out the door. It was a look but don’t touch place, basically.


Zymon’s house consisted of four rooms – a main room, bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen, the latter of which was rarely used. There was no wallpaper, and the paint was peeling out in some areas. The place was generally dirty looking, and had only a few lights, which prevented decent lighting. It was so dim, in fact, that there was even a flashlight tied to the ceiling in his bathroom. He was sitting at his desk, twiddling around with one of his split coins. It was where he hid all his secret information. From his financial records (which he was paranoid about) to stolen info he got from his friends that spy on Shinra. He kept them in a large yellow envelope that was duct-taped behind his desk. His desk being propped in a corner, it was pretty much perfectly concealed. Shinra soldiers didn’t have the patience or the brains to go so far as pulling the desk out. They’d open the drawers; find everything all peachy, and move onto something else.


He’d been copped up in his home for nine days by the clock. He looked up at it, restless and irritable. In a sudden rush of inexplicable energy, he pounded both fists on his desk, making his split coin jump off the desk from the force. I need a beer... he thought. He stood up and stretched, feeling the air from his dusty ceiling fan hit his palms. It was the first time he’d stood up in four hours.


Leaning underneath his desk, he pulled open a two-inch slit in the back, which led to the opening of his yellow envelope. He pulled out a small bulk of papers, and picked out a paper that had a record of all of his split-coin photos. He put the rest of the bulk back, closed the slit, and headed for the door. He shut off the lights in the already dim room before he left.


Sector 7... crummy like the rest of Midgar. He was headed for Seventh Heaven, of course. It was only about twenty paces from his house, and felt more like home than home did! He walked in, immediately relieved to hear the sound of some good hard rock music playing.


“Hey Zymon!” shouted Tifa. “How are ya tonight?”

“Thirsty!” Zymon said, somewhat cheerfully.

“Well take a seat. Marlene’ll be right with you!”


Zymon didn’t look at Tifa like the other guys did. He’d been around her long enough to actually get to know her. He thought she was the sweetest, nicest person he knew. The other guys assumed she was a whore with a great body, that’d give them a good time, which is why some of them go too far. To Zymon, however, she was a neighbor and friend – almost in a familyish sort of way. He took a seat, and Marlene hopped over to help him.


       “Hi, Mr. Quintin!” Marlene said, adorably. Zymon smiled back at her.


       “Hello, Marlene. How’ve you been?” he asked, happy to see her.


       “Okay. Had a lot of business today.” She said, sighing tiredly.


       “So I see!” he frowned a bit, pointing a thumb to the other guys. “any of these bastards give you trouble today?” he asked.


       “Nope. They’ve been behaving themselves.” Marlene leaned closer to Zymon. “Tifa said she’ll teach me a full nelson tonight after closing!” she said.


       “Well that’s good. Good to know how to defend yourself around here.” Zymon leaned back a bit, putting his papers on the bar counter. Tifa suddenly spoke up, noticing. “Hard at work, huh?” she asked.


       “Yeah...” he said, clearing his throat. He turned back to Marlene. “Could I just get something soft tonight? Wanna keep my concentration.” He said.


       “Yep! I know just the drink! Be right back!” Marlene said. And went to the mixing table, gathering ingredients for his drink. Tifa approached him, and folded her arms on the bar counter, staring him straight in the face. She had a sarcastically sincere expression.


       “Umm... hi Tifa!” he said, a bit jokingly.


       “Still aren’t gonna join Avalanche with us?” she asked.


       “Aahh I’m sorry. But it would mean my hide...” he said.


       “Well it wouldn’t matter anyway, because it goes for all of us, right?” she said, a little reassuringly.


       “It’d make me too easy to find,” he said. “you don’t how big the campaign for my death really is, Tifa. It’d jeopardize your operation too much. That’s the last thing I want to happen. You’re the only organized force out there.”


       “You’d come in so handy though! With the information you could give...”


       “I’ve given you lots of information,” he said, cutting her off midsentence. “remember? I found you the Mako Reactor blueprints you wanted, and they obviously are going into use.”


       “As we speak, as a matter of fact...” she said.

“Really??” he said, lightening up a bit.


       “Yeah they’re on the mission right now,” she said.


       “Got that new guy with them?” he asked, wearily.


       “Yeah Cloud’s with them,” she said, nodding a bit.


       “That guy is fucking weird,” he said in a low tone to keep Marlene from hearing.


       “They all think he’s weird. Except for Jessie. I think she’s grown to like him,” she said. She hissed a little bit...


With sudden, shocking force, the entire room shook rapidly. Drinks fell over. People fell over. Tifa and Marlene both lost their footing. Zymon’s chest bucked forward and slammed against the edge of the bar counter, knocking the wind out of him.


       “What the fuck was that!?” someone shouted.


Zymon jumped out of his seat and helped a couple of people up. Then he glanced out the window. Everyone was coming out of his or her houses, aghast at the sudden jolt they had all experienced. Some were looking up at something, pointing straight up. A few others looked up, and a couple even gasped. Zymon and a couple of others ran out of Seventh Heaven and looked up. Just over the small buildings was a barely visible ball of fire. It looked to be coming from Sector 1, but it was too dim and far off to make out.


Zymon walked back in the Seventh Heaven. The few that were left in the bar had retended to their drinks, still a little bewildered. Tifa was standing nonchalantly at the bar, looking at the TV. A huge smirk was across her face.


       “Tifa... I know you know what happened...” Zymon said. The smirk clearly gave her away. She looked at him cutely, winking.


       “Mission one accomplished!” she said.


Zymon’s face went white with surprise, and a bit of fear.


       “They didn’t...” he started in a worried tone.


       “They sure as hell did,” she said, and looked back at the TV, which was presenting a live report on the new subject.


       “That was lunacy! Wallace is a total fucking lunatic!” he said, obviously worried.


       “Well you gave us the blueprints, right?” she said. “hadda use them eventually, right?”


       “There’s other options you know! Like... infiltration! Destroying from the inside!” he said. She just looked at him. “R...r..right??”


       “What the hell good would that do?” she asked in a most sincere tone. The blueprints ARE the infiltration. And technically, we did destroy it from the inside. Literally!” that voice sounded almost too cheerful...


       “Well I guess...” he said. “But if they trace the blueprints back to me... well to hell with killing me! They’ll torture me first!”


Tifa spun around and grabbed his shoulder. “Just get back to your papers, and don’t worry about it!” She pulled him close and softly kissed him on the forehead. “Now I don’t do that very much!” she said with a smile. “Will that do it for you?”


       “yes ma’am” he said in the typical ‘bitchwhipped-guy’ syndrome.


Zymon went back to the bar counter and tried to concentrate on the task at hand – getting those split-coins penciled in. He kept VERY close track of them, and was meticulous with his records. He put in every detail: the type of coin, value of coin, where it would be put, and even what year the coin was. He also made note of distinguishing scratches or other characteristics that would help him find it if he ever lost it.


About twenty minutes went by from then. He had had three drinks, and was still hard at work putting in his information while Tifa and Marlene tended to other customers. Not one word went on between any of them. Suddenly, he heard a machine gun go off.       Oh shit... here comes Mr. T. Got a bone to pick with him. He thought as he stood up, awaiting Barret’s return. He went outside and stood by the door. Looking at Barret’s expression, he could see extreme energy and irritation. Hmmm... perhaps it’s better not to risk it just yet... he thought. He decided to leave while he could and observe from his house. Sure enough, Barret’s “associates” scrambled into the Seventh Heaven. Barret stood outside the door though. He was waiting on someone... after a few moments, a thorn-haired guy with a straight expression of any Poker player’s envy approached Barret. He also walked inside with Barret following behind. He had a sword three quarters his own size.


       That must be Cloud... Zymon thought. He looks pleasant... love his sword though...


After a few moments, his machine gun went blazing, sending shards of the roof into the sky with the bullets. A few guys ran out. Then Zymon heard them chattering. He paid no attention any longer, but instead walked back to his house, realizing he forgot his papers. I’ll get them in the morning, he muttered, and walked through the door. I suppose I can question him on it tomorrow.

Chapter 2

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