Well, halfway through this one I decided it sucked, deleted a huge chunk,
and rewrote. I'm much happier now.

--------------------
Final Fantasy VII: Children of Jenova

Chapter 18

"Okay, boss," Reno chirped as he and Rude strolled into Reeve's office;
Reeve himself was pacing around his desk and chain-smoking. "We
didn't do it, nobody saw us, you can't prove anything..." Reno frowned
when the expected chuckle didn't come. "Jeez. This is serious, isn't it?"

"Big-time." Reeve lit up another cigarette on the still-smoldering butt of
the last one and threw the latter in the nearest ashtray. "I don't suppose
either of you two has tried to make a phone call in the last couple of
hours?"

"No," Rude replied. "But I hear there's some kind of problem with the
lines."

"Yeah." Reeve nodded gravely. "Scarlet's done screwing around with
me. She's serious. I suspect there's a lot of firepower on its way here as
we speak."

Reno shook his head and swore softly. "We can't be standing around
here scratching our butts, then...first thing we do is get you out of
here--"

"No way." Reeve said. "I'm staying right here until I know everyone else is
safe."

"But--"

"Don't argue with me, Reno." Reeve drew a shaky sigh. "Since the
phones are out, I need you to haul ass to the airfield and tell the
fighters
to start scrambling. Rude, you get word to the ground troops."

"Right." Rude, never a man to waste time flapping his jaw, was out the
door in a second. Reno started to follow, then took a look back at Reeve.

"You don't think we have a chance in hell, do you?" he asked.

"I think it might already be too late," Reeve replied. "But I'll be damned
if I sit up here and do nothing. We're going to take as many of them with
us as we can."

Reno nodded and took off, and Reeve sat down heavily in his chair. Ever
since he'd gotten the word that Scarlet was running Shinra, he'd feared
this day would come. And now it was here, and worse than he could have
imagined. He had no way to get hold of the Highwind, no way to call for
reinforcements from Fort Condor--hell, he couldn't even get hold of his
own troops without having someone physically run out and alert them.
Again the thought occurred to him that he should have taken over Shinra
when he had the chance, and again he wondered if, had he done so, he
would still be alive today. Either way, it didn't matter. 

He opened the bottom right-hand drawer of his desk; the electric whip
Reno had given him was still there where he had left it, and his hand
closed around its handle. He figured trying to stop Scarlet's flunkies with
that thing would be like trying to cut down a redwood with a grapefruit
spoon, but it was better than sitting there waiting for them to shoot him
in the head or whatever the hell they had planned for him.

Not much better, though.

*              *              *

C.J. had been pleased to discover that the VOX pod, with its wondrous
assortment of bells and whistles, offered a built-in simulator. While Vicks
scurried around getting the Viper ready to fly, C.J. was up in the cockpit
plugged into the thing; a pair of special goggles that hooked up to the jet
gave her a sort of virtual-reality sim thing, and besides giving her a bit
more confidence that she would actually be able to fly this heap it was a
lot of fun. She spent some time pretending to fly around (complete with
"vroom vroom" noises) shooting down bad guys (the "bad guys" in
question were rather blocky and poorly-rendered masses of polygons and
angles, but that was good enough) and executing a few basic evasive
maneuvers on her own, and she wished that the Gold Saucer had
something like this. Secure in the knowledge that in the unlikely event
that her VOX pod got trashed she would at least be able hold her own
long enough to get to safety and make a suitable landing, C.J. hopped
down from the cockpit to get herself ready to go.

While Vicks loaded the Viper up with all kinds of things that went boom,
C.J. tried to fit herself into her father's flight suit. She was exactly
the
same height as he but she was quite a bit thinner than Cid had been, even
at the young age he had probably been when he last wore the thing. Truth
be told, it fit like a potato sack. It would have to do. Under it, she'd
found a flight helmet that fit perfectly; the word "Blackhawk" was
inscribed upon it. C.J. guessed that must have been her father's call sign
in the old days, and she figured it would suit her just fine and dandy as
well. She frowned and swore softly as her hair continued to tangle itself
in zippers, snaps, miscellaneous parts of the Viper's airframe, and the
corner of Vicks's toolbox, and she decided that the first thing she would
do when she got home was make Mama take her to get a haircut. For
now she simply tucked it down the back of her flight suit...uncomfortable
and itchy to say the least.

Again she heard the whine of the invisible airplanes' engines, and she
knew that if she was going to go, she needed to do it now.

The VOX system would definitely have to handle the takeoff. The
mountains surrounding the strip were just a little too close for C.J.'s
comfort, and her only prior experience with a taxi takeoff was in the
Baby Bronco; the Tiny Bronco II was capable of vertical takeoff and C.J.
had always taken advantage of that. There was a big difference between
taking off in a hang glider with a go-cart engine on it and taking off in a
two-ton Viper powered by a Wratt & Pitney F-110 jet engine, and since C.J.
had no desire to end up smushed into the side of a mountain today she
decided letting the jet fly itself out of this little airfield would be a
prudent
choice.

Vicks wiped his brow as he loaded the last missile onto the Viper. Its
weapons pylons were full; two of them sported the deliciously nasty little
piece of air-to-air weaponry known as the Death's Head missile. Death's
Heads consisted of one big bomb filled with a bunch of small bombs.
When the big bomb went boom, it sprayed whatever unfortunate soul it
was heading for with lots and lots of little bombs which in turn also went
boom, and as a result the bomb's target would go boom as well.
Apparently, Annie Wright wasn't the only person who [heart]ed
explosives; Vicks had been chuckling softly the whole time he'd been
loading the damn things.

Finally, everything was ready to go. C.J. climbed up into the cockpit and
flipped the battery power switch to "on," just as she'd done before.

"Battery power on. All fuel tanks full. All weapons pylons full. Run
preflight check?" the airplane said as it came to life.

"Yes," C.J. replied, feeling a bit silly talking to an airplane. The Viper
rattled off a long list of systems and subsystems, each followed by a short
pause as the jet checked itself out and then "good" or "operating" or
some such.

"Preflight check complete," the Viper finally said. "Start engine?"

C.J. cast a glance down at Vicks, who was giving her a grin and a
thumbs-up. She donned the helmet and motioned for Vicks to take the
crew ladder off the jet, then she closed the canopy. "Yes," she replied.

At first she really didn't think the engine would start. But start it did,
with a deafening roar that tapered off into the signature whine of a
finely-
tuned jet engine; the white-blue plume of exhaust the thing generated was
(fortunately for Vicks) diverted up and out of the hangar by a
strategically placed blast deflector. Vicks now stood just outside the
hangar, ahead of and slightly to the side of the Viper's nose cone, guiding
her out of the hangar and onto the airstrip. C.J. figured she could handle
this part on her own, and did a passable job of it; at least she didn't run
over Vicks on the way out. That she counted as a definite plus.

Now the running Viper sat parked on the far end of the runway, engine
whining in preparation for takeoff. "Auto takeoff," C.J .directed, and the
Viper began to roll on its own. As she passed Vicks, she noticed that he
was standing at full attention and snapping her a heartfelt salute; after a
moment's thought she returned it and Vicks scurried back to the hangar.

"Obstacles detected," the Viper said, seemingly to itself, as it screamed
down the runway and began to lift into the air. "Compensating."

"Compensate faster," C.J. hissed as the mountains began to draw much
too close for her liking. She hoped to God that the "obstacles" the Viper
was bitching about were said mountains and not something piddly like
the rabbit that was bounding curiously across the runway.

"Not understood," the Viper chirped, pulling up sharply and missing the
tops of the mountains by about twenty feet. C.J. had never been prone to
"accidents," but she came very close to having one as the top of a pine
tree brushed against the belly of the jet. When she was satisfied that she
was in the air and in one piece, she told the Viper where she wanted it to
go and let it fly merrily over the mountains while she looked down and
checked out the scenery just like always.

She could get used to this.

*              *              *

The first thing that came to Cid's mind upon landing just outside of
Branford was that the town must be to Neomidgar what the slums had
been to old Midgar. Wall Market looked like a posh shopping plaza
compared to this place. And his six-year-old daughter was running
around here by herself? Good God. 

Cid didn't want to think about it.

The town was overrun with bikers. Hairy (including the women).
Foul-mouthed. 
Unwashed. Clad in leather, spikes, and other such bits of fine apparel.
Who knew what the hell these humanoids were capable of? Determined
not to let Junior stay in this human cesspool any longer than absolutely
necessary, Cid stormed into the first building he came to--the Materia
shop. He marched up to the counter and levelled his gaze at the
proprietor. "I'm lookin' for a little girl," he said calmly. "Six years
old,
blonde, green eyes, pink Mog T-shirt."

"Ain't seen nothin'," the man said softly, and Cid noticed that the
guy was shivering and sweating. "I ain't seen nothin'. Just like he said."

"Like who said?" Cid resisted the urge to grab the guy by the collar.
"Who the hell you talkin' about?"

"Ain't seen nothin'," the man repeated. "'S what he told me to say if
anyone came lookin' for him." Then he groaned. "Uh oh."

Cid rolled his eyes. "I ain't lookin' for a damn man, I'm lookin' for a
little girl! You seen her or not?" The Materia seller shook his head.

"Ain't seen no little girl. Really."

"Thanks a heap," Cid hissed, spinning on his heel and stomping out of the
store. Next stop: the bar next door. Annie's Hangar? Cid frowned as he
looked up at the sign that hung precariously above the door, held up with
two rusty nails and a length of bailing wire. Roughly seven to ten
motorcycles sporting spiked fenders, front-mounted gatling guns, and
nitro tanks, among other mechanical impossibilities, were parked
haphazardly around the front. Cid's opinion of the fair village of Branford
was rapidly going down the crapper...that is, until he opened the door
and stepped into the bar.

The bar was, to him, like a verdant oasis in a parched desert. It was
aviation heaven to say the least. And he was beginning to get some vague
idea who the Annie in "Annie's Hangar" was. Five particularly unsavory
bikers watched him intently, some with interest, some with apprehension,
and one with outright disgust. Cid pretended not to see them as he
approached the bar, where a white-haired old woman in a leather jacket
had his back was filling a pitcher, her back turned to him. "Excuse me--"
he said to the old lady, and when she turned to face him whatever words
he might have said departed from his brain and left him a staring, slack-
jawed, wibbling wreck. The last time he had seen this woman, she had
vehemently chewed his butt out for being late for a sortie. At that point,
actually, it had been a wonder that the younger Cid had HAD any butt
left to chew out, the way the old battleaxe had ripped on it almost daily
for three years prior to that. Cid did not need to see the patch on the old
lady's sleeve to know that he was once again in the territory of Squadron
Leader Annie Wright. 

"Holy shit," he wheezed as Annie's eyes widened in recognition. "Holy
shit!"

"Cid Highwind, what the HELL are you doin' here?" Annie thundered,
causing Cid to flinch. "Ain't a goddamn thing changed! You never could
get your ass in the air on time before and you sure as hell didn't now!"

"What're you talkin' about?" Cid asked. "I came here 'cause I got a
postcard from my kid and this ain't no place for a little girl to be
runnin'
around--"

"Your little girl--shit, Highwind, I don't know how to tell you this
without soundin' like a nut, so I'm just gonna tell you." Annie drew a
deep breath. "Your little girl ain't little no more. You been runnin'
around here askin' folks if they seen a little girl, it's no wonder you
ain't
got shit to go on. Now if you'd asked 'em if they'd seen a lady with
blonde hair damn near to her feet and got-damn glow-in-the-dark green
eyes, THEN you mighta got somewhere."

Cid felt behind him for a chair with a shaking hand. "Oh my God."

"On top a' that," Annie continued, "she come in here and beat the crap
outta one a' Shinra's best n' brightest for tryin' to put the moves on her,
she turned the bike I gave her into the Devil Hawg from Hell, and she ate
a whole got-damn platter of my nuclear waste wings and didn't even
break a sweat." Annie chuckled a bit. "Sure was sorry to see her go."

"Go!?" Cid spluttered. "Where the hell'd she go? Why didn't you keep
her here!?"

"Well, if you get off your ass and back in the air, you might still be able
to catch her!" Annie bellowed, eliciting another flinch from Cid. "She had
her mind made up that she was gonna fly home in your old Viper, and she
just took off a couple hours ago on the bike. I reckon she's at Fort
Condor takin' a rest right about now."

"Oh my God," Cid said again. Annie just stared at him.

"Are you gonna sit there takin' the Lord's name in vain all day or are you
gonna go catch her? Damnitalltohell, Highwind, you ain't changed a
bit..." Annie shook her head. "You best get your ass in gear and head up
to Fort Condor if you wanna catch her. I'm havin' some guys up there
hook her up with a black chocobo to take her up to the old base. That's
the only chance you got of catching her. You know how damn fast that
Viper can move."

"Shit..." Annie was right. Cid remembered all too clearly the ass-chewing
he'd gotten from her about cruising around making sonic booms just
because he could in that very jet. "I gotta get goin'."

"Damn right you gotta get goin'!" Annie hauled Cid up out of his chair
by the back of his collar and started shoving him toward the door. "And
when you find her, you tell her to get herself back here as soon as she can
'cause Chopper over there's startin' to act up again."

"Thanks, Annie," Cid said, coming to his senses and breaking free from
the old lady's iron grasp. "I'll give her your best when I catch her."

*              *              *

Reno never could understand why the hell people ran for fun.

There was nothing pleasureable about sprinting down the street with a
barking dog of the ankle-biter persuasion at your heels, a stitch in your
side, and sweat running into your eyes. Reno failed to see the attraction.
He certainly wasn't enjoying this little jog he was taking right now. The
ratlike dog chasing him was the least of his worries; he realized that
there
was a good chance folks would start shooting at him any second now;
that, or he would get blown to bits by an errant or not-so-errant blast of
air-to-ground artillery. And he was worried about Rude, and even more
worried about Elena as he ran down the road toward Junon's airfield. He
had not spoken to Elena since she'd gone off on the Highwind in search
of the Strife kid, and he'd made an ass of himself then, asking her out
when he already knew he was going to get shot down in flames--

It was ironic that such an image crossed his mind at that exact moment.

Reno heard the whine of a jet engine, and he saw no jet accompanying it.
A cold, crawly sensation filled his stomach and crept up into his chest as
his brain processed this information and came up with an explanation he
didn't like. He would not make it to the airfield in time. His feet stopped
moving and would not start again, no matter how much Reno begged,
pleaded with, or threatened them. By the time he finally got them moving
again, it was too late. 

The screaming space of empty air directly over the airstrip took on a
more tangible form for a few seconds, shimmering slightly as its bomb
hatch opened and let fall a number of bombs right onto the airfield,
neutralizing Junon's small air force in a matter of seconds as the bombs
tore gaping holes in the tarmac, pulverized aircraft, and incinerated any
human beings that might have been going about their business there. Its
task complete, the Gelnika cloaked once more, the whine of its engines
the only proof that there had been an airplane in that space at all. 

Reno stared numbly at the plumes of smoke and flame that rose from the
airfield as that cold, crawly feeling in his stomach grew still more
intense.
/Oh my God, where the hell is Rude.../ He tried his cell phone, but upon
hitting the "send" key and putting it to his ear, he found nothing but
static. /No no no oh God no.../ Operating on auto-pilot, his feet turned
and began to carry him back toward the Junon Hydroelectric building,
and he tore down the street yelling at the rubberneckers that had come
out to watch the fireworks to get the hell back inside. Several of them
chose to ignore his advice, taking up arms and pouring into the street to
defend their city, and Reno realized there was no way he was going to be
able to talk them out of it. He hoped to hell that Rude was having better
luck than he was, and as he neared the building he again heard the
whining, whirring sound of aircraft engines, a chopper this time. A blast
of leaf- and dust-laden wind whipped his red hair into a tangled frenzy,
and Reno turned around just in time to see three blue suits stepping out
of empty air. He didn't know the little squirrely guy with the SOLDIER
sword, but he recognized Raven--and, with the same cold, crawly feeling
he'd had before, he recognized Archer and the blood drained from his
face. "I should have known."

"Long time no see, Reno," Archer said with a little grin. "I told you I was
going to have your job someday, didn't I? Payback's a bitch, buddy."

"Thanks," Reno spat back at him, "but you can keep Raven."

Raven narrowed her eyes and shot Reno a babies-must-play look. "We
don't have time for this. Take him."

Immediately, Reno found himself under attack from three sides, and
already exhausted from his little afternoon jog he was finding it difficult
to fend off Stuart's sword and Archer's sai AND deny Raven a clear shot
all at once. He parried a sword slash with his nightstick, but even as he
did so Archer caught him in the back of the head with the butt end of a
sai. Reno staggered slightly, dropping his nightstick as he shook his head
to try and clear out the cobwebs, and just as it occurred to him that he
needed to pick his weapon up again he heard a sharp crack and felt a
chunk of hot lead tear through his right arm. He dropped to his knees,
crying out through gritted teeth, and saw Raven standing in front of him,
smoke curling upward from the barrel of her pistol.

"Ready for the action now, danger boy?" she purred, and Reno's world
went black as she brought the butt of her pistol down hard at the base of
his skull. She motioned to the shimmering patch of air behind her, and
two blue-uniformed grunts stepped out. "Cuff him and throw him in the
back," she ordered. "We've got business to take care of upstairs."

*              *              *

C.J. heard the explosions and saw the smoke and fire rising from Junon's
airfield, and her mind began to go three ways at once. 

/Tell the plane to go full afterburner and get out of here,/ one part said.

/Stay here and help,/ another said.

The third voice that spoke in her mind started out soft but grew louder
and more insistent every second she watched the destruction of Junon:
/I'm scared and I'm hungry and I want to go home and I want Mama and
I want Daddy--/

"Shut up," C.J. hissed, shutting her eyes tightly as the six-year-old
within
yammered on. "Just shut up."

"Command 'shut up' recognized," the VOX system chirped, jarring C.J.
out of her thoughts. "VOX system disabled." The jet began to dive
sharply, and C.J. gasped.

"I wasn't talking to you, you stupid airplane!" she snapped at it as she
wrestled with the stick and brought the Viper back to level. "Activate
VOX system!"

"VOX system enabled," the jet replied, and C.J. heaved a sigh of relief.
She'd forgotten about that. She would be very careful what she said up
here from now on. But what was she supposed to do? Go running home
while the invisible airplanes bombed Junon, or stay here and try
dogfighting bad guys she couldn't see in an airplane she'd never flown?
That question was answered for her when a patch of air ahead of and
slightly below the Viper rippled and took on the form of a sleek black
fighter jet long enough to send a heatseeking missile shooting toward her.

"Lock-on alert. Recognize Hellfire heatseeking missile. Flare deployed."
The Viper spat a white-hot flare out of one of the dispensers on its belly,
which drifted away and lured the missile off target as the Viper pulled up
sharply. C.J. felt as if her stomach was being squeezed into her shoes.
"Acquiring target. Locking on." Before the Viper could lock onto the
Shinra fighter, the latter cloaked once more. "Unable to lock on."

"Shit," C.J. hissed. Another black jet, or possibly the same one,
uncloaked as it swooped down above her, peppering the Viper with a
spray of 30-mil rounds. Few hit their mark; the ones that did hit didn't do
too much damage apart from cracking the canopy. But now C.J. knew
that the invisible airplanes had an Achilles' heel. The chopper in Mideel
had uncloaked at takeoff. Both times, the black jet had uncloaked before
it attacked. She wondered if perhaps it took too much power to cloak
and attack at the same time. How she would use that against them she
did not know, nor did she know if it were even possible to do so. She did
know one thing: she would have to get this black airplane out of her face
before she did anything else. 

The Shinra fighter uncloaked a third time, twelve o' clock dead-on, and
this time C.J. saw something attached to the underside of the thing; a
black pod similar to the one that housed her VOX system, but a bit
smaller. Maybe that was where the guts of the cloaking device lived.
"Weapons controls to manual," she directed.

"Weapons control manual," the Viper echoed, and C.J. let loose her own
spray of 30-mil, trying to aim at the odd pod before the jet could strike a
third time. Several rounds hit it, and the wavy form of the black jet
snapped into solid reality as the black jet let fly another heatseeker.
C.J.
deployed another flare almost too late; the missile detonated a little too
close to the Viper for comfort. But that was all right. The black jet would
not cloak again, and C.J. turned control of the weapons back over to the
VOX system.

"Acquiring target...locking on...target locked."

"Fire left Death's Head."

"Firing."

The black jet, apparently realizing that it was out of heatseekers and out
in the open, tried to turn tail and run, and the Death's Head detonated
just behind it, sending several bomblets right up its ass and spraying the
rest of its payload over the wings of the thing; they exploded into a fiery
bouquet in the blue sky. Seconds later, the black jet itself transformed
into a blossom of fire and smoke; what was left of it drifted earthward,
trailing black smoke. C.J. let out a triumphant whoop as she watched the
debris fall. The pilot of the black jet had pulled the yellow and black
handle C.J. had been told so many times not to touch unless specifically
told to do so just before his airplane went boom, and the chute on his
ejection seat poofed out merrily, sending the pilot drifting toward the
woods. Good. Let him land there. C.J. hoped he landed on a porcupine.

"Lock-on alert," the Viper suddenly piped up, and C.J.'s gaze snapped
straight ahead. Three more of the black jets were uncloaking.

*              *              *

Cid wasn't sure what was going on. The guy at Fort Condor told him
that the blonde girl had just hopped on the black chocobo and taken off
without so much as lunch or a nap, and now he stood in the hangar that
was supposed to be housing his old Viper. It was empty. No Viper. No
black chocobo. No sign of Vicks. No sign of Junior. And he smelled
smoke.

Stepping outside, he saw said smoke drifting from behind the hangar, and
he cautiously picked his way back there to see Vicks sitting comfortably
on a large pile of black feathers. He had a good-sized fire going, and the
nude carcass of a very large bird sat above it, impaled on a spit which the
drooling Vicks turned patiently. Well, that solved two mysteries. Vicks
experimentally picked a bit of meat off the spit and tasted it. Satisfied
that
the bird was cooked, he began wrenching a very large drumstick off it. 

"Vicks!" Cid yelled, and Vicks dropped his chocobo drumstick right into
the embers. "Vicks, where the hell's my goddamn airplane!?"

"Captain!?" Vicks stammered, eyes wide as the chocobo began to go
from roasted to blackened. "You're already back!?"

"The hell you mean 'already?'" Cid spat. "Vicks, did you let someone
take off in my plane?"

"But you--" Vicks pointed at Cid, a bewildered expression spreading
over his features. "You took off--but you're here--but you--" And with
that, he groaned and passed out.

Cid found the old crew chief's canteen and emptied it over Vicks's head.
The old dude came up spluttering and coughing. "Pull it together, Vicks.
I need some ammo for my Stingray."

"Uh, sure..." Vicks stammered. "Can I eat first? The roach coach is late
again and there was this perfectly good bird sittin' here..."

"I'll buy you a goddamn restaurant after this is over," Cid replied. "What
kinda boom-boom toys you got stacked up here?"

Vicks scratched his head. "Well, I got a couple heatseekers and a buncha
30-mil...I had some Death's Heads but I put 'em on your Viper..."

Cid again fought the urge to grab his fellow man by the collar and shake
him like a Raggedy Andy doll. "You sent that Viper up in the air with
two goddamn Death's Heads on it!?"

"Well, sure!" Vicks replied. "They're your favorites! C'mon, Captain,
how'd you get back here so fast...and where's your Viper!?" Vicks stared
blankly at the Stingray that sat on the end of the runway. "Well, at least
you got a haircut...what happened, did the old battleaxe catch you?"

Cid groaned. This was not going to be fun.

- - - 

Author's notes: Things are not looking too good for Junon or C.J., are
they? Not to mention C.J.'s poor chocobo. (Homer Simpson impression)
Mmm...chocobo...And Vicks STILL hasn't died. I know, I know, I'm
screwing EVERYTHING up ^_^...in case anyone gives a damn, pix of
Sephiroth Obscura and C.J.'s bike (without C.J.) are up in my CoJ
gallery, and all MST's are on the CoJ page along with the April Fool's
version of Chapter 16 since I got a few requests for it (can't imagine
why; besides the bit with Reeve and the little Ancient dude and some
parts of the Spam scene, I now realize that it was incredibly lame and I
forgot to mention that Hope the Receptionist from Hell is the same foul-
mouthed Hope you sometimes hear on Houston radio station 101 KLOL)...
btw, for those unfamiliar with the term "roach coach," it refers to the
wagon 
full of delicacies like warm sodas and cold chicken legs that the generous
folks from the chow
hall send out to the flightline to feed the pilots and crew on some Air
Force bases,
particularly overseas.
 --------------------
--Sailor Solathei
"Ice...snacks...and--fifty gallons of BEER!? What kind of life does she
lead, anyway!?" --Shinji Ikari
"Hang on to your drawers and don't piss in 'em!" --Cid Highwind
"A brand new ML to blow up! Wai!" --Zen
"Excuse me, I am a lost little boy. Can you help
me?.........................well, SCREW YOU TOO!" --Cartman
--------------------
Happiness is a belt-fed weapon
--------------------
Sailor Solathei's Cid Highwind shrine (still under very heavy construction)
http://members.xoom.com/ssolathei/cidshrine.html and the Cid Highwind Otaku
Ring: http://members.xoom.com/ssolathei/ring.html