Sorry it took so long to get this one out. Read my notes at the end for an
explanation.

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

Chapter 24

"Oh no. Oh no." C.J. choked back a sob. /Stupid Scarlet screwed
everything up coming in here stupid fartface barfbrain chocobopoop
Scarlet I hate her I hate her I hate her.../ There was a short but deep cut
on her right cheek, thanks to Scarlet and her claws, and it stung horribly.
She ignored it. Gritting her teeth and letting the stream of kiddy-swears
rattle on in her head, she pressed her fingers to Reeve's neck, seeking a
pulse; it was faint and erratic, but it was there. Good enough. He was
alive...but just barely.

With the toe of her shoe she dragged the Saturn Glaive within reach and
grasped it tightly; then she laid her free hand on Reeve's shoulder and
croaked "Cure Two..." The Materia sparkled and then faded; nothing else
of note happened. She cast the spell a second time, and then a third. Still
nothing. Her brain processed this information, sifted through the store of
first aid knowledge that had been dumped into it, and came up with the
only possible solution...a solution that caused the six-year-old within to
stop talking trash about Scarlet long enough to exclaim, /Ohmigod, I
can't do THAT!/ Already C.J. felt herself blushing all the way to the tips
of her ears at the thought of what she was about to do.

/And if I don't do it he's gonna die! Is that what you want?/ she asked of
the yammering internal child as she pried Reeve's mouth open, pinched
his nose, and took a deep breath. She got no reply, took that as a "no,"
and did what she had to.

*              *              *

"C'mon, dude, you pulled five times and it's not going!" Cloud rolled his
eyes as the 90-pound weakling immediately in front of him in line grunted
and strained in a pathetic attempt to wrest the sword from the stone. 

"Get bent!" the runt spat, tightening his skinny fingers around the
sword's handle and giving another not-so-mighty tug. "It moved! I felt
it!"

"It did not!" Cloud retorted. "Come on, we've been waiting for hours!"

"You waited for nothing! I'm taking this sucker home!"

Sephiroth Obscura sighed, resisted the urge to unsheath the Masamune
and skewer the shrimp on it, and stepped quietly over to the little man.
He then proceeded to grab the guy by the back of his collar, carry him
over to the Weekend Clock, and hang him off the hour hand of same by
the back of his collar. "It's all yours," he said to Cloud, returning to
his
place in line.

Cloud shook his head and sighed. "That wasn't very nice, Zack...but
thanks." And with that, Cloud stepped up to the stone, spat on his hands,
and tightly closed his fingers around the handle of the silver sword. He
took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and yanked as hard as he could. 

The sword did not budge in the slightest. 

Cloud laughed nervously. "Damn, it's in there good..." He braced
himself, adjusted his grip, and gave it another heave. He pulled, tugged,
grunted, and swore; tiny beads of sweat began to pop out on his forehead
and the rest of his face was beginning to take on an interesting purple
hue. "Oh, screw it, I can't even make it wiggle," he finally panted. "How
the hell'd this thing GET here to begin with!?"

Sephiroth Obscura frowned. He'd been sure that Cloud was the sword's
intended holder; evidently, he had been wrong. "My turn," he said as
Cloud stepped aside, panting and wiping his brow.

"Be my guest," Cloud replied. 

With one last smirk at the poor chap that dangled by his collar from the
hour hand of the Weekend Clock, Sephiroth Obscura strode up to the
sword and stone, gripped the sword's handle with his right hand, and
gave a nonchalant jerk, expecting the thing to slide right out like a hot
knife from a tub of butter. 

It didn't. 

"What..." He scowled at the sword, gripped it in both hands, and pulled
up hard. Not even the slightest jiggle rewarded him. Now thoroughly
incensed, he hopped up onto the stone, braced his feet against it, and
pulled for all he was worth. "Give it to me!" he hissed at the stone
through tightly clenched teeth; a single vein was beginning to stand out
on his forehead. "I command you to release that blade!"

"Command all you want, pal," came a voice from the midpoint of the
line, "it ain't lettin' go!" This was followed by a few chuckles and three
peals of uproarious laughter, all of which ceased the second Obscura cast
his caustic eye upon the sources.

He gave one final, mighty tug; his hands slipped and he toppled
backwards off the stone onto his posterior. This time nobody dared
laugh. In his fury, Obscura drew the Masamune and swung it full force at
the stone, hoping to shatter it. Steel sruck crystal with a sonorous
"clang" and a shower of sparks. The stone was unblemished.

Sephiroth Obscura uttered three words he never thought he would hear
himself say. 

"I give up!" he spat, throwing up his hands and storming out of the
museum. Cloud looked around nervously, aware that every eye in the
place was trained directly on him.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "Kid's had a rough couple of days. I think he
needs a nap." He turned and left as well, leaving a long line of stunned
onlookers behind.

"Excuse me," came the small voice of the equally small man hanging at
high noon on the Weekend Clock. "If someone's not too busy I'd like to
get down from here..."

*              *              *

Oh God, not that damned restaurant again.

"Do you have a reservation this time?" the waitress chirped. "Can't have
any water without a reservation."

Reeve groaned. "No, I do not have a reservation. And I never got my
godpounded Spam, egg, tomato, and Spam."

"Oh." The waitress scribbled something on her pad. "Right." She turned
in the general direction of the kitchen, drew a deep breath, and
screeched, "Hank! Number Two on a shingle and burn it!" Before
Reeve could regain his sense of hearing, the waitress was gone again.

He wanted a cigarette very badly. He dug in his pockets and found: a
catnip mouse, a bottle of glue, a screwdriver, half a chocolate bar, a pair
of fuzzy dice, Cait Sith's megaphone (/Hmm,/ he thought, /I should take
this
back, he might need it.../), a rubber chocobo, a polka-dotted
bow tie, a trombone, three #2 pencils, and a light bulb, but no cigarettes.
"Damn..." A thin cloud of smoke wafted past him, smelling of cloves, and
he turned and tracked its source to a young blonde woman in a Turk's
uniform sitting at the next table over. 

"Hi," she said. "The service really sucks here, you know that? I've been
waiting three hours for a glass of water."

"You don't get water around here without a reservation," Reeve sighed.
"Look, can I get a cigarette off you?"

"Sorry. This was my last one." C.J. shrugged guiltily and put the
smoldering butt out. "Can I sit with you?"

"Of course, yeah..." Ever the perfect gentleman, Reeve stood up, pulled
out a chair, allowed C.J. to sit, and pushed it back up to the table before
taking his seat again. Before he could stop the words from coming out,
he found himself saying, "I know what you were going to say to me when
I asked you why you wanted to come back. You were going to say you
love me, right?" /Aargh! WHY did I say that.../ He expected her to blush,
hide under the tablecloth, cry, or all of the above. She just shrugged and
smiled.

"Yeah." C.J. scooted her chair over right next to Reeve's and
rested her head on his shoulder. 

Reeve sweatdropped and looked around nervously, having noticed that
one of the Vikings at the luncheon counter looked suspiciously like Cid
in a horned helmet. "Um...C.J...I don't think this is such a good idea." 

"Why not?" Oh no. Not the puppydog eyes. "Don't you like me?"

"Uh, sure...of course I like you, but..." /Oh God how to put this without
coming off like a complete and total asshole.../ 

"I'm a grown-up now. It's okay." She snuggled up closer, and Reeve
swallowed audibly. "Y'know...you can kiss me if you want to."

"C.J...this...this isn't right, okay?" Gently, he scooted his shoulder out
from under C.J.'s head. The hell of it was, he really -did- want to kiss
her...God, she was beautiful--/Dammit to Hell, I shouldn't even be
THINKING about it!/ "I mean...your outside's grown up, yeah, but not
inside...right?" /Oh no, please stop with the puppydog eyes.../ And 
what beautiful eyes they were...slowly but surely, Reeve was losing
himself in the luminous green depths of them; the only thing that kept him
from giving in to the maddening urge to kiss her was the repeated
reminder to himself that this was C.J., little six-year-old C.J....

...who stood five foot nine and was probably strong enough to throw the
portly waitress across the room like a shotput.

"This is wrong," Reeve whispered, as much to himself as to C.J. "I
can't..."

And then he felt her lips on his, and as much as it horrified him to admit
it, C.J. was a wonderful kisser. Their lips parted just the tiniest bit,
and
Reeve made a shocked little "mph!" noise as he felt the tip of C.J.'s
tongue softly flick against his lower lip just once before it retreated.
One
of her hands rested gently on his shoulder, the other was...

Pinching his nose!?

/Hey, wait a minute--!!!/

By the time Reeve realized exactly what was happening, it was too late.
The gentle touch of a woman's soft lips on his gave way to the
unpleasant sensation of a breath of secondhand air being forced into his
lungs, and the pain that followed was excruciating. As it had before, the
restaurant's constant murmur of conversation slowly faded away,
revealing the sounds of the real world (at least, he noted through the
murk that still clogged his senses, someone had found a good classical
station on the radio for him). He opened his eyes, whimpered softly, and
shut them again; the fluorescent lights in the room stabbed into them like
lances. 

That one tiny sound caught C.J.'s attention, and she sat up quickly.
"Reeve? Can you hear me?"

Quite suddenly, Reeve realized that he was lying on his back on the floor,
meaning that he was no longer strapped into that ghastly chair. He
nodded, tried to draw a breath, and was immediately seized by an
uncontrollable fit of coughing. He curled up into a ball, one hand over his
mouth, the other clutching weakly at his chest. The air-conditioned room
he now lay in felt like the inside of a meat locker compared to the
sweltering gas chamber, and he was shivering violently. C.J. unbuttoned
her jacket, pulled it off, and tucked it around his shoulders. 

"God, I'm sorry," she whispered, brushing a few damp curls of Reeve's
hair out of his eyes. "I woulda got you out of there sooner, but--" Her
sentence trailed off into a gasp as she noticed the narrow trickle of blood
that had seeped through the fingers of the hand that covered his mouth.
"What the hell..." Gingerly, she took Reeve's hand and eased it away
from his mouth. The palm was smeared with blood; another thin stream
trickled from the corner of his mouth. That was where all the blood on
his sleeve had come from. /Oh, yuck!/ the six-year-old voice in C.J.'s
head commented.

/Shut up,/ she snapped back at it, extracting a handkerchief from her
pocket and gently wiping the blood from Reeve's hand and mouth.
"Here, hang on to this," she offered, tucking the cloth into his hand. He
took it gratefully and held it to his mouth, still fighting to catch his
breath 
and not having much luck. 

Again C.J. grasped the shaft of the Saturn Glaive and laid her hand on
Reeve's shoulder to cast the healing spell upon him. She was only able to
work the magic twice; her third attempt left her with no magic and a
severe headrush. The spells eased the pain slightly, just enough to let
Reeve take in a few shallow gulps of air. Even with C.J.'s jacket over
him he continued to shiver; his eyes seemed to be trying to focus on some
invisible speck floating in midair about three feet in front of them. /He's
in shock,/ C.J. thought, stroking Reeve's forehead and murmuring
reassuring little words to him. /Got to get him out of here./

As C.J. sat there wondering if she should go get him a cup of water or
something, she heard the door open again. Glaive in hand, she leapt to
her feet ready to slice and dice whoever dared interfere this time...and
then, seeing Reno and Elena come through the door, she relaxed.

If one could call bursting into tears and hugging Reno so tightly that he
began to turn blue relaxing.

"Whoa!" Reno staggered backwards and gently pried the girl's arms off
him. "Friend of yours, Elena?"

"Reno..." Elena put her arm around C.J.'s shoulders and eased her away
from Reno enough to let him breathe comfortably again. "This is Junior."

Reno's jaw fell down about to his knees. "No way."

"Way." Elena took a look at the scratches on C.J.'s face. "Honey, are
you okay? Who did that to you?"

C.J. sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Don't worry about me.
We gotta get Reeve outta here. He's messed up real bad."

"Okay, honey. Take it easy." Elena patted C.J.'s shoulder and crouched
down next to Reeve. "What'd that stuff do to him?"

"I dunno," C.J. said softly. "When I got him out of there he wasn't
breathing...now he's all shivering and stuff and he's hacking up blood and
I think he's still gonna die--"

"No he isn't," Elena said softly. "He's going to be all right. But we have
to get him to the Highwind right now. Reno, how many hours did you
log in the choppers back in the old days?"

"Um..." Reno shifted his weight nervously as he and Elena dragged
Reeve to his feet. "Two or three. After that little incident with that
fountain in Sector 2, Heidegger told me if I ever sat in the pilot's seat
of a chopper again he was going to shoot me on sight. You?"

Elena shook her head sadly. "You've got more experience...than...me..."
She trailed off, staring at C.J. "Hey."

"Huh?" Reno replied.

"Junior's flown all kinds of stuff...right, Junior?"

"Uh, just airplanes." C.J. fidgeted a bit. "They didn't train me on the
choppers."

"Oh, hell, it can't be too different, can it?" Reno laughed. "Her old man
can fly anything and so can she. It's in her goddamn DNA."

"Oh gawd," C.J. sighed, but she took off down the hall anyway; Elena
and Reno followed, half-carrying, half-dragging Reeve between them.

*              *              *

"Damn." Rude stopped dead in his tracks to wiggle his ringing cell phone
out of the pocket of his snug pants once more. He jabbed the "talk"
button and held the phone to his ear as the others stopped behind him.
"What's up?"

"Hey, Rude? Tell Cid and the others to get their butts up to the roof and
grab a chopper. We gotta get out of here--oof--" There was a short
pause as Reno grunted and strained, as if carrying something heavy.
"Damn, Reeve, I think you ate a few too many cold chicken legs while
you were here. You know dark meat is supposed to be really fattening--"

Barely audible in the background, a weak mumble sounding something
like "Eat my shorts, Reno," followed.

"Right...are Reeve and Junior okay?"

"Junior's fine. Reeve's not. We gotta get him to a doctor yesterday.
Junior's gonna fly us out of here. I guess we'll meet up with you at the
airship."

Rude raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's such a good idea, Reno?"

Reno laughed briefly. "Sure I'm sure. See ya."

Rude shook his head and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. "Cid, I
hope you know how to fly a helicopter."

"'Scuse me?" Cid laughed loudly, almost sending his ever-present
cigarette sailing through the air. "The hell you think you're talkin' to?
Of
course I do! Just point me to it."

Yuffie was already turning an interesting shade of green at the thought of
it, but she followed anyway as Rude led the group up to the roof.

*              *              *

"Damn," C.J. sighed. She knew there would be some sort of lock on the
helipad door, and she'd hoped the gold keycard would unlock it. But the
lock had no card-swiper thingybob on it. Just a small keyboard. 

"Oh, hell." As C.J. stared at the keypad, Elena extracted her little
computer from her pocket and went through a few files. "I got a list of
passwords here, but I don't know what works where. We're just gonna
have to try all of them."

C.J. grunted in assent as Elena started punching keys.

"Hmm...well, the old Scarlet standby first...'Rufus?'...nope...'chocobo
flotilla?'...nope...'shabon spray--' what the hell is a shabon, anyway!?"

"Beats me," Reno replied. "Did it work?"

"No. 'Star gentle uterus--' God, I don't even want to know--nope."

"Try 'raven bear,'" C.J. piped up.

"What!?" Elena spluttered, but punched it in anyway. "Nope."

"Hmm." C.J. frowned. "I thought that was it. I got some passwords,
but..."

"Hey," Reno said. "Remember who we're talking about? Scarlet? Scarlet
who never lets her bed get cold? Maybe it's not bear as in big hairy
animal but bare as in bare-ass nekk--"

"Okay! Okay! I get the picture! And speaking of pictures, Reno, thank
you very much for putting that disgusting one in my head!" Elena typed
in the words "raven bare" and the door slid open. "Ugh. Does that mean
what I think it means?"

"I think so," Reno replied. "And I think I could have lived happily ever
after without knowing that."

"What the hell are you two talking about!?" C.J. spat, heading through
the door.

"You really don't want to know," Elena replied. "Pick a chopper. Any
chopper."

C.J. trotted up the the nearest helicopter and opened the door. "I don't
know about this," she said in a small voice, but she made ready to climb
into the pilot's seat anyway. As she did, a voice came from behind her.

"You are all under arrest. Step away from that helicopter and put your
hands on your head."

With a sigh, C.J. stepped away from the chopper, still holding the Saturn
Glaive. The voice had come from a redheaded woman C.J. recognized as
SOLDIER First Class Donna Matrix, who often hung around the door to
Scarlet's office; which meant she was probably one vicious bitch. Behind
Donna stood four more lower-ranking SOLDIERS; all five of them were
brandishing their massive swords, ready to start lopping off heads at a
moment's notice.

"We," C.J. began, rolling her eyes, "do not have time for this. We are
taking this chopper and we are leaving right now so kindly get the hell
out of our faces." Behind her, Elena and Reno were busy hauling Reeve
into the chopper. "Don't make me madder than I already am, Donna." 

"Is that an order, ma'am?" Donna smirked, twirling her blade. 

"That is a warning."

Donna's thin lips curled into a sickly-sweet smile. "Oh. Well, in that
case-
-" With no warning, the SOLDIER charged on C.J., sword swinging;
C.J. barely managed to throw the Saturn Glaive in front of her body in
time to block the huge blade. Donna's flunkies followed her lead,
advancing on Reno and Elena in a similarly unfriendly manner. Again
Donna wound up and slashed, this time C.J. did not dodge quickly
enough and the tip of her sword hissed across C.J.'s shoulder, leaving in
its wake a painful gash.

C.J. staggered backward, watching the sleeve of her shirt slowly turn
from white to red. And that was all the crap she was willing to take. 

Her world turned red. Fueled by pain, rage, and Mako, C.J. crouched and
then launched herself into the air toward Donna. She landed feet-first on
the SOLDIER's chest, knocking the wind out of her, and then proceeded
to beat the piss out of her with both ends of the Saturn Glaive, much as
her father had done to some poor unfortunate SOLDIER earlier. 

"I told (wham!) you (wham!) we don't (slash!) have (slash!) time
(wham!) for this (slash!) BULLSHIT!!" With one final (wham!)
C.J. brought the butt end of the Saturn Glaive down hard on Donna's
head, cracking the SOLDIER's helmet and putting her to sleep quite
nicely; C.J. could almost hear and see little chocobos "wark"ing as they
circled Donna's head. "Nighty night."

"Junior, we could really use a hand here--" 

/Shit!/ C.J. turned and saw an unarmed Reno trying to fend off two
SOLDIERS and Elena trying to pick them off with her pistol and not
having much luck while trying to evade two more. /I wonder what this
Materia does.../ C.J. glanced at the red Materia tucked into her weapon
and as she did so, words began to flow into her mind and out of her
mouth.

"Goddess of darkness, Goddess of the moon, I invoke and conjure thee!
Hecate, come forth!"

There was a soft rumble of thunder, and the sky directly over the roof of
the Shinra building seemed to crack open. From this crack descended a
creature that looked pretty much like a normal woman...well, besides the
fact that she had three heads and that she stood some thirty feet tall. One
of the heads was that of a young girl; another, that of a woman in her
thirties or so; the third, that of an old crone. Hecate's three faces
turned
up to the sky, toward the moon, and she raised her arms to the pale orb;
rays of moonlight swirled around her hands, coalescing into an eerily
luminous sphere. Her hands curled into clawlike hooks as the power she
drew approached its zenith, and the ball of energy she held exploded into
four precisely aimed rays of silver light; each ray struck a SOLDIER in
the chest or the back depending on which way they were facing and
knocked them to the ground, unconscious and whimpering as if in the
clutches of a nightmare from which they could not awaken. And then as
suddenly as she had come, Hecate was gone. 

Reno found that this small exchange had reduced his vocabulary to a
single word.

"Wow." He took a look around, taking in the whimpering and moaning
SOLDIERS lying on the rooftop and shook his head. "Wow," he said
again.

"Pick your jaw up and let's get out of here," Elena snapped, shoving him
into the chopper and climbing in behind him. C.J. hauled herself up into
the pilot's seat and surveyed the instruments.

"Okay, let's see if I can get us out of here in one piece," she said with a
nervous chuckle and hit the engine start switch.

It turned out that all her worrying had been for naught. The chopper took
off as the Tiny Bronco II did; that is, straight up. Once she got used to
the stick and the pedals, flying it was a breeze.

*              *              *

"Looks like we just missed 'em," Cid grumbled, puffing away on a
cigarette. "Boy, look at her go!"

Tifa drew a sigh of relief as she watched the chopper presumably
containing Reno, Elena, Reeve, and Junior sail smoothly off toward the
Highwind. Then she got a look at the peacefully sleeping female
SOLDIER and her not-so-peacefully sleeping underlings sprawled about
on the rooftop. "We're actually going to pull this off. I'm amazed."

Cid had already pulled himself up into the pilot's seat of a chopper and
started the engine. "All aboard!" he called out, and Yuffie, Tifa, and
Rude piled into the back. "Hang on to your shorts--"

"And don't piss in 'em," Yuffie and Tifa finished.

"Damn smartasses..." Cid pulled up sharply on the stick, and the chopper
lurched off the pad, yawing crazily to the right and dumping Rude into
Yuffie's lap. "Goddamn piece of Shinra horseshit, fly your rickety ass
straight, dammit!"

The words "operator error" flashed grimly into Tifa's mind as Yuffie
shoved Rude off her. Rude, meanwhile, was quietly crossing himself;
Yuffie was now hanging on to the back of the pilot's seat wailing "Oh shit
we're all gonna DIE..."

"Would someone please..." Cid wrestled with the stick, and the chopper
began to move more or less forward, swaying back and forth as if
someone had dumped a gallon of Ripple into its gas tank, "shut her the
fuck UP!?" 

The chopper dipped sharply and finally levelled off; as it did so Cid heard
the now-familiar sound of retching in the back, immediately followed by a
weak cry of "Aack! My shoes!" from Rude.

"Never mind," Cid said cheerily as he got the helicopter under control at
last and pointed it toward the Highwind.

*              *              *

Heidegger sat behind Scarlet's desk, knowing that what he was about to
do would most likely mean death. It didn't matter. Because of Scarlet's
gross negligence, two of his Turks and a load of his SOLDIERS were
dead. He turned the disk in his hand over and over, wondering if it would
even do a bit of good. He inserted it into Scarlet's computer, poked a
few keys, and watched as the deadly bytes of the virus thereon made their
way into Scarlet's hard drive and from there to the mainframe where they
would wreak havoc on the heart and brain of Shinra Incorporated. When
the door opened, he knew it would be Scarlet, and he did not care. He
had personally gone to Junon after the raid, he had personally inspected
the Junon Hydroelectric building, and he knew what Reeve had left
hidden in his office. "It's over, Scarlet."

Scarlet, her face a mess of bruises and blood, cackled weakly. "You
don't know anything, donkey boy. I'm just getting started." She sat
down on her desk, eyeing the progress bar on her terminal with detached
amusement. "A virus, huh? You think that's going to do anything?"
Calmly she reached down and unplugged the network cable from the
back of her computer. "Nice try. But I've got big plans. Too big to let a
fat git like you get in the way."

Something in the tone of Scarlet's voice made Heidegger wonder if
world domination was all she had on her mind, and he wondered just how
far off the deep end she'd gone. And her eyes. There was something
very, very wrong there.  "I'm not going to be part of this anymore,
Scarlet." 

Scarlet nodded sagely, sliding off her desk and walking slowly behind the
chair in which Heidegger sat; her shadow fell over the desk like the
darkness of an eclipsed sun. "Well, you're right on that one. I don't need
you anymore. I don't need the Turks. I don't need SOLDIER. Vail has
given me everything I need."

"Vail--" Heidegger opened his mouth to expound on this, but the words
fled from him as he watched Scarlet's shadow change...just slightly. And
by the time he found them again, he was already dead.

With a smile, Scarlet smoothed her dress and gazed fondly at her bloody
hand, a hand that sported fingers eight inches long tipped with razor-
sharp claws. With some effort, she willed it to return to its normal shape
and size, wiped it on the back of her chair, and left the office.

---

Author's Notes: Sorry! Sorry! I know I took way too long with this. Let
me explain. A few days ago some lovely personage shattered the window
of my car and stole a few scratched-up CD's; on top of that, I'm just
getting over some weird infection that seemed to have no effect on me at
all except to make one of the glands in my neck swell up to the size of a
large marble. A few days of sleep and a lot of echinacea/goldenseal pills
cleared it up quite nicely; I do not trust Western medicine and I will not
pay good money to be filled with chemicals that will just make me sicker
in the long run.[rant off]...anyway, about the fic...SOLDIER First Class
Donna Matrix is, of course, an Aeon Flux cameo. She's one of my
favorite characters from that series (even if she DID only appear in one
lousy short), second only to Aeon herself...looks like Scarlet got herself
a
little dose of Jenova cells there, now what exactly does she plan to do
with them? Stay tuned.
-------------------

--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