one man army

#;self promo #new blog alert

I went ahead and did it. @meteor-shots isn't going anywhere, but I'll be active on @meteorshcts more than I will here. Please consider following if you're still interested in interacting with me or watching my threads!

meteorshcts

FIRST CLASS SOLDIER : ZACK FAIR

final fantasy vii roleplay blog

indie, private, selective, 18+, low activity

written by zack, who is aware of the irony

formerly found at @meteor-shots

guidelines | biography | ask

reminder that i'm here now!

love to get home from work just as @sentmail gets to work. at least we had our days off together....

#;out of honor

The voice alone had the hairs raising on the back of his neck, a feeling of tense recognition - someone who he'd been looking for, but wasn't expecting to see; someone who'd he let hurt him, if onlt for the chance to see him. Seconds linger on in awkward silence as he decides on what to do, suddenly stumped as the first time they met.

That's it? No fighting, no arguing? Just questions. Just answers.

Eventually, locks are audibly unlocked ( not that they'd stop someone of their caliber ) and Kunsel opens his door just enough to peek through it, finding reassurance in that it wasn't immediately pushed open. It's… him, alright, although there's conscious effort to try and disguise himself. What for? Were they looking for Zack?

There's a frown in his expression as he opens the door wider, trying to contain his reactions and to maintain expectations low — and part of that comes with assuming that Zack didn't come unnamed. He steps back, but doesn't stop aiming the gun at the other's chest.

"Get in and drop your weapons. Then we'll talk." With that, maybe he'd actually invite him into the rest of the house.

The Soldier lifted his empty hands in a placating gesture when he heard the door start to unlock. The gun is not a surprise – he half expected a fight once he got here, if he's being honest with himself. But Kunsel trusts him, or rather, he trusts Zack Fair, and that's why the Soldier isn't faced with a fight. He has read the situation correctly.

He steps inside silently, looking around at his surroundings. Of course he already knows the layout of the apartment, knows everything you can see from a window. Knows the perimeter from breaking into an unoccupied apartment upstairs and investigating it for advantages and disadvantages. Kunsel's apartment, as expected, is laid out the same way, although the furniture sets it apart from the others.

The entryway is narrow, but he's got a padded bench there, likely a place to put on boots before heading out the door. The Soldier deems this as good a place as any to put his weapons. He starts with the guns, two on each hip. He pops the clip out of each before putting them down on the bench. Then come his knives, about a dozen of them in total, strapped to his arms, his ankles, his sides.

“The arm doesn't come off,” he says without much inflection in his voice, looking back over to face Kunsel.

He's not expecting anyone.

Stillness settles inside his current apartment, and his gaze moves in the direction of the front door, almost as if expecting something more - a shot, cut through, the door thrown off it's hinges, anything. But instead there's just silence.

He had a choice here. It could be nothing, or…

Kunsel gets off his couch and quietly closes his laptop, moving towards the front door - but never standing directly in front of it, his steps kept closer to the walls as to remain quiet. There, by the door, he reaches into a closet as he calls out: "Oye, who is it?"

His grip tightens around the gun he'd actually borrowed from Zack - all the way back, from when he first attacked him in Costa del Sol. He was using it as evidence, mainly… but if its still working, who is he not to put it to use?

#sentmail #v: the ghost soldier #t: sentmail | 01 #a short lil baby post 4 u

The Soldier is presented with a dilemma.

He doesn't want to announce his presence in any other way. He can't say he's the Ghost Soldier, because he's not here to kill anybody. Saying he's Zack feels like a lie. Lying is part of his job, he knows, but this feels a little different. Even though he's here to play the role of Zack, until he decides to do something else.

(He doesn't want to do anything else. He barely recognizes want inside him in the first place, but he isn't here for no reason. He understands that much.)

So he doesn't say who it is. Kunsel will have to figure that out on his own.

“You said you had answers,” he says.

Breath catches in his throat, and for a moment it takes him a second to recognize that he is holding it, that he can breathe, that he's alive - and… that he's still shot, just somewhere less vital.

A chocked gasp of pain, and his eyes open wide as his arm flies to his stomach, applying pressure to the fresh would, trying to lessen the bleeding even if most of it would be internal - but this is only a secondary worry, his gaze soon returning to Zack in a desperate attempt to decipher what this meant.

Was it anger? Was it pity? Was it recognition?

He doesn't get his answer, as methodically the ghost of his past spares him no glaces as he walks away from him, outside of the warehouse.

"Wait - come back -"

He tries moving, but between his already fractured bones and the bullet now lodged in him, the part of him that's focused on survival refuses to let him. All he can do is watch as he's left behind again, no clear answer in sight.

"Damn it all." His free hand reaches for his PHS, and he attempts to dial someone as his head begins to swim, vision darkening, body recouping its adrenaline to instead fixing internal damage, taking away his alertness now that the supposed threat was gone.

All he gets is a dial tone as he passes out.

Two weeks pass since that day. Someone had called for an ambulance to his location, and he ended up being taken care of, only being told that it was an anonymous tip off. He was interrogated for the body found along with him but he remained as obtuse as ever, refusing to answer the questions posed.

And even if he wanted to answer, what would he say?

From then on, once he was released, he spent his days pacing, continuing his search; having to work with the knowledge that Zack had become wildcard, seemingly turning on his handlers but just as willing to harm him. Was he still in Junon, had he fled to another part of the world? He had no way of knowing.

He was back at zero.

The Soldier loses some time after that.

It's disconcerting when it happens: first, he is in a crowd, heading for a safe house to scour for weapons and cash (they're located all over the world, even with Shinra no longer in power), then he is in an empty office building, wearing different clothing, peering through a binoculars into a hospital room where he can see the target – no longer a target, he realizes, just Kunsel Zantos – resting in a bed.

He has access to information in the safe houses as well as money and weapons. He does a cursory search and finds out Kunsel Zantos' information – where he resides (right in town, convenient), where he works, what he is trying to do (easy to see why Shinra wants him dead). It's all disturbingly easy. The Soldier could still kill him if he wanted to, and go back to his handlers.

He doesn't want to.

The Soldier also does research on the name 'Zack' and 'Zacarías.' This turns up a lot of dead ends. It's not a lot to go on, even in terms of someone Kunsel knows. There are some grainy photographs of someone who might look like the Soldier, and the name reveals someone called 'Zack Fair.' There is no available information about Zack Fair, apart from the brief news that he is dead, along with someone called Sephiroth.

That name makes the Soldier feel something, a phantom pain in his metal arm and a vague sense of dread. He doesn't understand it.

But it's clear that Kunsel thinks the Soldier is this Zack Fair, and to be honest, the Soldier kind of wants to be that for him. He isn't; he knows this as well as he knows anything. But he does want answers, and he won't get those by being the Ghost Soldier. He'll get them by being Zack Fair.

The Soldier is trained for infiltration too. It isn't hard to fit in as a regular citizen. He can probably fake being Zack too.

He still takes precautions. He stakes out the area for two weeks after Kunsel arrives home from the hospital. The x shaped scar on his face is distinctive, but it's easily covered with some make up, and he ties back his hair in a regular ponytail instead of its usual braid. He dresses in jeans and a loose hoodie to hide his arm and his muscular stature, and then he goes – not unarmed, of course – to Kunsel's door.

He could break in, but he doesn't think Zack would. So instead, he knocks.

This… sucked. He was allowed to think that, Kunsel was pretty sure, feeling the way blood poured down his face, nose shattered from the continuous blows to his head.

But it was almost funny in a way, he'd forgotten what it was like to lose the upper hand, to face an opponent that could challenge him… but.

It wasn't a proper fight, was it? The more they clashed, the more Zack looked at him with that irate but confused gaze, the more he could feel that long buried guilt crawl out of his chest, demand his attention.

See? See what your failure has brought? You gave up on him. This is your doing.

It made him falter, it made his reactions lag behind - that that was all it took for the fight to turn.

They were SOLDIERs, once, after all. They were made for this, a swift and brutal end.

One hand reaches out wipe away blood from his face, licking bloodied lips and being faced with the taste of his own doom, but he does not move further as the gun is pointed against at his skull. This was it, huh… Although fear lingers in the back of his head as it ought to, his blood smeared face speaks only of a deep sadness, golden eyes staring up at the other's face.

And he does not look away as the shot was fired. There was no hope that this meant the other was suddenly free, no lingering thought that his words would be of any use - that had always been the only thing he had, wasn't it?

Words and empty promises.

"I'm… sorry." He closes his eyes, even as an ugly, treacherous part of himself told him to open his eyes and look: look at what his inaction led to. Face your death. But he couldn't, not when it was Zack. "I failed you, so... no hard feelings."

No hard feelings.

What does that even mean? Why would the Soldier have hard feelings? Why wouldn't the target? The Soldier has gotten what he wanted, and the target is as good as dead. No hard feelings. The Soldier doesn't have any feelings about this whatsoever. He isn't meant to have them.

Still, the Soldier hesitates, a quiver that is more felt than seen in his gun hand.

If you have questions – I have answers.

There are many things wrong with the situation, and he is inclined to just shoot the target in the head to stop the questions that he is beginning to realize he does have. He doesn't want to have questions. He wants to finish the job and –

And what? Go back to the handlers? To the table?

He swallows thickly. He doesn't want to go back.

But he isn't about to just let a target live while he walks away, his back unguarded. He has to finish the job. He begins to squeeze the trigger and then –

If you have questions –

Damn it.

The Soldier moves his aim to the target's stomach and fires once before reholstering the gun. He says nothing. He doesn't want the target to die, he realizes. He wants answers, but he isn't yet ready for them. He wants to know why this man's words have rattled him so deeply. He wants to know, but first –

First, what?

He goes outside, finds a payphone, somehow still working although antiquated by the day's technology. He calls the hospital, says there's someone wounded in the factory. It wouldn't do for the target to die if he knows something the Soldier may want to ask him later. Letting him die would be no better than killing him. And there's something inside of him that doesn't want the target dead.

He will have questions. But not yet. He disappears into the crowd.

He grits his teeth, bracing for the magic attack - his armor allowed him to resist half the damage, but it didn't mean it didn't singe as he just barely got out of the direct line of fire - casting barrier so soon would prove ineffective, he had to give himself a moment to recover but he was offering them up on a silver platter to Zack, and part of him wondered… what was his plan here? Yes, his words were visibly affecting his opponent, but what could he say to break through to him?

A grunt as he recovers from the blast of fire against his side, but he presses on, his gauntlets crackling with magic as he prepares to cast, attempting to close the distance between them again, attacking with one arm as his other lingers on his side, a brief cast of cure to get the edge off and keep fighting.

"If you have questions — I have answers."

His words are a low growl, set to be heard only by the two of them, heavy with the frustration that he was in part telling a lie. He didn't know why Zack was like this, what had happened to him in the in between of then and now but… he could find out.

The Soldier does have questions, he realizes with some alarm, but the idea of getting answers isn't exactly appealing right now. He doesn't want to know, he wants to go back to not knowing anything was amiss. It's easier to do the job without complications, and doing the job is why he exists. He gets nothing short of results.

He recognizes the cure spell for what it is, a delay of the inevitable. He takes the moment's distraction to swing his weapon again, but the target deflects again. The target is good at this, and the Soldier might even be having fun, if he could experience such emotions.

Sword clashes against sword, boots skid against the concrete floors. The target is damaged, the Soldier is not. It's just a matter of time, as it always was. The Soldier always defeats his target, sooner or later. And it's just a matter of time before the Soldier gets a good hit on the fatigued target's sword, sending it skidding across the floor. The Soldier tucks his own sword away and goes in with his fists, metal colliding with bone and sinew as he punches the target over and over, until the target goes down in a heap against a wall.

The Soldier pulls out a gun. There is no point in prolonging this any further. He aims the gun at the target's head...and then he hesitates.

If you have questions – I have answers.

Does the Soldier have questions?

No. Not exactly. But he wants to know why this target is affecting him so much at the same time.

“Kill him already!” Roscoe calls, and the Soldier twitches slightly. He jerks his arm toward the scientist and shoots him in the head, all without taking his eyes off of the target, lying prone and weaponless in front of him. Roscoe crumbles like a puppet with its strings cut. The Soldier continues to stare at the target, turning the gun back on him.

But something stops him from shooting.

Finally, a response. Something. Be it anger or fear, he doesn't care to tell the difference, only caring that he heard proof that the other was listening, paying attention. It was something —

But Zack seems to grow more violent in a bid to silence him, and Kunsel has to double his efforts in order to keep up with him, retaliating only when strictly necessary. Even now, as his barrier spell cracks under pressure as his attention is strained between all the thoughts rushing in his head, Kunsel doesn't counter, simply deflecting the heavy attack to his side. It was a reckless, dangerous reaction, one that should have no reason to be in a fight to the death, where in every second mattered.

But to deflect, he has to trade his barrier, shattering under the sheer weight of Zack's attack.

"Zack - Zararías -" Kunsel only grows more insistent however, biting down into the scarce reactions he's getting as hope that he can talk his way through this, that there's some sort of easy fix to this whole situation. "I never stopped looking for you."

He's pushed back onto the physical defensive now, trying his best to keep up with the other man without falling into the instinctual urge to retaliate the violence thrown his way.

"Listen to me. Please. Tú me conoces."

The words are confusing if nothing else. The Soldier doesn't know anyone named Zack, or Zacarías, but he doesn't know a lot of things. This normally doesn't bother him in the slightest. The names sound familiar, though, in a way that is disconcerting at best.

The Soldier has never considered he might know more than one language, either, but he understands the man just fine. Listen to me.

The Soldier doesn't understand. He is used to pleading, but for one's life, not to listen.

He realizes he has hesitated too late, but it doesn't matter; the target isn't attacking him back, he's just defending. The barrier spell is down now, sacrificed to avoid his attack, and now is the Soldier's chance to do something with magic.

“Shut up,” he insists again, not understanding why he's so confused by this. He casts another fire spell at the target, intent on ending this before the target can confuse him more. It's uncomfortable – he's not used to feeling things. He doesn't even know what he's feeling, if it's even a real emotion.

a-vctlan

𝘼 𝙍𝙊𝙇𝙀𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙂 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝙇𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉, 𝘽𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘽𝙔 𝙑𝙀𝙏𝙇𝘼𝙉.

— independent and private. canon divergent and non-compliant. low and sporadic activity. intended for a mature audience, as they will feature canon applicable violence and heavy themes. multiverse & multiship. crossover friendly. strongly prefer plotted, para/novella length threads.

#;promo

It's an awkward grip, but he manages, and to his satisfaction it does stop the gunfire, pulls his adversary into close range - but all of it in silence, not a breath out of place, every effot calculated. Unnease seeps into his limbs, but he wouldn't allow this to detract him from the fight.

He can feel the metal begin to burn through his jacket and gloves, he has to brace against the sudden sword strike, the force only slightly mitigated by the presence of the barrier spell - but instead of retreating or tossing it aside, Kunsel charges forward, using the fire hot metal as a battering ram to push the casting arm away from him, it leaves him open for a return strike with the other's sword, however Kunsel quickly changes his hold on the piece of metal and uses it to both deflect the strike and to jab it into Zack's ribs, only letting go of it now to better grip his sword which he finally removes from his back.

"Why are you doing this? Where -" he strikes with his sword, knowing it would be deflected "- have you been all this time?" He is talking to a brick wall, but he can't avert his eyes when they're this close to each other, searching for answers in a gaze that shows no recognition for him. So many possibilities swim through his head, and none of them are pleasant...

And they left him at an impasse, his presence here a desperate attempt to see his old friend once more, but now uncertain about what to do with him - he wouldn't, couldn't kill him. He had to apprehend him in some way, break through whatever stupor that Zack was under --

He hates the silence, the sound of shuffling boots and a struggle, metal against metal, breath's calculated with each swing.

"Answer me, SOLDIER!"

#sentmail #v: the ghost soldier #t: sentmail | 01 #i don't know what i'm doing

“Shut up!”

The Soldier's own voice startles him, the words coming unbidden to his lips. He realizes he doesn't like the way this man speaks to him, like he knows him, like he is a person that someone can know. The Soldier knows better, and, more importantly, knows he doesn't take orders from a target. His handler commanded him to kill this man, this Kunsel Zantos, and that was the only person he took his orders from.

He shoves the burning metal away from him with his sword, losing only a millisecond, but it's enough time for the target to pull out his sword. Because of course he is armed; no one would come to a place like this without his weapon. That isn't a problem. The Soldier is prepared for that.

Metal clashes against metal and boots scrape across the floor, echoing through the warehouse oddly. The Soldier goes for a power attack, charging up another materia for the effect. He intends for the attack to go through the target's defenses, taxing the barrier spell and perhaps destroying his concentration. If he can get the spell down, he'll be at an advantage.

The Soldier brings his sword down hard, barely giving the target a chance at a counterattack.

He was not surprised it was a trap - he was surprised by the actual lack of any effort put into it. The initial lure had at least the potential of being an interesting lead, but the more they talked, the more anxious Roscoe grew as Kunsel pushed at him with his questions, the clearer it was that there was nothing of substance here. At least, nothing that the good Dr. thought important enough to mention, and nothing that Kunsel didn't already know from his own investigation.

Metal settles around them, and eyes flick around them in idle curiosity, finding some familiar equipment out of use, but seeking shadows that weren't there. This place had definitely been used recently but… marks in the floor and disturbances in dust patterns let him know that everything of actual value had been taken.

This left only one valid answer as to why he was led out here - and his suspicions are validated as Roscoe stops his tour through the building and turns to face him, sneering up at him through his glasses.

"This is a dead-end, Mr. Zantos."

The door snapping open, nearly thrown off its hinges, is all the warning he gets, but he thought himself prepared this time. Arm raises as a brace, barrier cast in reflex as he lets Roscoe run for cover, leaving Kusel to have to jump back and weave as he's shot at, waiting for a pause in the shots - Zack wouldn't reload, if him dropping his gun last time was anything to go by - to make a leap forward, charge at him, keep the pressure on his side.

"Fight me like you mean it, damn it!" Frustration bites at his tone, being kept at a distance so far, stuck between dodging and covering. "What happened to you?! Guns? Really Zack?" He tries to make light of the situation, throwing out his exasperation into the empty echo between them, but he doesn't expect an answer, mind still reeling from the confusion shown by his friend at hearing his own name.

The barrier spell is good, but it takes concentration and does not hold up against continuous fire like this - he needed something physical, heavy… His eyes lock onto an open latch on one of the machines - and he rips it clear off of it, groaning of metal betraying his intention for a shield.

It hadn't been much of a ruse, in the Soldier's opinion, but it isn't up to him to comment on these things. Anyway, it had worked, although the target is prepared for a trap and puts up a barrier spell before the Soldier can properly shoot him. That's all right, though; the Soldier had expected as much from a guy who had evaded him once before.

He ignores the other man's cajoling, though the name gives him pause for some reason – he didn't have a name, he was simply the Soldier, so why was this man calling him 'Zack?' It doesn't make sense, but if the target is trying to confuse him, it isn't going to work.

He keeps shooting, doing as Kunsel expects and dropping the guns once they're empty. But it's soon clear this line of attack isn't going to work for long. The target has ripped off a piece of metal from a bit of machinery to serve as a shield, which is strikingly effective against his guns. He slams the guns back in their holsters as he revises his plan of attack. He grabs his sword off his back and starts running at the target, silent but for his footsteps echoing throughout the building.

Before he meets the target, though, he casts a strong fire spell directly at the target's makeshift shield. He doesn't even aim for the target himself, just at the shield. Soon it'll heat up enough that the target will have to drop it. The Soldier doesn't keep his attack to just a fire spell, though; he also swings his sword with jarring force at the target, hoping to knock the shield away or take down that annoying barrier spell.

One would think that he would lay low after such a threat to his life, but all it does is strengthen his resolve to get to the bottom of this — he was frozen and idle once before, paralyzed by his uncertainty as to what the right answer would be. Here he won't allow himself the same mistake. He's lived too long and fought too hard to have the answers to his questions torn from his hands like this; old feelings dug up with the gentle touch of a punch to the face.

Whispers of his search spread between old Shinra staff, some actively seeking him out while others outright refusing to enter in contact with him in fear of their lives. But through his messages, one name stood out. Roscoe, of the defunct Science Department. He contacted Kunsel pleading for his life, arguing that he would be next in the string of suspicious Shinra related deaths and disappearances.

Junon, public meet up area. Promises of answers to his questions in trade of protection. It seemed too good to be true…

But he had to take his chances, even if just for the opportunity to have another altercation with the Ghost Soldier, as others have come to designate him. How long has it been since Zack's supposed death? Had it really been so long that he's slipped the public consciousness?

These thoughts linger in his mind as he makes his way to the coffee shop — and there is no mistaking him in the crowd. Although he bears no SOLDIER insignia, it is very clear that he's wearing a modified version of his old uniform, armed and visibly bearing his armor, missing only a helmet.

This is a man on a mission, a man that wants to be seen and found.

It takes him no time spotting the scientist, the man so painfully trying to look relaxed that it was a wonder he didn't shake out of his seat in fear, eyes widening for a second before he manages to find his voice and greet Kunsel, ushering him to take a seat in front of him for a moment.

Now began the act, and all the Soldier could do was observe — given no insight into his target's reactions to Dr. Roscoe's tale, nor the file subtly slid across a coffee table, the promises that there was more if he was willing to help him move his personal equipment out of a now abandoned Shinra warehouse.

There's a tense pause.

And then they both get up, set on the move to the location.

The Soldier waits a full ten minutes after Roscoe and his target left the cafe before tossing his mostly full coffee and his newspaper. Then he stows his hands in his pockets and trails after them. He has a good deal of weapons on his person, under his deceivingly baggy clothes, but more of them are stashed in the warehouse, which has an entrance on the second floor that isn't visible from the lower floor.

He quickly climbs the outside of the building up to the second floor, where he sheds the civilian wear and reveals his combat gear. No mask today. He doesn't know why, and he did not ask. He is fairly bristling with knives and guns and materia already, but his stash on the second floor fits him out with a broadsword and extra ammo. No sniper rifle this time; there's not a good vantage point for that here.

He descends the stairs on the balls of his feet, silent as the wind, and listens through the door as Roscoe bullshits the target. It's all bad information, the Soldier knows, and information about people who were already dead. Some of them had been killed by the Soldier himself, probably. He does not remember.

The element of surprise is still his. He waits for the scientist to say the code word, and then he throws open the door, guns in hand as he tracks his target. Roscoe is already behind cover – the floor is covered in old, unused machinery, so it's not hard – and he has done his job to get the target out in the open.

The Soldier doesn't hesitate. He fires his guns.

#v: the ghost soldier #:3333333333333333

greelin

you stupid fucking idiot i can’t believe you died and got resurrected and are now safely in my arms again. I’ll kill you

They stand at an impasse until the growing awareness that this was not, in fact, some great duel between just the two of them and in fact a a very public assassination attempt catches them both unaware, his senses returning to him with a demanding ringing as a shot rings out just behind him — and he has half a mind to tell them to just wait, let him figure this out —

But his would be assassin did, after all, fire into a populated area and the two of them made a considerable mess of the patio they'd contained their fight into. The retired captain he'd crossed paths with at the beach-side bar returns armed, and makes a move to retaliate, protect Kunsel as he had rushed to protect them, leading a small squad of equally armed combatants to rush the assassin out of town, at least for now.

And all he's left with is questions and the sight of his thought lost friend retreating, an afterimage of what he'd once meant to Kunsel, who'd knelt to pick up the shattered pieces of the other's mask.

… What was going on here?

He had to find out, and that meant being prepared. He was the target, that much was clear. He could work with this. He had to. He had to.

The Soldier comes out of his memory wipe pliant and docile as always. He opens his mouth, has the bite guard removed, is unstrapped from the table. He hates the table. He doesn't know why. He doesn't remember the agony of having his mind destroyed over and over to erase his memory, but no matter how they try, they cannot erase every bit of trauma involved. The edge of something still remains in him, no matter the damage they cause.

He steps down off of the table and says, “What are my orders?” His voice is bland and without inflection. A sign that the mind wipe was successful.

“You have one target. His name is Kunsel Zantos. You are to kill him,” his handler says, handing him a file. The file has all the information they have for one Kunsel Zantos, former SOLDIER first class. The Soldier understands he will be a problem because of this. Zantos has the same enhancements as he does, according to the file.

If the Soldier could feel anticipation, he would have been excited about fighting someone equaling his strength.

“You'll be working with Dr. Roscoe,” the handler continued. “He will be – ”

“Why?” the Soldier asks.

“Why what?”

“Why am I working with a civilian? I'm the Ghost Soldier. I don't need help.”

The handler presses a pair of glasses further up his nose. “Because you do need the help, Soldier. You failed to kill him last time.”

The Soldier is aware of his abilities, aware that he is not the only one with them. He knows that this Zantos character has abilities too. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but they didn't often send him with civilians or backup to help him.

He remains silent as the handler takes the file back from him. “Do not fail us again, Soldier.”

---

Dr. Roscoe is a small man, made to look even smaller by the perpetual hunch of his shoulders. He is visibly nervous, sweat beading on his brow as he looks around the small cafe located in Junon where he had agreed to meet the nosy ex-SOLDIER. He's early.

He is nervous because he's setting Kunsel Zantos up for an execution. It's common knowledge these days that Zantos will do just about anything for information, and currently, he's researching the Ghost Soldier. Roscoe knows very much about the Ghost Soldier, though he doesn't intend to tell Zantos much about him. Just enough to lure him into a trap.

His nervousness can easily be attributed to the fact that the remains of Shinra have been systematically taking out people too open with information. He hopes Zantos will buy it.

The plan is simple – to lure Zantos out into a nearby warehouse, where they will have 'privacy.' The Soldier is waiting for them across the street, dressed in civvies and reading a newspaper. He has a coffee he bought from a street vendor, but he isn't drinking it. (He had made a face when he had tried it. The guy must not like coffee, Roscoe figures. It's weird to think about the Soldier having preferences.)

The Soldier will follow them and take Zantos out in the privacy of the warehouse, where no one will interfere this time. Backup for the Soldier isn't possible at this time – he is a one man army today. Shinra doesn't have an army to back him up any longer. But no matter. It's been reported that Zantos recognized the Soldier. Information has it that they used to be friends, back when the Soldier was a person (another weird thought). That's a weak point, and they intend to use it.

Roscoe wipes his brow again, glancing around the cafe nervously.

Bystanders watch in apprehensive awe as the fight continues, both parties taking and trading blows that would put any lesser man below the ground, and Kunsel certainly feels the impact of it all in the punch delivered by the metal arm that had caught his attention moments ago. Even as he recovers, trying to take down the assassin with a leg swipe to try and retaliate the action, Kunsel saves a note on it for later - this level of advanced prosthetics is a rare find, especially one capable to withstand the forces applied by a SOLDIER.

Because there was no doubt in his mind now, he was dealing with a SOLDIER here - he recognized fighting patterns, strike poses, defenses — ones he's seen before and trained others in.

And by the continued struggle between them… it had to be a First Class. That narrowed the list of people this could be, but from the top of the head… he couldn't think of anyone, at least no one with any kind of reason to turn on the others.

"Fighting someone on your level's not so easy now, is it, pal?"

Kunsel tests an annoyed, yet familiar tone out on the other, seeing if he can break through that silent exterior, as he presses his sword into the others, using their close proximity to read the other with his sense materia; magic palpably humming within him but not as a violent attack, instead a lingering feeling of being seen as mako gold eyes search the other's expression with questions unanswered.

A glimpse of mako blue from behind the mask. Muffled grunt of effort as Kunsel turns on the offensive. That displaced familiarity as the assassin swings his broadsword.

Who is this? Because if he thinks he'll be able to tire out Kunsel Reis Zantos he has another thing coming, persistent like a scent hound, refusing to drop anything that demands his attention.

The fight continues on, with Kunsel eventually managing to use a punch thrown at him as a means to throw his assailant over his shoulder and crash into the ground, immediately moving to straddle the other and retaliate with full spite the punch that had sent him flying moments ago, set to at least stun his opponent.

And to his satisfaction, the mask that had concealed the other's expression cracks and breaks away, finally revealing the expression settled in his opponents face, the furrow of dark eyebrows, a firmly set jaw, a cross shaped scar —

He freezes, wide eyed, staring down at the other, and this predictably has him pushed off the other, punched in retaliation, but all that Kunsel can do is scramble to get back up, his eyes piercing as he stares at the ghost in front of him.

No, this didn't make sense —

"Zack!?"

#sentmail #v: the ghost soldier #t: sentmail | 01 #AND THERE IT IS

The Soldier isn't expecting the sudden widening of golden-brown eyes, the expression of – recognition? He doesn't expect the name – a name that means nothing to him – but feels like...it should, somehow.

It startles him enough to break his silence, at least.

“Who the hell is Zack?”

They stand there for a moment that stretches on for far too long. The Soldier isn't sure why he doesn't attack; he's assessed the situation as best he can already, and he needs to take advantage of the other man's distracted reaction to – whoever this Zack person is. The Soldier's internal sense of time is warped, and it feels like ages before something finally gets him to move.

The civilians have not been idle during the relatively short battle. There is shouting and running – running toward the two of them, rather than away like they ought to be doing. The Soldier can take on an entire squad if need be, but he'd rather not hurt civilians if he can help it. He has a target, one target only, and that is the only person who needs to die today.

A bullet shoots by him, missing him by a hair as he casually steps back, and it splinters against one of the destroyed food stands instead. It's a rifle bullet; they're not messing around here. The Soldier quickly calculates. The one-on-one fight he had been engaged it had taken up all his attention. He isn't sure he can survive adequately while there are multiple guns aimed at him at the same time. It's time to count his losses and try again later.

He runs. He's supernaturally fast, but he's still forced to catch a few bullets with his metal arm and his sword, still in hand. He avoids shooting back at these new attackers because it will cost him precious seconds to do so. There is pursuit – he can hear them coming – but they won't catch up with him.

Later, back at the facility, his handlers ask him what happened, why his arm needs repairs, why the target is still alive. He gives his report mechanically, leaving out nothing. His handlers don't seem surprised by any of it, but they are concerned.

“He knew me,” the Soldier says, plaintive, like a child. “Why did he know me?”

“Open your mouth, Soldier,” his handler says, and inserts the bite guard before he is strapped to the chair. It's time to wipe his memory again already.

No answer, only a continuous assault.

He has no opportunity to see if the magic attack landed or not, immediately going for cover, but audibly he hears the would be damage, tallying it up as a possible means of defending himself if it is reliable. He waits for the shots to stop, but there is scarcely a second between the sound of the gun dropping to the ground and metal crashing and scraping against itself as a massive sword just barely misses him, having rolled out of the way again, planning to attack only to be interrupted and forced to back up.

Assailant's sword still on the ground, Kunsel getting up from a kneeling roll, their faces meet and for a second Kunsel understands the frustration people used to push onto him for keeping his helmet on more often than not - the other's expression and gaze hidden, he has to go by body language and instinct alone.

And speaking of body, a glimmer of steel catches his glance again, and Kunsel's eyes widen at the sight of a metal arm, unharmed. The other has taken no damage outside of cosmetic. Elemental defense? What other advantages could he be pushing?

Kunsel lets that thought linger in the background as he decides to push his luck again, trying to attack before the masked assassin has a chance to recover from his heavy strike, going for his neck.