The last day.

Endgame came a lot sooner than anyone expected.

o

We wander along these familiar streets, already being blasted and torn apart by the heat and pressure of the bloated monster hanging overhead. Rude is silent as usual, absorbed in his own memories. Reno keeps pace with me, pretending that it's accidental. There is no home for us, since the top's been sheared off of the company building. There is no job for us, since the president was sheared off with it.

An hour ago, we were underground, and Avalanche was underground, and I really wanted to put their faces through the floor for once and for all. For all they caused, for all they've taken from us. Reno wouldn't let me. I don't know whether he just doesn't have any fight left, or if if he's found a calm I haven't come to yet.

o

Falling down.

I found something in the archives once, and old piece of propanganda from before Midgar was built. It showed an artist's mockup of what the city would look like, years and endless piles of steel and money down the line. Wasn't half-bad, really. It promised the city would last until the stars went out and the mako fires cooled.

There's something else I thought would live forever. This has been a good month for disillusionment.

o

I was raised under the plate, like most of us were. I had a family, and a tumbledown house, and a few friends. I was in a good sector, a lucky-break sector, a sector where you didn't have to worry so much about the drug dealers and gangs. There are times when I miss it. Life wasn't easy but it was a lot simpler, drawn in bright shades of old wax crayons.

I wonder how much of what they say is true, about mako, and the planet, and what happens when you die. We'll all be finding out pretty soon, but I'd like to have forewarning.

o

It's all changed so fast. Yesterday, the air was still clear and clean, or at least breathable. Three days ago, the wind whipped around the company building, drafting and shifting around the helicopter balcony in the same frenzied dance that'd got me up on the railing the first time, years and years ago. Two days ago, the balcony was gone. Today, the air's stagnant and sick and hot, and sits in your lungs like syrup.

o

He was out on the balcony again but there was no threat this time, no worry. He was watching the sky change colors, watching the apocalyptic clouds. I thought nothing of taking the outstretched hand, and halfway expected it when he pulled me up on the ledge to join him.

We must have stood there for an hour, silent, feeling the wind push through. It was the last night the building was habitable. It was the last night I slept, too.

It's true. You can never go back.

o

There's a terrible brightness, and I lost my shades in the sewers when we were down there – what? An hour ago? It's all I can do to cover my eyes with the arm of my jacket, and try to find some direction to look in that isn't flooded with this goddamned light. It's no use, right, it's everywhere. This is where the fall begins, and ends.

o

My vision hares out for the last split second that I'm able to think, blurring Reno and Rude and the lampposts and the disused buildings into a haze of white and dizzying pain. There's some green in the white, and maybe something important is happening. I wouldn't know.

o

The pavement rushes up hard, fast, and unforgiving. I can't see it. Under my hands, the rough surface shifts, and I can feel it tear the skin, feel the bleeding. I will hold onto that feeling until the end.

o

I hit the ground hard, and fall against something warm and bony. Blinded, searching, I find his hands, curled against the bucking pavement, and grasp at his arm, needing something to hold onto while the first searing blast of heat starts melting the fabric of my jacket. There's a smell of burning hair. It's not all mine.

I don't believe that anything persists beyond. I don't believe that we'll see you again.

o

There's white, and red, and black, in waves. I think it's Elena next to me, but I can't really tell.

I don't believe in life after death. I don't think we'll be seeing you again.

o

So let me say, for once and for all, that I did my best. I took it all seriously. I would have died before consciously letting you down, or the group down. I'm sorry my best wasn't enough.

o

So let me say, for once and for all, that I always loved you. You deserved to hear it sooner, but there's fuck-all I can do about that now, and this is all the time I've got.

o

Until we meet again.