Well, I don't know. I had high expectations for the Evil Tifa cliché, but this part just didn't end up as I had envisioned (read: Turned out as a bunch of crap). Minor set-back. I promise to get back to being mildy funny once I shove this out of the way. I've been skimming through a bunch of rather gag-inducing high school ones, and have some notes as to what niche they fit into, as in 'Barret: Drop-out? Never around.' And I had an idea for an unrelated chapter, and wondering what could be done with that.

Grit it out kids. Grit it out. And then 'Jim-Jam''s time to shine will be over before we realize it. And throw me reviews before I get all mopey. And yes, what Aerith says about 'Jim-Jam' was my original intentions for her. Now I'm not sure if I should have brought her back. But, with the way I was going to do this cliché, I needed her back like that. Didn't quite work though. Ah well.

Everything that isn't explicitly mine, isn't.

(Start the chapter and end the horror)

"Well, yeah, I like the color pink-"

"Me too!" 'Jim-Jam' squealed elatedly, her left hand going to her chest for a moment as she spoke of herself. "My eyes and hair used to be this really great hot pink color, but after the... savage beating I received in the third chapter, I've become kind of generic and bald."

"Wow! You had pink hair? That's just the coolest! If I could've pulled off the look, I would have totally dyed my hair pink." Aerith explained, idly twirling a lock of her chestnut hair around her finger.

"I really liked it. But I mean, I guess it was really gaudy. So it had to go. And, you know, in turn, I had to go because I looked really tacky, and the readers don't really seem to like me."

Aerith nodded sympathetically, still sitting with an arm around the other woman's shoulders.

"Well, hate to break it to you, but from the get-go, you were designed to be annoying, and get kicked out of the story in the third chapter, with the sole purpose of coming back just in time for the 'Evil Tifa ARF' story, so you could try your hand at being Tifa, and then the gang would be back the way it was meant to be from the start, just in time for the high school cliché."

'Jim-Jam' blinked harshly, shrugging.

"How do you know all of that?" She asked, scooting over a little, attempting to get away from Aerith and her suddenly extreme case of plot-line clairvoyance. However, the Ancient just shrugged, glancing up at the sky.

"I dunno. How can I make so many grating pop culture references whenever the brain behind this fiasco runs out of original material? I mean, now that I'm learning all of this new stuff about you, I can't remember who won Bud Bowl Eight. See? We just say whatever the author wants us to. Not my fault, really. I just work with what they give me."

A grin started to tug at the corner of 'Jim-Jam''s mouth at the comment, but quickly stopped when she realized she had heard that joke somewhere before. While she and 'Greg' were watching TV during their hospital stay. And even when it had been used in the original and proper context, it had only been mildly amusing to begin with.

I mean, a Bud Bowl reference in the Final Fantasy world was not only tacky and unfunny, it was also severely out of place.

"Wasn't that 'Bud Bowl Eight' line from an episode of the Simp-"

"You know what I haven't had in a while?" Aerith butted in, cutting her off. "Big League Chew."

"Uh, hello? That was from an episode of Family G-"

"Oh! Oh damn, the chapter started! Let's get to work!" Aerith announced, getting to her feet and brushing her sundress off, extending a hand to help 'Jim-Jam' up, glad that the punctual resumption of this plot had saved her from having to admit that I'm notfunny.

In the least.

(And please, no reviews, stating that, 'OMG you're totally funny'. I'm just being a dick right now.)

As is always the case with this story.

Uh, anyhow, stolen humor aside, 'Jim-Jam' had to pull things together, after the abysmal showing she had last chapter (insert obligatory begging for more reviews on chapter twelve. I'll win you all back next chapter.).

But 'Greg' had been an awful Tifa coach, even with his off-the-cuff speeches. What she needed now was somebody that knew how Tifa should act in these situations.

And that person would definitely be Aerith. Because in these stories, when Tifa decided to throw down and choke someone out in a bold attempt to regain Cloud's attention, Aerith was just about always the one getting choked out. Hence the 'Evil Tifa ARF' genre.

"Alright! Are you ready to become the best fake Tifa since... well, I dunno, since the last time an evil clone of Tifa has come along to wreak havoc on us?" Aerith asked, causing 'Jim-Jam' to nod readily, though she paused, frowning as she held up her right hand.

"Yeah... but could we do something about my hand finally? I've been bleeding nonstop since last chapter, and y'know, bloodloss." She shrugged, causing Aerith to roll her eyes.

"Okay, hand first, and then are you ready to be the best fake Tifa ever?"

(Alright, we've already done this little song and dance last chapter. It's tedious and repetitive. Let's see what's up with our currently evil protagonist and 'Greg'.)

"Alright, now listen up!" Tifa seethed, tightening her grip and yoking 'Greg''s head back until he was wincing up at her from his spot on the ground, one hand futilely trying to pull his hair free from her vice-like grip, the other one pinching desperately on a pressure point, though his efforts were totally in vain, as her flat-out insanity rendered her immune to any and all nerve pinches.

"Ow! Ow! C'mon Tifa, I thought we were pals!" He whined in a very un-awesome manner, wincing as tears stung his eyes from the harsh tugging on his scalp. Great, now, not only would he have that odd 'not quite a mullet, but at the same time not exactly not a mullet' 'do going on, he'd also be missing patches of hair and scalp if she didn't stop yanking on it. Ah well, at least his dangerously good looks would make up for it. Sorta.

"What kind of 'pal' won't help me put my murderous plans into effect! You'd rather bludgeon me with a Citronella candle and tie me in a bag!" She raged on, pointing up at the nasty wound left by said candle, a four inch long gash running from just above her right eye back along her scalp, hair matted with blood and skull open, blood running from it, and what he could only assume to be her brain was slightly visible.

Oh Jesus, it was horrible. She looked disgusting; terrifying. And with such a disfiguring wound as that, there was even less of a chance that Cloud would want her now.

"Look, I'm sorry, we just didn't want you to get hurt! It was for your own good, I'm serious! And please, please, please stop pulling my hair!" He interjected fearfully, glow-in-the freakin'-dark eyes squinched shut, tears beading out from the corners of his eyelids.

"For my own good!" She spat, leaning in closer to him, so close that her breath grazed across his brow as she spoke, yanking even harder on his hair regardless of his pleas, forcing his back to bend at an angle that was nearly humanly impossible, his lips pulled tight across his teeth in a pained, fearful grimace. "The only thing you should be doing for me is helping me tear those two disgusting lovebirds apart."

"That's why I sent 'Jim-Jam' ahead." He tried desperately as he felt a few hanks of hair pulling free from his scalp, and not finding anymore backwards bend in his spine or legs to move any further. "She got sent in as the decoy, to... lull them into a false sense of security, you know? So that way, you can strike later. Much, much later, when they aren't expecting it. But for now, why don't we just sit tight, and reorganize the kidnapping sack, huh?"

But Tifa just laughed sinisterly at his sad, sad, explanation, her eyes narrowing as she eased her grip a little, gripping at the collar of his duster with her other hand now.

"That plan is so fucking devious." She smirked, leaning in even closer, until her lips were brushing against his, laughing against his pained, shell-shocked grimace. "Now come here, so I can get back at Cloud by doing unmentionable things to you."

"Um... that's really not healthy behavior Tif. I mean, can't you just use me to get over him? By all accounts, hooking up with me won't get his attention in the way you hop-"

He was cut off as she crushed her lips to his, fierce and demanding. His eyes flew open and he resumed his feeble struggles against her overpowering, super-bitch strength, but it was still useless, and he could only yelp like a little girl when her teeth snagged hold of his lower lip, tugging harshly when he didn't respond to the kiss.

Briefly, his pre-ordained death flashed before his eyes. Much like 'Jim-Jam', he was meant to have died in the storyline he originated from. Only, in his case, Tifa ended up tracking him down after he tried to give her some forced lovin' while she was their captive. Of course, it went into one of those situations where they had an unarmed fight to the death, and despite still being injured, and also beaten and malnourished by the bad guys, Tifa managed to best him, and out of some vicious snap of vengeful bloodlust, she had cornered him, pinned him down and broke his neck effortlessly.

Oh sure, it was a shitty way to go and all, but at least he had kind of gotten off on it, up until that whole broken neck part. Hey, he couldn't really help it. He had been designed to be all creepy and obsessed with Tifa, so really, you can't fault the poor guy for something that was pre-ordained in his head from the get-go.

But now, in this situation, Tifa was so crazily OOC, and had him so paralyzed with fear that he was totally not aroused in the least by the kissing, or the whole Dominatrix kick.

Well, okay. Maybe a little...

She pulled back, yanking his head forward so she could look him straight in the eye, grinning wickedly.

"Well, since you were such a helpful boy in putting a plan against Aerith into effect for me, I should repay you somehow. And I think we both know exactly what you'd like me to do, mmm?"

"Help me reorganize the kidnapping sack?" 'Greg' guessed eagerly, hoping she'd get the idea and head over to the spilled pile of swag. There had to be something he could bludgeon her with over there.

But she just shook her head, running a finger down the ridges of his washboard abs, a decidedly wicked glint coming to her eyes.

"You silly boy. You don't understand how this works, do you? In these stories, I'm a manipulative, evil, overzealous whore, and I'm willing to destroy anybody that stands in my way. Now then, are you going to be a good boy, or-"

"I...I think I see Ae-"

But he was cut off as she crushed her lips to his again, forcing him backward with a slight cracking sound which he prayed wasn't his spine.

(So, let's see how Aerith and 'Jim-Jam' are faring)

Well, while Tifa was doing horrible things to 'Greg', 'Jim-Jam' was coming along swimmingly, and Aerith had figured it was high time for her to give a final scenario to see how she'd answer. After all, the others, as drunk and Tifa-hating as they probably were by now, would come back any moment now, and 'Jim-Jam' would be put to the test.

"Okay," Aerith nodded, pacing back and forth by the edge of the pond, her left hand cupping her chin thoughtfully. "So, here's your real test. If you answer correctly, then you should do just fine. Alright, the whole group is together, and Cloud and I excitedly exclaim that we're going to be getting married. Everyone is sooooo excited for us. Everyone except Tifa. Now what would you, as Evil Tifa, do in a situation such as this?"

"'Jim-Jam' nodded, thinking for a moment as she toyed with the plastic tip at the end of one shoelace, thinking hard.

"Okay, I would... I'd plaster on a fake grin, say how 'happy' I am for you, then walk away muttering to myself about how I'll make you pay. And then I'd secretly head off, and take out a hit on you with the Turks... Uh, and then I'd have sex with Reno... and Rude... and Elena in order to further prove I'm an amoral hussy that doesn't deserve Cloud's love, let alone the right to continue living?" She guessed, thinking hard and trying to cover all bases on what the Evil Tifa method would be.

Aerith paused in her pacing, nodding once, sharp and official.

"Very good, 'Jim-Jam'. But, given the interaction between all of us in the last chapter, it has been established that you're bad news, so everyone is all wary and suspicious of you. What do you do in this case?"

"Er... I go up to you, shrug theatrically, look towards some non-existent audience, and say, loud enough for all of you guys to hear, 'Is Tifa Lockhart gonna have to choke a bitch?"

Aerith nodded, and yet, there was a frown on her face at the reply.

"Good, good. All except for the part where you rip off that Chappelle's Show joke. I know we can't be witty and original all the time, but please, go for something a little more obscure than Chappelle's Show. You can't possibly hope to pass stuff like that off as being original or anything of the sort. And I'm honestly getting sick of hearing it. I swear, if I hear that shit one more time, I'll... Well, I don't even know what I'll do."

'Jim-Jam' just shrugged, brushing a little bit of lint from the sleeve of her jacket.

"Yeah, well, y'know. She's probably so evil that she doesn't care if she's being witty and original or not, yanno?"

"Well played. Gosh, I just love you to bits." Aerith nodded, causing her head to snap up, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear her vision.

"You mean it?" She asked excitedly, feeling a sudden rush of... what was it? Pride? Was that warm, excitable feeling she was getting from Aerith's compliments pride?

And here she felt she would never feel such a thing, having been designed as a thinly veiled knockoff of a nigh unstoppable villain (And by my rather obvious hint dropping, I'm sure we all know who 'Greg' and 'Jim-Jam' were somewhat designed after) and made obnoxious to the extreme, she didn't think she'd ever be able to feel anything save for scorn and hatred.

I mean, come on, when all the facts are in place, is it any wonder that she became such an insufferable bitch?

But Aerith didn't think so. Aerith liked her. So maybe-

"Aerith? What are you doing up at this hour, and alone with Tifa?" Cloud asked skeptically, causing the two women to turn, 'Jim-Jam' quickly snatching for her wig, hoping that they wouldn't notice, despite the fact that they had already been caught. The rest of AVALANCHE was standing there, weapons in hand, ready to off Tifa for no real reason other than their rather sudden and overbearing hatred for the 'slutty', 'undermining', 'whore'.

And hey, if you hate Tifa, and love Cloris stories, then what better way is there to needlessly kill two birds with one stone? I mean, wow, that's just a one-two punch you can't possibly pass up!

"Oh come on. Do you have to say T- I mean my name with that much scorn? Crap dude, I haven't even done anything reprehensible, save for question your sexuality." 'Jim-Jam' sighed, rolling her eyes as she nonchalantly put her wig back on, readjusting it slightly, trying to get it to sit just right on her head, disregarding all their stares.

"Are you... are you sure that's Tifa?" Nanaki ventured, glancing up at the others, and possibly giving 'Jim-Jam' the reason to 'start in on him', that he hadn't given her last chapter. "I mean, the wig, the stutter when mentioning herself, the utter confusion at the situation..." He trailed off, shrugging slightly.

'Jim-Jam' sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Of course I'm Tifa! I mean come on! What would some fake-out Tifa impersonator hope to gain by coming in here to deceive you all? I'm just kind of upset and taken aback that all of you, with the exception of Aerith, are treating me so unfairly for no readily explicit reason." She protested, hands falling to her hips scowling.

"And you don't smell like Tifa. 'Cause, y'know, I know this stuff because, I'm, like, a lion-thing or something, and you should all acknowledge my vastly superior senses." Nanaki went on, nodding sagely, as if he was the all-knowing force in deciding whether or not she was the real deal.

"I am so totally Tifa! I mean, I'm just trying to re-invent myself here! Why can't I try to take on bold new styles! I'm bored with having you people think poorly of me and my short, short skirts, just because I have the legs for it!"

"And why are you so bitchy? I know that Aerith's revival is kind of a sore spot, and we're mysteriously inclined to hate you just because, but, I mean, this is a bit much, isn't it?"

'Jim-Jam''s eyes narrowed, lips pinching together in a tart little frown.

"Wha... I told you not to give me a reason to start in on you! When I was orphaned and all alone with a pack of villainous wolves, I ate things like you for every meal of the goddamn day! So don't you dare push it unless you want me to pop out your other eye and eat it like a cocktail olive!" She snarled, advancing a step towards him menacingly, noticing, belatedly, the way that Aerith was making an anguished face at her responses, trying to get her to back off and get back into character.

And it was no good to be bringing up her uber-angsty past, when nobody had wanted to hear it the first time around, especially now, when it had nothing to do with Tifa's past.

She blanched, straightening up and stifling a faked cough behind her hand, her gaze darting back and forth shiftily as she tried to think of something stereotypical to get them off her case.

"Ah... that is to say, uh... bouncies?" She tried hopefully, bringing her arms out to her sides and hopping lightly, causing her breasts to shift under her tight, tight t-shirt, offering all of them some rather attention-whoring fan-service.

They all stared at her in slightly confused shock, while Aerith, cringing at her spot next to Cloud, threw her a tentative thumbs up.

"Nope, never mind. That's definitely Tifa. Nobody else is that much of an attention grubbing whore." Cloud sighed, shrugging towards the others. "Now come on. It's time for some Tifa bashing. Literally." With that, he raised his sword, preparing to do the world a favor and kill that ugly, conniving whore, and then, within the span of five seconds, wrap everything up with a little American Graffiti style ending, saying that he and Aerith went on to get married, have, like, eight sets of twins, and dance on Tifa's grave each and every night.

Oh... crackers.

This can't be good.

So much for all of Aerith and 'Jim-Jam''s well thought out scenarios.

And 'Jim-Jam' knew she was in a tight spot. After all, all the coaching Aerith had given her was quickly going straight to shit, and 'Greg' and Tifa were unavailable to help. Even Aerith, who was trying desperately to pull Cloud back, her protests falling on deaf ears, seemed totally at a loss on what to do to pull the unseasoned protagonist out of such a predicament.

But luckily, luckily, 'Jim-Jam' refused to shut the Hell up and run, which was obviously the better plan. And why would she decide to go out shooting her mouth off?

Because she wanted to prove that she could be a really good fake Tifa if she put her mind to it. She had to make Aerith proud.

Well, that and I don't know what else to do to make this a dramatic confrontation. I never read these stories without rolling my eyes at how ill-conceived they are so, y'know, just work with me here.

"Hey, what good is killing me going to do! Don't I have the option of going peacefully on my merry way, and sending you two the occasional Christmas card! I mean, Christ, just who the fuck do you think you are!"

Cloud lunged forward, grabbing her by the collar of her jacket, bringing his sword up, ready to smash it down and cleave her skull in two, just to see if it was really as empty as they all thought it was.

However, as he moved to deliver the killing blow and protect the love of his life from any perceived threats this Hell-beast could possibly pose to them, he couldn't resist getting in one final, hilarious pop-culture reference.

"I'm Rick James, bitch!" He sneered, doing a god-awful Dave Chappelle impersonation, the blade coming down to kill her and end some threat that was totally not presented in the story line.

However, the dramatic ending was thrown completely to shit as Aerith grabbed him, hauling him away from 'Jim-Jam' and hurling him into the pond that had, until recently, been her watery grave.

Everything ground to a screeching halt, as Aerith stomped over to the edge of the pond, seething, waiting for her blonde lover to surface, her face a mask of uncharacteristic anger.

Finally, Cloud broke the surface, gasping and sputtering, turning bewildered eyes on the Ancient, who was pointing at him accusingly.

"That..." She started venomously, shaking with rage. "Isn't funny. I've had enough of you, and that stupid show! Bad enough that you were going to kill Tifa for some anti-Aerith deeds she didn't even have a chance to get around to doing, but you had to do that Rick James line, didn't you?"

"But it's funny!" Cloud wailed in protest, trying desperately to stay afloat and hold onto his bad-ass sword at the same time.

"Not anymore! Not coming from you!" She shot back, hands on her hips. "That's it. The wedding's off until you promise you won't kill Tifa, and you can come up with witty, original one-liners."

With that, she turned in a huff, seeing all of the others standing there looking heart-broken, and 'Jim-Jam', mysteriously, had taken the chance to cut and run, finally seeing her opening.

"I can't believe that bitch forced you two to break up!" Yuffie sighed indignantly, clutching her shuriken in a white-knuckle grip. "We ought to track her down and-"

"It wasn't her fault! It was Cloud's!" She seethed, pointing at her half-drowned blonde beau, whose hair was soaked and plastered across his eyes.

"Oh, come on Aerith!" He tried frantically, taking in more water than air with his next breath. "'Let's mosey' was witty and original, right? Am I right?"

(Wow, I totally should have made this Tifa and Aerith's Bogus Journey)

'Jim-Jam' ran, trying to get back to where she had left 'Greg' and Tifa, hoping that the situation awaiting her wasn't as bad as 'Greg''s distressed, cowardly shrieks had made it sound.

Though, not far into her retreat, she found 'Greg' kneeling on the ground, looking shaken, yet at the same time, sheepishly gratified.

"'Greg'! Are you okay?" She asked making her way up to him, glad to see that he was still alive. Of course, she had no idea what Chapter 9 had been like for him, so she had no clue if he had been in any sort of life-or-death peril.

Though, aside from his duster being gone, the blood running down his chest, and the unruly, rumpled state of his hair, he seemed no worse for the wear, really. Though it did look like he had been near tears. And, for some reason she wasn't privy to, his right hand was gripping at the waist of his pants, and he was searching rather futilely for something, picking through rocks and little pieces of crushed shells in his search.

"Uh yeah, I'm... fine." He nodded, gaze shifting left and right uneasily, as if worried that somebody would pop up out of nowhere and try to call him on his rather blatant lie.

"What happened to you? And where's Tifa?"

'Greg' looked up at her and sighed, standing up, not bothering to brush off his pants, because, after all, nothing could sully his kickass white outfit.

"Nothing much. She, ah, got out of the bag, started getting all crazy-OOC and handsy on me, and after yanking on my hair for a while and shouting about her plans to get revenge on Aerith, she... well, long story short, she bit one of my nipples off."





'Jim-Jam' stared at him in horror, at a loss for words as her eyes immediately turned towards his chest, seeing that his words did indeed ring true. Her face slowly contorted into a look of utter horror, and it was silent between them, 'Jim-Jam' not really wanting to go into any details on the rather gruesome battle wound, and 'Greg' really not really sure if there was any non-gross way of explaining how it happened.

"How'd she manage that?" Finally, her curiosity got the better of her, and she just couldn't go without trying to find out.

"Well, you see... She had me forced down on the ground, trying to have her way with me out of some obscure reason about being a total slut in this genre, and while she was, ah... trying to have her way with me, I panicked and shouted that I thought I saw Aerith over that way. She was erstwhile... occupied at the time, and see, I hadn't really thought that she'd, y'know, gnash her teeth in rage at the mention of Aerith. So she kind of ran off that way, I've been, ah, looking for it for a while. That, and the buttons for my pants." He explained awkwardly, blushing a little from embarrassment and not quite meeting her gaze.

Not wishing to really get any more information than her oddly platonic fellow assassin had already offered, she patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and stood back up, looking for Tifa. But good gravy, it had to have been rather bad if 'Greg' was all shame-faced and uneasy, given how he usually was about the other woman. He was usually all churlish monologues and unwholesome schemes, not stuttered explanations and sheepish looks.

Not that one little, traumatic set-back would stop him though.

'Jim-Jam' saw the martial artist standing in some rather thick underbrush, looking around in confusion, as if she had all of a sudden forgotten why she had jumped in among the bushes and creepers in the first place, but didn't want to leave in case she suddenly remembered what she was looking for.

"Uh, Tifa?" She tried, making her way over to her, causing our darling protagonist to turn, a look of confusion scrunching at her features.

"Hey," She nodded, a bit distractedly, glancing over her shoulder, left hand kneading at the back of her neck as she looked around, trying to figure out her little mystery. "You have any idea what happened? I kind of blacked out back there, and now everything's just a big blank. I remember breaking up with Billy the Kid, but that's about it."

"We, uh, ended up in an anti-Tifa situation. You saw Aerith come back to life, and you just went totally batshit, so-"

Tifa froze up at her answer, turning suddenly frantic eyes onto her.

"Oh fu..." She bit her lip and pulled a face before shaking it off, looking her over worriedly "I didn't... y'know do anything needlessly evil did I?"

"Uh... well, you bit me, ranted for a while, and you ah... attacked 'Greg' while I ran off to save the day as your stand-in. And through some rather underhanded means, Aerith broke up with Cloud until he could make some changes. I really had no idea that they all hated you so much. I thought you got along with just about all of them, y'know? That was half the reason I hated you so much, because you were that dazzling little ray of sunshine and magic in their lives, and I was filled with disgust and jealousy."

Tifa was obviously mulling her words over, nodding a little.

"It's the author that hates me in these situations. No cordiality, just twisting everything so the characters totally mirror their opinions of me. Oh, and if there's another character they don't really like, sometimes that character will be on my side, but that's about it." She shrugged it off after a few more minutes of pondering, nodding to her. "So how did it go? Bad?"

"Oh yeah. A veritable crap-fest." She explained, shooting her a knowing glance. "I kept making these schemes to do the best I could, but it just never really came to fruition, and just went nowhere. Dude, I thought this crazy string of hijinks would be cool and fun. I nearly got my head chopped in half and lynched."

Tifa just brushed it off, patting her on the shoulder.

"Yeah, well, you can't win them all. It's my own fault for leaving you two to fend for yourselves. Let's go put everything back in the kidnapping sack, get back to the bar, and regroup for a bit so we can be ready to win them all back."

"Done and done!" 'Jim-Jam' nodded, glad that Tifa was surprisingly okay with her screw-up. She made her way over to the burlap sack and started shoveling armloads of swag back into it, hoping that the sooner they finished up and got out of there, the sooner all of the readers would totally forget that the 'genius' author had ever bothered with this cliché line.

Yep, that's right kids. Parts 12 and 13?

Never. Happened.

Just play along, and things will be fun again in no time.

Tifa, back in her right frame of mind finally, started after 'Jim-Jam' but paused, as the excruciating pain in her head finally registered, now that she was no longer 'evil and nigh unstoppable until the power of TROO LUV (OMG eleventy-'leven!) managed to knock her the fuck out'.

She brought one hand up to the ridiculously severe wound, feeling the split line of bone there, blood congealing thickly around the wound, building up, while more blood continued to leak from the wound in a totally incongruous way, given the magnitude of the injury.


That sort of wound should have been enough to...

No, no. She was in fanfic land. If Aerith was able to survive getting run through on the Masamune under the premise of there being 'no blood' or 'OMG! People can get stabbed by long, thin instruments and survive!', then she could simply laugh off the fissure in her skull.

But still...

"Cripes. The Hell did you guys hit me with? A midget in a suit of armor?" She asked, still running her fingertips gingerly along the wound, wincing.

'Greg' looked up from his searching to answer, wondering how she figured it to be an 'armor plated midget' wound, but before he could speak, there was a rustling noise, causing all three of them to turn, seeing Cloud storming through the trees, chopping through everything in his path, the others, save for Aerith, not far behind.

"There's that life-ruining whore!" Cid shouted, raising his torch, which, despite providing that little classy touch of lynch mob elegance, was completely unnecessary, since it was, like, two thirty in the afternoon.

But, y'know, presentation counts.

After a brief second of staring at the approaching mob, 'Jim-Jam' redoubled her efforts, trying to pack up faster so they could get out of there, while Tifa just stood, staring at them, seeing the way they stopped, looks of confusion on their faces as they looked between 'Jim-Jam' and herself.

"...Dear God, she's multiplying!" Yuffie gasped, stopping short, clutching her pitchfork close to her chest, eyes narrowing, though her comment threw Tifa for a loop.

"Oh, come on! We don't even look remotely alike!" She protested tiredly, shaking her head. "Don't tell me that, when I'm not around, you just take out your psychotic aggressions on anyone that happens to have a sizeable chest and long brown hair."

"And if we do?" Cloud challenged, scowling, boot scraping on the ground as he edged forward menacingly, trying to claw his still dripping wet hair from his eyes, cringing as the extra hold gel burned as it dripped into them.

Both sides glowered at one another, Tifa and 'Jim-Jam' wondering if they could beat the other AVALANCHE members, caught up, as they were, in their overly pretentious rage.

"Okay, everybody, just take it easy. I mean, you're going about this all wrong." 'Greg' started, climbing slowly to his feet, his missing vestigial body part forgotten about. "See, when things get tough, and a relationship goes bad, you can simply just blame it on Tifa, and decide that burning her with torches and stabbing her through the head with a pitchfork will solve your woes. Or, you can go back to Aerith, apologize, and try to win her back with puppies and romantic cards with chimpanzees on the front. And maybe, I'd apologize for trying to kill Tifa out of some poorly defined plot point. But I'm just saying, yanno. I'm not you. But just think about it for a bit, and decide if this is really the way you want to go about things."

At this, he put both hands up, wardingly, in a gesture of non-aggression on his part, just wanting to see this all blow over.

Unfortunately, with both hands up like that, neither keeping his pants held up around his hips, his pants promptly dropped to his ankles, causing him to look down in mortified embarrassment, his placating tirade ruined.

Oh, what a horrible day to go commando.

He quickly bent to get his pants back up, acutely aware of all eyes locked onto him, and, more importantly, what he was trying to cover up.

"Don't see what you're so embarrassed about." Cloud shrugged conversationally, causing 'Greg' to look up at him, eyes wide in shock and horror.

From her spot at the kidnapping sack, 'Jim-Jam''s head snapped up at the pseudo compliment, her jaw dropping.

"Dude! I fucking knew it! You are gay! Probably for that guy!" She crowed victoriously, pointing at Cloud and Vincent.

Great, he almost had them. Oh 'Jim-Jam', why were you created to be such a bitch? It's not helpful in the least. Simply obnoxious. And in this situation, severely detrimental.

'Greg' hitched up his pants hastily and scrambled towards Tifa and 'Jim-Jam' as the irate group started after them, shouting for blood. Luckily, Tifa actually knew what to do in these situations, and reached into the bag, pulling out the BB-gun and aiming towards them, causing them all to stop short, while 'Greg' kept running, taking refuge near 'Jim-Jam', and helping her shove all their worldly possessions back in the bag.

"Shit! She's got a gun!" Barret shouted warily as they all stopped short, not wanting to incite her rage, given that she had a rather non-lethal weapon in her possession.

But, come on, the bitch is dangerously crazy. Who knows what she could do with that thing?

"Damn right I do! Now don't come any closer, or I could leave a welt on any one of you! And if any of you have some sort of tin or aluminum can..." She trailed off ominously, a wicked glint in her eye.

"You wouldn't." Cid challenged lowly, lighting a fresh cigarette off of his torch, staring her down, though Tifa just shrugged, swinging the gun around towards Vincent, taking aim, and firing.

"Aw! My Shasta!" He gasped in horror as the weak projectile hit the can of pop he had been holding, puncturing a hole in it, the orange liquid fizzing out all over his claw.

Oh my gosh. Aren't I so random and funny? He, like, had a can of orange pop for no explicitly apparent reason! I am an effin' comedy mastermind!

"Oh, what now! I win the day, dumb ass!" Tifa shouted at them, victorious for once in this sort of situation, for, even as the rest of AVALANCHE started towards them, 'Greg' simply snapped his fingers, uber-powers getting them the Hell out of there finally.

The loss of their intended targets was all it took for their burning hatred to immediately stop, leaving them standing around restlessly, just staring at one another with little else to do at the moment, since lynching Tifa, 'Not very convincing Fake Tifa' and 'Greg' was no longer an option.

"So... uh, you guys want to order a Pizza or something?" Barret asked, despite the fact that they were in an isolated, derelict City, and there was most likely no Pizza places at all that would actually deliver there.

But then again, y'know, fanfic land.

"I don't care what we do!" Vincent snapped grumpily, throwing down his ruined, empty pop can, sulking.

Well, it looks like things worked out fine. Tifa and crew managed to inadvertently make Cloud and Aerith break up, and Vincent is as miserable as ever.

END THIRTEEN ('Bout Damn Time)

Rest of the story will be fan-friggin'-tastic, I promise. I don't know why I did the whole 'taking already used jokes and applying them in a God-awful 'fic' was used in this chapter and not one about humor, but I had to do something to try and spruce this chappy up.