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in telling him what happened, so she kept silent.
"Well, we'd better start opening up. Our coffee break's almost over, y'know."
"Okay," agreed Tifa. cloud was such a help to her in running this restaurant.
After the meteor incident, they decided to live together and run a new
restaurant together as a business. Cloud sometimes got uneasy with this settled
life, but Tifa thought it only natural. after all, everyone in Avalanche had
got used to life on the road.
Tifa tossed the message in the thrash basket as she set the chairs neatly on
the floor. Whoever that weird man was, he seemed almost obsessed with finding
Vincent.

Well, good luck to him, she mused. Vincent could be anywhere...even here in
busy Midgar. And with that, Tifa forgot the matter, and thought no more of it.
The bell in the City Tower tolled eleven times as the train noisily made its
way along the endless tracks. The passengers inside began gathering their
belongings and getting up as the train halted with a loud whistle and opened
its doors at the station. Many people flocked out, leaving the train
almost empty. Before the doors shut again, a loud voice announced over the
intercom, "Last destination: Sector 3, west of Midgar. Time of arrival: 11:32
P.M". Then, after a slight jolt, the train resumed its journey to the final
station.
Vincent dropped into a seat by the window, placing his hand under his chin. He
gazed at the dark skyline and the lonely moon that decorated the sky as the
train emerged from the tunnel, on its way to Sector 3.
The monotonous rumbling of the train on the tracks beat against his tired head,
but he responded by tightening his long, black coat around him, and shutting
his eyes firmly. Two other passengers across the car glanced at him
apprehensively and whispered between themselves. Vincent knew they were
discussing his metal claw and frightful appearance; they probably thought him a
criminal or some kind of psychopath. But he could care less what others thought
of him. Their opinion never mattered.
Vincent then felt a dull pain slowly forming in his chest. He gripped his chest
firmly and tightened his eyes in an attempt to soothe the agony. The pain,
however, steadily became sharper, but Vincent continued to clutch his chest,
trying to master the attack. suddenly, he bent over sharply and, with one hand
over his mouth, began coughing violently. Although he tried to control the fit,
he could feel his chest throbbing with intense pain as the seizure grew
unbearable. He sensed some warm liquid sprinkle on his hand that covered his
mouth, but the seizure felt as though it were squeezing the very life out of
him.
The two passengers gawked at him stupidly, as if they'd never seen a man cough,

then quickly retreated to the next car, grumbling about weirdoes and disgusting
disease.
After a minute of agonizing struggle, the coughing fit eased, and the pain
quickly disappeared. Vincent, gasping for breath, rubbed his forehead and wiped
away some beads of sweat from his pale face. He then noticed that the palm of
his hand which had covered his mouth during the fit had tiny splashes of blood
bespattering it. He examined his hand curiously, then wiped his mouth with the
back of it. As he suspected, there was some blood on his mouth. The liquid he
had felt was his blood.
"Damn," he whispered to himself, "this is getting bad."
The booming voice announced that the final destination was reached and that all
citizens were kindly requested to step off the train. Vincent immediately
dismounted. He looked around once, as if suspicious of some invisible enemy,
and then wrapped his black coat firmly around himself to avoid the chill air
that blew through the empty station.
With quick steps, he made his way out of the train station, and followed a
dingy alleyway into another narrow street. the cold air mercilessly stung his
face, but he felt slightly feverish because of that last coughing fit. After
clearing that street, Vincent reached the main square, which was bustling with
people eager to enjoy their weekends. Many bars had their doors wide open to
welcome customers. Young people weren't afraid to laugh out loud. Some couples
walked hand in hand along the shops as they whispered affectionately.
Vincent, however, felt the fever growing worse as he staggered along the square
among all the merry-makers. Lights and colors flashed around his head; strange
faces and figures danced in front of his eyes; unfamiliar sounds and voices
only threw him into more confusion. he stumbled over a
stone, but luckily gripped a low fence before falling to the ground. Feeling
the same, familiar ache beginning to form again, he grit his teeth resolutely.
Okay, decided Vincent, I am obviously in no condition to go any further... I
must get a hold on myself....

He collapsed with a tired sigh into a bench placed near a tree, and bending
over, covered his face with one hand. A young woman seated near him noticed his
sharp claw and immediately rose, then ran away in fear. Vincent, however, was
oblivious to anything save the dull