(no title) (original) (raw)

Title: Cigarette Break
Author: Lazaefair
Characters: nameless OMC, OFC
Notes: Uh...I know this is pretty bad writing. But I love the idea of a community devoted to Midgar.

Somewhat-unrelated question: are fics/art about Edge also allowed?

White, white everywhere, and no color to relieve the eye at all.

Except green Mako. Oh yes. Even the various grotesque colors of the creatures housed in the oversized test tubes lining the walls are muted into the shimmery green of Mako.

And the blood, let's not forget that. Richly dark and shocking (even when it's blue or green or black), it still gets washed away quickly. And always, always, everything else white and fluorescent.

People get washed out here. Pale-skinned, redheads, olive-tanned, black-haired, blondes, it doesn't matter. The lab coats cover any individual quirks in clothing, and everyone, with few exceptions, speaks in bland, emotionless monotone.

"Going on break so soon?" Amused sarcasm, from a veteran to a newbie.

"Yeah. It'll just be a minute."

The anonymous scientist doesn't offer any excuses for his sudden flight. Excuses are useless here.

But, gods. He has to get out. Now.

Stepping outside the building is an overwhelming sensory shock--spending ten straight hours in that godsforsaken lab grates the nerves to a singing, quivering edge, especially for a wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn. The cigarette is practically heaven, and he follows the smoke trail up with his eyes as he exhales.

It's actually a relatively nice day for Midgar, with a hint of milky blue sky fighting its way through the ever-present smog, and the sun shining for all its worth through the same smog to provide non-fluorescent warmth and light for his tired eyes. Gleaming steel towers sprout out of the plate like bizarre flowers. He can almost swear to see them gently bending and swaying in the wind like actual plants, weighed down by small creatures scurrying about on two legs.

A high screech draws his attention--and the spate of vicious cursing that follows draws a smile. Good old Midgarian taxicabs. He's ridden on them before and if it wasn't for his tough city-dweller shell, he'd never do it again.

And somewhere, somewhere in that jumbled forest of steel and rust is a quiet redhead who ekes out a living in a tiny apartment, on a student budget. She's not native to Midgar, a (relatively) unspoiled soul who's come to Midgar University to further her dreams of getting out of the backcountry. The scientist's heart almost aches for her every time he thinks of her anywhere in conjunction with the fast, dark complexities of the big city. So many ways to slip off the edge and be lost somewhere in the callous heart of Midgar.

Hell--she's dating a guy who works for ShinRa, the proverbial evil empire. And he's working for Hojo to boot, the kind of person who gets adjectives like 'soulless' and 'creepy bastard' and worse, especially since Gast and Lucrecia are gone. The cigarette doesn't taste so good anymore, and the smile turns bitter.

If he knows what's good for her, he'll send her back to the boonies. Keep her far, far away, because even the top of the plate is tainted. If it weren't for his cynical, amoral, city-dweller selfishness, he'd send her away, but honestly? This is Midgar, not some arcane age of chivalry.

He'll hold on to her naivete and whatever else makes her special until it's gone, because he was born and raised in Midgar. He is Midgar. Everyone who arrives here by birth or train or airship becomes Midgar. And it's incredibly draining.

The sudden squeak of the door surprises him. It's the same veteran, come out for a break of her own, lighting up her own cigarette and wearily inhaling.

He drops his stub on the dirty cement--you'd think ShinRa would be able to keep its own parking garage clean, but no--and rubs it out.

"Gone on break so soon?"

"Yeah. Just a minute, huh?"