always ahead

     He has to swallow a few times before he can speak, and then: that’s all. A slurred apology through gritted teeth thrown into the darkness, and for... —for who, exactly? He isn’t sure, still disoriented, gloved hands searching aimlessly around the floor he’s lying on only to find scattered glass and thin strips of sunlight touching pavement. There’s a smashed-in corner store on his left and a open-door car on his right, but aside from that, what’s the most he can remember? 

     No contract? No obligations.

     He can remember that. He can remember pink and flashing sirens and giant marquees scrolling in neon, SHINRA ELECTRIC COMPANY plastered in paint through-out the streets while he’s inhaling the surrounding smoke following a still-building fire. He pulls himself to his feet, shakily, but not before giving himself a quick stare down. Solid, but dirty, with a 9mm at his waist. The blonde hesitates, grimacing, but it’s his gut that says it’ll fit perfectly in his hand and that he’s not all that bad of a shot.

     Too damn proud for your own good is what you are, Cloud.

     Cloud. The type of guy who can take a hint, who’s often prone to guilt. Right. It’s coming back, albeit slowly. Before he can ponder on the memories a little further, though, there’s the swift crack of glass and danger crawling cold up his back. Something, or someone, is still here.