That morning, Johnny leaned against the rattling door of the cargo train. His green eyes looked up toward the massive steel plate of Midgar that blotted out the sky.
He was wearing modified combat armor. It's no longer the leather jacket he usually wears, but rather a suit that mimicked the SOLDIER style but prioritized function over form. A matte steel chest plate, smaller and more aerodynamic shoulder pauldrons, and combat cargo pants with an efficient tactical belt. There were no excessive, useless belts like Shinra's ridiculous designs. He hadn't forgotten his sunglasses, just in case.
Today was a serious mission. Tseng had given him A1 intelligence last night: Sector 4 had been infiltrated by G-Copies. These creatures were humanoid, clad in maroon armor, but they were no longer fully human. They were rotting meat puppets, the results of failed experiments that were now terrorizing civilians.
"There will be no mercy," Johnny muttered, his hand grazing the hilt of the Dragon Slayer on his back.
Upon arriving in Sector 5, Johnny went straight to the church. Aerith was already there, kneeling in the middle of the bed of lilies, her hands clasped in solemn prayer.
Johnny set his logistics rucksack down slowly next to Aerith's Plastic bag. Out of curiosity, he glanced into her slightly open bag: scented soap, a small towel, Potions, and... a piece of pink, frilly fabric.
Johnny's face heated up instantly. Damn it, he cursed internally. Back in his old life, he had seen Casca change clothes, but Casca wore chest bindings and masculine leather pants. Seeing such feminine women's underwear made him, awkward side panic.
Johnny cleared his throat, averting his gaze, and sat down next to Aerith. Their thighs touched, sending a comfortable warmth through him.
"Praying, Aerith?" Johnny asked softly.
Aerith opened one eye, smiling mischievously. "Praying for our safety, Johnny. And praying that you don't peek inside my bag."
Johnny choked on his own spit. "I-I didn't..."
Aerith chuckled, then turned serious again. "Of course, Johnny. You are a Cetra now. Let's pray together. The Planet wants to speak."
Ivalera appeared from behind Aerith's hair, whispering in Johnny's ear. "Try it, Knight. Whisper to the flower."
For Johnny, hearing the Lifestream wasn't entirely new. It often whispered directly to him, bringing messages or warnings of danger. But this time was different.
The Lifespring beneath this church possessed a greater power, making some people sensitive enough to hear those voices. However, hearing and speaking to flowers was limited only to the Cetra and astral beings like Moogles or Fairies like Puck and Ivalera.
"Oh Planet," Aerith whispered, "Grant us the strength to protect life from those who have forgotten how to live."
Johnny closed his eyes. Darkness. Silence. Then... small voices began to emerge.
"Fight well, Hero...""Your enemies are alive, yet without life...""They are shadows...""This is not the Planet's will, have pity on them...""Return them to us... turn them to dust..."
The whispers were numerous, overlapping like the hum of a thousand bees. Johnny frowned, his head throbbing slightly. The flowers weren't just telling him about the enemy, but also about the sadness of the soil in Sector 4—arid and full of pollution.
Johnny opened his eyes slowly. He stared at the lilies in front of him.
"I will do my best," he whispered to the petals.
Johnny stood up, then sat on a church pew, waiting for Aerith to finish her ritual.
"So?" Aerith asked after she finished, patting down her skirt. "Did you hear them?"
"I heard them," Johnny answered, his face grim. "They gave me a clue. The G-Copies... they aren't truly alive. The flowers said they are 'unreal entities.' And besides that... the flowers are sad. The land over there is sick."
"The land of Midgar is sick, Johnny," Aerith said softly. "But they are grateful to you. Because of your expensive fertilizer and the water you haul, they can survive in this church."
Johnny smiled faintly. "Is this what you hear every day?"
"Yes. Sometimes, if left uncontrolled, the voices can drive you crazy. So you have to learn to shut them off, Johnny. Use those 'ears' only when you want to, not all the time."
"How?"
"Shift your focus. Think about something else. Like... food? Or motorcycles?"
Johnny nodded, then opened his rucksack to double-check the logistics. Aerith packed her own bag inside.
"Wow," Aerith commented, looking at the contents of Johnny's bag. "What did you bring? Are we going on a picnic or opening a street stalls?"
"We're going to a place where there are no street stalls," Johnny answered seriously. "I brought thick blankets. If we have to sleep outside, you won't be cold."
Suddenly, Puck appeared. "Report, Princess! Earlier, the Boss was eyeing your underwear! I swear on my wings!"
"You little rat!" Johnny deftly pinched Puck's cheek.
"You pervert," Aerith giggled, her face flushing slightly. "But it's okay, Puck. Starting tomorrow, Johnny has to wash them if they get dirty, so he needs to get used to it."
Johnny's face turned bright red.
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The gate leading to Sector 4 was a labyrinth of rusted pipes and old, dead railway tracks. Squatting there were four men with... unique appearances.
One average height and one skinny (both bald), one fat with strange green hair, and one massive guy with a stupid look on his face. They were Beck, Burke, Butch, and Burt—the petty gang known as Beck's Badasses.
They were whispering excitedly.
"Vice-Boss Beck, how about we shake down people passing through here? Enough for some Buns," whispered Burke.
"Great idea! We'll just say we're 'Johnny's Special Forces.' They'll be scared and hand over their wallets!" Beck replied enthusiastically.
Johnny, whose hearing was sharp (especially now with his Cetra senses), snorted roughly. their whispering was as loud as someone speaking through a megaphone. Aerith even had to stifle a laugh at their stupidity.
Johnny sneaked up behind them, then grabbed Beck and Burke by the ears simultaneously.
"OW OW OW!"
"Just last year I told you no more extortion," Johnny's voice was cold and low. "Now you want to repeat it? Is the security money from the residents not enough, huh?"
The four thugs immediately stood at attention, giving a stiff, amateur military salute.
"SIR! SORRY COMMANDER JOHNNY!" they shouted in unison.
Last Year, Johnny had beaten them countless times on the Expressway and in the train graveyard. However, since they were stubborn but physically decent, Johnny finally recruited them as unofficial "security guards" for Sector 7 and the borders.
"Report," Johnny ordered.
Beck stepped forward, trying to look authoritative. "Reporting, Commander! The Sector 4 main route is safe from bandits, but there are a lot of mutated Grashtrikes (spiders). And... uh... there's a weird smell coming from the tunnel."
Beck handed over a shabby piece of paper containing a crude map of Sector 4 drawn with crayons. "Here's the layout, Boss."
"Good," Johnny said. He tossed a coin pouch containing 1000 Gil. "Buy yourselves some snacks. Return to the Sector 7 post. Guard the territory, and don't shake down grandmothers."
"YES BOSS!" They scrambled to grab the coins and ran off.
Ivalera shook her head. "Wow, turns out besides being a mechanic, you're also a gang boss."
Puck laughed. "Not just a gang boss. If Don Corneo is the Little King of Sector 6, Johnny is the Little King of Sector 7!"
Aerith glared, then pinched Johnny's waist hard. "Aww!"
"Ooooh, so that's how it is?" Aerith put her hands on her hips. "So all this time you bought me dresses, ribbons, and good food using dirty money from extorting shops?! You're mean, Johnny!"
"Hey, listen first! Puck is talking nonsense!" Johnny defended himself while rubbing his waist. "I don't extort! It's security service money!"
"Same thing!" Aerith pinched him again.
"It's different, Aerith!" Johnny explained frantically. "Before, lots of Wererat monsters and Hedgehog Pies were getting into the shops. I ordered Beck and his friends to exterminate the monsters and keep watch at night. The shop owners pay them voluntarily—well, half-voluntarily. That's better than them being street bandits, right?"
Aerith fell silent, weighing it up. "Hmm... alright. Makes sense. But still, that's extortion, Mr. Little King."
"There is no black and white in the Slums, Aerith," Johnny muttered. "As long as they don't get paid for doing nothing like the Shinra higher-ups who just sit in air-conditioned meetings, they're good people."
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Sector 4
The trek took half a day. As they crossed the rusted boundary gate, the atmosphere changed drastically.
Welcome to Sector 4—"The Electric Spider Web."
Sector 4 was an industrial utility area.
The ceiling above them was choked with thousands of black electrical cables as thick as a human thigh, dangling and tangling like the roots of a giant banyan tree. These cables emitted a constant, low humming noise that made teeth ache.
The buildings here were tall, dense concrete apartment blocks, making the alleyways below feel narrow and claustrophobic. Furthermore, shanties made of shipping containers or corrugated iron were built "tucked" between giant concrete pipes and plate support pillars.
The light here was strange. It came from "Sun Lamps"—blinding white floodlights from the factories above, illuminating the narrow, damp concrete streets. Thin mist from leaking steam pipes blanketed everything, creating poor visibility.
"It's so quiet..." Aerith whispered, pulling her pink bolero jacket tighter. The air felt charged with static electricity, making her fine hairs stand on end.
"No one on the streets," Johnny commented warily. His hand hovered near his sword hilt. "Usually at this hour, people would be active."
Aerith stopped near a concrete utility pole. She touched it gently, then pulled her hand back in shock.
"It hurts..." she whimpered.
"Why?"
"The electricity here... it's mixed with 'sick' Mako. And there's something else. Something that is... 'draining' the life around here."
Johnny drew the Dragon Slayer. The sound of metal sliding against the leather sheath rang loud in the silence of the alley.
His eyes caught something in a narrow alley between two empty apartment blocks. There was a trail of dark purple slime on the ground, smelling like rotting meat mixed with chemicals.
Johnny signaled with his hand: Stop.
His sharp eyes—now seeing small movements behind a pile of wet cardboard in the corner of the alley.
"Come out," Johnny's voice was low, not shouting.
The pile of cardboard moved. A thin old man, wearing a dirty and torn factory worker's vest, crawled out. His face was deathly pale, his eyes bulging wildly like a madman.
"D-don't kill me... I'm not one of them..." the man whimpered, his voice hoarse.
Aerith immediately lowered her Guard Stick and approached gently. "We aren't enemies, Sir. We are human."
The old man looked at Aerith's green eyes, then at the sword-wielding giant behind her. He seemed slightly relieved, but his body still shook violently.
"You have to run," the man whispered, gripping Aerith's jacket sleeve with dirty hands. "Run from this sector! The Red Soldiers... they eat people!"
"Red Soldiers?" Johnny asked, stepping closer. "Do you mean Shinra Troopers?"
"No!" The man shook his head hysterically. "They wear clothes like Shinra Troopers... but their faces... their faces are all the same! And their skin is melting... dripping purple slime..."
Johnny and Aerith looked at each other. Same faces? Degradation?
"They don't speak. They just... crack... crack..." The man mimicked the sound of breaking bones in horror. "They dragged my neighbor toward the main power substation. They need energy..."
Suddenly, Aerith gasped.
Her green eyes saw something Johnny missed. Above. Amongst the chaotic web of cables on the ceiling.
"Johnny! ABOVE!" Aerith screamed.
Johnny didn't ask questions; he trusted Aerith's warning 100%.
He immediately grabbed Aerith's waist, pulling her into the embrace of his armored chest, spun his body to put his back to the threat, and raised the Dragon Slayer over his head like a giant iron umbrella.
CLANG!!!
A split second later, a red shadow fell from the ceiling cables, slamming into the flat of Johnny's sword with enough force to crack the asphalt beneath their feet.
Purple slime dripped down, hissing as it touched the iron blade.
Johnny looked up. Perched on top of his sword was a humanoid creature in maroon armor, with a face that was... cracking.
A Genesis Copy.