Hero of the Day

***

"Now deservingly this easy chair…
…But the rocking's stopped by wheels of despair."

--Metallica; "Hero of the Day"

***

Part V

***

Karter didn't like it.

That girl and her little group of rejects that came in from the Badlands—as they were starting to be called by various survivors—were up to no good, and he knew it. She was somehow familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Unfortunately, to makes matters worse, he hadn't even been able to see her band of friends, because it was so damned dark. He almost missed the constant red tinge that Meteor gave off even in the darkest of corners. Almost.

He was wary of anyone that wanted to join his group. He could never be too sure when one of those rotten scum Avalanche decided to come striding in and wreak havoc. His callused hand rubbed against the side of his revolver softly, caressing it like a lover. It had become his closest companion of late. That Shinra issue .22 was the only thing in the world that didn't leave him when the Sector One explosion destroyed his brother's home. It was the only thing that survived when his home on top of the Sector Seven plate was obliterated as it plummeted down below, killing everyone on both sides of it. That gun was the one thing he could count on using as he watched dozens of Mako-poisoned people scream to whatever God they believed in for simple death, which he begrudgingly obliged to them.

He stepped into Kalm town, his steel gray eyes washing over the desolate village that lay before him, a foul taste coating the back of his throat. To think that those murderous cowards could possibly be standing there, laughing gleefully at their turmoil. Black-hearted bastards.

He sniffed the air disdainfully. "We're here," he announced, somewhat unnecessarily.

No one in the broken mob seemed to acknowledge his presence, or his words. He didn't blame them; if he weren't forced to lead the rag-tag crowd, he would have been lost in a trance as well. Such was the fate of the leader.

"Good," Cas sighed, running a hand through his thick mop of unruly brown hair. "The question is what do we do now?"

He blinked, a bit surprised at the simplicity of the question, when he again brought his dark gaze to the small town, each building's side dotted with people from all walks of life. "I'm not sure," he replied, slightly disillusioned. Sometimes, he had to force himself to remember that the movie's end didn't mean the story's end. Damn life and her twists of fate. "We should try and look for some place to sleep, obviously."

"No," the waif of a man answered quickly. "That's secondary."

He blinked again, taken aback. "What?"

"What we need," Cas began, "is supplies. Food, water, materia, potions, anything. Shelter alone won't keep these people alive."

He harrumphed to the smaller man, frowning, mocking him mentally. 'Shelter alone won't keep these people alive.' Blah, blah, blah. The only reason he put up with him was because he seemed to be a more soothing presence to people than he. Then again, his first instinct when seeing a survivor was to shoot them square between the eyes, and put them out of their misery. But, that was just him. "If you want to try and hunt for supplies, go ahead," he instead spoke aloud. "But, at the moment, I doubt anyone here cares about they *need*, only about what they *want*. And, right now, what these people probably want is a place to *sleep*."

"He's got a point," someone in the throng muttered. Several grunts of approval spread through the crowd, and soon, everyone was shuffling off to the nearest available space, searching for a bed.

Smirking triumphantly, Karter turned his gaze to Cas, whom remained steadfastly silent. "Let's go and find a place to rest, shall we?"

"I'm going to scrounge for supplies," the shorter man stated definitely, stalking off to any nearby shops.

He was weak; too concerned with others' opinions and wishes. Not leader material at all. He wondered if any of the people in the rag-tag group thought the same thing. He wouldn't have been surprised.

"What's up?"

Casting a slight glance over his shoulder, he caught sight of the scrawny girl he picked up a few minutes prior. Resisting the urge to snort, he calmly strode away into the dimly lit town, bypassing the various sickly refugees huddled next to each other.

Still, the girl refused to give up. "How's it going?" she asked, scampering up beside him.

He continued forward, refusing to speak.

Coming to a halt, the girl—Yuffie, he thought her name was—put her hand on her petite hip; a strange sight when her left arm was hanging limply by her side for some reason. "Don't you know it's *rude* to ignore someone when they're talking to you?"

"Shut up, brat, and leave the man alone," another voice interrupted sternly.

Karter froze in mid-step, his dark gray eyes wide. He recognized that voice, somehow. Slowly turning, he laid eyes upon a hulking figure, with a gun for an—no. It couldn't be. As the man neared, the fire-lit tail of the creature he had on his shoulders flickered near his face, and his entire world was sent into a spin of horror, amazement, and hatred.

"Hey, it's not *my* fault the guy wasn't talking to me," Yuffie countered smugly, unaware of his presence.

"Ya started yappin' in his ear. He had every right to ignore ya," the man shot back.

Finally able to move his mouth, Karter glared at the terrorist mastermind whom was responsible for the deaths of his entire family. "Barret," he hissed menacingly, drawing his weapon.

Yuffie's eyes widened, watching the action commence. "Aw, *shit*."

---

Barret frowned, glancing about suspiciously. He had a bad feeling about this place. The vibe he was getting was of too many people, too close together, carrying *way* too much of a grudge for his liking. Self-consciously, he felt the cool metal of his right arm brushing against his thigh as he trudged along, searching for any place that could have any restorative items. From the looks of things, though, it didn't seem that Kalm had many—or any—supplies left to offer them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone glaring at him, their round eyes narrowing as he passed.

Yup. He had a bad feeling about this place. And it wasn't going away any time soon.

"Barret."

His eyes snapped up in the direction of his name being said, and instantly noticed he was staring down the barrel of a Shinra-issued .22 automatic pistol, the shiny metal glinting dangerously in the dim light.

Dammit. He should've known it was only a matter of time before someone noticed him.

And, not surprisingly, the first mouth he heard shooting off was the brat's.

"Aw, *shit*."

Half of him wanted to punch her. With the gun arm. She wasn't much of a ninja if she couldn't keep her damn mouth shut. The other half overruled the idea, though, as he noticed the muscled figure distractedly turning to face her. Seeing his chance, he raised his right arm, aiming directly at his tanned head.

"Barret, no!" Red exclaimed, sinking his fangs into the leathery skin of his shoulder.

The bullets missed their target, dust and debris pluming upwards as he growled in pain, teetering to the ground. "*Ow*! Goddammit, Red!" he boomed as he dropped to one knee. Pushing himself into a run before the psycho in front of him could get a clean shot, he cried, "What da hell'd ya do *that* for?!"

"To keep you from damning yourself," he replied matter-of-factly.

Never one to run from a fight, he ignored Red's psychobabble, pivoting on his foot to face his attacker. Refugees scattered the open areas, scampering into alleyways and doorways for some possible cover. The enraged man turned his attention back to him, roaring as he unsuccessfully tried to aim through the stampede of panicked people.

Yuffie snapped out of her stupor, barreling towards him with her numb and useless shoulder. In a blink of an eye, she slammed into him, sending him careening into the ground. Before Barret the chance to take another shot at him, a small man with wild brown hair raced into the square, his bright green eyes wide with shock. He recognized him as the leader of the pack, Cas. The guy had guts, that was for sure. It wasn't everyday that someone ran *into* a firefight. "Stop!" he shrieked, holding his pale arms out wide.

Lethargically, the inhabitants of Kalm came to a halt, their dirt-covered faces cautiously poking out of their hiding spaces which they still cowered in. With a flourish, Yuffie pried herself off of the prone gunman, who was currently lying on the ground, 'mistakenly' kicking him once in the side. Growling hatefully, the large man rose to his feet, waving off the attempts of help from Cas.

"Karter," he exclaimed, "I heard gunshots, what happened?"

Karter's dark eyes hardened in rage, his chiseled lips curling down unnaturally into a scowl. "*He* fired on me," he hissed, nodding his head in Barret's direction.

Slowly, everyone's eyes fell to rest upon him. Inwardly, their piercing gazes sent his skin into a crawling frenzy, and his stomach into a dance routine. Outwardly, though, he was just pissed. "That was 'cuz *he* pointed a gun at *me*!"

Cas' eyes flitted from him to Karter's, unbelieving. "Is this true?" he questioned to no one in particular, his posture expectant.

The night air was silent, the only sound prevailing being a small, blustering wind. His stomach flipped upside- down, a tingling sensation shooting down his leathery skin. No one had even uttered his name, and everyone already hated him. Not much of a confidence booster.

Resolutely, Yuffie stepped forward, her elfin face raised upward in determination. "I can vouch for him."

"You want us to believe *you*?" the muscled man snapped.

"And why not?" she demanded.

"You attacked me without provocation!" he shouted, his face reddening in anger.

"You pulled a gun on him, that's all the provocation I need," she retorted, putting her hand on her hip.

Cas frowned, running his hand through his thick chocolate mane. "Alright, just tell me this, Karter. Why?"

Karter blinked, his posture betraying his surprise. "You mean, you don't recognize him?"

Cas glanced between the two of them, furrowing his brows. "Sure, he seems a bit familiar, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Barret suppressed a groan, bracing himself for what was to come.

The surprise dissolved into anger and hatred, and it clearly showed in his voice. "That's *Barret*. The leader of Avalanche."

Gasps of shock wafted from the crowd, and the gentle wind swiftly became twenty degrees cooler, chilling him to the bone. Putting up a front of strength, he set his jaw, staring straight ahead as Karter casually strolled forward. "Why so silent? Aren't you going to deny your charges?" he demanded.

"Wait," Yuffie interrupted, stalking forward. "Since when did this become a trial?"

"Since all the courts were destroyed when Meteor hit," Karter replied, glimpsing to Barret meaningfully.

"You never exactly told us what we're charged with," Red said calmly, attempting to be the voice of reason.

Karter smirked coldly, his gaze never wavering. "You want to know what you're charged with, do you?" Stepping away, he pivoted on his heel, clasping his hands behind his back. "How about we start with murder?" Casting a glare over his shoulder, he began pacing around him, like a tiger circling its prey. "The murder of all those innocent people in Sector One."

He remained silent, grinding his jaw.

"You have no proof—"

"Shut up, Red," Barret declared quietly. "Ya don't gotta defend me."

"Or, how about the bombing in Sector Five, hm?" he hummed, almost jovially. "But let's not forget the depraved act of destroying the Sector Seven pillar, murdering everyone in their sleep?" Karter persisted.

He blinked. "What?! We ain't responsible for that!" he stated defiantly. "It was them godda—"

"Or, how about your worst crime of all," Karter continued, unabated. "The calling of Meteor, with the intent of destroying everyone to make yourself a God."

"What da hell you talkin' 'bout?!" he bellowed, his eyes wide. "We didn't summon Meteor, we *stopped* it!"

"It's true," Red spoke. "It was Sephiroth that called Meteor; not us."

Karter scowled. "Oh, please. If you're going to lie, try to come up with something a little better than *that*. Sephiroth's been dead for years."

"I got *proof*," he said, nodding to Yuffie. "You were wit us, Yuffie. Didn't we stop Meteor?"

Karter glanced over his shoulder, his gray eyes locked onto her ebony ones. "You were in league with Avalanche?"

She stood there for several moments, her mouth agape. Barret couldn't understand what she had to contemplate. She helped save the *world*. She seemed pretty damn adamant about it on the Highwind, before it nose-dived into the ground. What was her problem now?

To his shock, and confusion, she mutely shook her head, melting back into the crowd.

"Yuffie!" he barked angrily. "Goddammit, brat! Tell 'em da truth!"

Karter nodded sagely, coming to a halt in front of him. "So, then, it's true."

Barret snarled, struggling to hold himself in place. "You gonna regret this! I got *friends*, ya know!"

"Things like you have *friends*?" Karter snapped, disgusted.

Growling, Barret stalked forward, jabbing his one hand into Karter's shoulder. "Jes you look right here, bitch. I dunno what da hell crawled up *your* ass, but I don't gotta deal wit this shit! I *didn't* destroy da Sector Seven pillar, and I sure as *hell* didn't call Meteor!"

Karter frowned, his face suddenly impassive. "Fine then," he stated coldly. "Prove it."

"How da hell am I gonna prove it if ya ain't gonna listen to me?!" Barret retorted. Shaking his head, he sighed. "Look, I don't got time for this bullshit. I got friends—" He gave Yuffie a glare. "—I need ta help." Glancing around to the mob of angry faces, he added, "And I know I ain't gettin' it here." He turned to leave.

"You'll never leave this town alive," Karter hissed threateningly.

Barret whirled around, his face explosive. "'Scuse me? What da hell you jes say ta me?"

At some point, a gun materialized in Karter's strong hand, aiming directly at his head. "I'll kill you before I allow you to hurt other innocent people."

"Bitch, try it."

As Karter opened his mouth to speak, Cas stepped in front of him, interjecting him with, "How about this. You stay here tonight, and tomorrow we'll convene a hearing—"

He snorted. "A 'hearing'. That a fancy word for 'death sentence'?"

"It's either that, or his way," Cas stated flatly, nodding back towards the snarling gunman.

Barret paused, taking in his surroundings, and noticing for the first time a small tear-stained face peeking through the crowd.

Marlene.

Dear God, she'd heard everything. How could he explain it to her if he left again? Or shot someone right in front of her? Sighing, he nodded. "Aight. I'll do it yer way."

Karter huffed, shaking his head wearily. "I guess I'll have to play by the rules, too, huh?" he quipped, putting his gun away. Nodding to two larger people in the crowd, he directed them to Barret. "Are you two from Kalm?"

They nodded silently.

"Good," he answered. "Put him in the strongest cell here."

Barret glared at him. "What?"

"You still stand accused, Wallace," he sneered. "And, according to Shinra law, it's guilty until proven innocent."

"I don't see no damn Shinra suits here!" Barret retorted, his dark eyes flaring in fury.

Cas sighed wearily, rubbing his eyes with his slender fingers. "Well, we're still under Shinra jurisdiction. Unless, of course, you have any *better* ideas."

"Yeah. How 'bout innocent 'til proven guilty, for once?" he declared.

"Not in this world," Karter growled, turning away.

"Goddamn Shinra bastards…" Barret muttered, begrudgingly following the two hulking figures in front of him. As the led him through the town, he heard the various things screamed at him, the words pelting at him like a harsh winter rain.

"Murderer!"

"Terrorist!"

"Monster!"

He let the façade of bravado crumble, and his face fell in sadness and regret. Marlene must have been there the whole time, as they said the most horrible things about him, degrading his name and his honor in the worst ways. And, unfortunately, they were right. He didn't regret fighting for the Planet's sake. If he were faced with the same choices, he'd do it all over again.

Still, he wasn't proud of the fact that he killed innocent people. Nor was he proud of the fact that he was forced to hide in the shadows like a coward in order to survive. Most of all, he wasn't proud of the fact that his daughter would some day have to learn about what he did, and accept it. Or worse yet, hate him for it. It was frightening to think of what he'd done to those people out there, because of his cause.

It was frightening to think of what he'd done to his daughter, because of his cause.

He was snapped back to reality as he was lightly pushed into the dank cellar of the local item store, the only light source coming from a small—conveniently barred—window on the farthest wall. He was led down the stairwell, and listened disinterestedly as he heard the door above slam shut, the scratching sound of something heavy being pushed in front of it.

Tomorrow was his day of reckoning.

His day of reckoning coming in the form of the very people he saved.

He *knew* he had a bad feeling about this place.

Go on to Part VI