They'd made attempts to talk all through the night, speculating on where Teri was going and what she'd be doing, their childish imaginations making each suggestion more far-fetched than the last.  All the while they held each other, as if fearing the other would vanish the moment they let go.  "I love you, too, Teri." he replied as the scientist came to collect her.  He'd be punished for this, he knew, but it didn't matter.  Nothing they could do would ever be worse than watching his best friend walk away.  She paused at the door, however, looking back at him with a bright smile and a confidence that made him believe it was true.  He'd see her again.  He swore it.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">~13 years later~<br/>​</div><i>"I love you, Lucien."<br/>
<br/>
"We will see each other again...one day."<br/>
</i><br/>Lucien held on to those words throughout the years.  The Procedure had been horrible, a cruel abomination of science that had attempted to turn him into a weapon.  The horrific experiments, the brutal training, the loneliness, it had all finally come to a head a two years ago.  They had succeeded in their mission, but not how they'd expected.  They couldn't strip away his humanity, not with Teri's last words still keeping him grounded, becoming almost like a mantra for him.  Utilizing the power and training they'd given him, he'd finally taken his freedom and escaped ShinRa Tower, the only home he had ever known.  Without Teri, it was no home at all.<br/><br/>Living in the slums of Midgar was a difficult life, no longer having his needs provided for.  Bahamut's instincts were strong, though, the dragon inadvertently teaching him everything he needed to know about hunting.  The Eidolon's power wasn't without its difficulties, though.  Sleep never came easy for Lucien, his draconic senses spreading out at random times and taking in sensory information from his surroundings.  He could count the raindrops falling on the plate up above, feel each individual impact like drumming on his brain, the skittering of rats in the piles of trash and scrap that had piled up over the years, no one caring enough about the people down below to do anything about it.  With a sigh, Lucien turned onto his back in the ramshackle shed he'd made into his home at the edge of the playground on the border of Sectors 6 and 7, trying and failing to ignore the thumping headache in his temples from the sensory overload.  "Can you just give me some peace and quiet for a few hours?" he asked the empty air.  Silence was his only answer.  The dragon was being sullen again.  It wasn't his fault, he hated sharing his body with Bahamut as much as the Eidolon hated being trapped in him.  What was he to do, though?<br/><br/>Nothing for it, Lucien tossed off his blanket and got dressed.  The loose black pants and form-fitting shirt that stretched over his well-muscled torso were reminiscent of the standard SOLDIER uniform, but the<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.barska.com%2Fmedia%2Fcatalog%2Fproduct%2Foptimized%2F9%2Fe%2F9e0f66ffd154afbbdcfb361a7e9a15c6%2Fbi12016-main.jpg&amp;hash=85d00b43931364e001050b3f37c0f41f" href="https://www.barska.com/media/catalog/product/optimized/9/e/9e0f66ffd154afbbdcfb361a7e9a15c6/bi12016-main.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">tactical vest</a>was specially made for him to hold his weapon loadout, heavy .50 cal pistol holsters with attached thigh sheaths for twin short swords.  His enhanced strength and senses were ideal for dual wielding weapons.  The clothing and weapons were the only things he'd taken with him when he fled ShinRa Tower, the tattered and faded overcoat he tossed over it all was found later on to help him hide, the attached hood concealing his face, his shoulder length silvery hair and his bright blue, slit-pupiled eyes.  The dead giveaway of what he was now.<br/><br/>His pupils contracted as he opened the door to his darkened shed and stepped into the artificially lit outside.  There was no sunlight in the slums, only the lamps attached to the plate above.  At least none of them were burned out today.  It hardly mattered for him, but it made it hard for anyone else to see down here, especially since ShinRa was never in much of a hurry to replace them.  After a quick check of his equipment: five spare magazines for his pistols, an empty Enemy Skill materia he'd found the other day, a few pieces of dried meat; he realized that he was getting low on ammo.  He knew he should just mind his own business, shouldn't get involved.  It was dangerous, he risked exposure every time.  But, Teri'd want him to help.  "Better salvage, I guess.  Find something useful to trade." he muttered to himself, straightening his hood before heading out into the scrap piles.  He thought he'd seen something by the old church in Sector 5 the other day.  Maybe he'd get lucky and it'd still be there.