Cid MFing Highwind
An interview with Captain Cid Highwind, 'mayor' of Rocket Town. Parental guidance suggested.
I'm Cid Goddamn Highwind. I'm stuck in this backwater burg because of @#$&ing Shinra, my middle brother's a tool, my youngest brother's kind of a pussy and SHERA KEEPS SPILLING THE GODDAMN TEA! Yeah. Life ain't so grand 'round these parts. Wanna know why? I'll @#$&ing TELL you why! It's the goddamn Shinra. They promised me everything. EVERYTHING! Be the first man in space, they said. You'll be famous, they told me. BULLSHIT! One loser with nothing to live for later, and I'm grounded, funding's gone, and I'm stuck here with these lowlives in this tourist trap!
Alright, alright. I'll start at the beginning. My dad left home pretty soon after my youngest brother Kain was born. It was just me, my ma, my younger brother Junior, given name Ricard the second, and Kain. I was the oldest, so I ended up doin' all the Man stuff while my brothers got to pretend they were dragoons. Not that I didn't get in on it, I'm alright at the stuff, but they're better. It's alright, though. My dreams were even higher than we jump. I wanted to actually fly.
My name helped out a lot. When Ricard was old enough, I left to study. Engineering, mechanics. Lemme tell ya, it was goddamn hard, but nothing like hard work to get ya through. Top of m'class, I was. I busted my ass day in and day out for @#$&ing years on this bullshit. Not quite a doctor, but I'm close. Right outta school, I got brought in for a Shinra special project. They were going to send a man to the stars, they said. The told me I could be that guy. I was fucking there.
I busted my goddamn hump for them now. Sure, they called me the Captain and it was great. I helped design the rocket. Yeah, that goddamn eyesore over there. It was my baby. We worked for /years/ on that thing. I saw my family occasionally, my brothers were getting to be men by this point, and ma was starting to get up there. I felt bad that I missed 'em growin' up, but that's what happens when you let the dream grab you. You go wherever it leads and you don't give two shits about who you leave behind. Until it's broken, anyway.
So we get the rocket built, and we're runnin' tests, it's another half year til we're ready to test fly the sonofabitch. I'm goin' grey from the stress and shit, but finally, we're ready. We're set to shoot the @#$&er into space. There I was, strapped in, as excited as I was the last time I saw my old man before he went off for the last time. Countdown's going, but Shera, goddamn /Shera/ was doing /something/ in the engine bay. She wouldn't leave. She was just gonna /die/. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn't just @#$&ing murder her to get what I wanted. wouldn't be right. I killed the launch. And my goddamn career.
Shera was fine, but Shinra was pissed. They pulled my funding, except for a meager, and I mean /really goddamn meager/ holding stipend. They pay me to live here and run Rocket Town and mind the rocket. I fucking hate 'em. ...Don't publish that, it might get me shot. Still, it's better'n not having a place to live. Speaking of places to live, Shera lives with me. ... Don't look at me like that! It's not goddamn like that you sick asshole! She just feels guilty or some bullshit. No matter how many times I tell her to get on with her life and leave an old failure to rot, she won't leave. She makes sure I eat, she makes sure I don't drink too much. ...It's kinda like havin ma around again, only better l--nevermind.
So here I sit. Workin' on my plane, the Tiny Bronco. Yeah it flies. Why wouldn't it? I built it! I don't do a lot except mind the town for the Shinra and the Empire or whatever, work on my plane and stare at the stars. I'd sell my soul to whatever god or devil you've got to get up there. Won't happen, though. Least not 'til Shinra decides there's money in it.
What about the Church? I don't give a shit. They don't piss with me, I don't piss with 'em. Same for the poor saps they're hunting. I ain't gonna turn 'em in, but they'd best not mess with my shit. ...Don't print that either. I'm too old for their inquisition shit.
The Rebels? Well, I understand 'em, but I'm too old to go galavanting across Ivalice, tryin' to squash tyranny. 'sides, if I squashed 'em, who'd pay me? Nobody! That's who!
Alright. I've yapped enough. Get outta here. Shera! Where's my goddamn tea!? Don't skimp on the sugar this time, either!