Sanguis Jus Soli

Shin-Ra Headquarters
Reunion


Cid circled above the Shin-Ra building, searching for the landing pad. Flipping off switches and nozzles that were unnecessary, he flipped his landing gear switch and felt the aircraft groan. The wheels slid into place and he found the landing pad. Slowly, he circled the building as he began his descent.

The ruined windows loomed ominously into his cockpit. He shook his head and flipped on the PHS comm channel. “Cid here. I'm landing at the pad right now. I've gotta shut down some of my systems and lock Highwind II down though. I got a few minor problems on my HUD (Heads-Up Display) unit right now.”

Vincent's cool voice slid back into the speakers, “We will be awaiting your arrival. We are in the lobby. Meet us there.”

Cid nodded to himself and shut off the PHS channel. For some reason he felt uneasy around the Shin-Ra building. Not only did it bring back bad memories but it also felt somehow alive in spite of the rust and shattered glass.

His turbines whined as he throttled his fuel line back, shunting power from the engines to the VTOL thrusters. The ship shuddered violently and Cid quickly looked around his cockpit. “What the hell?!”

Blood trickled down from the top of his ship onto the glass pane and he cursed. “Fuck! I just cleaned that yesterday!” Switching on his monitor system, he checked the roof and saw a body lying there, a note in his right hand.

“Gods!” Cid yelled as he quickly set the craft down on the landing pad. The building groaned in protest against the sudden shift in weight. The landing pad tilted slightly and Cid now had second thoughts against landing here. Quickly, he scanned the area around him and saw that the entrance of the building was wide enough to accommodate his aircraft.

Flipping on his PHS, Cid yelled, “I'm putting the Highwind II down! Some dead guy's on my roof and this landing pad's gonna break if I land my ship here. I'm coming down to the entrance now. Stand back while I land; this baby's engines aren't anything to laugh at.”

He clicked the communications system off and struggled against his yoke as the craft suddenly decided it was unstable. Cursing louder, he checked his readouts and saw the VTOL thruster was giving out for some unexplainable reason. “Don't have much choice then, do I?”

Manuevering the plane into a negotiable position, Cid slowly lowered the ship to the ground. On his console, the warning light shut down strangely, and the engines began to whine louder. Leaves and broken glass were flung by the air out-takes of the aircraft as it slowly hovered a few inches above the ground. Cid checked the distance, shut down his systems, and let the aircraft fall the rest of the way. With a loud thud, Highwind II landed.

The systems slowly droned down to a dim whine and then shut off completely. Cid sat there for a moment, nerves slightly frazzled by the sudden turn of events. Shaking off the numb feeling, he flipped the exit safety off and felt cogs and turbines whirling beneath him.

Slowly, a crack formed underneath his chair and spread to the rest of the cockpit's belly. Powerful hydraulics boomed as the chair disconnected from the main circuits of power and coupled to the landing sub-systems. The hydraulics whined slightly in protest as the chair slid effortlessly down to the ground. As it reached just a few inches above surface, Cid clicked a few of the buttons, heard a high, whiney tone and smirked. At least the operations system was working without a hitch.

He got up from the chair and let it ascend back into the aircraft. Immediately, his attention was on the thing that had impaled itself on the Highwind II's antennae and various sensitive electronics. Using the ladder he had installed up the height of the aircraft, Cid climbed up and took a look.

A grimace formed on his lips around the cigarette, “Fuck, what the hell happened to you bud?” Cid slowly climbed on top of the Highwind II and did his best to dislodge the body from the broken radio antennae. Luckily, his PHS-equipped antennae had survived unscathed, but the guy hadn't been so fortunate.

His face looked like someone had taken a leave raker to it, his chest looked like he'd been mauled by a chainsaw, and half of his right arm was ripped to shreds by what looked like teeth marks. “Who could do this?” Cid asked to himself as he bloodied his gloves as he freed the body.

“Cid!” Vincent called out as he left the building and entered the small courtyard where the Highwind II had landed. Cid waved over to him, “Some poor bastard got skewer'd on my antennae!”

“The hell?” Vincent muttered under his breath as he walked a bit faster to the Highwind II. Meanwhile, Cid finally pulled the last antenna out of the guy's neck, resulting in a spurt of blood from the previously plugged artery. The blood spat into his face and he cursed, “God dammit! First, my ship and now me?”

Ripping out a cloth from his belt, he cleaned his face and felt the ship tilt slightly as it adjusted to Vincent's weight. “...This is unnerving.” Vincent said callously as he swung his body over the short rail and onto the curved top of the ship.

Cid nodded to the body as Vincent inspected it, “Help me toss this guy o'erboard, arright?”

Vincent nodded and picked up the legs. Cid followed suit with the arms. “Alright, on the count of three, toss 'em to the right. Got it?” Vincent nodded and Cid swung the body to the left.

The ship groaned as the two men swung the heavy man back and forth on the top of the aircraft, trying to keep their balance as well as the plane began to rock from the momentum. “One!” Cid yelled as he threw the body back a little further.

The ship bent to the right with the body, as if the body was still clinging to it. Cid slung it back to the left, feeling the ship following it again like a cat watching a fly. “Two!”

Landing gears groaned and the ship creaked slightly as the body flew to the right once more. Cid brought it back one more time and yelled, “Three,” as he flung the body to the right. The body spiraled through the air and crunched into the earth sickeningly. Cracks formed in the cement and Cid shook his head, “Is it just me, or was that guy too heavy?”

Vincent considered it for a moment and nodded. “He was oddly overweight despite being small in stature. Yet, he doesn't show that weight. Something is here that does not meet the eye readily.”

Cid nodded and hopped off the Highwind II. Vincent stared at the blood stains on the thick radio cables and antennae for a moment before he followed suit. They both walked to the body with a frown.

“'ey, where's Cloud and the women?”

“They are inside. I told them to remain there while I helped you dislodge a carcass from your hull. I believe they expected a bird or some sort of creature; I must admit I was not quite ready to admit that a man had fallen on your antennae.”

“However,” Vincent said as he stared at the man's snarling lips and still blazing eyes, he concluded, “it seems that there is more than sufficient evidence here to ensure that which you state happened.”

Cid bent over the corpse, noticing some mark on the man's right arm. “Hey, you seen this kind of tattoo before?”

Vincent walked to the side of the arm and crouched down. He picked up the arm and studied the design which, interestingly, pointed out the intersection between two major blood vessels underneath the shoulder. The design was a red circle's lower right corner breaking against a black, twisted, thorny, and white-flamed 'S,' all surrounded by the latin phrase, “Natura nihil fit in frustra. Nil Sine Numine.”

To himself, Vincent muttered the translation, “Nature does nothing in vain; Nothing without providence.” Cid looked over to Vincent as he muttered the odd words and cocked his head, “What are you sayin', anyway?”

Vincent stood up from his crouch and began to walk into Shin-Ra's headquarters. Cid yelled over his shoulder, “Alright, fine, don't tell me! But where are we gonna put this body?”

Vince narrowed his eyes as he walked, “Leave it. We will give him a proper burial later if you wish. Something is very much not right here.”

Pushing open the front door, Vincent's clawed arm rose as he pointed it at Cloud. He curled one of the metal fingers and walked out of the building. Cloud motioned for the rest to follow behind and the whole group walked to the body.

Vincent pointed at the man's arm, “Do you know of a group that wears that tattoo?”

Cloud shook his head. He had never heard of a subdivision of SOLDIER that had a symbol like that one. Vincent raised an eyebrow, “Cloud, Natura nihil fit in frustra. Nil Sine Numine?”

Mechanically, the phrase registered and Cloud responded, “Nature does nothing in vain. Nothing without providence.” He furrowed his eyebrows as a memory streaked across his mind's eye.

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“So, what does that motto mean anyway?” A younger Cloud Strife asked as he pulled on his combat gear; donning his two metal shoulder-pads and gloves.

“Natura nihil fit in frustra. Nil Sine Numine?” Sephiroth smirked. He glanced out the window and listened to the pounding rain against the green canvas of the skeletal truck. “It was a phrase that the SOLDIER Elite sub-division, the Death Stroke, said. They all perished on a mission one night; I was their commander.”

Cloud scratched the back of his head, “But what does it mean?”

Closing his eyes and preparing for battle, Sephiroth shrugged. “It means: Nature does nothing in vain. Nothing without providence.”

He paused to see Cloud's reaction; scratching his head while trying to figure out the deeper meaning obvious in the motto but struggling to find it. Sephiroth laughed and stated, “It means that we must not be too suspicious of this gift that out Mother gave to us , the Planet I mean, and that perhaps we were intended, destined even, to augment our bodies with Mako.”

Pausing to chuckle, he pointed at Cloud's muscled body and stated, “The Planet's true natives would rip you to shreds without that sword of yours. They would also rip me to shreds. Why is this, Cloud, Zack? Is it because we became defenseless from relying on these tools; these gifts?”

He shook his head after a few moments, “No, it is my belief that long ago, The Planet made Mako in preparation for us, for our benefit and service when we grew smart enough to figure out how to siphon it. We know now the power of that blood she so readily gives. The fact that we are able to get it at all must be a divinity; must mean that it has a purpose for us. It was not intended for the weak; are we not deserving as the strong the blood of the Planet? Haven't we earned it and allow its purpose to be?”

Cracking his neck as the truck skidded to a halt, Sephiroth smirked, “And what greater purpose would it have than to raise us far above the Planet's natives? To prove that we are, in fact, the strongest?”

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Cloud blinked. “Sorry,” he muttered instantly as he found all eyes on him. “I got lost in my memories for a moment.” He sighed and looked back down at the body, “This is a member of the Death Stroke; an elitist sub-division of SOLDIER that Sephiroth was the commander of before they got wiped out one day. Sephiroth was the only one who survived that fight.”

Vincent nodded and stared at the body, “But why here; why die upon Cid's radio antennae? Did he have no respect for his life?”

Cloud shook his head, “No. The Death Stroke were fearless according to Sephiroth. They viewed battle as the ultimate testament of faith to the Planet; a Death Stroke member would never sacrifice himself like this unless---” Cloud's eyes drifted to the top of the building.

His eyes widened in horror as he saw a black trench coat and double-length dai-katana fleeing from his sight. The sword suddenly twirled over the side of the building. Cloud tripped as he jumped backwards; the sword was falling straight towards his skull.

Hitting the ground hard, he watched in horror as the blade screamed from the sky; whistling to thunderous crash into the pavement. The ground split and cracked from the force of the impact but the sword remained completely intact.

An explosion of dust and tar exploded from the center of the impact and blasted into the courtyard. The sword whined vibrantly from the impact; the sound traveling up and down its length perfectly.

After three minutes, the dust cleared, Cloud stared at the sword only a few feet from where he was sitting, driven straight into the ground up to the hilt. The lion's head at the end of the handle stirred up fear and anger in his heart as he realized that the handle was custom ivory as well; this blade had only been used by one man.

Vincent furrowed his eyebrows. The rest of the group stared at the handle as Cloud stood on his feet and walked to it. With great effort, he pulled it out of the ground and stared as he felt its weight.

“Whose is it...?” Cid asked as he stared with his mouth open.

Cloud faced away from the group, turned his head and said, “Imagine me with a black trench coat, long silver hair, and green eyes.” He held the sword out a little from his side to keep it from sweeping along the grass as 'He' had. With anger rising in his voice, Cloud growled, “Who am I?”

Sephiroth's face revealed itself in Cloud's mind as his body wrapped in flames, as he turned and leaved a defenseless and broken Cloud Strife to die in his hometown, as his blade dug through Aerith's chest and he smiled cruelly at a Puppet, as he floated in the powerful magnificence of Jenova as he tried to destroy AVALANCHE one by one, as he was destroyed by the sharp blade of Cloud Strife and exploded into a thousand beams of light, as Sephiroth grabbed hold of Cloud's neck and squeezed as he screamed violently.

Cloud struggled to get his hand to release the grip of the blade as the sword itself betrayed him. His body refused to co-operate and he yelled to Vincent, “Get it away!”

Vincent was quick to act. In a smooth movement, the Death Penalty snapped out of its holster, rose to Vincent's eye, came to a slow, sliding stop, and fired without pause. The blade ripped away from Cloud's grip as the Masamune shrieked from the impact of the bullet; harmonizing it with ultra-high pitch waves.

Cloud fell to his knees and Tifa rushed to his side. “Are you alright? What happened?”

He looked into her eyes and he gritted his teeth, “Even his damned blade is mocking me; I'll tear the damned thing to pieces!!”

Cloud ripped out the Buster Sword from its sheath on his back and he brought it up above the sword; preparing for one final smash into Sephiroth. Vincent tackled Cloud; skillfully disarming the warrior as they flew through the air. The two men tumbled onto the ground and Vincent came out on top, holding Cloud down.

“Let me up, dammit! I'll fucking slice you too if you don't let me destroy that thing!”

“You must stop or I will stop you,” Vincent calmly responded.

Cloud pushed Vincent off of his chest and growled as he thrust himself up to his feet, “I'm going to destroy that thing whether you like it or not, Vincent Valentine!”

Out of nowhere, Cloud felt a sharp sting of pain as he twirled to the ground. Vincent gruffly yelled, “You will not touch it! No one will; not with anything!”

“Why not?!”

“It's cursed you fool! If you touch it with anything, it will control you like it did before! It's making you mad; you understand?!”

Cloud's mind suddenly began to become less foggy and he blinked, “No way---there's no way it can influence someone that easily...”

Vincent holstered the Death Penalty as he returned to the Masamune and stood over it, “Believe it.” He reached out with his metallic arm and grabbed the grip of the blade, spinning it into his grip.

Immediately he felt the sensation and he smirked, “You think your petty magic is enough against Chaos; Sephiroth?”

“Vincent, stop! It'll possess you too!” Tifa shrieked as she came towards him.

Vincent's body flew into action as the martial artist tried to disarm him. With reflexes he didn't even know he was capable of before, heightened by his sense of danger for the fear of someone truly unable to control their mind possessing the blade, Vincent blurred away and landed on a distant light post.

He stood motionless for a moment and he yelled, “You must not touch me! If I hold this sword, I become an extension of it. Should you touch me, you shall touch the sword!”

He gasped in pain and felt his balance falter as a voice whispered painfully in his head, as if speaking the language of migraines. 'Join me. You cannot expect them to allow you to continue holding my grip; they are jealous of My power.'

Vincent crashed into the ground and growled, “Your power is nothing to Chaos; you are nothing to me. With them, perhaps, you could make beautiful pawns, but you cannot control my mind.”

'It is all but a matter of time Vincent. Soon you will see reality. They will not survive if you do not use my might.'

“Shut up, foul thing!!” Vincent screamed as his head exploded in pain. He gripped his head in pain and hurled the blade at the lightpost. The blade sank in effortlessly, up to the hilt, and resonated painfully in tune with the throbbing in his skull.


The world went red as Vincent stared into the group. Their bodies twisted and contorted into black things that had no name. His hand went to the Death Penalty as he suddenly felt sanity leaving; they roared as he fired a shot into the group. Then he felt searing heat flash across his shoulder; he stared at the blood vacant of thought and collapsed to the ground. A demon chuckled above him, brought back its humongous sword, and thrust the sword down. The world evaporated into darkness; sweet, sticky and red darkness from which there was no escape.