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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody	By : DarkSeraphim1 Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1315 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core, Before Crisis, or Dirge of Cerberus. I do not profit from the writing and/or posting of this fic. I am just a humble fan paying tribute to another's wonderful creations.

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
Chapter 28

            ’My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains. The arrow has left the bow of the goddess.’ -Loveless, ACT IV
            “There’s another one!” Cloud felt a hand on his head as he was abruptly pushed to the ground. “Get down, Strife, before you get yourself killed!”
            Cloud lifted his head and glared at the dark-haired woman who dropped to her stomach beside him. The Turk known only as Shotgun glared right back at him before taking careful aim and pulling the trigger. The shotgun boomed in her hands, and he winced as the sound cut through his skull, courtesy of his mako-enhanced hearing. Buckshot dotted the small, spider-like robot but didn’t penetrate its reinforced armor. Gods, but he wished Vincent were here! Cloud thought as he took a deep breath, sprang to his feet, and shot forward.
            “Hey! Get back here!” Shotgun hollered after him. “We don’t know how many of those things Weapons Development has released. Damn it, Strife! Listen to me!”
            He ignored her as he brought First Tsurugi up before him. The robot shot a line of electricity his way, and he deftly spun out of the way. He maneuvered himself until he could approach the machine from behind and brought First Tsurugi down hard. It sliced through the robot’s armor, sending sparks and ribbons of thin black spoke curling into the air, and Cloud let out a disgusted sound.
            He turned and looked at the pushy, loudmouthed Turk. “You were saying?”
            “Fuck you!” Shotgun pushed herself to her feet, her brown eyes narrowed in obvious dislike. “You SOLDIERs think you’re so damned hot. You could have gotten us both killed just now! Who do you think you are, pulling a stunt like that? General Sephiroth?”
            Cerulean eyes flashed menacingly at her words. If only you knew, he thought angrily. Aloud, he only said, “Your gun’s not doing much against these armored units. Do you have any armor-piercing bullets?”
            She snorted and tossed her head, making her ponytail bounce behind her. “Hell, no,” she answered disgruntledly. “Old man Shinra’s too cheap to spring for them.”
            “Figures,” he mumbled under his breath. He heard the telltale sound of mechanized treads and sighed heavily. “Another one’s up ahead. Get behind me and try not to get zapped, okay?”
            “Excuse me?!” She put both hands on her hips, her expression furious. “I’m the Turk, Lieutenant Strife. I’m in charge here. You’re just a 2^nd Class SOLDIER with no field experience. How dare you tell me what to do?”
            “Fine!” Cloud snapped, his patience gone. “Stay here and die, then. I’ll see you on the 70^th floor, if you make it that far.”
            He turned on his heel and ran down the hall, ignoring the Turk’s, “Hey! You can’t leave me behind!”, as he did so. They had better finish this soon, or he was liable to strangle the woman just to shut her up! He rounded the corner and immediately dove to the ground. A jolt of electricity fried the air above him, and he swore as he pushed himself to his feet. He rushed the robot, which resembled a large tin can, First Tsurugi held out straight before him. He shoved the giant sword into the machine and sliced upwards, effectively splitting it in two.
            It fell to the floor even as he rushed past it, the pungent scent of fried circuitry stinging his nostrils as it lingered in the air. Fucking Scarlet, he thought with a rush of anger. If she showed up in Prod Clod, and he had to fight the giant robot by himself, he was going to kill someone. Why the hell Tseng had paired him with that useless Turk rookie he would never know, but he’d make sure that Sephiroth knew how he felt about it. Being bossed around for the last hour while they’d fought their way onto the Weapons Development floor had not made this botched coup go any easier.
            Reeve, he thought with a sad laugh. It had been Reeve who had turned them in, after Cloud had approached him and asked for his help. The other man, who had once fought Shinra as his comrade--as his friend--had informed The President of their plan, and blown the damned thing right out of the water. Sephiroth didn’t know yet, and Cloud honestly didn’t know if he would tell him. Insane or not, Sephiroth was not a forgiving man, and he’d hate to see someone he’d once counted as a friend die at the point of Masamune. He didn’t think he could live through that, again.
            Of course, Reeve wasn’t Aerith, and he didn’t remember the almost four years they’d been friends. He hadn’t yet begun to question Shinra or his values, and he hadn’t been ready for the rebellion he had been swept up in. Cloud couldn’t really blame him for his actions, even if they were working against him just now. Reeve had only done what he thought was right, and Cloud could understand his reasoning, even if he didn’t like the results.
            No, he thought with a mental shake of his head, he wouldn’t tell Sephiroth. He’d be damned if he’d lose Reeve like he’d lost all the others. Whether the man remembered him or not, he was still Cloud’s friend, and Cloud protected his own.
            A loud string of curses came to his ears and he tensed as Shotgun caught up with him. Her heavy breathing suggested that she wasn’t in as good a shape as she should be as a Turk, another sign of her own lack of experience. “You’re not. . . supposed to. . .disobey a direct. . .order,” she panted, planting her hands on her knees as she gulped down air.
            “You’re not my superior,” he pointed out from between gritted teeth. He pointed at a large set of steel doors with the words, ‘Weapons Development’, painted on them. “That’s our objective. Are you ready?”
            “Yeah,” she wheezed, “just give me. . .a minute.”
            “We don’t have a minute,” Cloud snapped impatiently as he turned away. “We’ve got to shut down the Roboguards before somebody gets hurt, so let’s mosey.”
            “Gods,” she groaned as moved to follow, “what is it with you and Fair and all these lame colloquialisms?”
            Cloud lifted First Tsurugi in both hands as he approached the doors. “How do you know a big word like ‘colloguialism’?” he shot right back.
            Her faint, “Fuck you, Strife!” was ignored as Cloud raised the massive sword above his head and brought down hard. It sliced cleanly through the center of the doors, destroying the locking mechanism in one fell swoop. So much for Scarlet locking the doors by remote, he thought with a fleeting smirk. The doors slid open, and he found himself confronted by an oversized Sweeper+++.
            “Damn!” he swore, wishing that he’d had at least one decent materia equipped the day he’d died. A mastered Quake would do wonders right now! But no, using them had harmed The Planet, so he’d collected all of the materia from his friends and stored them in a locked chest—eight years in the future.
“Shotgun, this thing inflicts Stop status, so be careful!”
            The female Turk nodded her understanding as she moved to the left, her eyes never leaving the metal monstrosity as her hands hastily reloaded her weapon. “Just keep it busy!” she hissed in return. “I’ll try to take it from behind.”
            Cloud slanted her a disbelieving look before focusing on the robot once more. The Sweeper turned in a lumbering movement and lowered its rectangular arms. Cloud took the hint and brought First Tsurugi up before him just as the first shot was fired. His mako-enhanced reflexes took over, and he deflected all six bullets without even thinking about it. The deadly projectiles bounced uselessly off of First Tsurugi, and Cloud took the opportunity to launch himself at the machine.
            He hit the metal arm as hard as he could, smirking to himself as a loud screech accompanied the blow. The robotic unit’s right arm now hung uselessly at it’s side, swinging erratically as it lurched around to face it’s attacker. As it did so, the retort of Shotgun’s namesake sounded, the boom nearly deafening as scatter-shot dusted it’s heavily armored back. The machine paused, it’s computerized mind trying to decide which threat was the greatest. Unfortunately for Cloud, it had designed to hunt down mako-spawned monsters, and it honed in on him with unerring accuracy.
            It released another volley of bullets, and he flinched as one embedded itself in his right shoulder. “Damn, that hurts!” he swore under his breath. His body was already healing itself, the mako within him working to expel the foreign matter, but it still hurt.
            Scowling darkly, he jumped backwards, putting some much-needed space between himself and the metal behemoth. He grasped First Tsurugi’s hilt tightly, drew his arm back, and whipped the sword forward. He released it at the height of the arch, and its own momentum sent the heavy metal blade speeding through the air. It hit the Sweeper with devastating results, slicing through the thick metal hide as though it were butter, and emerging unscathed from the other side. Smoke and a shower of sparks burst from the machine, causing Cloud’s eyes to water as he shot through it with inhuman speed. He snatched First Tsurugi out of the air and landed on the opposite side of the room, smirking just a little as he heard the Roboguard hit the ground with a resounding crash.
            “Holy!” He turned around to find Shotgun staring at him with openmouthed amazement. “And you’re only 2^nd Class?! Well, fuck me!”
            Cloud snorted as he strode towards the main computer bank, digging into his weapon’s pack and retrieving two small black boxes. Let’s hope these work like L.T. said they would, he thought, hoping that the so-called ’Legendary Turk’ was as good with explosives as his reputation suggested. He attached one bomb to the wall of servers just to the computer’s left, while the other was placed on the main computer itself. He drew a deep breath, flipped the two little metal switches, and ran like hell. “Let’s go!” he shouted, grabbing the Turk’s arm as he passed. “We don’t want to be here when those things blow!”
            “No shit, Sherlock!” Shotgun jerked her arm from his and ran as fast as she could, knowing that she would never be able to match his SOLDIER speed. “Just don’t leave me behind!”
            Cloud glanced at the woman who was giving it all to keep up with him and forced himself to slow to a more normal running speed. Shotgun might be a pain in the ass, but she was human, and allowances had to be made. So long as she didn’t actually get him killed today, he could tolerate her--he hoped.
            Gods, but she reminded him of Tifa, he thought with a silent laugh, only with Cid’s mouth. Pushy--even though she meant well--tough enough to be able to take care of herself, but way too independent for her own good. As the corridor exploded into flame behind them, Cloud realized just how much he missed his friends. Sure, he’d be with Vincent and Aerith again soon, but everything was just so. . .so different, now.
            Tifa was safe in Nibeheim, training with Master Zangan, trying to break out of the ‘spoiled princess’ role that her wealthy father had chosen for her. She would be coming into her own soon, and without the destruction of their hometown coloring her perceptions, she might be able to live a relatively normal life. Maybe, she could even find a man to love, one who would be able to love her back the way she deserved.
            Cid was going to be a big-wig for Shinra. Cloud grinned at the image of the cigar-smoking, grease-covered pilot in a three-piece suit. He doubted that Cid would ever change himself that much, but just the thought of his foul-mouthed friend uttering more than two sentences without cursing was enough to make him laugh out loud. If nothing else, being appointed Director of the Space Program ought to be enough to at least curb his bad language, even if it could never be eliminated completely.
            He’d probably never get the chance to meet Barret, now. AVALANCHE might be doing it’s thing in Midgar, but if Rufus ran Shinra half as well as Sephiroth expected him to, blowing up mako reactors wouldn’t be a part of his job description anymore. He wondered if the big, tough, gun-armed man would miss that, or if he would enjoy the free time he’d be able to spend with his precious, precocious daughter?
            Yuffie was probably safe in Wutai right now. She’d only be eleven or so, way too young to be traveling Gaia in search of materia to restore her homeland to its former glory. She’d be training in martial arts, probably every day, arguing with her old man over her place as a female and his heir. She might never have the chance to meet Vincent, or to fall head-over-heels in one-sided love with him.
            Which was probably a good thing, Cloud reminded himself. Even if Vincent had found himself attracted to Yuffie, nothing would have come of it. She was too young, and Vincent had a very definitive viewpoint when it came to women and relationships. Which was why Cloud had been so surprised when he’d learned about Yazoo. Sure, Yazoo wasn’t a woman, but still, to say that he’d been surprised by the knowledge that Vincent was grieving for one of his son’s remnants would be an understatement.
            Shocked would be a more accurate description, Cloud thought with a shake of his head. There were so many taboos surrounding his ‘encounters’ with the middle remnant that Cloud still had trouble believing that anything had come of the attraction between them. And yet, Vincent himself had confessed to it that night in Kalm, just two days before Deep Ground had struck. The emotion in his friend’s normally inflectionless voice had stunned him, and Cloud had found himself crying for the man who couldn’t cry for himself.
            Nanaki was probably well on his way to Cosmo Canyon, he thought with a sigh. He’d miss the young Gi, but it was probably for the best that he had gone home. Nanaki had never been comfortable traveling Gaia; he had only done so at his Grandfather’s request. Bugenhagen was alive now, and Cloud couldn’t blame his friend for wanting to spend as much time with his only living relative as he could. He hoped to someday be able to do the same with his own mother, supposing that she could be cured of her illness.
            Cloud slowed as he came to the end of the corridor, pushing the door that led to the stairs open, and waited for Shotgun to join him. He sighed again at the thought of his beautiful, vague mother. Sephiroth had sent a doctor to Nibeheim last week, but the prognosis hadn’t been good. The doctor had actually recommended that his mother be institutionalized before her mind deteriorated any further.
            He would never let that happen. After they saved Kadaj and his brothers, he’d talk his mom into leaving Nibelheim, and he’d find another doctor for her. Once they settled in Wutai, he’d have all the time in the world to spend with her, and he’d figure out how to help her. He couldn’t just leave the woman who had done her best to raise him while grappling with her own demons behind. He loved her, and he owed her this, especially after failing to protect her the night Sephiroth went insane.
            “Damn, but you’re fast, Strife!” Shotgun’s considerable chest was heaving as she joined him, but she was still moving, which was all he cared about as the second bomb finally went off. The walls off the corridor shook, the floor quaked violently beneath his feet, and Cloud hastily pulled her into the stairwell. What the hell had L.T. put in that thing? he questioned with silent disbelief. Plutonium?!
            Smoke began to seep under the door, and Cloud shook his spiky head. “Come on,” he said abruptly. “We’ve got to meet Sephiroth on the 70^th floor.”
            “Yeah,” the Turk replied tiredly, “I’m right behind you, Strife.”
            Cloud opened his PHS and quickly dialed Sephiroth’s number. He waited for that tell-tale click and said, “The computer’s dust. The Roboguards should be powering down any minute, now.”
            “Excellent,” came the deep, satisfied reply. “I have already secured The President and turned him over to The Turks. Rod and Cissnei are guarding him as we speak, and the rest of The Turks are currently retrieving the Board. I am dealing with the resistance on floors 67 through 68. I will meet you in The President’s office once I am through.”
            The line went dead, and Cloud snapped the phone closed. “Asshole,” he mumbled, unable to suppress a smile. Cloud couldn’t quite smother a remnant of the awe he’d once felt for his childhood idol. Of course, Sephiroth had already secured The President. Asshole or not, Sephiroth was the best.
            “The General’s secured President Shinra,” he belatedly informed the woman behind him. “He’ll meet us on the 70^th floor.”
            She only shook her dark head. “I can’t believe this is actually working.”
            He looked over his shoulder, noting absently that he and the statuesque Turk were almost on eye level, thanks to the stairs. “I can,” he stated flatly. “Sephiroth doesn’t let anything stand in his way.”
            “Still, that he was able to turn on the company, after they raised him and all. . .” Shotgun shrugged her black-clack shoulders. “He’s got balls, I’ll give him that.”
            “That he does,” Cloud responded with small laugh.
            The bosomy Turk suddenly flashed a charming smile. “So. . .it is true that The General did this because Rhapsodos got sent to Wutai?”
            It was Cloud’s turn to shrug as he turned away. “Couldn’t say,” he answered flatly, adding, “Gossip’s not my thing.”
            “But I thought you and Sephiroth were friends?” she questioned with surprise.
            Friends. Cloud shook his blond head as he continued to climb the stairs. “He’s my commanding officer,” was all he said in response.
            Shotgun frowned as she wedged herself between him and the rail. “But you work for Shinra,” she pointed out. “So does Sephiroth. Even if he is your superior, why would you follow him in committing treason?”
            He remained silent for a long, tense moment. “As a Turk, you’re privy to a lot of information that the rest of us aren’t,” he in a low, tense voice, “but there are things that even you don’t know. President Shinra is a monster, and he needs to be removed before he causes irreparable damage.”
            “Damage to what?” When Cloud only began to jog up the staircase, she called after him, “Hey! Answer me!”
            Cloud kept going, unable--unwilling--to answer her question. Shinra was damaging The Planet with their mako reactors, destroying lives with their human experimentation, and that wasn’t enough for her? If she couldn’t understand why this needed to be done, knowing what she already knew, then she would never be able to, even if he were able to explain the rest to her. The future was not set, and he was helping Sephiroth change it, one small piece at a time.
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            The metallic clatter of multiple robotic limbs sounded as Sephiroth swiftly made his way through the 67^th floor. A group of the smaller, spider-like robots approached him, and he made a disgusted sound as he raised Masamune and dove into the throng. A shower of sparks followed in his wake as he destroyed all eight machines at once, an easy feat for someone with his genetic enhancements. He continued down the hall, taking a left as he cut his way through more of the pathetic mechanical creations. Scarlet might be good at weapons development, but none of her little toys had ever been tested on a proper SOLDIER 1^st Class.
            As was painfully evident here, Sephiroth thought with disdain. Why President Shinra was stupid enough to believe that his tart’s creations were enough to stop him he would never know. Did the old man not understand exactly what Hojo had done when he had created Sephiroth? Did he not realize that the perfect monster stalked these halls this day, ready and willing to kill anything—or anyone—that got in his way?
            Sephiroth shook his head as he rounded the next corner, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him. A tall man, clad in black and red leather, was coming towards him, his unhurried stride full of fluid, nearly inhuman grace. Short auburn locks fell over his right eye, only to be flicked away even as Sephiroth watched. Pale blue eyes, more familiar to Sephiroth than his own, narrowed on him in a decidedly hostile fashion, and he shivered even as he fought a growing sense of disbelief.
            He took a small, hesitant step forward, only to halt as those eyes flashed a warning. “Genesis?” he questioned tentatively. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the Southern Mountains with Zack and Angeal?”
          Genesis came to a stop a mere ten feet away, his posture changing until it resembled a slouch, and Sephiroth immediately recognized the action as a strategic move. He had cleverly positioned himself just beyond Masamune’s reach, adopting a non-threatening pose, and was waiting for Sephiroth to make the first move. Sephiroth tightened his grip on Masamune’s hilt but didn’t raise it as a band tightened painfully around his chest.
            “Why?” he asked at last, his voice little more than a distressed whisper. “Don’t you know that I am doing this for you?”
            Genesis raised his chin as though in challenge, a haughty smirk curving his rose-colored lips, though he chose to remain silent. He slowly reached inside of his scarlet duster, each move of his corded arm slow and agonizingly deliberate. When he finally drew his weapon, it was with the stunning speed of a SOLDIER 1^st Class. His arm moved in a blur as he spun the weapon around his body in a display of overconfidence that Sephiroth found utterly bewildering. What the hell was going on here?!
            It finally came to rest at his side, and Sephiroth’s gaze followed it almost compulsively. He inhaled sharply, the sound all but lost as sirens wailed around him, comprehension flooding his confused mind. It was not Rapier in that slender, red-gloved hand, but a rather large weapon known as a gunblade. Weapon’s Development had created the gun/sword hybrid two years ago, intending to replace the inaccurate machine guns that the lower classes were forced to use. While amazingly accurate, the gunblade had shown an alarming tendency towards jamming at inopportune moments, and Director Lazard had rightly rejected the plan.
            The only men he had ever seen use these banned weapons were the Genesis copies that he and Zack had fought so many years ago during one of his lover’s attacks on Midgar. Zack had battled a particularly fierce copy, one whose lightning-fast movements and superior knowledge of the gunblade had made the battle extremely difficult. If this was who—or what—he faced now, he realized that he couldn’t expect this confrontation to be won too easily.
            “A Genesis copy,” he muttered to himself, wondering how this was even possible. Hadn’t he saved Genesis from this horrific fate? His lover had shown no signs of degradation so far, and he knew nothing of his true genetic origins. There was absolutely no reason for Genesis to allow Hollander to use him like this; even the jealousy the other man had once felt had dimmed until it was all but gone. This. . .this thing, this monster, this abomination before him, should not exist.
            And yet it did, and he had to wonder if, somewhere along the way, he hadn’t made a potentially fatal error. Had he   missed something vital? he asked himself with sudden uncertainty. Were there things that even he did not know about the man he had traveled through time to save. Was it possible that Genesis had known the truth about himself all along, or that he had learned of his mometic origins much earlier than anyone had ever guessed?
            As the copy shifted his stance in preparation for attack, showing an impatience that was frighteningly typical of the man he had been cloned from, Sephiroth decided that it did not matter. Whether Genesis’ body had already begun to degrade or not, he would not leave him. He would be there for him until the end, whether that came a year from now or eighty. He would make damned sure that Genesis survived, and that he would never be alone again.
            Once he killed this abomination, he would go to President Shinra and demand an explanation, and then he would kill him, Rufus and his plans be damned. He was through playing the fool for Shinra, Inc.
            Sephiroth lifted Masamune with suddenly steady hands, accepting the silent challenge, and the clone attacked. It leapt at him in a blur of mako-enhanced speed, and Sephiroth found himself parrying several blows in quick succession, each accompanied by a the sound of gunfire, as it bore down him. He deflected the shots with ease, his own speed coming into play, as he used the flat of Masamune to push the copy away. The replicant was shoved back several feet, and Sephiroth slashed the air before him in a deadly warning. The copy’s response was to cock it’s handsome head to one side and smile at him with predatory cruelty.
            It straightened and raised the gunblade once more, firing several bullets from the relative safety of it’s position. Sephiroth didn’t bother to deflect them. He drew on the tainted cells within him and simply disappeared. He teleported to a point just beyond the clone, rematerializing and lashing out in a matter of seconds. The copy hissed in pain as Masamune score a deep wound across it’s back. It whirled around, swinging the gunblade in a wide arch, it’s oh-so-familiar features distorted with rage.
            Sephiroth felt an answering fire sweep through him, remnants of the rage he had felt when left behind to fend off his disloyal lover’s inhuman creations, and he didn’t try to fight it. He let the fury wash over him, taking refuge in its cold flames, and unleashed it on the monster which represented all his doubts and fears.
            He unleashed a volley of inhumanly fast strikes, raining blows on the creature which wore his love’s face, wanting—needing—to destroy this symbol of his past failures. Blood flew through the air, splattering the corridor walls, raining down on him in a crimson flood. The copy tried to fight, to raise it’s weapon and defend itself, but Sephiroth didn’t it the chance. A final thrust of his blade, and the battle was through.
            It gazed at him up the massive length of Masamune, it’s mouth moving as it tried to speak. Even had the immense odachi not been lodged in it’s throat, Sephiroth knew that speech was beyond it. Even so, as he stared into eyes that were the clear blue of the sky in summer, he was startled by the pain he saw in their fading depths.
            It is not Genesis, he reminded himself as he jerked Masamune free. It was not the man he loved, merely a monstrous imitation. The replicant dropped to the ground, and Sephiroth flinched in spite of himself. He lowered his sword and stood over the fallen monster, every ragged breath that he drew tainted with the taste of Jenova, mako, and the darkness that was the essence of Genesis.
            A greenish light surrounded the copy, glowing brightly as its body began to dissipate. Sephiroth could only watch, drained as the rage left him, a hollow ache filling him in its place. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, he thought dimly. He was supposed to have saved   Genesis from this. Where had he gone wrong? What had he missed? What had he done to drive the man he loved to such horrifying extremes?
            These copies couldn’t be created without Genesis’ own cells. Sephiroth wasn’t stupid, he knew that all too well. What he didn’t know was why his lover, who had seemed so happy only days before, would do something like this. If the degradation process had already begun, wouldn’t he have seen some sign of it? There had been no excessive mood swings to indicate a decaying mind, no physical signs of the degradation itself. Genesis had appeared to be in perfect heath, and yet. . .
            The copy was gone now, nothing but blood-soaked tile left to show that it had ever been there at all, but that didn’t change what he had seen, what he had fought. He had gone weapon-to-weapon with the mirror image of the man he loved, and he had cut down Genesis’ doppelganger with an anger that should have frightened him but didn’t. What did that say about his own state of mind?
            A muted buzz came to his enhanced ears, and Sephiroth reached inside his trench. He retrieved his PHS and flipped it open, raising it to his ear. “The computer’s dust. The Roboguards should be powering down any minute, now.”
            “Excellent,” Sephiroth replied, unable to hide his dark satisfaction. “I have already secured The President and turned him over to The Turks. Rod and Cissnei are guarding him as we speak, and the rest of The Turks are currently retrieving the Board. I am dealing with the resistance on floors 67 through 69. I will meet you in The President’s office once I am through.”
            He ended the call abruptly, making the decision to leave Cloud in the dark just that quickly. He closed the phone and tucking it away once more, drawing a deep breath to steady himself. He turned away from the bloodied remnants of his battle with the copy, only to stop as he caught sight of himself in the one of the large windows that lined the corridor’s outer wall. He was covered in blood, Sephiroth realized with surprise. His hair was streaked with it, the exposed skin of his face and chest painted with it. He glanced down at Masamune, saw the blood that clung to its gently curving length, and hastily flicked it away.
            He turned away from his reflection, disgusted by the knowledge that he was wearing his lover’s blood, as he had so often in the past. His own image had reminded him of Nibelheim, and how he must have appeared to Cloud and Zack after the slaughter of its inhabitants. Unfortunately, there was no help for it. He didn’t have the time to shower and change just now. He was too busy fighting for their freedom to allow himself to worry about the boy’s delicate sensibilities. Cloud would simply have to deal with it.
            He made his way to the 68^th floor, pleased to see that Cloud had indeed disabled the Roboguards. Various models lay strewn about in lifeless disarray, remnants of their battle formations still visible in their placements. He heard the patter of quick footsteps up ahead, the soft, almost light tread reminding him of the Wutaian warriors he had once been forced to kill en mass. While he knew that that simply wasn’t possible, he wasn’t going to let himself be surprised by anything else that Shinra threw his way. Frowning slightly, he quickened his own pace and strode forward to meet this new threat head-on.
            Three men in Wutaian armor appeared in the long, curving hallway. They never broke their strides as they ran towards him on fleet feet, their curved blades glinting red under the emergency lighting. He caught a glimpse of auburn fire, which escaped the half-masked helmets concealing their faces, curling around their slender throats in a all too familiar fashion, and felt his anger rise once again.
            G Assassins, Sephiroth thought absently, raising Masamune in both hands to meet this new threat. He flew towards the nearest man, slicing through the antiquated foreign armor with disgusting ease. He turned away, not looking as the torso slid away from the legs, and cut down the next. He pulled Masamune from the copy’s chest even as he grabbed the third with his right hand and slammed him into the nearest wall. Dazed, the replicant could only struggle weakly before he threw it to the ground. He lifted his beloved odachi above his head and brought it down hard. The copy’s helmeted head rolled away in a torrent of red, and Sephiroth sneered at it before turning away.
            Someone was going to pay for this, he promised himself angrily, striding through the glue-green swirls that betrayed the monster’s origins. He made his way to the 69^th floor, not at all surprised when a large, heavily armored creature appeared in his path. Instead of a gunblade or a sword, it carried a tall staff topped with two wicked-looking crimson blades. A mage, then, Sephiroth thought as he fought the urge to laugh. It would not have been a pleasant sound.
            The large copy lifted it’s staff from its place on it’s shoulder and pointed it at him in an unmistakable gesture of intent. Sephiroth merely grunted and lifted Masamune in kind. Shinra had made a mistake in sending this one, he thought as a small, cruel smile shaped his lips. Not only did Sephiroth possess an astonishingly high resistance to magic, but this copy held nothing of Genesis in it’s altered appearance. Even it’s eyes, which glowed with mako-spawned power, were a sickening yellow that didn’t affect Sephiroth in the least. The psychological ramifications of this battle would be few--although that didn’t negate any of Sephiroth’s fury—and this copy would die, as had all of the others before it.
            The copy lunged at him, shoving the staff at him in a thrusting motion, and Sephiroth contemptuously knocked it away. The mage began to circle him, those odd yellow eyes following him as he turned with it, it’s right hand taking on a tell-tale glow. Sephiroth raised one silver brow in an arrogant manner, taunting the copy with nothing more than his expression, but it was enough. The creature lunged again, stabbing at him with the staff, while releasing the spell at the same moment. Sephiroth parried the blow even as he lifted his right hand to form a magic barrier. The spell flared around him, the intensity of its heat telling him that it was one of the Fire spells that Genesis had always favored.
            He felt a small niggling at the edge of his senses and he grunted as he recognized what the clone had tried to do. His body resisted the multiple status effects that accompanied the spell, leaving him physically unaffected, but it was enough to magnify his anger tenfold. “Dark Firaga?” he growled at the beast. “Did your masters not tell you what kind of monster you were to face?”
            The sprinkler system erupted above them, and Sephiroth scowled as he found himself instantly soaked from head to foot. If nothing else, he’d gotten his shower, he thought with dark humor.
            The replicant had drawn back and was circling him once again, still in that chilling silence that Sephiroth found so disturbing, and his frown deepened. He gathered his own spirit energy, bringing his right hand up as it glowed with raw power. He released the Ice3 spell, watching with narrowed green eyes as it did its work. The copy froze in place, unable to move as it was frozen from the inside out. Violent shudders wracked it’s bulky frame as it tried to break free, but to no avail. It was caught, trapped, helpless against an enemy it couldn’t possibly defeat. Sephiroth might be resistant to magic, but he had always excelled at casting it.
            Sephiroth smiled darkly and lifted Masamune into the air before him. The clone’s unsettling yellow eyes followed it, widening slightly as the immense odachi came towards it with blinding speed. Sephiroth brought his sword straight down, cleaving the half-frozen monster in half from scalp to crotch. It fell away in two pieces, each falling the cold tile floor in a rather bizarre fashion, and Sephiroth simply stepped through the singularly disturbing carnage.
            A mage, he thought again, shaking his head as the water continued to pour down on him. What had President Shinra been thinking? Even without Professor Hojo’s questionable advice, the old man should have known enough about Sephiroth to realize that sending a magic-user against him was all but useless. Yes, Edgar Shinra needed to be deposed, if only to save them all from his obvious incompetence. Sephiroth had no doubt that Rufus would prove to be the opposite of his father, even if he was a viper in human form. Cloud certainly seemed sure of it.
            Sephiroth sighed as he took the last flight of stairs up to the 70^th floor. At least, the sprinklers weren’t going off here, he thought humorously. If nothing else, they had managed to wash most of the blood off of him, a small favor, but one he would accept from Fate. Cloud was nervous enough around him as it was. He truly did not want to frighten the boy by reminding him of that disastrous night in his hometown. It was enough that Cloud was working with him in this, when he could have easily chosen a darker path. After all, had Sephiroth been in place, he knew that he would have.
            But Cloud was as different from him as night was from day. The boy had been tested as he himself had, and he had maintained his sanity in a way Sephiroth never could. Yes, he had believed himself to be Zack during their quest to stop he and Mother, but he had always been himself as well. He hadn’t lost the very essence of what made him him, and that was something that Sephiroth had to admit he envied.
            Sephiroth hadn’t possessed the ability to remain himself in light of all he had discovered about his origins. Of course, Cloud hadn’t been created in a lab as he was, but the part of him that was Gaia’s Golden Weapon had been, and he had shown a remarkable strength of will that not even Sephiroth had been able to break. The boy was a hero, no matter that he protested the label at every opportunity, and it had been he who had been instrumental in breaking Shinra’s stranglehold on The Planet itself.
            Cloud had told him of Rufus, and all he had done in his attempts to repair the damage he and his company had done to The Planet. While misguided in his actions, his intentions had been pure, and that had been one of the main factors in his decision to approach the boy with his plans for revolution. Losing Genesis, however, had been enough to keep him on set on his destruction, even after his lover had returned to him. He would never again allow his creators—or anyone else--to come between them. Unless Genesis himself chose to leave, he would never again let himself be forced from his love’s side. It was that simple.
            All was quiet on the penthouse floor as Sephiroth entered, something which surprised him, in light of the circumstances. He tilted his head to one side and listened, using his enhanced senses to search for anything out of the ordinary. The voices came to him then, quiet murmurs that only someone with mako-enhanced would hear from such a great distance. Cloud was already here, and he was currently arguing with a woman, one of the Turks, if Sephiroth wasn’t mistaken. He could hear Reno a bit more loudly than he could the members of the Board as he engaged in a one-sided conversation. The occasional grunt or murmur was the only response to his barrage of words, and Sephiroth concluded that it must be the boy’s partner, Rude, who was tolerating the verbal assault with such poise.
            As he approached the President’s office, he found his suspicions confirmed. Reno was lounging against the wall to the left of the ornately-decorated double doors, gesturing with one hand as he spoke. Rude stood at attention opposite of him, the dark sunglasses Sephiroth had never seen him without concealing his thoughts, as he nodded at whatever his partner was saying. Sephiroth realized that his unintentionally silent footfalls had not yet been noticed, and made a conscious effort to stomp a bit as he approached.
            Two heads whipped in his direction immediately, and Reno pushed away from the wall with a wide smile. “Yo,” he greeted, tucking his hands into his pockets as he looked Sephiroth over with deliberate insolence. “You look like a drowned rat, yo.”
            “Indeed?” Sephiroth smiled slightly, not offended in the least, as he came to a halt before him. “That might have something to do with the ‘G’ copy I was forced to fight on the 69^th floor. A magic-user with an affinity for Firaga spells,” he explained tightly, adding, “There were others, as well.”
            Reno’s jaw dropped almost comically. “You’re shitting me, yo?” Sephiroth merely leveled a flat look his way, and the young Turk’s eyes widened dramatically. “That’s not fucking possible, yo. We’re taking care of all that.”
            “That is precisely the same thought that I had,” Sephiroth said, unable to contain his anger any longer. “I believe this is something that I should discuss with The President. So, if you would be so kind. . .?”
            He gestured towards the doors, and Reno hastily nodded his fiery head. “You go it, yo.” As he scrambled to open the doors, he told Rude, “I’ll explain later. Just believe when I say that this is really fucking bad, partner.”
            The silent man merely nodded and helped open the doors. Sephiroth nodded his thanks and swept inside, not pausing as his eyes swept over the room. Scarlet, Palmer, Heidigger, and Tuesti were all standing to one side, each wearing stunned looks, as they were guarded by several of the Turks Sephiroth did not know. Rufus was watching his father with a calculating expression that didn’t quite hide the rage in his pale eyes. Tseng was at his side, as always, standing between him and any possible threats. Director Lazard was standing to his right, looking both nervous and angry, as his gaze shot back and forth between his father and his brother.
            President Shinra was sitting behind his desk, looking quite terrified as Sephiroth bore down on him. Sephiroth ignored Rod and Cissnei, who stood on either side of the older man, as he rounded the desk. He grabbed the high back of Shinra’s chair and yanked him away from the desk. The two Turks protested his actions, but were once again ignored, as Sephiroth grasped the color of his shirt and yanked him into the air.
            Edgar Shinra gasped and immediately began to clutch at the hand holding him. “W-What are d-doing?”
            “I want an explanation for the G-copies I encountered today, and I want it now,” Sephiroth all but growled.
            The old man paled as he continued to struggle. “I-I don’t k-know what y-you’re t-talking a-about,” he stammered unconvincingly.
            Sephiroth shook him once in warning, well aware of Rufus and Tseng as they approached from his right. “Do not interfere,” he told them in a cold voice. “This is between your father and myself and no other.”
            Rufus gazed at him with flat blue-gray eyes. “This was not part of our agreement, General,” he said in low voice.
            “Nor was fighting clones of one of my most powerful SOLDIERs,” Sephiroth snapped in response. His gaze never left The President as he added, “Talk or die, old man.”
            “It was Hojo’s idea!” Shinra blurted out in panic. “He got his hands on some of Hollander’s samples, and decided that if he could clone you, he could clone the others, too.”
           Hojo, Sephiroth thought with both rage and relief. “Hojo is dead,” he said in a deceptively soft voice. “He could not have released those copies from the grave. I want to know who made the decision to do so?”
          “I did.” Scarlet lifted her chin defiantly as she approached, hips swinging in a wholly confident way. “They weren’t quite finished, by my subordinates assured me that they were strong enough to slow you down. I’m glad to see that they were wrong,” she finished with obvious admiration.
           Sephiroth sneered at her as he dropped the elder Shinra back into his chair. He turned to Rufus, who was watching them with dry, almost clinical interest, and said, “I want these experiments stopped—now.”
           The boy studied him for a long, tense moment before shrugging casually. “Consider it done, General.”
           “I want any remaining copies to be destroyed, as well.”
           Rufus only sighed and waved his hand almost wearily. “Yes, yes, General. My Turks will take of it.”
           “They had better,” Sephiroth growled in response.
           “Tseng will to it personally, General Sephiroth. You have my word.”
           Sephiroth traded a meaningful gaze with the Turk in question. Tseng inclined his head once, and he allowed himself to relax a bit. Tseng was as honorable a man as could found in The Turks. If he made a promise, he kept it to the best of his ability. The Genesis copies would be destroyed, and Genesis would never know about them. That was all Sephiroth truly cared about.
            He walked over to the wall of glass that comprised the office’s far wall, stopping beside Cloud, who flicked him a veiled glance. The boy was clad not in his 2^nd Class uniform, but in the bizarre black ensemble that he had worn during their last confrontation. The silver wolf’s head on his left shoulder gleamed under the bright, mako-powered lights, matching the relentless determination that filled the depths of his glowing blue eyes.
           “You didn’t mention any Genesis copies when I called you,” he said in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible.
            “No, I didn’t.” Sephiroth shrugged his metal-and-leather-clad shoulders once. “I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the phenomenon at the time. Killing a man that wore Genesis’ face was. . .difficult for me, and reminded me of times I would rather have forgotten.”
            Cloud only nodded his golden head at that. “So, Genesis isn’t degrading, then?”
            “I don’t believe so, no.” The boy sent him a sharp look, and he sighed heavily. “I have seen no signs of degradation, nor has Hollander reported any to me. If it was Hojo, then we have nothing to fear. Tseng will destroy any remnants of the experiment, and Genesis will be none the wiser.”
           “If he really destroys them.”
           Sephiroth had to accept that betrayal was a very real possibility. He was dealing with a Shinra, after all. “Once Rufus has confirmed the boys’ whereabouts, I will personally go through Hojo’s laboratory and destroy any scraps that might be ‘missed’ by Tseng and his men. I will leave no threat to Genesis behind to haunt us.”
           “Good.” Cloud glanced at his nemesis’ reflection, noting that Sephiroth himself didn’t look totally convinced by his words. “We’re almost there, Sephiroth. Don’t start doubting yourself, now.”
            The silver-haired warrior slanted him an inscrutable look. “You are most astute,” he commented almost neutrally.
             Cloud smiled just a bit at that. “I’ve been there, is all.”
             “Why are you doing this?”
            Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder, sighing as he saw Edgar Shinra staring at him with a fearful expression. He turned and he leaned back against the cool glass, crossing his arms over his chest. He ignored the question, not even deigning to look at his ‘charge’, as he waited for Rufus finish this. He wanted it done, so that he could recall Genesis and the rest of the army, and they could begin the journey to Junon. The rest of his life was waiting for him, and he was impatient to begin it.
            Soon enough, they would be in Wutai, he and Genesis and their boys. It was the only place where they had any hope of hiding from Shinra, whose reach only extended to the northern half of the country. Once an agreement had been reached between he and Lord Godo, freedom would be theirs. It was only a matter of time.
            He hadn’t yet told Genesis of his decision to seek refuge within Godo’s domain, but he thought that the other man would approve. He had loved Wutai from the first moment he’d stepped onto its shores as an enemy soldier, and Sephiroth was certain that he would adore it as a citizen. As uncomfortable as he himself had been--and probably always would be--in the country that had spawned so many of his nightmares, he knew that he could make his home there, so long as Genesis was at his side. Home was where the heart was supposed to be, after all.
            Sephiroth smiled at the simple idiom, which had proven itself to be all too true. Genesis was his heart. Without him, he had grown so cold, his emotions dulling until he had become indifferent to everyone and everything around him. All that had been left to him were pain and rage, carefully banked and concealed from the world. In the end, they had combined to create a chasm in his mind, a fissure that Jenova had eagerly jumped in to fill.
            The rage was all but gone now, but memory of it was enough to terrify him. As Genesis would say, he had ‘control issues’, and having that alien bitch take that control from him so completely was an experience he would never forget. Nor would he allow it to be repeated. He would rather die a true death than lose himself as he had in Nibelheim, and Gaia had to know that.
            Perhaps, that was the reason The Planet had resisted Genesis’ attempts to heal him after his battle with Hojo. Cloud had told him of his own struggle with the Lifestream, which had responded only after he had threatened to withdraw his already unwilling protection. Did Gaia fear a repeat of his fall from grace? And if so, would she be willing to allow him the opportunity to defend her by killing The Calamity?
            Sephiroth could only shake his head at the futility of his thoughts. He already knew where Gaia stood on that. It was Genesis that she wanted, not Sephiroth. It always had been. Much like Cloud, Genesis carried Jenova cells inside of him. Unlike Gaia’s Golden Weapon, those cells were inert, protecting Genesis from Jenova’s dark influence, whereas Cloud was still partially susceptible. While Genesis couldn’t yet use access those cells, they were still there, and that was enough for Gaia.
            If Sephiroth had his way, Genesis would never gain the ability to use those tainted cells. Hollander was working night and day on a treatment, using Sephiroth’s own cells to find something that would forestall Genesis’ degradation, if not cure it completely. Sephiroth could only hope that he did so in time to save Genesis from himself, or all would be lost.
            He would be lost, Sephiroth acknowledged with a silent sigh. He had suffered a psychotic break that last night in Nibelheim, and there was always the chance that he could do so again, even without Jenova’s mental manipulation. Losing Genesis as he had had done more damage than any other single event in his short life, and what had happened in the year afterwards had only compounded his heartache. Being forced to kill hundreds of Genesis’ copies, men who wore his beloved’s face, had taken its toll, and after Genesis’ cruelty had destroyed him in the reactor, he had simply snapped. Battered both mentally and emotionally, he withdrawn from the world, only to find Jenova waiting for him.
            He inhaled sharply and thrust nightmare images of fire and blood out of his mind. It wouldn’t happen, again. He wouldn’t allow it to. He would retain his sense of self, and he would kill the bitch who was responsible to taking those he loved from him. Jenova would die, with or without Gaia’s blessing.
            “After all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?”
            That caught Sephiroth’s attention. Bright green eyes narrowed as they moved to the man Sephiroth suspected would shortly cease to live. Edgar Shinra stood had risen to his feet and stood shakily before his massive desk. His normally florid complexion was ashen with a fear he couldn’t quite hide, and a part of Sephiroth enjoyed that fear immensely.
            “And just what have you done for me?” Sephiroth asked, his voice silky despite the cold anger that flowed through him. “You have controlled my every movement from the moment I drew my first breath. You lied to me from the very beginning, about my mother, about my father, about my very origins.”
            The old man paled dramatically, and Sephiroth added, “Did you truly think I would never discover the truth of myself?”
            Rufus was looking from one to the other with surprise. “What truth?” he demanded.
            He was ignored by the two men as their own personal drama played out. “Is that why Hojo is dead?” Shinra asked in a voice that shook.
            Sephiroth curled one lip in disgust. “Hojo is dead for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that he tried to take my life,” he replied coldly. “I am curious, sir, did he do so on orders from you?”
            “Gods, no!” The older man shook his balding blond head frantically. “Hojo had spoken of your insolence and your intractability, but I never thought he would go so far as to destroy our greatest achievement!”
            “I’m an ‘achievement’, am I?” Sephiroth lifted one brow in arrogant condescension. “I am much more than that, Edgar Shinra. It’s a pity you never realized exactly how much more. Hojo knew,” he added with a small, rather cruel smile.
            The elder Shinra began to tremble as he collapsed into the high-backed chair that no longer belonged to him. “Y-you’re talking about. . .Jenova?”
            “Jenova?” Rufus questioned sharply.
            “Ah, I see the professor shared his theories with you,” Sephiroth said smoothly. The older man looked terrified as Sephiroth added, “The ‘Reunion’ hypothesis was quite correct, by the way. Fortunately, I am strong enough to fight the compulsion to join with The Calamity. Hojo was quite disappointed at that, I’m afraid.”
            Sephiroth forgave himself for the slight deception, hoping that--this time--it would become truth. “However, that is not the reason I supported your son, your legitimate son,” both Lazard and Rufus flinched at this, “in this action. I would have been satisfied to leave you be, had you not tried to deprive me of the one thing I truly value. That, more than anything else, was the deciding factor in this.”
            Shinra blinked, confused, before his faded blue eyes widened. “Are you talking about. . .General Rhapsodos?” he asked with a combination of disgust and amazement. “That’s what this is all about?”
            Sephiroth let a slow, heartless smile curve his lips as he answered, “Yes,” in a deceptively simple manner. The old man looked as he would be sick at any moment, and Sephiroth laughed, the sound deep, dark, and evil. “You should have left the situation alone, old man. Genesis is mine, and I protect what belongs to me. It’s a pity you cannot say the same.”
            “You can have him,” the former president said quickly. “Withdraw your support, and Rhapsodos is yours. I won’t stand in your way.”
            Rufus looked alarmed as he said, “General Sephiroth--”
            “Set your mind at ease, Rufus. You have my loyalty.” Sephiroth looked at the man who had authorized his ‘creation’, death shimmering in the depths of his pale green eyes. “You have yet to mention either Lucrecia Crescent or Vincent Valentine. What of them? Will you find a way to return them to me, as well?”
            Shinra shuddered at the long-forgotten names. “That was Hojo,” he said in a small voice. “Their deaths were never authorized. He took matters into his own hands.”
            “And you concealed the truth of his actions.” He looked back at Shinra, the man who had used his power and influence to ruin so many lives, and fought to keep the emotion from his face. He wanted nothing more than to strike the man down, but that privilege belonged to Rufus alone, provided he found the courage to do so.
“What about the underwater research facility in Junon harbor?” he threw out abruptly. “What of the three Hojo crafted in my image? Why do you not speak of them?”
            The older man’s ruddy complexion lost all color at that. “Oh, Gods!” he gasped, despair filling him as he realized that there was no way out of this.
            Sephiroth smiled wolfishly. “Not quite,” he returned softly, chillingly, “but close enough.”
            Cloud laughed softly at his side. “I think you’re enjoying this just a little too much,” he said, his voice very dry.
That bright cerulean gaze met his, and a tiny ghost of a smile curved Sephiroth’s lips. “Perhaps,” he acknowledged, his emerald eyes bright as they flicked to The President and back again. “Then, again. . .”
“I want to know what is going on here,” Rufus stated, his voice growing cold. “I would like an explanation, General, if you please?”
Sephiroth merely shrugged. “A personal matter, between your father and myself, concerning my. . .parents,” he said at last, adding, “And their untimely deaths, of course.”
The younger Shinra looked at his father with a suddenly cold smile. “I can’t say I’m surprised, considering how my mother died.”
Edgar Shinra flinched violently. “That was an accident,” he whispered frantically. “Your mother. . .she defied me, pushed me too far. I never meant to hurt her. Son, you have to believe me!”
“Mmmm, do I now?” The boy reached into his immaculate white suit jacket and pulled out a large gun. “And why is that, Father?”
The old man’s voice died in his throat as he found himself staring down the barrel of that gun. At Sephiroth’s side, Cloud shifted with obvious unease. “We should probably stop him,” he murmured somberly. “He won’t forgive himself if he does this.”
            “It is what his father deserves,” Sephiroth returned quietly. “Rufus has the right to avenge his mother.”
            “Not like this,” Cloud protested. “He’s young, Sephiroth. It will. . .haunt him. Take my word for it.”
            Sephiroth glanced down at the quiet, damaged young man who knew so much more about human nature than he ever would, and sighed heavily. “I will take care of it.”
            Cloud looked relieved as Sephiroth stepped away from the window and approached the young Vice President. “Rufus, I don’t think you should do this,” he said, hoping that Cloud was correct, and that Rufus was truly was too young to understand the consequences of taking his own father’s life.
            That platinum-blond head came up, those shrewd ice-blue eyes narrowing on him suspiciously. “Why not?” the young man demanded through clenched teeth.
            Sephiroth merely leveled solemn green eyes on his own. “Is this not what you pay me for?” he questioned simply.
            Rufus eyed him for a moment longer before laughing abruptly. “So it is,” he allowed, stepping back and making a grand gesture with one arm. Cloud had been right, Sephiroth thought with surprise. The relief which lingered in the depths of Rufus’ still-angry gaze was proof enough of that. “He’s all yours, General. Enjoy the moment. I will.”
            Sephiroth unsheathed Masamune as he came to stand before the man who was responsible for his creation. Edgar Shinra stared up at him mutely, pleading with his eyes, even though he had to know that his death was unavoidable. Sephiroth’s only response was to raise Masamune and thrust it through his heart. The old man died almost instantly, a gasp of pain the only sound to escape his lips, as he slumped lifelessly in his chair.
            “It is done,” Sephiroth stated flatly, pulling the sword free and turning away. “I will be in my quarters, Mr. President. Call me when you have the information I require. I will be waiting. Cloud?”
            Cloud, who had watched the execution with only a faint sense of horror, pushed away from the wall to join him. He nodded at Reno, who was grinning from his spot by the door, and followed Sephiroth into the hallway. As disturbing as it had been to watch Sephiroth essentially execute a man, it hadn’t been nearly as terrifying as it would have been had he still been insane. Sephiroth was perfectly capable of murder, but he was a SOLDIER, and SOLDIERs killed. It was what they were trained for, and Cloud understood that now, in a way he hadn’t back when he’d been young.
            “You know, that’s the one thing I was always glad you did,” he said as casually as he could. “Killing President Shinra saved me the trouble of having to do it later.”
            Sephiroth slanted the younger man a surprised glance. “You realize, of course, that it wasn’t truly me?” he asked haltingly.
            Cloud bobbed his spiky blond head. “Yeah, I know,” he responded. “Still, it wasn’t like he didn’t have it coming, and it was one less thing for me to worry about at the time.”
            Sephiroth grunted. “I have to admit that I had not thought of it in such a way.”
            “There’s a shock,” Cloud mumbled under his breath, ignoring the dark look his nemesis cast his way.
            “Hey! Wait up!”
            They both turned to find Shotgun hot on their tales. “What do you want?” Cloud snapped in lieu of welcome.
            “Rufus wanted me to make sure you two got back to your quarters okay, just in case there were any pockets of resistance hiding in the building.”
            Two pairs of glowing mako eyes, one blue and one green, settled on her with disturbing intensity. “Whoa, guys,” she planted her hands on her shapely hips as she spoke, “I’m just following orders. Give the death glares a rest, why don’t you?”
            Cloud only rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Oh, and thanks for pairing me with Wonder Woman here, by the way. She was a huge help,” he added sarcastically.
            “Hey!” The Turk said in protest. “It’s not my fault I don’t have hollow-point rounds or mako-enhanced reflexes!”
            He tilted his head back until he could meet the other man’s gaze once again. “Did I mention that she’s a bossy nag?”
            Sephiroth hid a highly inappropriate laugh behind a cough as the female Turk crossed her arms over chest and looked away, muttering uncomplimentary things about Cloud and SOLDIER in general all the while. “My apologies,” he murmured in a low, nearly inaudible voice. “Tseng thought she would make an appropriate partner for you. I did not realize he had so underestimated your abilities.”
            Gaia’s Golden Weapon grunted. “Yeah, well, he wouldn’t be the first,” he muttered disgruntledly.
            “No,” Sephiroth returned with a rueful smile, “he would not.”
            “It’s only because you’re so damned short.”
            Cloud shot the pretty but annoying female Turk a dirty look. “Give it a rest, why don’t you?”
            Shotgun only grinned as she reached out to ruffle his soft blond spikes. “You’ll live, Strife. You’ll live.”
            Cloud ducked away from her, real irritation flashing across his too-young features. “Why the hell does everybody feel the need to play with my hair?” he asked nobody in particular.
            “I have been asking myself that same question for years,” Sephiroth muttered with a sigh. “When you arrive at a conclusion, please let me know. It has been most vexing.”
            Cloud looked at his the long, half-damp tangle that was currently Sephiroth’s hair, and felt a flash of sympathy. “You could always cut it, you know.”
            “And incur Genesis’ wrath?” Sephiroth’s voice was dry even as he shivered with mock fear. “I think not.”
            So that was why Sephiroth wore his hair so damned long, Cloud thought with surprise. It explained a lot, actually. “Well, I’m going to head back to my room and get cleaned up. Call me if you hear anything from Rufus.”
            “I will.” Sephiroth watched the younger man sprint for the staircase with fond eyes. He was coming to like Cloud Strife, overly serious though he was. He glanced at the woman who had fallen into step beside him and said, “I am perfectly capable of defending myself. You need not accompany me all the way home.”
            Shotgun snorted as they came to a halt before his front door. “You know, I never would have pegged you for a comedian, General.”
            Sephiroth merely smiled and slid his card key through the reader. The door unlocked, and he placed a hand on the ornate knob. “Thank you, for the escort, my dear. Please, tell Rufus that all is well, and that I am expecting his call.”
            “Yeah, sure.” The rather pretty Turk sent him a wink as she turned away. “Tell Rhapsodos I said, ‘Hi’. I’m one of his biggest fans, you know.”
            He frowned as he watched the pretty young woman saunter away. While he didn’t regret the decision he had made to reveal his relationship with Genesis, he was beginning to question the wisdom of having been so open about it. He didn’t like complete strangers making comments on his private life, whether they were meant to offend or not.
            He shook his head silver head with a sigh and entered his quarters. They apartment always seemed so empty when Genesis was not in it, he mused as he locked the door and switched on the lights. Well, he would take care of that soon enough. As soon as he had showered and changed and was no longer haunted by the scent of his beloved’s blood, he would call Genesis and recall the army. If they traveled swiftly, they could be home by nightfall. If not, well, there was always tomorrow.
            He took a quick but thorough shower, then settled back with a glass of wine and the phone. Anticipation quaked through him as he dialed Genesis’ number and sat back to wait. He had missed his kitten horribly.
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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody