Wutaiverse Update
Yayz for an update! This one's a bit dark, but does cover some practicalities of the FF7 world, as well as the schism between city and country in reguards to death in mideval/industrial scocieties.
On another note, does anyone know what happened to Ciceqi? I went to reread her stuff and it's all gone, even her website's not there anymore, did she decide to leave the fandom?
Alright, I've talked enough, on to the fic!
Title: 1988 - 08 - Killing Fields
Author: Scrolls
Rating: PG-13?
Fandom/Pairing: FF7/None (eventual Aeris/Cloud/Sephiroth/Zack)
Disclaimer: SqaureEnix Owns, I'm just having some fun.
Notes: Why Farm Boys are always prefered to City Boys by the Army.
Summary: What if Momma Strife had taken Cloud and Aeris and gone to Wutai, what would be the same, and what would be different?
Constructive criticism will be hugged while flames will be used to line the bunny hutch.
Enjoy Ladies and Gentlemen.
1988 - 08 - Killing Fields
Most in the cities believed that those who lived in the country don’t know death, that they lived sweet, idyllic, serene lives.
Those in the city forget where all their food comes from.
***0***
Zack had known deserts were dry, but this was ridiculous. Sand that when whipped up in storms could strip flesh, blazing sun that fried water even under cover, and nights that were a frigid cold.
Did he also mention that deserts were insane? Hot by day should mean hot by night!
Nope, no foliage or true dirt to hold the heat, so it all bleed away after sunset.
Zack, with the 112th Caravan Brigade was currently escorting a trade and supply convoy across the corel desert, once they hit the other side they would head east, hitting supply posts and towns all the way to Costa Del Sol.
After that the 117th would take over while they got a break.
That was if they managed to get across without serious incident, and considering that the hair on the back of his neck had been standing on end for three days straight, he doubted that.
Looking away from the convoy, Zack let his eyes trace the dunes that hemmed in the vehicles. “Fair! Eyes on the convoy!” the bellow came from the overweight, sweating, moron that took up the CO’s spot, one Captain Jacob Falstad.
The person in question rode by on chocobo back, too good to walk with the rest of them, instead he’d rather bellow like a cow at them.
To say Zack was annoyed with the man in question was an understatement. How can he watch for danger to the convoy if he isn’t allowed to watch for danger to the convoy!
Beside him a fellow third rolled his eyes and mouthed “The stupid is strong in this one.” Zack and a couple other SOLDIERs who had heard the remark snickered.
Falstad preferred to have SOLDIERs under his command, officially for their superior senses-in reality because they made up for his incompetence and let him go on a near-constant power trip as soon as they got away from the bases.
Eyes forced to watch the truck in front of him, Zack strained his ears to what had pulled at his attention in the first place- the distinct sound of movement in the desert.
***0***
Screams of pain, anger, blood spraying sand as bandits screamed, fired, cast, attacked and died.
His original position secure, Zack had moved to reinforce those groups that needed a hand. Going at top speed Zack never felt that he was fighting, but rather, instead that he was dancing. Flitting between knots of fighting, he gave those surrounded a hand and some breathing space.
As enemies fell he had those scattered gather back together into more defensible positions.
There were a couple others doing as he was. He always made sure to make eye contact with any of them as he passed, if only so that they knew he was there.
The problem with moving so fast was that sometimes your eyes couldn’t keep up, and you had to rely on what you had seen there before you moved.
Friendly fire wasn’t.
And all the while they got to listen to the pleasant sound of a CO panicking more and more.
No really, it was quiet fascinating to listen to.
The lieutenant had already ordered, been countermanded, and had listened to his own orders be reissued by the CO to have the back half of the convoy move up beside the front half, thus providing cover for them.
The civilians had quickly done as ordered, and most were now huddled in between the vehicles trying to stay out of the way. A handful however had grabbed there own rifles and was shooting back.
Even the blasted bird was proving its worth. Happily killing anything that came within its reach.
Faldstad came on the line, heavy breathing pitched high with his fear. “All vehicles prepare to more out! We’ll slam through their lines to the west, redline those trucks!”
“Sir! They’re pounding us from every direction but west, that’s where they want us to go!” he couldn’t keep the snarl out of his voice. Didn’t the man know anything about tactics!
“Fair’s correct sir! Odds are the rest of the band is waiting for us there! We’ll be caught in a pincer move. If we stay still we can take out this lot, patch up and handle the rest when they show up!”
“I don’t tolerate my orders being questioned by a mere lieutenant! That’s insubordination Doren! I’m your superior officer and you’ll do what I say!”
Zack snorted, superior officer? Hell no, just a higher ranking one.
“I’ll have your hide for refusing my orders Doren! Now, I repeat, we’re going to ram their lines to the west! Drivers get into your vehicles!”
Enough.
Zigzagging through a group of enemies he checked the flow of battle, the shooter’s locations, and where the CO was standing.
Leaping from where he had been Zack moved into the best position he could find.
A few minutes of fighting and listening to the civilians argue with Falstad about his orders one of the shooters finally got off a round at the angle and direction he needed.
There even was someone for him to swing at in the spot he needed to be at.
Swinging his sword, blade flat to the wind he brained the bandit and continued the swing until he’d gone a full 360 before flipping the blade to slice the man’s head off.
The bullet he’d been tracking shot into the twisting contrail of his sword, and its trajectory changed.
A broken window, a startled yelp from a civilian, and the gargle of a ripped neck told Zack the path the bullet had taken.
Moments later he heard the confirmation from the senior medic.
It was only a heartbeat later that Doren started handing out orders.
***0***
The rock dust was just settling by the time eleven year old Zack found his uncle. He and Tambrin had been out hunting at the edge of their territory, near a stack of rock from an old slide from his grandfather’s time.
They hadn’t even gone near the pile when it had started to slide.
At first he’d thought that his uncle was under a simple pile of small stone, but appearances were deceiving, instead he had been buried under several large slabs pockmarked and bumpy to give the illusion of an easy to move pile.
He would never be able to move the slabs, but he tried anyway, and even as he did he heard the sound of snapping bone.
“Zack….no. that won’t work…you know it.” Tambrin gasped out, arms bracing what they could.
“I can-“
“No, by the time you got back with help, I would be dead. Do you still have your notebook?”
Zack hadn’t bother replying, simply pulled out the pad of paper, slowly, and to the sound of more bones creaking and breaking, his uncle talked and he wrote.
“Pull out your knife Zack.” What did a knife have to do-Tambrin saw the look on his face.
“It’s either slow, bit by bit as my body is crushed, or here and now. The animals will have been spooked away by the noise, but the predators will be coming soon.”
His uncle coached him, telling him to repack his bag, did he remember the way home form here, and where to place the knife.
His hand shook, no matter how many times Tambrin told him it was okay, his hand shook, this was his uncle, the man who had shown him how to do a good prank, where the panel in the roof of his room was, who dropped him hints when he was stumped.
The loud crack as the arms that had held up the rock snapped, his uncle’s chocked scream, and the knife slid through flesh.
More crunches followed, the bubbly sound of Tambrin trying to breathe, and then the sound of settling rock.
For long moments he just stayed there, staring, until the sound of squabbling beasts pulled him out of it. Shaking, he would have bolted….but his uncle had asked-told-ordered-he couldn’t remember which-he was to cover his body with rock, to keep anything from chewing on him while Zack was getting help.
Beyond placing the last stone, Zack doesn’t remember how he got home.
He does remember running into his home, blood on his knife, babbling, trying to get it all out but his mouth not able to move fast enough.
His mother had stayed with him, both through the long wait, and the nights that followed until the funeral.
It was only there, when faced with his uncle’s new bride, who thanked him for the last message, and for not letting her husband suffer.
That was when he finally broke down.
***0***
Oh yes, those who lived in the country saw death. Sickness, accident, age, even death they had to deal in mercy.
Country boys knew how to kill; it was the city boys who were squeamish.
Storyline wise this really doesn't do anything, but I'm trying to include stuff that explains aspects of the characters personalities.
Plus I gotta show how Zack got his Seph somehow!
Have a Good Week All!
On another note, does anyone know what happened to Ciceqi? I went to reread her stuff and it's all gone, even her website's not there anymore, did she decide to leave the fandom?
Alright, I've talked enough, on to the fic!
Title: 1988 - 08 - Killing Fields
Author: Scrolls
Rating: PG-13?
Fandom/Pairing: FF7/None (eventual Aeris/Cloud/Sephiroth/Zack)
Disclaimer: SqaureEnix Owns, I'm just having some fun.
Notes: Why Farm Boys are always prefered to City Boys by the Army.
Summary: What if Momma Strife had taken Cloud and Aeris and gone to Wutai, what would be the same, and what would be different?
Constructive criticism will be hugged while flames will be used to line the bunny hutch.
Enjoy Ladies and Gentlemen.
1988 - 08 - Killing Fields
Most in the cities believed that those who lived in the country don’t know death, that they lived sweet, idyllic, serene lives.
Those in the city forget where all their food comes from.
***0***
Zack had known deserts were dry, but this was ridiculous. Sand that when whipped up in storms could strip flesh, blazing sun that fried water even under cover, and nights that were a frigid cold.
Did he also mention that deserts were insane? Hot by day should mean hot by night!
Nope, no foliage or true dirt to hold the heat, so it all bleed away after sunset.
Zack, with the 112th Caravan Brigade was currently escorting a trade and supply convoy across the corel desert, once they hit the other side they would head east, hitting supply posts and towns all the way to Costa Del Sol.
After that the 117th would take over while they got a break.
That was if they managed to get across without serious incident, and considering that the hair on the back of his neck had been standing on end for three days straight, he doubted that.
Looking away from the convoy, Zack let his eyes trace the dunes that hemmed in the vehicles. “Fair! Eyes on the convoy!” the bellow came from the overweight, sweating, moron that took up the CO’s spot, one Captain Jacob Falstad.
The person in question rode by on chocobo back, too good to walk with the rest of them, instead he’d rather bellow like a cow at them.
To say Zack was annoyed with the man in question was an understatement. How can he watch for danger to the convoy if he isn’t allowed to watch for danger to the convoy!
Beside him a fellow third rolled his eyes and mouthed “The stupid is strong in this one.” Zack and a couple other SOLDIERs who had heard the remark snickered.
Falstad preferred to have SOLDIERs under his command, officially for their superior senses-in reality because they made up for his incompetence and let him go on a near-constant power trip as soon as they got away from the bases.
Eyes forced to watch the truck in front of him, Zack strained his ears to what had pulled at his attention in the first place- the distinct sound of movement in the desert.
***0***
Screams of pain, anger, blood spraying sand as bandits screamed, fired, cast, attacked and died.
His original position secure, Zack had moved to reinforce those groups that needed a hand. Going at top speed Zack never felt that he was fighting, but rather, instead that he was dancing. Flitting between knots of fighting, he gave those surrounded a hand and some breathing space.
As enemies fell he had those scattered gather back together into more defensible positions.
There were a couple others doing as he was. He always made sure to make eye contact with any of them as he passed, if only so that they knew he was there.
The problem with moving so fast was that sometimes your eyes couldn’t keep up, and you had to rely on what you had seen there before you moved.
Friendly fire wasn’t.
And all the while they got to listen to the pleasant sound of a CO panicking more and more.
No really, it was quiet fascinating to listen to.
The lieutenant had already ordered, been countermanded, and had listened to his own orders be reissued by the CO to have the back half of the convoy move up beside the front half, thus providing cover for them.
The civilians had quickly done as ordered, and most were now huddled in between the vehicles trying to stay out of the way. A handful however had grabbed there own rifles and was shooting back.
Even the blasted bird was proving its worth. Happily killing anything that came within its reach.
Faldstad came on the line, heavy breathing pitched high with his fear. “All vehicles prepare to more out! We’ll slam through their lines to the west, redline those trucks!”
“Sir! They’re pounding us from every direction but west, that’s where they want us to go!” he couldn’t keep the snarl out of his voice. Didn’t the man know anything about tactics!
“Fair’s correct sir! Odds are the rest of the band is waiting for us there! We’ll be caught in a pincer move. If we stay still we can take out this lot, patch up and handle the rest when they show up!”
“I don’t tolerate my orders being questioned by a mere lieutenant! That’s insubordination Doren! I’m your superior officer and you’ll do what I say!”
Zack snorted, superior officer? Hell no, just a higher ranking one.
“I’ll have your hide for refusing my orders Doren! Now, I repeat, we’re going to ram their lines to the west! Drivers get into your vehicles!”
Enough.
Zigzagging through a group of enemies he checked the flow of battle, the shooter’s locations, and where the CO was standing.
Leaping from where he had been Zack moved into the best position he could find.
A few minutes of fighting and listening to the civilians argue with Falstad about his orders one of the shooters finally got off a round at the angle and direction he needed.
There even was someone for him to swing at in the spot he needed to be at.
Swinging his sword, blade flat to the wind he brained the bandit and continued the swing until he’d gone a full 360 before flipping the blade to slice the man’s head off.
The bullet he’d been tracking shot into the twisting contrail of his sword, and its trajectory changed.
A broken window, a startled yelp from a civilian, and the gargle of a ripped neck told Zack the path the bullet had taken.
Moments later he heard the confirmation from the senior medic.
It was only a heartbeat later that Doren started handing out orders.
***0***
The rock dust was just settling by the time eleven year old Zack found his uncle. He and Tambrin had been out hunting at the edge of their territory, near a stack of rock from an old slide from his grandfather’s time.
They hadn’t even gone near the pile when it had started to slide.
At first he’d thought that his uncle was under a simple pile of small stone, but appearances were deceiving, instead he had been buried under several large slabs pockmarked and bumpy to give the illusion of an easy to move pile.
He would never be able to move the slabs, but he tried anyway, and even as he did he heard the sound of snapping bone.
“Zack….no. that won’t work…you know it.” Tambrin gasped out, arms bracing what they could.
“I can-“
“No, by the time you got back with help, I would be dead. Do you still have your notebook?”
Zack hadn’t bother replying, simply pulled out the pad of paper, slowly, and to the sound of more bones creaking and breaking, his uncle talked and he wrote.
“Pull out your knife Zack.” What did a knife have to do-Tambrin saw the look on his face.
“It’s either slow, bit by bit as my body is crushed, or here and now. The animals will have been spooked away by the noise, but the predators will be coming soon.”
His uncle coached him, telling him to repack his bag, did he remember the way home form here, and where to place the knife.
His hand shook, no matter how many times Tambrin told him it was okay, his hand shook, this was his uncle, the man who had shown him how to do a good prank, where the panel in the roof of his room was, who dropped him hints when he was stumped.
The loud crack as the arms that had held up the rock snapped, his uncle’s chocked scream, and the knife slid through flesh.
More crunches followed, the bubbly sound of Tambrin trying to breathe, and then the sound of settling rock.
For long moments he just stayed there, staring, until the sound of squabbling beasts pulled him out of it. Shaking, he would have bolted….but his uncle had asked-told-ordered-he couldn’t remember which-he was to cover his body with rock, to keep anything from chewing on him while Zack was getting help.
Beyond placing the last stone, Zack doesn’t remember how he got home.
He does remember running into his home, blood on his knife, babbling, trying to get it all out but his mouth not able to move fast enough.
His mother had stayed with him, both through the long wait, and the nights that followed until the funeral.
It was only there, when faced with his uncle’s new bride, who thanked him for the last message, and for not letting her husband suffer.
That was when he finally broke down.
***0***
Oh yes, those who lived in the country saw death. Sickness, accident, age, even death they had to deal in mercy.
Country boys knew how to kill; it was the city boys who were squeamish.
Storyline wise this really doesn't do anything, but I'm trying to include stuff that explains aspects of the characters personalities.
Plus I gotta show how Zack got his Seph somehow!
Have a Good Week All!