Thicker Than Blood - Chapter 2
Five Years Later…
Cloud Strife threw himself back as a sharp beak stabbed at his side. The Epiolnis hissed as its attack met only air and Cloud answered with the thunder of his machinegun.
Quickly it drew away, bringing up one large wing-like claw up to guard its head. The fiery crest crowning its brow rose upward, quivering with anger, but otherwise gave no sign of being harmed. He’d heard about Epiolni. Their plumage was notoriously tough, often used in the manufacture of bullet-proof vests, but seeing it in person was completely different. He really should have brought more weapons.
Despite himself, Cloud couldn’t help but find the entire thing absurd. This was supposed to be nothing more than escorting livestock between Costa del Sol and Junon via cargo ship. Simple. He’d expected to spend the moments in between throwing up being bored out of his mind.
He shot it again. Even if the bullets couldn’t puncture, it had to hurt. The bird-like beast stumbled under the onslaught, before slowly, reluctantly, starting to go backward. Cloud walked after it, continuing to fire, herding it back toward the cargo hold, all the while mindful of the creature’s black slits which coldly examined him through the gaps of its feathers.
They finally reached the hold. Just a little bit further and it would all be over. Unfortunately, this was where the Epiolnis stopped, its talons loudly scratching the metal floor as it tried to find purchase. Cloud carefully pointed his gun at the ground for one last burst. No need to hurt the beast anymore, just scare it enough for it to go back inside and have time to lock it in.
This never happened though as it launched itself towards him, beak and claws all reaching for him as it flew through the air.
Without a second thought, Cloud drew his knife and thrust. A second later he sidestepped as the corpse landed at his feet.
The Epiolnis lay there, a deep crack in its beak, and he carefully leaned down, only relaxing when he saw the gash in its neck. He didn’t have time to enjoy his victory as an angry, high-pitched chattering filled the air, and he looked up to see four other Epiolni moving towards him. Great. Just Great. Here he was with most if not all of the cargo had escaped and was running amok. One he could handle, probably even two, but he really didn’t feel like testing his luck against all of them at once.
At least it was better than being sea sick.
Then he heard a thunder of a different sort. Cloud chanced a glance upward and was rewarded by the sight of a helicopter approaching. Once the helicopter had finally caught up with the ship, something fell off.
No. That wasn’t right. Jumped off.
It plummeted, quickly turning it into a dark blur. Cloud could barely make the form of a man, before it hit the ground. After rolling a few times to mitigate to the force of the fall, the figure sprang to his feet soon enough, doing a fast scan of the area before running towards Cloud’s position. There was a short pause in his sprint though when Cloud made a crisp nod in his direction with which the figure returned with one of his own.
At this point, Epiolnis drew closer and Cloud knew he couldn’t afford to be distracted any longer. He slowly edged into where the shipping containers lined the deck. The monsters grew bolder at the sign of retreat, following close behind, barely slowed by the occasional burst from his machine gun.
The gigantic crates made a maze, the tall, narrow corridors making up the various twists and turns were claustrophobic and blocked out all but the rare sliver of light. As his helmet automatically switched to night-vision, the creatures turned crimson.
Cloud’s back hit slammed into metal, echoing loudly in the tight space. He’d hit a dead end. His gun was running out of bullets, nevermind the fact that it hadn’t been that effective in the first place. So he dropped the machinegun, freeing himself from the dead weight, and once more drew his combat knife, crouching in preparation. It had worked last time. If necessary it might save him again.
He could hear the creatures’ greedy beaks clacking expectantly. They were hardly dumb. They could see his situation. Their dark eyes glittered with primal intelligence as they coiled back their necks, preparing to thrust into flesh.
“NOW!” he shouted.
Up above, straddled between two crates was the figure. At Cloud’s command, he dropped downward with broadsword between his legs, slamming into the back of the first monster. Then, using the still-toppling body to push off, spun around to decapitate the second. Cloud didn’t bother getting involved, only keeping his knife up in case he was attacked. The figure parried and jabbed, seemingly dancing with the monsters, leaving a river of feathers and blood flowing behind him.
This was the power of SOLDIER and only a fool stood in its way.
Between the tightness of the space and the stranger’s skill, it was over soon enough.
After wiping his sword on one of the monster’s bodies, the SOLDIER - a Second Class if his lavender uniform was to go by - turned to Cloud. “Would you be Captain Strife?” he said in a short clipped tone.
It took a second to process that. “Uh… yeah,” he said eventually. Even a month after his promotion, the title seemed false to his ears.
If the awkwardness of the answer threw him off, the Second’s reaction was entirely hidden by his helmet. “I’m here to provide backup. Is the Vice President secure?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I left him on the bridge while I investigated. There’s a fair number of locks and the doors are quite thick. He should be fi-”
The boom of a shotgun rang through the air.
“Dammit, Rufus,” he swore, then turned to the SOLDIER and said, “Go.”
The SOLDIER didn’t bother to wait for further instructions and leapt to the top of a shipping container, heading quickly away. Cloud followed. Maybe he couldn’t match the seemingly effortless speed of the enhanced but he could try, running full tilt towards the bridge.
By the time he reached it, he was almost completely exhausted. Though as he took in the sight before him, the tiny embers still within him woke, violently bursting into full-fledged flames
There, standing on the balcony out from the bridge, was Rufus with shotgun in hand. The ocean wind was whipping into face, causing a lock of red-gold hair to fall against his cheek and an Epiolnis was scampering up the stairs towards him. A sane person might have shot the monster right away or tried to escape.
But not Rufus Shinra. No, he had to first casually flip the hair out of his face, and when the monster was barely a metre away, then shoot it. Because doing it the other way made way too much sense. Cloud was too annoyed to be grateful that apparently the shotgun was powerful enough to get the job done.
“Rufus,” he said when he finally reached the other man, “what are you doing?”
“Honestly, Cloud, I know observation skills are not your primary area of expertise, but I thought ‘what’ I was doing was rather obvious.” Rufus took aim at another monster, this time using only one hand, hitting it neatly in the head.
“I mean what are you doing out here. I gave orders to the trooper with you to keep you indoors and out of sight.”
“Do you now? I’m afraid I never heard a thing about that.”
At this point the trooper in question stepped forward. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said as he addressed Cloud. The poor private looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, shaking like a leaf. “I tried to do what you ordered, but he…” He quickly trailed off.
“Rufus…” Cloud growled.
“Yes?”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“You looked at him,” Cloud accused.
Rufus had the gall to act like he didn’t understand. “I’m not allowed to look at my illustrious protectors?” he said. The question was practically dripping with innocence.
If there ever was a case for outlawing sarcasm, Rufus was it.
“We’re all clear,” came a voice from below, the measured, professional tone contrasted wildly with the conversation above. The SOLDIER loped lightly up the stairs. Soon enough he joined the entire affair, his gaze shifting from the trooper attempting to blend into the wall, the Vice President smiling as if he’d just been declared the king of the world, and Captain Strife looking like he was on the verge strangling aforementioned vice president.
“Is everything okay here?” the Second asked carefully. When he didn’t get an answer, he added, “Are you okay, Mr. Shinra? Should I signal the helicopter to prepare for medical transport?”
This at least provoked a response. “No, I do not require medical aid,” Rufus snapped. “And in the future, SOLDIER, I am not to be addressed as ‘Mr. Shinra’. That name belongs to my father. Not to me. You may, on the other hand, call me ‘sir’, ‘Mr. Vice President’ or - if you absolutely must - ‘Mr. Rufus Shinra’.”
Cloud rolled his eyes at this. It was one of Rufus’ odder quirks - he absolutely despised being referred to solely by last name. When he was still new, he’d accidentally done it and then had ‘accidentally’ been assigned to latrine duty for a month. To his credit the Second apparently decided not to provoke Rufus further.
“So there’s no other escaped animals?” Cloud interjected, glad to be changing the subject.
“Fairly sure. I did a once over the area, but you can check for yourself.” With that he unlocked the bracer on his arm, reaching it to pluck an orb.
Cloud took it with a touch of trepidation. Materia was expensive and in the military generally only gave them to the more important members of the military. Even then, SOLDIERs didn’t receive any until they achieved Second Class and Turks generally used gizmos to make up for the lack.
Focusing on it, the orb glowed bright yellow, pulsing in time to his heart. He was faced towards Rufus when he was overcome with a sudden flood of sensations. It was dizzying and he grasped the rail of the balcony to keep his balance. There were a bunch of different feelings that were invoked but the overwhelming one was health.
“Cloud, is this really the time for motion sickness?” Rufus always did have a weird way of expressing concern. Or at least this was what Cloud had come to believe was the executive’s way of showing it. It could be hard to tell with Rufus. Sometimes the best thing to do with his frustrating behaviour was to simply ignore it.
So that’s just what Cloud did, focusing on the trooper instead. Sense materia. He’d known what it was before using it; nonetheless, he hadn’t been prepared for the reality. Health the trooper seemed to sing despite his pale pallor. Afterward he examined the Second and got the distant sensation of pain and he realised there was a slash in the sleeve of his arm, the wound wasn’t bad though, sealing before his very eyes courtesy of the mako in the SOLDIER’s blood.
“Well?” Rufus inquired.
Cloud ignored him and looked over the rest of the ship. Even though he couldn't literally see them, when he faced towards the bridge, he could tell there were other people there and below the ship in what he assumed was the engine room there seemed to be a few others. Finally he searched around the ship for Epiolni.
“Yes, he’s right. The rest of the livestock are still in the cargo hold.” Hopefully those ones were still secure.
Relaxing his grip on the orb, he felt both a bit saddened as the foreign feelings fled. While it wasn’t easy for Turks and SOLDIERs to get their hands on materia, troopers were lucky to so much as look at the stuff, being expected to make do with cumbersome spell grenades. It would probably be a long time before he was allowed to use one again.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt you,” he said as he gave it back to the Second.
“It’s your duty to personally oversee the health and safety of your charge,” was the response. Cloud figured this more or less translated into that the Second wasn’t offended.
“Personally, it’s my duty to point out your charge is getting away,” pitched in the trooper.
Not again. “Rufus, get back here!”
He might as well been talking to a wall for all the good it did him. Rufus was already down the stairs and headed in the direction of the hold.
“Private,” he said to the trooper, “I need you to get on the radio to the helicopter. Tell them what’s going on.” The infantryman quickly scampered away, apparently glad he wasn’t expected to chase after the crazy executive.
He pushed off from the balcony’s railing, settling his weight back onto his feet. Without asking, the Second steadied him as his legs, already tired from earlier, groaned in protest. “Thanks,” he said.
“I’m doing my job.” The SOLDIER shrugged. “It wouldn’t help matters if I ended up having to rescue the Vice President and you.”
They jogged after Rufus, catching up to him just before he entered the hold.
“You’re not going in there,” Cloud stated.
“I’m not? You have to admit such behaviour is unusual for domesticated creatures,” Rufus said. “It certainly merits investigation.”
He had been thinking along similar lines. This sort of behaviour was unusual. He’d heard of Epiolni being vicious, though that was due to mako leaching into their drinking water. Normal untainted ones only ate small rodents and fish. They’d only attack when provoked and this one was supposed to be well-used to human company.
That being said, he definitely didn’t want Rufus going in there. Unfortunately he seriously doubted the executive was going to behave himself, especially considering he was wearing that self-satisfied smirk that implied he’d already won. Cloud seriously considered knocking Rufus out and dragging him back to the bridge. It would serve him right.
It was quite a tempting notion, and he was reluctant to let it go. Eventually he relented, if did it Rufus likely wouldn’t have the good manners to fire him.
“If you get killed, I’ll murder you,” he growled.
“You do realise that sentence makes no sense whatsoever, don’t you?”
Not bothering to respond, he took the opportunity to enter the hold first, before a certain executive could. Clearing the area, he motioned for the others to follow.
The cargo hold was gloomy. The fluorescent lights above flickered anxiously, only reluctantly piercing the corners of the room, leaving the velvety shadows there virtually untouched. When Cloud laid eyes on where the rest of the livestock was kept, for one horrible second he thought that the rest of the animals had recently escaped. It came as a fervent relief when he spotted a bit of plumage poking out of one of the stalls.
Slowly he approached it and cautiously looked it over. Only minutes before he’d been leery of the animals, but now… The Epiolnis was squeezed as far back into its stall as possible, its tail pushed in a hundred different directions from the effort of getting just a little further away from the door. The next stall contained an Epiolnis standing their frozen, only its slight quivering signalling that it was still alive. Further back was another animal, this one scratching at the door of its stall - it was a fruitless effort though, its claws were already worn down to stubs.
A moan pierced the suffocating silence and he found yet another Epiolnis, this one half hanging out of its compartment. Its beak was hopelessly shattered; meanwhile its tongue poked out of the shattered remains, helplessly twisting and turning like a worm on wet pavement.
The stall’s lock had massive dents on it, apparently battered until finally it broke. Didn’t the first one that escaped have a crack in its beak? Did the other ones too? Probably. He could see similar marks on the locks of the other empty compartments.
“Gentlemen, I do believe I’ve found the source of our problems,” said Rufus.
At furthest reaches of the hold was a human lying face down, his or her body twisted at an unnatural angle . Cloud’s jaw clinched as he touched the person’s skin. Cold. A rather grim part of him noted that at least he wouldn’t have to waste any of potions. Further examination revealed gouges in the corpse’s back. He had been apparently trampled.
Carefully he rolled the body over.
What the-
“Captain Strife, is something wrong?” the SOLDIER asked.
This wasn’t right. They had all died years ago.
“Do you know this man?” Rufus inquired.
“I… It’s… He just resembles someone I used to know, that’s all.” he answered. He was just seeing things.
“Is that so?” Rufus kneeled down to get closer to the corpse. His nose wrinkled when it soon became apparent that whoever he used to be, he hadn’t had a bath in months. “Anyone in particular?”
“Davin.” he said. “He was one of my distant cousins from back home.” Not that it had stopped them from getting into the odd argument about whose turn it was to play on the water tower.
“Yes, I can see how that might be disconcerting.”
It had been a long time since Nibelheim had been destroyed by monster attacks, killing the entire village, including two SOLDIERs and his mother. Even years later he was shaken by the knowledge that he should’ve been there. If he’d been there maybe he could’ve done something to change things.
In reflection his reasons for not going home seemed so incredibly flimsy, weaker than tissue paper. Yes, hadn’t gotten into SOLDIER, but he was hardly alone there; there were thousands of applicants each year. At the very least he could’ve seen them all one last time, but his damnable pride had gotten in the way.
Rufus seemed to have sensed his darkening mood and gave him a sharp tap on the shoulder. “If a First Class SOLDIER, never mind General Sephiroth, was unable to do anything… Well, to put it delicately, it would be completely presumptuous of you to think you could have saved them.”
Privately Cloud wasn’t sure he agreed. Nonetheless it provided an odd sort of comfort. He looked the body once more. Yes, there were some strong similarities, still he hadn’t seen Davin since they were kids and he’d been a year younger than Cloud. Who knew what he would’ve looked like as a grownup? Besides Davin’s eyes had been brown. Not vivid green.
A strong gust whisked through the room and finally snapped Cloud out of his rather morbid nostalgia. Outside, the helicopter was landing and the whirlwind of its blades creating a loud rumble that blocked out everything but the loudest of noises. The pilot beckoned them to board and Cloud prepared to ask the Second to pick the Vice President up and carry him onboard. Rufus had already shown a love of running straight into danger and he didn’t feel like waiting around for something else to go wrong.
Rufus’ bored expression did nothing to discourage Cloud’s sentiment. Then Rufus’ features wavered for a split second as he set eyes on the pilot, a tall Wutain man, most likely a Turk if his dark suit was anything to go by. And to Cloud’s surprise Rufus strode towards the vehicle as if that’s what he had been planning all along, boarding without the slightest prompt.
Once they were inside, Rufus said to the Turk, “If possible I’d like Captain Strife to pilot.”
The Turk’s dark gaze met Rufus’ blue.
“Honestly Tseng, he is perfectly capable. He does not, for example, crash his helicopter during ideal flying conditions like some people I might name,” Rufus retorted to the Turk.
“I’m qualified to fly as well.” Up until now, the Second had been conspicuously silent and his stilted manner of speech seemed quite loud in the confines of the cabin. “I could act as his co-pilot.”
This seemed to decide the Turk who removed the headset smoothly, handing it to Cloud, before buckling himself into the seat across from Rufus.
Cloud was relieved. He was bad enough on cars and boats (provided he wasn’t fighting for his life), but helicopters were a special kind of torture. It had taken a bit of trial and error before he’d realised that he barely got motion sick when he was the piloting. Whether it was because Rufus had been trying to help or because he simply didn’t want vomit on his impractical white suit, he felt grateful towards the executive.
And not just for that. Rufus might drive him nuts but it was the sort of nuts that kept him busy. Kept his mind off things. It gave him something to focus on other than everything he’d lost. His hometown. Tifa. His mother.
“I was under the impression that troopers don’t know how to fly,” the Second said from the co-pilot seat.
“Most don’t. I do.” Cloud checked the displays, carefully adjusting a few of the controls. “I was under the impression that SOLDIERs don’t know how to fly.”
“Most don’t. I do. Honestly, to go up there and have all that blue sky to yourself… Who wouldn’t want to fly?” It was the first thing out of the Second’s mouth that didn’t sound like he was reading from a script.
At this point, the SOLDIER removed his helmet to reveal shaggy eyebrows and a short red crew-cut. Cloud felt a tiny stab at the sight. When the helmet had still been on, he’d been able to delude himself, just a little. He’d been able to convince himself that this was Zack, still alive and fighting side-by-side with him just like old times.
“I’m Luxiere,” the SOLDIER said, reaching out a hand.
He shook it. “Cloud.”
There was still a nasty bit of survivor’s guilt that lived inside him. A part of himself that incessantly whispered all the things that might have happened if he’d made a different choice on that fateful day. But bit by bit it was quieting. His family and friends would always be a part of him, but now it was time to focus on the future.
The past was dead.
It holds you close ,
wrapping around and around and around, touching every part
cradling you in her arms
not arms not legs not real not right
a mother to your child
not family NOT MY MOTHER
whispering silken comforts in your ears.
a thousand tiny tendrils, fondling each inch the skin
Yes, you’re right.
Your chest is hollow.
Anything that touches you echoes imperfection.
The void wrenches at you, sucking at the pale fragile shell encasing it
Cracks dance across your visage, until it is old leaves burning under the merciless sun
Violation. nothing sacred or safe not anymore.
nothing more.
Nothing but purpose. Nothing but hope.
hope? ripped, buried, stolen gonegonegonegonegone
Hope. Duty.
Your lips are parched, ripping slightly as they part, copper on your tongue.
Your mouth is raised upward, in askance to the sky.
And the sky answers. The cruel sun imprisoned.
The stars shine. Their rays are soft, cool, refreshing as they gently caress your maimed skin,
Slithering down your dry throat and filling your belly.
please, it hurts
You bare it because you must.
hurts
Because you’ve been empty so long, being filled is strange, alien.
hurts
It is only the pangs of birth. Trust. Hope.
hope
You find yourself lying in afterbirth. The liquid glows rich emerald and the smell of it is almost beyond description, speaking of the ocean, flowers, dung, sweat and much more. The scent is a jittery bird, flittering from perch to perch, never settling long. The room encompassing you is sterile and cold with black tile covering the floor, the darkness of it seems to pull at you in, reluctant to let you be free out its grasp. Distant memories are strewn across its surface, their glistening metal edges and points seem to scream at you.
But that is all the past. They no longer mean anything to you, easily ignored nuisances.
The only thing here that holds your interest is the tube standing proud in all its shattered glory, a sea of crystal shards pouring out from its pierced heart. You stroke it reverently. This is your nurturer, your life-giver, the womb that brought you forth.
cocoon
It has done so much for you. And you owe it so very much. Nonetheless it gives you one last gift - in the confines of its glass you see yourself kneeling to its majesty and blazed upon your chest is the number ‘7’, a sign that you are pledged to be a loyal servant and of the rightness therein. The mark of your master claiming you as His.
Lucky number seven. For some reason you find that funny.
Next Chapter
Cloud Strife threw himself back as a sharp beak stabbed at his side. The Epiolnis hissed as its attack met only air and Cloud answered with the thunder of his machinegun.
Quickly it drew away, bringing up one large wing-like claw up to guard its head. The fiery crest crowning its brow rose upward, quivering with anger, but otherwise gave no sign of being harmed. He’d heard about Epiolni. Their plumage was notoriously tough, often used in the manufacture of bullet-proof vests, but seeing it in person was completely different. He really should have brought more weapons.
Despite himself, Cloud couldn’t help but find the entire thing absurd. This was supposed to be nothing more than escorting livestock between Costa del Sol and Junon via cargo ship. Simple. He’d expected to spend the moments in between throwing up being bored out of his mind.
He shot it again. Even if the bullets couldn’t puncture, it had to hurt. The bird-like beast stumbled under the onslaught, before slowly, reluctantly, starting to go backward. Cloud walked after it, continuing to fire, herding it back toward the cargo hold, all the while mindful of the creature’s black slits which coldly examined him through the gaps of its feathers.
They finally reached the hold. Just a little bit further and it would all be over. Unfortunately, this was where the Epiolnis stopped, its talons loudly scratching the metal floor as it tried to find purchase. Cloud carefully pointed his gun at the ground for one last burst. No need to hurt the beast anymore, just scare it enough for it to go back inside and have time to lock it in.
This never happened though as it launched itself towards him, beak and claws all reaching for him as it flew through the air.
Without a second thought, Cloud drew his knife and thrust. A second later he sidestepped as the corpse landed at his feet.
The Epiolnis lay there, a deep crack in its beak, and he carefully leaned down, only relaxing when he saw the gash in its neck. He didn’t have time to enjoy his victory as an angry, high-pitched chattering filled the air, and he looked up to see four other Epiolni moving towards him. Great. Just Great. Here he was with most if not all of the cargo had escaped and was running amok. One he could handle, probably even two, but he really didn’t feel like testing his luck against all of them at once.
At least it was better than being sea sick.
Then he heard a thunder of a different sort. Cloud chanced a glance upward and was rewarded by the sight of a helicopter approaching. Once the helicopter had finally caught up with the ship, something fell off.
No. That wasn’t right. Jumped off.
It plummeted, quickly turning it into a dark blur. Cloud could barely make the form of a man, before it hit the ground. After rolling a few times to mitigate to the force of the fall, the figure sprang to his feet soon enough, doing a fast scan of the area before running towards Cloud’s position. There was a short pause in his sprint though when Cloud made a crisp nod in his direction with which the figure returned with one of his own.
At this point, Epiolnis drew closer and Cloud knew he couldn’t afford to be distracted any longer. He slowly edged into where the shipping containers lined the deck. The monsters grew bolder at the sign of retreat, following close behind, barely slowed by the occasional burst from his machine gun.
The gigantic crates made a maze, the tall, narrow corridors making up the various twists and turns were claustrophobic and blocked out all but the rare sliver of light. As his helmet automatically switched to night-vision, the creatures turned crimson.
Cloud’s back hit slammed into metal, echoing loudly in the tight space. He’d hit a dead end. His gun was running out of bullets, nevermind the fact that it hadn’t been that effective in the first place. So he dropped the machinegun, freeing himself from the dead weight, and once more drew his combat knife, crouching in preparation. It had worked last time. If necessary it might save him again.
He could hear the creatures’ greedy beaks clacking expectantly. They were hardly dumb. They could see his situation. Their dark eyes glittered with primal intelligence as they coiled back their necks, preparing to thrust into flesh.
“NOW!” he shouted.
Up above, straddled between two crates was the figure. At Cloud’s command, he dropped downward with broadsword between his legs, slamming into the back of the first monster. Then, using the still-toppling body to push off, spun around to decapitate the second. Cloud didn’t bother getting involved, only keeping his knife up in case he was attacked. The figure parried and jabbed, seemingly dancing with the monsters, leaving a river of feathers and blood flowing behind him.
This was the power of SOLDIER and only a fool stood in its way.
Between the tightness of the space and the stranger’s skill, it was over soon enough.
After wiping his sword on one of the monster’s bodies, the SOLDIER - a Second Class if his lavender uniform was to go by - turned to Cloud. “Would you be Captain Strife?” he said in a short clipped tone.
It took a second to process that. “Uh… yeah,” he said eventually. Even a month after his promotion, the title seemed false to his ears.
If the awkwardness of the answer threw him off, the Second’s reaction was entirely hidden by his helmet. “I’m here to provide backup. Is the Vice President secure?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I left him on the bridge while I investigated. There’s a fair number of locks and the doors are quite thick. He should be fi-”
The boom of a shotgun rang through the air.
“Dammit, Rufus,” he swore, then turned to the SOLDIER and said, “Go.”
The SOLDIER didn’t bother to wait for further instructions and leapt to the top of a shipping container, heading quickly away. Cloud followed. Maybe he couldn’t match the seemingly effortless speed of the enhanced but he could try, running full tilt towards the bridge.
By the time he reached it, he was almost completely exhausted. Though as he took in the sight before him, the tiny embers still within him woke, violently bursting into full-fledged flames
There, standing on the balcony out from the bridge, was Rufus with shotgun in hand. The ocean wind was whipping into face, causing a lock of red-gold hair to fall against his cheek and an Epiolnis was scampering up the stairs towards him. A sane person might have shot the monster right away or tried to escape.
But not Rufus Shinra. No, he had to first casually flip the hair out of his face, and when the monster was barely a metre away, then shoot it. Because doing it the other way made way too much sense. Cloud was too annoyed to be grateful that apparently the shotgun was powerful enough to get the job done.
“Rufus,” he said when he finally reached the other man, “what are you doing?”
“Honestly, Cloud, I know observation skills are not your primary area of expertise, but I thought ‘what’ I was doing was rather obvious.” Rufus took aim at another monster, this time using only one hand, hitting it neatly in the head.
“I mean what are you doing out here. I gave orders to the trooper with you to keep you indoors and out of sight.”
“Do you now? I’m afraid I never heard a thing about that.”
At this point the trooper in question stepped forward. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said as he addressed Cloud. The poor private looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, shaking like a leaf. “I tried to do what you ordered, but he…” He quickly trailed off.
“Rufus…” Cloud growled.
“Yes?”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“You looked at him,” Cloud accused.
Rufus had the gall to act like he didn’t understand. “I’m not allowed to look at my illustrious protectors?” he said. The question was practically dripping with innocence.
If there ever was a case for outlawing sarcasm, Rufus was it.
“We’re all clear,” came a voice from below, the measured, professional tone contrasted wildly with the conversation above. The SOLDIER loped lightly up the stairs. Soon enough he joined the entire affair, his gaze shifting from the trooper attempting to blend into the wall, the Vice President smiling as if he’d just been declared the king of the world, and Captain Strife looking like he was on the verge strangling aforementioned vice president.
“Is everything okay here?” the Second asked carefully. When he didn’t get an answer, he added, “Are you okay, Mr. Shinra? Should I signal the helicopter to prepare for medical transport?”
This at least provoked a response. “No, I do not require medical aid,” Rufus snapped. “And in the future, SOLDIER, I am not to be addressed as ‘Mr. Shinra’. That name belongs to my father. Not to me. You may, on the other hand, call me ‘sir’, ‘Mr. Vice President’ or - if you absolutely must - ‘Mr. Rufus Shinra’.”
Cloud rolled his eyes at this. It was one of Rufus’ odder quirks - he absolutely despised being referred to solely by last name. When he was still new, he’d accidentally done it and then had ‘accidentally’ been assigned to latrine duty for a month. To his credit the Second apparently decided not to provoke Rufus further.
“So there’s no other escaped animals?” Cloud interjected, glad to be changing the subject.
“Fairly sure. I did a once over the area, but you can check for yourself.” With that he unlocked the bracer on his arm, reaching it to pluck an orb.
Cloud took it with a touch of trepidation. Materia was expensive and in the military generally only gave them to the more important members of the military. Even then, SOLDIERs didn’t receive any until they achieved Second Class and Turks generally used gizmos to make up for the lack.
Focusing on it, the orb glowed bright yellow, pulsing in time to his heart. He was faced towards Rufus when he was overcome with a sudden flood of sensations. It was dizzying and he grasped the rail of the balcony to keep his balance. There were a bunch of different feelings that were invoked but the overwhelming one was health.
“Cloud, is this really the time for motion sickness?” Rufus always did have a weird way of expressing concern. Or at least this was what Cloud had come to believe was the executive’s way of showing it. It could be hard to tell with Rufus. Sometimes the best thing to do with his frustrating behaviour was to simply ignore it.
So that’s just what Cloud did, focusing on the trooper instead. Sense materia. He’d known what it was before using it; nonetheless, he hadn’t been prepared for the reality. Health the trooper seemed to sing despite his pale pallor. Afterward he examined the Second and got the distant sensation of pain and he realised there was a slash in the sleeve of his arm, the wound wasn’t bad though, sealing before his very eyes courtesy of the mako in the SOLDIER’s blood.
“Well?” Rufus inquired.
Cloud ignored him and looked over the rest of the ship. Even though he couldn't literally see them, when he faced towards the bridge, he could tell there were other people there and below the ship in what he assumed was the engine room there seemed to be a few others. Finally he searched around the ship for Epiolni.
“Yes, he’s right. The rest of the livestock are still in the cargo hold.” Hopefully those ones were still secure.
Relaxing his grip on the orb, he felt both a bit saddened as the foreign feelings fled. While it wasn’t easy for Turks and SOLDIERs to get their hands on materia, troopers were lucky to so much as look at the stuff, being expected to make do with cumbersome spell grenades. It would probably be a long time before he was allowed to use one again.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt you,” he said as he gave it back to the Second.
“It’s your duty to personally oversee the health and safety of your charge,” was the response. Cloud figured this more or less translated into that the Second wasn’t offended.
“Personally, it’s my duty to point out your charge is getting away,” pitched in the trooper.
Not again. “Rufus, get back here!”
He might as well been talking to a wall for all the good it did him. Rufus was already down the stairs and headed in the direction of the hold.
“Private,” he said to the trooper, “I need you to get on the radio to the helicopter. Tell them what’s going on.” The infantryman quickly scampered away, apparently glad he wasn’t expected to chase after the crazy executive.
He pushed off from the balcony’s railing, settling his weight back onto his feet. Without asking, the Second steadied him as his legs, already tired from earlier, groaned in protest. “Thanks,” he said.
“I’m doing my job.” The SOLDIER shrugged. “It wouldn’t help matters if I ended up having to rescue the Vice President and you.”
They jogged after Rufus, catching up to him just before he entered the hold.
“You’re not going in there,” Cloud stated.
“I’m not? You have to admit such behaviour is unusual for domesticated creatures,” Rufus said. “It certainly merits investigation.”
He had been thinking along similar lines. This sort of behaviour was unusual. He’d heard of Epiolni being vicious, though that was due to mako leaching into their drinking water. Normal untainted ones only ate small rodents and fish. They’d only attack when provoked and this one was supposed to be well-used to human company.
That being said, he definitely didn’t want Rufus going in there. Unfortunately he seriously doubted the executive was going to behave himself, especially considering he was wearing that self-satisfied smirk that implied he’d already won. Cloud seriously considered knocking Rufus out and dragging him back to the bridge. It would serve him right.
It was quite a tempting notion, and he was reluctant to let it go. Eventually he relented, if did it Rufus likely wouldn’t have the good manners to fire him.
“If you get killed, I’ll murder you,” he growled.
“You do realise that sentence makes no sense whatsoever, don’t you?”
Not bothering to respond, he took the opportunity to enter the hold first, before a certain executive could. Clearing the area, he motioned for the others to follow.
The cargo hold was gloomy. The fluorescent lights above flickered anxiously, only reluctantly piercing the corners of the room, leaving the velvety shadows there virtually untouched. When Cloud laid eyes on where the rest of the livestock was kept, for one horrible second he thought that the rest of the animals had recently escaped. It came as a fervent relief when he spotted a bit of plumage poking out of one of the stalls.
Slowly he approached it and cautiously looked it over. Only minutes before he’d been leery of the animals, but now… The Epiolnis was squeezed as far back into its stall as possible, its tail pushed in a hundred different directions from the effort of getting just a little further away from the door. The next stall contained an Epiolnis standing their frozen, only its slight quivering signalling that it was still alive. Further back was another animal, this one scratching at the door of its stall - it was a fruitless effort though, its claws were already worn down to stubs.
A moan pierced the suffocating silence and he found yet another Epiolnis, this one half hanging out of its compartment. Its beak was hopelessly shattered; meanwhile its tongue poked out of the shattered remains, helplessly twisting and turning like a worm on wet pavement.
The stall’s lock had massive dents on it, apparently battered until finally it broke. Didn’t the first one that escaped have a crack in its beak? Did the other ones too? Probably. He could see similar marks on the locks of the other empty compartments.
“Gentlemen, I do believe I’ve found the source of our problems,” said Rufus.
At furthest reaches of the hold was a human lying face down, his or her body twisted at an unnatural angle . Cloud’s jaw clinched as he touched the person’s skin. Cold. A rather grim part of him noted that at least he wouldn’t have to waste any of potions. Further examination revealed gouges in the corpse’s back. He had been apparently trampled.
Carefully he rolled the body over.
What the-
“Captain Strife, is something wrong?” the SOLDIER asked.
This wasn’t right. They had all died years ago.
“Do you know this man?” Rufus inquired.
“I… It’s… He just resembles someone I used to know, that’s all.” he answered. He was just seeing things.
“Is that so?” Rufus kneeled down to get closer to the corpse. His nose wrinkled when it soon became apparent that whoever he used to be, he hadn’t had a bath in months. “Anyone in particular?”
“Davin.” he said. “He was one of my distant cousins from back home.” Not that it had stopped them from getting into the odd argument about whose turn it was to play on the water tower.
“Yes, I can see how that might be disconcerting.”
It had been a long time since Nibelheim had been destroyed by monster attacks, killing the entire village, including two SOLDIERs and his mother. Even years later he was shaken by the knowledge that he should’ve been there. If he’d been there maybe he could’ve done something to change things.
In reflection his reasons for not going home seemed so incredibly flimsy, weaker than tissue paper. Yes, hadn’t gotten into SOLDIER, but he was hardly alone there; there were thousands of applicants each year. At the very least he could’ve seen them all one last time, but his damnable pride had gotten in the way.
Rufus seemed to have sensed his darkening mood and gave him a sharp tap on the shoulder. “If a First Class SOLDIER, never mind General Sephiroth, was unable to do anything… Well, to put it delicately, it would be completely presumptuous of you to think you could have saved them.”
Privately Cloud wasn’t sure he agreed. Nonetheless it provided an odd sort of comfort. He looked the body once more. Yes, there were some strong similarities, still he hadn’t seen Davin since they were kids and he’d been a year younger than Cloud. Who knew what he would’ve looked like as a grownup? Besides Davin’s eyes had been brown. Not vivid green.
A strong gust whisked through the room and finally snapped Cloud out of his rather morbid nostalgia. Outside, the helicopter was landing and the whirlwind of its blades creating a loud rumble that blocked out everything but the loudest of noises. The pilot beckoned them to board and Cloud prepared to ask the Second to pick the Vice President up and carry him onboard. Rufus had already shown a love of running straight into danger and he didn’t feel like waiting around for something else to go wrong.
Rufus’ bored expression did nothing to discourage Cloud’s sentiment. Then Rufus’ features wavered for a split second as he set eyes on the pilot, a tall Wutain man, most likely a Turk if his dark suit was anything to go by. And to Cloud’s surprise Rufus strode towards the vehicle as if that’s what he had been planning all along, boarding without the slightest prompt.
Once they were inside, Rufus said to the Turk, “If possible I’d like Captain Strife to pilot.”
The Turk’s dark gaze met Rufus’ blue.
“Honestly Tseng, he is perfectly capable. He does not, for example, crash his helicopter during ideal flying conditions like some people I might name,” Rufus retorted to the Turk.
“I’m qualified to fly as well.” Up until now, the Second had been conspicuously silent and his stilted manner of speech seemed quite loud in the confines of the cabin. “I could act as his co-pilot.”
This seemed to decide the Turk who removed the headset smoothly, handing it to Cloud, before buckling himself into the seat across from Rufus.
Cloud was relieved. He was bad enough on cars and boats (provided he wasn’t fighting for his life), but helicopters were a special kind of torture. It had taken a bit of trial and error before he’d realised that he barely got motion sick when he was the piloting. Whether it was because Rufus had been trying to help or because he simply didn’t want vomit on his impractical white suit, he felt grateful towards the executive.
And not just for that. Rufus might drive him nuts but it was the sort of nuts that kept him busy. Kept his mind off things. It gave him something to focus on other than everything he’d lost. His hometown. Tifa. His mother.
“I was under the impression that troopers don’t know how to fly,” the Second said from the co-pilot seat.
“Most don’t. I do.” Cloud checked the displays, carefully adjusting a few of the controls. “I was under the impression that SOLDIERs don’t know how to fly.”
“Most don’t. I do. Honestly, to go up there and have all that blue sky to yourself… Who wouldn’t want to fly?” It was the first thing out of the Second’s mouth that didn’t sound like he was reading from a script.
At this point, the SOLDIER removed his helmet to reveal shaggy eyebrows and a short red crew-cut. Cloud felt a tiny stab at the sight. When the helmet had still been on, he’d been able to delude himself, just a little. He’d been able to convince himself that this was Zack, still alive and fighting side-by-side with him just like old times.
“I’m Luxiere,” the SOLDIER said, reaching out a hand.
He shook it. “Cloud.”
There was still a nasty bit of survivor’s guilt that lived inside him. A part of himself that incessantly whispered all the things that might have happened if he’d made a different choice on that fateful day. But bit by bit it was quieting. His family and friends would always be a part of him, but now it was time to focus on the future.
The past was dead.
It holds you close ,
wrapping around and around and around, touching every part
cradling you in her arms
not arms not legs not real not right
a mother to your child
not family NOT MY MOTHER
whispering silken comforts in your ears.
a thousand tiny tendrils, fondling each inch the skin
Yes, you’re right.
Your chest is hollow.
Anything that touches you echoes imperfection.
The void wrenches at you, sucking at the pale fragile shell encasing it
Cracks dance across your visage, until it is old leaves burning under the merciless sun
Violation. nothing sacred or safe not anymore.
nothing more.
Nothing but purpose. Nothing but hope.
hope? ripped, buried, stolen gonegonegonegonegone
Hope. Duty.
Your lips are parched, ripping slightly as they part, copper on your tongue.
Your mouth is raised upward, in askance to the sky.
And the sky answers. The cruel sun imprisoned.
The stars shine. Their rays are soft, cool, refreshing as they gently caress your maimed skin,
Slithering down your dry throat and filling your belly.
please, it hurts
You bare it because you must.
hurts
Because you’ve been empty so long, being filled is strange, alien.
hurts
It is only the pangs of birth. Trust. Hope.
hope
You find yourself lying in afterbirth. The liquid glows rich emerald and the smell of it is almost beyond description, speaking of the ocean, flowers, dung, sweat and much more. The scent is a jittery bird, flittering from perch to perch, never settling long. The room encompassing you is sterile and cold with black tile covering the floor, the darkness of it seems to pull at you in, reluctant to let you be free out its grasp. Distant memories are strewn across its surface, their glistening metal edges and points seem to scream at you.
But that is all the past. They no longer mean anything to you, easily ignored nuisances.
The only thing here that holds your interest is the tube standing proud in all its shattered glory, a sea of crystal shards pouring out from its pierced heart. You stroke it reverently. This is your nurturer, your life-giver, the womb that brought you forth.
cocoon
It has done so much for you. And you owe it so very much. Nonetheless it gives you one last gift - in the confines of its glass you see yourself kneeling to its majesty and blazed upon your chest is the number ‘7’, a sign that you are pledged to be a loyal servant and of the rightness therein. The mark of your master claiming you as His.
Lucky number seven. For some reason you find that funny.
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