Thicker Than Blood - Chapter 4
Title: Thicker Than Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Cloud, Rufus
Summary: Cloud Strife never returned to Nibelheim. AU
Author’s Note:
Previous Chapter
It was early when Cloud stirred, the traitorous sunlight having slipped between the slits of the wooden blinds to tease his face. From between twin slits, beady blue orbs scrutinized the bedside clock before audibly snapping shut. He might be a morning person but this was…
Much.
Too.
Early.
“Ugh,” he moaned. It felt as he had been trampled by a herd of wild Chocobos.. He flopped around on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position which would allow him to dive back into sleep. To his growing frustration, it quickly proved difficult. He tried lying on his side, then his back. He curled up then stretched out. Whatever his pose he tried, the aches followed, nipped at his heels. Finally he turned onto his front, burrowing his face into the pillows and dragging the duvet cover over his head. If he couldn’t get comfortable, at least he could blot out some of the Planet-cursed light.
To his dismay, this proved equally fruitless as the motions made him increasingly aware of his surroundings. The pillows proved much softer than the twin rocks that he was used to resting his head on and the duvet was not the scratchy blankets of his bunk. He most certainly wasn’t in his normal hole in the ground. With that thought, the insanity of the previous day came flooding back. It hadn’t been his worst day on the job or even the fifth. There had been too many attempts on Rufus’ life - purposeful, intelligent threats with which Cloud had had to deal - which made talking to a vandal and dealing with a freak livestock accident look nowhere near as ominous. Still if it wasn’t for the troublesome possibility of dying, Cloud would’ve preferred another assassination attempt.
“Ugh,” he said once again, more to make himself feel better than anything else, and slowly, reluctantly he shoved himself up into the waking world.
The previous day must have left him exhausted because his memories of actually getting into bed were like watching a television with a twisted antenna; still, a quick assessment of things revealed that even half-awake he’d managed to neatly set out his uniform, polish his boots, and - as was confirmed by a quick sniff - had even washed the sweat out of his helmet. Further more, it looked like he’d taken the time to clean his rifle and knife. If his old drill sergeant had seen this, he might have approved. He left the armoured parts of his uniform where they lay, resolving to come back for them once his shift began, dressing only in his cargo pants, boots and tank top.
After a moment’s consideration he added his combat knife to the outfit, adjusting the sheath’s belt, so it was hidden beneath his shirt. The knife pressed against the small of his back. Having a gun with him while off-duty had always seemed extreme; it had taken a fair bit of arguing on his part to convince Rufus that that it was overkill. In truth he hadn’t so much won that battle so much as Rufus had tired of the conversation, leaving Cloud with the distinct feeling that he had been granted a short recess before the argument would start anew.
The vice president had been quick to point out that Cloud’s primary complaint with Rufus was his lack of precautions. But Rufus was definitely not hired to protect him. It was doubtful anyone was out to get him personally and if they were, Cloud was hardly a lynchpin of the company. If someone killed him, it wouldn’t hurt anyone… Other than Cloud, that is.
The knife was feeling frailer every second.
While he had another three hours until he was on duty, Cloud checked on Rufus. Experience had taught him that a bit of caution could come in handy. The vice president turned out to be still secluded in his room and after opening the bedroom door enough to look inside, fast asleep in the middle of his king-sized bed. It didn’t take Cloud long to notice that Rufus’ room featured full-length blackout curtains, leaving his room in complete darkness so he could sleep in.
Lack of sleep aside, the sight of Rufus Shinra slumbering was as bizarre as it was utterly normal. Awake, Rufus was the picture of control. Asleep he could’ve been anyone. Rufus lay there, his hands wrapped tightly in his sheets while his brow furrowed. He even snored. The only thing that would’ve made him seem more like a normal person was if Rufus had a trickle of drool coming out the side of his mouth. Cloud was tempted to whip out his PHS and snap a photo for blackmail purposes.
As if sensing the threat to its master, two glowing yellow slashes appeared in the darkness beneath the bed, as Dark Nation glowered at him.
Cloud left the apartment immediately.
Rufus’ place was one of two large apartments gracing the top of one of Junon’s smaller skyscrapers. The other apartment of course belonged to Rufus’ father, the President. Whereas Rufus’ home was only one story high, his father’s was a three with large balconies on each one. The architecture had a certain majestic grace to it, with carvings into the surrounding each massive window. Next to his father’s building, Rufus’ looked like a glorified garage.
Cloud stretched, pulling his arms and legs in various directions, enjoying the minute crackle and pop sounds his body made, then started to move. He started slowly, jogging down on the stairs leading down the stairs from the penthouses to the ground, His body protested at first, groaning silently, as he forced aching limbs to move. Eventually the knots in his muscles eased and once Cloud’s feet hit the street, he sped up.
Quickly his early irritation faded away as he took in the sights. Upper Junon seemed to have transformed into a different place. The normally crowded shops were a closed, their shutters shut tightly. The only sign of activity was the occasional trooper patrolling the roads, but it was a normal enough sight. The usual cacophony and bustle of the city was now serene. He able to run with the ocean on one side and the buildings, painted vivid oranges and reds by the rising sun on the other, and the nothing on the street to stop him.
When he finally reached his destination, he couldn’t help but look back at the road. This sort of simplicity was a rarity in the city. As a youth he’d found it unbearably dull. Now it felt freeing, being lose himself in the sounds of the clanking of his dog tags against his chest and the pounding of his feet on the pavement. As he reached Hades’ Street, he let out a sigh of regret before entering Nibel’s Dreams.
The pub wasn’t particularly remarkable. It featured the typical dark wood walls with large ceiling fans overhead and number of ashtrays dotting the countertops. The only distinguishing feature were the photos of the Nibelheim mountain range adorning the walls.
The bartender hadn’t noticed Cloud entering, too engrossed with the television hung from the wall. “Damn it Paula, he doesn’t really love you. He’s just using you to get to your sister!” he groaned.
“Hey Johnny,” Cloud said, trying very hard to keep a straight face.
The bartender whirled around like a top. “Cloud, what are you doing here?” he asked, then frantically grabbed the remote controller and flicked the television off. It was pointless though, Cloud had long since figured out Johnny’s viewing habits.
“I heard you serve breakfast now.”
“Since when?” Johnny griped.
“It says so outside.”
“Yes, but I never thought anyone would actually show up!” Johnny protested vehemently. As far as Cloud could tell, Johnny had only started the early breakfast thing so he could watch his soap operas without his girlfriend finding out.
“Then why post it?” Come to think the announcement on the door was rather hard to find. It had been half covered by flyers. He’d barely noticed the tiny print announcing that the bar was now serving an early bird breakfast.
“Well, I… uh,” Johnny spluttered. “Look do you want breakfast or not?” Cloud hadn’t been lying to the private on the previous day. The bartender did have bright red hair that stood straight up, and at the moment Johnny looked as stiff as his hair. Other than Cloud, Johnny and his parents were the only people from Nibelheim that hadn’t been present when Wutai had attacked.
“Since when do you serve breakfast?” Cloud asked innocently. Perhaps he’d been hanging around Rufus too long.
“Since now,” Johnny said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I probably have something that will do.” Johnny made a point of quickly turning off the television before Cloud could see what was on, and then stomped off into the back.
A little while later, Cloud was served a glass of milk, an orange, eggs and toast. “Your cook’s not in the kitchen, is she?”
“Nope,” Johnny answered, clearly enjoying Cloud’s reaction. “She hates waking up early. Only works the later shifts.”
“I can tell.” The eggs were slimy, the toast was scorched, and the milk smelled. Mercifully the orange looked safe and he removed it from his plate, putting it a good distance from its more dubious companions
Johnny was apparently satisfied with his little revenge for his crashed morning, removing a beer from the fridge then passing it to Cloud. It was too early for beer and he would have passed, but when Johnny grabbed another for himself, he accepted the show of companionship. At least it looked more palatable than the milk.
“I’m surprised you’re here, considering yesterday,” Johnny said, cracking open his drink.
“You heard?”
“Of course I did. Junon hasn’t been anything this interesting happen since the war, plus you hear things when you work in a bar. But yesterday? I would’ve had to be deaf not to hear about it. Everybody was talking about it. I figured you’d be exhausted. Not up and about at this crazy hour.” Cloud had been exhausted. Probably lurking behind the adrenaline from the run, he still was.
“I woke up early.”
“Did you try to go back to sleep?”
Cloud was tempted to ignore the question. To toss it aside. After all, he hadn’t wanted to wake up, the room had been just too bright. On reflection though, he’d stayed there before, about a couple dozen times and light or no light, he generally slept better there, away from the constant noise of the barracks. This time, he’d needed to get up to move.
“Johnny?”
“Hmm?”
“Do ever think you think you see them?” he asked.
“You mean them them?” Johnny took a long swig of his beer and frowned. “Sort of. Once and a while I think I hear them., especially when there’s a lot of people talking. Their voices all blend together and suddenly I think I hear one of my sisters or one of their kids. Sometimes Tifa too.”
Johnny had had a bit of a crush on her. It was another thing that tied them together. As kids they’d played together, but never been especially close. While Johnny had never been one of the children who’d bullied Cloud, he’d never stood up for him either. Nevertheless after the Wutains had destroyed Nibelheim, Johnny had hunted him, eventually deciding to stay. It had been hard to resent him after that. They were the last two of their generation.
There wouldn’t be another.
“So what’s got you gander?” Johnny asked.
“Just yesterday after we got the livestock under control, we found a stowaway. The livestock had killed him…. He looked like someone from home.”
Johnny rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that the other man hadn’t cared about their hometown. During those first few month after they’d gotten the news, Johnny’s temper had been like a string pulled too tight, snapping at the smallest thing. But after about a year of this, his anger had been drained away leaving a practical - if acerbic - acceptance in its wake. “That old hat? Come on, we’ve been over this before: you couldn’t have done anything,” he grumbled.
“That’s what Rufus said,” Cloud said.
“Well, he’s right,” Johnny winced, and then added, “I can’t believe I said that.”
“I know he is. Really.” And that was the frustrating thing, he did know it. He’d visited Nibelheim after the attack, seen the ruins. There was no way a single trooper could’ve prevented that. So why didn’t his subconscious keep on pushing that face into his mind? “I don’t get it either.”
The bartender snorted. “It’s probably because the anniversary is coming up. They’re making a big deal about it being the fifth one,” he said. “It’s still months away and I’ve already had six people ask me about renting the place to celebrate the ‘heroic’ death of Sephiroth. There’s been a bunch of others who use the bar’s name as an excuse to lecture me about his exploits. I swear one of these days I’ll just burn the place down to save me the headache.”
“You could change the name,” Cloud suggested.
”I’ll stick with the headaches.”
At that moment, the bell above the door jangled. The new arrival was a medium-sized man, clean-shaven and wearing a white shirt and dress pants with neatly pressed creases down the middle of the legs.
“Hello, sir,” he said to Johnny. “The sign outside says you serve breakfast.”
“So people keep on telling me,” Johnny replied.
“You really ought to make the sign more obvious. I barely noticed it, all covered in flyers. The print’s small too. Good thing I have good eyesight.”
“Yeah, great.”
Cloud speared a piece of egg with his fork, only for it to collapse into yellow sludge. “Hope you like oranges,” he muttered under his breath.
“As a matter of fact I like all citrus fruits,” the stranger stated amicably and took the opportunity to take a bar stool near Cloud.
It was this utterly awkward sounding statement which made Cloud do a double take. “Luxiere?”
“Nice to see you again, Captain Strife,” he said, acknowledging him by bowing. Once his head dipped far enough down, a small shadow covered his visage, making those ethereal eyes evident. The plain clothes had been enough to throw Cloud. In his entire time of knowing Zack, he’d never actually seen the him in anything other than his uniform. Come to think of it, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a SOLDIER in normal clothing.
Johnny eventually voiced the thought. “I thought SOLDIERs never deemed to wear the garment of mere mortals.”
Luxiere seemed utterly unaware of the sarcasm. “It’s true,” Luxiere admitted. “We get so thrilled by getting into the program that… Well, we can be a bit prone to showing off. It’s a bit of a bad habit honestly for some of us. Wearing the BDUs all the time makes it hard to mix properly with civilians.”
“I would’ve thought those baby blues of yours would make it hard all by themselves,” Johnny said.
“I guess so, but it’s important to make the effort. If we’re never seen in normal clothes, we’ll never be seen as normal people.”
Cloud and Johnny stared at him. Luxiere spoke as if he was a beauty pageant contestant trying to win over the judges. It was very hard to take him seriously. Even Zack in his more earnest moments hadn’t descended into this kind of corniness.
Eventually Johnny cracked a smile. “Huh, hopefully the normal people appreciate it.”
With that, he headed back into the kitchen, leaving Cloud alone with Luxiere.
“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but were you did you ever go on a mission to Modeoheim?” the Second asked. “One with a SOLDIER escort?”
“Yes,” Cloud answered.
As soon as he said this, Luxiere’s entire disposition changed. The stiffness in shoulders melted away, leaving an eagerness in its wake. “I thought so… I mean it’s not a very common name, but I just didn’t want to assume,” the Second babbled. “You’re that Cloud Strife.”
“Yes.” What else could he say? It was his name after all.
“Zack’s Cloud.”
He leaned towards the other man, curiosity budding in his breast. “You knew Zack?”
“Of course, everybody knows… Well, there was a time where everybody in SOLDIER knew Zack. The new kids haven’t been so lucky and as for the rest…” Luxiere ground his teeth. “…a lot of good people have left us these last few years.”
Another nasty reminder that he wasn’t the only one who’d lost people. He still had to talk to Rufus about Private Arik. There wasn’t much Cloud could say to that other than “Sorry.” The word seemed to get more hollow every time it was used.
“They died for what they believed it,” Luxiere replied without drama or flourish as if stating an uncomplicated truth.
Cloud had heard worse epitaphs.
“So Zack mentioned me?” Cloud asked, trying to steer the conversation in a less morbid direction.
“Yeah, a bunch of times. He used to hang out a lot with Kunsel and me. He said you were a plucky little kid. That you should have been one of us.”
Cloud wasn’t sure if he liked to being referred to as a ‘plucky little kid’. Especially the ‘little’ part, though it had been true. Unfortunately it still was.
The next part had been more satisfying. Yes, Zack had always insisted Cloud would have made a good SOLDIER, but there had always been a bit of him which had wondered if his friend had just being nice. And yes, while it hadn’t been like Zack to lie even to be nice. Still it was satisfying to know he’d said the same in private.
Then there was that name. “Kunsel,” Cloud said, rolling the name over in his head. “I think Zack mentioned him a few times. He said something about him being a bit of a gossip.”
Luxiere merriment cooled, the corners of his eyes tightening. “We all used to hang out together,” he said quietly. “but when Zack died… Kunsel didn’t take it particularly well. He started getting all into the most insane conspiracy theories that you’ve ever heard. A lot of them about the company. Used to tell them to anybody who would listen.”
Cloud couldn’t see that going over well with the company. “What happened to him?”
“Don’t know. By that point we weren’t on so good terms. I didn’t believe his stories. I mean he’d become utterly paranoid. Wanted him to get help, so instead he just stopped talking to me. Last time I saw him, Heidegger wanted to talk to him. After that, he was gone,” he said. “I guess the company got sick of the rumours and fired him.” He rubbed his arms as if brushing off some invisible dirt.
Johnny returned shortly after that. Apparently his cooking skills had improved. The toast had a speck or two of brown along its blackened surfaces and the eggs consistency was more like rubber than mud. Nothing could’ve improved the milk though, which kept a sour musk hovering in its vicinity. Nevertheless after examining the food then dug in with apparent gusto.
Cloud watched with abject horror as the SOLDIER inhaled the food, then, upon Luxiere’s inquiring look, offered his own plate. “You… like it?” he asked cautiously.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Johnny protested. A remarkable turnaround considering less than ten minutes ago, he’d seemed all too aware of the quality of his cooking.
Apparently even the SOLDIER wouldn’t brave the milk - Cloud wasn’t sure if he could handle that sight - sniffing it once before politely handing the glass back to Johnny. “I appreciate the effort that went into it. I sure Mr…” he said.
“Name’s Johnny.”
“I appreciate the effort that Mr. Johnny put into making it. As for the rest, it’s food, right? It’d be criminal to waste it.”
“See,” Johnny said to Cloud. “He likes it.”
Cloud thought it best not to point out that that hadn’t been what the SOLDIER had actually said. With any luck, the situation would eventually resolve itself. After all it was only a matter of time before the bartender attempted to cook for himself and experience could be a powerful teacher.
“So why are down here anyway? I mean Cloud I get. He’s an old friend. I thought they had some fancy twenty-four hour cafeteria for the troops,” Johnny commented. Apparently Luxiere’s appreciation of his cooking skills had elevated him in Johnny’s eyes, and the barkeeper had become more amiable.
Luxiere looked uncomfortable at the question, his shaggy eyebrows furrowing. “SOLDIERs tend to not to sleep too much. I was hungry and the private SOLDIER cafeteria hasn’t been finished yet. This was the only place open.”
“And that means?”
“We have to use the troopers' one. That can be kind of awkward.” He looked over at Cloud an unspoken plea on his lips.
Cloud obliged him. “Troopers and SOLDIERs tend not to get along,” he explained.
“Huh, I figured you guys we all buddies or something,” Johnny said. “I never imagined.”
“It’s complicated.” The whole relationship between the two main divisions of the army was a messy one. Too many had dreamed of being part of SOLDIER, only to end up in the infantry instead.
Not for the first time Cloud wondered what would have happened to him if he hadn’t met Zack. Hadn’t seen a SOLDIER as a person and not just some unobtainable ideal. Or if Rufus hadn’t given him other goals. Would his dreams of becoming a SOLDIER twisted inward, turning into from hope to resentment to hate? It had happened to so many others.
Arik. He still had to talk to Rufus about Arik.
“Hey, do mind if you turn on the television?” Luxiere asked. “I was hoping to catch the early news.”
“Sorry, I lost the remote control and well, you can see,” Johnny said, indicating the television which was high on the wall.
Cloud was about to point out that they could just use a chair when Luxiere rose from his seat. The Second strode towards the TV, and then effortlessly jumped straight up five feet, touched the power button and landed easily.
“Wait! Don’t!” Johnny spluttered.
The television spluttered to life. It was old one, the sound from its speakers cracked and distorted. Even so it was easy to hear an announcer said “Next time on All Gaia’s Children. Paula’s relationship with Antonio is strained when her twin sister kidnaps her and poses as her on her wedding day. Will Antonio see through his fiendish foe? Will Paula escape her captors or fall in love with them? Will true love conquer all? Next time on All Gaia’s Children.”
Johnny’s only response was a blush creeping across his cheeks.
It was the other redhead rescued him. “All Gaia’s Children is still playing? “
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Yeah, my wife and I used to watch it every evening. I thought they’d cancelled it.”
“They play reruns early in the morning, though there is some talk about it coming out in video.”
Cloud ate his orange in silence as he listened to the two redheads babble back and forth about the various characters and relationships of their beloved television show. There was something deeply disturbing about anyone, man or woman, putting this much thought into a fictional universe, so much so that he nearly missed the new broadcast.
“Yesterday afternoon all of the free world was terrified when young Rufus Shinra, vice president of Shinra Incorporated and only son of…”
Hopefully this wouldn’t make Rufus too insufferable today.
“…attacked and nearly killed by implacable monsters…”
Now that was a bit of an exaggeration.
“…then when Antonio first looked at Perdita, I thought he would…”
“…duty-bound to protect him, his bodyguard threw himself into…”
Over dramatic.
“…still, I always though she’d get together with…”
“…example of heroism in his…
Wait! What the -
“Did you do this?”
During his lifetime, Rufus had been woken up for various reasons. Some necessary. Others entirely frivolous. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, but he wasn’t sure if being woken up at six in the morning with his cat yowling and a newspaper shoved into his face by his irate bodyguard counted as the former or the latter.
“I beg your pardon?”
The younger blond shook his newspaper. ‘LAST SURVIVOR OF NIBELHEIM SAVES VICE PRESIDENT’ it read.
“Hmm… Correct me if I’m wrong, but you weren’t in Nibelheim during the attack,” Rufus mused. “I fail to see how that qualifies you as a survivor. And that friend of yours and his parents are still alive, right? So you don’t qualify in the last citizen sense either.” He made a tsking noise. “Someone really must write the editor.”
“You’re dodging the question,” Cloud growled.
Junon had little in the way of proper DNA labs. The few it did have were strictly watched and under Shinra control. It made verifying whether or not he and Cloud were actually related difficult. The only way to test it one way or another would to risk exposing the potential connection to the Turks. Rufus had no doubt that if he and Cloud were proved to be half-brothers, his father would inevitably become involved. A reality Rufus would not allow.
Looking at Cloud like this with his blue eyes flashing, Rufus could almost believe a DNA test wasn’t necessary. Here Cloud was - a youth from the middle of nowhere, born without money or status - attempting to stare him down. Him, Rufus Shinra. On paper the concept would have seen utterly absurd but it was happening. It was impressive.
The sheer determination required spoke of some kind of inborn greatness. Of course Rufus wouldn’t have stopped at a few grumbles and a threatening disposition to get any answers he wanted. Though he supposed he could hardly fault the other blond. Nurture might have something to do with it.
“Did. You. Do. This?” Cloud repeated.
“What exactly? Do you mean I ordered the story to be published? Or do you mean I simply gave an interview?”
“Either.”
“The answer to those questions and ones related to them is simple: I did absolutely nothing,” he answered truthfully.
Cloud pursued further. “And you didn’t know about this story at all?”
“No. Contrary to popular belief I do not control the media.” That particular avenue was no longer open to him. Now it sat entirely in his father’s meaty hands.
Still, the younger man did not let up. “You’re not surprised.”
“No, I am not. It was only a matter of time before you entered the public eye,” he calmly stated. “What did you expect? You’re the bodyguard to the vice president.”
This snapped the youth out of his ire. It was like a switch had been flicked. Within a millisecond he was blinking self-consciously. “Uh, sorry.”
Rufus straightened, reaching for the black robe on his coat rack, wrapping it around his body so he might talk to Cloud with a little more dignity. “Yes, next time wait until I’m fully awake before you harass me.”
“No, not that.”
“Harassing me while I’m fully asleep would be even less effective, Captain Strife.”
“I meant I shouldn’t have assumed you were involved.”
“It was a natural mistake. Many politicians use their entourage to draw media attention to them. Considering my position, your suspicions were perfectly logical. In fact I was impressed by how your questions had tackled any areas where I might have lied by omission.”
Cloud stood there, his fists bunched at his sides. “That’s not an excuse. You’re not that bad.”
There were times where Cloud’s spikes made his face seem especially young. They seemed to round it out, softening it. This was one of those times. Rufus found he couldn’t think of a proper response to Cloud’s declaration. His suspicions had been valid though misguided. There was no reason to apologize.
Finally, Rufus said, “You’re getting blood on the rug.”
It was then that Cloud first became aware of the wound on his arm. The injury was causing blood to trickle down onto the floor. “Sorry.”
“Then I would recommend getting off it,” Rufus suggested amicably.
Cloud shuffled out of the room.
“Dark Nation, no,” Rufus ordered - the curious feline had begun to lick at the blood stains - then followed his bodyguard.
“That cat hates me,” Cloud griped as he allowed Rufus to examine his arm.
Using some iodine and a cotton ball from the first aid kit, Rufus cleaned the wound. “Nonsense. He’s just curious about you. Believe me, you would be aware if Dark Nation hated you. It likely be the last thing you’d be aware of, but you’d definitely know,” he said. “As for myself, I am curious as to why you didn’t just use a potion on this yesterday.”
“It was just a shallow gash. It had already started scabbing over on its own. It must have broken open when I jogged back here.”
“It would have scarred.”
Cloud shrugged unconcernedly. “Zack always said that scars tell a stories.”
“With all due respect to your deceased friend, I find it more likely he thought they would impress girls.”
“He already had a girlfriend,” Cloud said as if that actually meant anything. That hardly stopped other men.
The fairer gender included, Rufus failed to see why anyone in their right mind would wish to have every injury in their life displayed where just anyone could see it. It seemed careless. He also could’ve pointed out that having a partner did not preclude a man having numerous affairs on the side, but decided that the statement wouldn’t have been taken well.
“While Lieutenant Fair’s policy may have its points, I have never known you to follow that particular one,” Rufus said, prodding for more information.
“The hospital only gives out free potions to people with severe injuries. I’m trying to save money.”
“For what, may I ask?”
“It’s private.”
It was a unexpected answer. Hiding things was not Cloud’s style. He was more shy than secretive and was tempting to try and pry open the door that blocked his way. There were ways it could be done. Perhaps suggest that Cloud should pay reparations for his earlier comments or that keeping secrets from his employer was not a good policy.
Rufus did neither. Anyways constant pressure could only distance Cloud from him.
“I’ve got an extra pack of potions you are welcome to have. It’s ridiculous that you should suffer because of your privacy.” Because Cloud had been trying to protect him. “As for your clothes, I suppose you don’t have time to get a fresh change of clothes…”
A few minutes later, Cloud was dressed in some of Rufus clothes. The top was normal tank top. The pants on the other hand were not actually pants but capris - a fact that Cloud had not been happy about. Unfortunately Rufus was almost half a foot taller than him and with his only other option was to spend the rest of the day tripping over his own feet, he’d been forced to reluctantly concede.
Both of the items were completely black and Cloud hesitated before asking, “Rufus, do you have any other colours?”
“I have white clothes if you prefer.”
“Any others?”
“Like your normal purple I assume? No. None at all.” The purple was a questionable fashion choice anyways. Cloud ought to be thankful.
“Great.”
“I’m surprised by you, Cloud. The clothes. The news. I would’ve thought you’d enjoy standing out. I thought everyone who tried to join SOLDIER wanted glory.”
“Not like this. These clothes aren’t army. And the news… It made it seem like I rescued you single handily. I didn’t do that much. Luxiere did most of the work and the article barely mentions him.”
“You did your job. That’s enough.” As for the ‘rescue’ part that much Rufus could agree was complete tripe.
“By the way, how’s your arm?” Cloud asked.
“Pardon me?”
“Your right arm. I saw you shooting the monsters yesterday with only one-hand.”
Rufus smirked. So he had noticed, had he? “I’m perfectly fine.”
“That’s impossible with a shotgun. You should have severe bruising at least.”
The executive used his right arm to flick his bangs out of his face, demonstrating its substantial mobility. “Not with a very special shotgun,” he answered. “You’re welcome to see it for yourself.”
Cloud raised an eyebrow at him before going in the direction of Rufus’ gun safe. Other than Rufus himself, Cloud was the only other person who had the combination. It had been a reluctant concession on Rufus’ part, the Shinra heir hadn’t liked anyone else being able to touch his weapons, but Cloud had insisted. Watching Cloud open the safe now was less grating then it had been the first time. On reflection the youth was right, in an emergency that every one weapon had to be accounted for. Cloud removed the sawed-off shotgun carefully, making sure the safety was on then thoroughly checking it for ammunition.
“I’ve never seen this model,” Cloud observed, rotating it so he could take in every facet.
“It’s completely custom-made. A rare collaborative effort of both Scarlet and Reeve.”
“The stock’s bigger than normal and the material slots are completely sealed off. Why?”
“While the barrel is almost entirely Scarlet’s - one of her better works I might add - the stock’s completely Reeve’s. Where most shotgun are a trade-off of accuracy for power, this one has both,” Rufus said reverently. He’d always been bothered by the lack of power of regular fire arms, but he’d also hated the unwieldiness of a normal shotgun. “There’s a Quake materia embedded in the stock. Reeve’s been trying to find ways to allow machines to use materia.” It had been slow going, though a couple gems like this one have emerged. “Unlike a regular Quake materia which pushes kinetic energy into the ground for attacks, this one has been modified to absorb it.”
“Kinetic energy that’s moving things… like the recoil, right?”
“Correct.”
Shame the youth had had such a pitiful education; Cloud had a knack for figuring out how things work. In his more talkative moments, the young captain would go on about motorcycles and radios. If Rufus hadn’t poached him, it was likely Cloud would have ended up a mechanic or possibly an engineer. Already Rufus could already see the wonder building behind Cloud’s blue eyes, a spark of understanding as he tested the gun’s weight and balance. “So it absorbs the recoil, and…”
“You get unparalleled accuracy,” Rufus finished.
“Can you still use it for spells?”
“No,” Rufus said off-handily, “it’s a mostly closed system. It wouldn’t work otherwise.”
“You used a Quake materia so you could -”
“A mastered Quake materia,” Rufus corrected.
“You wasted a mastered Quake materia so you could aim your gun better?” It seemed like Cloud couldn’t quite understand the notion.
Making a mental calculation, Rufus decided it wasn’t an entirely outrageous reaction; after all such a materia did cost more than what Cloud made in a year. “For what it’s worth I commissioned it years before I hired you, when I had considerably more funds. If I’d been able to hire you back then, I would have paid you considerably more.”
“Never mind,” Cloud muttered, shaking his head. Cloud looked downward as if entreating the Planet to give him patience.
In Rufus’ opinion, he ought to ask for a new set of clothes while he was at it.
“The budget for my security force is set, so I can’t much to remedy that. Perhaps something else? I am not without influence.” Albeit his power was a pitiful, broken creature compared to what it once was. It reminded him of the time when his father had he either put an electronic collar on his cat or get rid of it. At some primal level it had known what it meant, brutally fighting back - Rufus still had the scars to show for it. Once it was on, the Dark Nation had moaned tireless scratching at it and quickly the collar became as unbearable for Rufus as it was for his pet. Ever since Reeve had given him the cat for his birthday, Rufus had never once considered giving his pet up. At least until that moment. Soon afterward he’d started negotiating with Reeve to take the exotic animal back.
Only Tseng’s intervention had stopped things from progressing. After all the cat was trained to protect his son, the Turk had pointed out. What if potential assassins found the bandwidth of the collar and could remotely access it? The animal was a free bodyguard. Why make it’s duties potentially harder?
“There is something.” Cloud began. “The vandal from yesterday, I spoke to him. He had recently received bad news. I don’t think he was in his right mind when he did it.”
“So you don’t think vandalizing Shinra property, particularly the President’s own landing pad, is the actions of a sane person?” Rufus said sardonically.
“The airport’s security chief was worried Administrative Research might get the wrong idea. I was hoping you could help with that… and I there’s one other thing.”
“Go on.”
Instead of rising to the bait, Cloud kept the subject on track. “The person, I mean the body, from yesterday? I was hoping I could see it again.”
The requests washed over Rufus, waves on a winter’s day. Fierce. Freezing. It made him feel awake. Alive.
Both of the wishes concerned the company’s internal security, an area of Shinra that Rufus was supposed to stay away from. Not for the first time, Rufus wondered how aware Cloud was of his circumstances, the rules and limitations that governed Rufus’ life. The things that kept him from drawing his father’s ire once more. His powers went only as far as his father allowed them. To try to breach those barriers, to reclaim even the tiniest morsel of power… the results might be unpleasant.
Now Rufus was the one wearing the collar. Should he accept it?
Of course not.
Next Chapter
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Cloud, Rufus
Summary: Cloud Strife never returned to Nibelheim. AU
Author’s Note:
Previous Chapter
It was early when Cloud stirred, the traitorous sunlight having slipped between the slits of the wooden blinds to tease his face. From between twin slits, beady blue orbs scrutinized the bedside clock before audibly snapping shut. He might be a morning person but this was…
Much.
Too.
Early.
“Ugh,” he moaned. It felt as he had been trampled by a herd of wild Chocobos.. He flopped around on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position which would allow him to dive back into sleep. To his growing frustration, it quickly proved difficult. He tried lying on his side, then his back. He curled up then stretched out. Whatever his pose he tried, the aches followed, nipped at his heels. Finally he turned onto his front, burrowing his face into the pillows and dragging the duvet cover over his head. If he couldn’t get comfortable, at least he could blot out some of the Planet-cursed light.
To his dismay, this proved equally fruitless as the motions made him increasingly aware of his surroundings. The pillows proved much softer than the twin rocks that he was used to resting his head on and the duvet was not the scratchy blankets of his bunk. He most certainly wasn’t in his normal hole in the ground. With that thought, the insanity of the previous day came flooding back. It hadn’t been his worst day on the job or even the fifth. There had been too many attempts on Rufus’ life - purposeful, intelligent threats with which Cloud had had to deal - which made talking to a vandal and dealing with a freak livestock accident look nowhere near as ominous. Still if it wasn’t for the troublesome possibility of dying, Cloud would’ve preferred another assassination attempt.
“Ugh,” he said once again, more to make himself feel better than anything else, and slowly, reluctantly he shoved himself up into the waking world.
The previous day must have left him exhausted because his memories of actually getting into bed were like watching a television with a twisted antenna; still, a quick assessment of things revealed that even half-awake he’d managed to neatly set out his uniform, polish his boots, and - as was confirmed by a quick sniff - had even washed the sweat out of his helmet. Further more, it looked like he’d taken the time to clean his rifle and knife. If his old drill sergeant had seen this, he might have approved. He left the armoured parts of his uniform where they lay, resolving to come back for them once his shift began, dressing only in his cargo pants, boots and tank top.
After a moment’s consideration he added his combat knife to the outfit, adjusting the sheath’s belt, so it was hidden beneath his shirt. The knife pressed against the small of his back. Having a gun with him while off-duty had always seemed extreme; it had taken a fair bit of arguing on his part to convince Rufus that that it was overkill. In truth he hadn’t so much won that battle so much as Rufus had tired of the conversation, leaving Cloud with the distinct feeling that he had been granted a short recess before the argument would start anew.
The vice president had been quick to point out that Cloud’s primary complaint with Rufus was his lack of precautions. But Rufus was definitely not hired to protect him. It was doubtful anyone was out to get him personally and if they were, Cloud was hardly a lynchpin of the company. If someone killed him, it wouldn’t hurt anyone… Other than Cloud, that is.
The knife was feeling frailer every second.
While he had another three hours until he was on duty, Cloud checked on Rufus. Experience had taught him that a bit of caution could come in handy. The vice president turned out to be still secluded in his room and after opening the bedroom door enough to look inside, fast asleep in the middle of his king-sized bed. It didn’t take Cloud long to notice that Rufus’ room featured full-length blackout curtains, leaving his room in complete darkness so he could sleep in.
Lack of sleep aside, the sight of Rufus Shinra slumbering was as bizarre as it was utterly normal. Awake, Rufus was the picture of control. Asleep he could’ve been anyone. Rufus lay there, his hands wrapped tightly in his sheets while his brow furrowed. He even snored. The only thing that would’ve made him seem more like a normal person was if Rufus had a trickle of drool coming out the side of his mouth. Cloud was tempted to whip out his PHS and snap a photo for blackmail purposes.
As if sensing the threat to its master, two glowing yellow slashes appeared in the darkness beneath the bed, as Dark Nation glowered at him.
Cloud left the apartment immediately.
Rufus’ place was one of two large apartments gracing the top of one of Junon’s smaller skyscrapers. The other apartment of course belonged to Rufus’ father, the President. Whereas Rufus’ home was only one story high, his father’s was a three with large balconies on each one. The architecture had a certain majestic grace to it, with carvings into the surrounding each massive window. Next to his father’s building, Rufus’ looked like a glorified garage.
Cloud stretched, pulling his arms and legs in various directions, enjoying the minute crackle and pop sounds his body made, then started to move. He started slowly, jogging down on the stairs leading down the stairs from the penthouses to the ground, His body protested at first, groaning silently, as he forced aching limbs to move. Eventually the knots in his muscles eased and once Cloud’s feet hit the street, he sped up.
Quickly his early irritation faded away as he took in the sights. Upper Junon seemed to have transformed into a different place. The normally crowded shops were a closed, their shutters shut tightly. The only sign of activity was the occasional trooper patrolling the roads, but it was a normal enough sight. The usual cacophony and bustle of the city was now serene. He able to run with the ocean on one side and the buildings, painted vivid oranges and reds by the rising sun on the other, and the nothing on the street to stop him.
When he finally reached his destination, he couldn’t help but look back at the road. This sort of simplicity was a rarity in the city. As a youth he’d found it unbearably dull. Now it felt freeing, being lose himself in the sounds of the clanking of his dog tags against his chest and the pounding of his feet on the pavement. As he reached Hades’ Street, he let out a sigh of regret before entering Nibel’s Dreams.
The pub wasn’t particularly remarkable. It featured the typical dark wood walls with large ceiling fans overhead and number of ashtrays dotting the countertops. The only distinguishing feature were the photos of the Nibelheim mountain range adorning the walls.
The bartender hadn’t noticed Cloud entering, too engrossed with the television hung from the wall. “Damn it Paula, he doesn’t really love you. He’s just using you to get to your sister!” he groaned.
“Hey Johnny,” Cloud said, trying very hard to keep a straight face.
The bartender whirled around like a top. “Cloud, what are you doing here?” he asked, then frantically grabbed the remote controller and flicked the television off. It was pointless though, Cloud had long since figured out Johnny’s viewing habits.
“I heard you serve breakfast now.”
“Since when?” Johnny griped.
“It says so outside.”
“Yes, but I never thought anyone would actually show up!” Johnny protested vehemently. As far as Cloud could tell, Johnny had only started the early breakfast thing so he could watch his soap operas without his girlfriend finding out.
“Then why post it?” Come to think the announcement on the door was rather hard to find. It had been half covered by flyers. He’d barely noticed the tiny print announcing that the bar was now serving an early bird breakfast.
“Well, I… uh,” Johnny spluttered. “Look do you want breakfast or not?” Cloud hadn’t been lying to the private on the previous day. The bartender did have bright red hair that stood straight up, and at the moment Johnny looked as stiff as his hair. Other than Cloud, Johnny and his parents were the only people from Nibelheim that hadn’t been present when Wutai had attacked.
“Since when do you serve breakfast?” Cloud asked innocently. Perhaps he’d been hanging around Rufus too long.
“Since now,” Johnny said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I probably have something that will do.” Johnny made a point of quickly turning off the television before Cloud could see what was on, and then stomped off into the back.
A little while later, Cloud was served a glass of milk, an orange, eggs and toast. “Your cook’s not in the kitchen, is she?”
“Nope,” Johnny answered, clearly enjoying Cloud’s reaction. “She hates waking up early. Only works the later shifts.”
“I can tell.” The eggs were slimy, the toast was scorched, and the milk smelled. Mercifully the orange looked safe and he removed it from his plate, putting it a good distance from its more dubious companions
Johnny was apparently satisfied with his little revenge for his crashed morning, removing a beer from the fridge then passing it to Cloud. It was too early for beer and he would have passed, but when Johnny grabbed another for himself, he accepted the show of companionship. At least it looked more palatable than the milk.
“I’m surprised you’re here, considering yesterday,” Johnny said, cracking open his drink.
“You heard?”
“Of course I did. Junon hasn’t been anything this interesting happen since the war, plus you hear things when you work in a bar. But yesterday? I would’ve had to be deaf not to hear about it. Everybody was talking about it. I figured you’d be exhausted. Not up and about at this crazy hour.” Cloud had been exhausted. Probably lurking behind the adrenaline from the run, he still was.
“I woke up early.”
“Did you try to go back to sleep?”
Cloud was tempted to ignore the question. To toss it aside. After all, he hadn’t wanted to wake up, the room had been just too bright. On reflection though, he’d stayed there before, about a couple dozen times and light or no light, he generally slept better there, away from the constant noise of the barracks. This time, he’d needed to get up to move.
“Johnny?”
“Hmm?”
“Do ever think you think you see them?” he asked.
“You mean them them?” Johnny took a long swig of his beer and frowned. “Sort of. Once and a while I think I hear them., especially when there’s a lot of people talking. Their voices all blend together and suddenly I think I hear one of my sisters or one of their kids. Sometimes Tifa too.”
Johnny had had a bit of a crush on her. It was another thing that tied them together. As kids they’d played together, but never been especially close. While Johnny had never been one of the children who’d bullied Cloud, he’d never stood up for him either. Nevertheless after the Wutains had destroyed Nibelheim, Johnny had hunted him, eventually deciding to stay. It had been hard to resent him after that. They were the last two of their generation.
There wouldn’t be another.
“So what’s got you gander?” Johnny asked.
“Just yesterday after we got the livestock under control, we found a stowaway. The livestock had killed him…. He looked like someone from home.”
Johnny rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that the other man hadn’t cared about their hometown. During those first few month after they’d gotten the news, Johnny’s temper had been like a string pulled too tight, snapping at the smallest thing. But after about a year of this, his anger had been drained away leaving a practical - if acerbic - acceptance in its wake. “That old hat? Come on, we’ve been over this before: you couldn’t have done anything,” he grumbled.
“That’s what Rufus said,” Cloud said.
“Well, he’s right,” Johnny winced, and then added, “I can’t believe I said that.”
“I know he is. Really.” And that was the frustrating thing, he did know it. He’d visited Nibelheim after the attack, seen the ruins. There was no way a single trooper could’ve prevented that. So why didn’t his subconscious keep on pushing that face into his mind? “I don’t get it either.”
The bartender snorted. “It’s probably because the anniversary is coming up. They’re making a big deal about it being the fifth one,” he said. “It’s still months away and I’ve already had six people ask me about renting the place to celebrate the ‘heroic’ death of Sephiroth. There’s been a bunch of others who use the bar’s name as an excuse to lecture me about his exploits. I swear one of these days I’ll just burn the place down to save me the headache.”
“You could change the name,” Cloud suggested.
”I’ll stick with the headaches.”
At that moment, the bell above the door jangled. The new arrival was a medium-sized man, clean-shaven and wearing a white shirt and dress pants with neatly pressed creases down the middle of the legs.
“Hello, sir,” he said to Johnny. “The sign outside says you serve breakfast.”
“So people keep on telling me,” Johnny replied.
“You really ought to make the sign more obvious. I barely noticed it, all covered in flyers. The print’s small too. Good thing I have good eyesight.”
“Yeah, great.”
Cloud speared a piece of egg with his fork, only for it to collapse into yellow sludge. “Hope you like oranges,” he muttered under his breath.
“As a matter of fact I like all citrus fruits,” the stranger stated amicably and took the opportunity to take a bar stool near Cloud.
It was this utterly awkward sounding statement which made Cloud do a double take. “Luxiere?”
“Nice to see you again, Captain Strife,” he said, acknowledging him by bowing. Once his head dipped far enough down, a small shadow covered his visage, making those ethereal eyes evident. The plain clothes had been enough to throw Cloud. In his entire time of knowing Zack, he’d never actually seen the him in anything other than his uniform. Come to think of it, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a SOLDIER in normal clothing.
Johnny eventually voiced the thought. “I thought SOLDIERs never deemed to wear the garment of mere mortals.”
Luxiere seemed utterly unaware of the sarcasm. “It’s true,” Luxiere admitted. “We get so thrilled by getting into the program that… Well, we can be a bit prone to showing off. It’s a bit of a bad habit honestly for some of us. Wearing the BDUs all the time makes it hard to mix properly with civilians.”
“I would’ve thought those baby blues of yours would make it hard all by themselves,” Johnny said.
“I guess so, but it’s important to make the effort. If we’re never seen in normal clothes, we’ll never be seen as normal people.”
Cloud and Johnny stared at him. Luxiere spoke as if he was a beauty pageant contestant trying to win over the judges. It was very hard to take him seriously. Even Zack in his more earnest moments hadn’t descended into this kind of corniness.
Eventually Johnny cracked a smile. “Huh, hopefully the normal people appreciate it.”
With that, he headed back into the kitchen, leaving Cloud alone with Luxiere.
“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but were you did you ever go on a mission to Modeoheim?” the Second asked. “One with a SOLDIER escort?”
“Yes,” Cloud answered.
As soon as he said this, Luxiere’s entire disposition changed. The stiffness in shoulders melted away, leaving an eagerness in its wake. “I thought so… I mean it’s not a very common name, but I just didn’t want to assume,” the Second babbled. “You’re that Cloud Strife.”
“Yes.” What else could he say? It was his name after all.
“Zack’s Cloud.”
He leaned towards the other man, curiosity budding in his breast. “You knew Zack?”
“Of course, everybody knows… Well, there was a time where everybody in SOLDIER knew Zack. The new kids haven’t been so lucky and as for the rest…” Luxiere ground his teeth. “…a lot of good people have left us these last few years.”
Another nasty reminder that he wasn’t the only one who’d lost people. He still had to talk to Rufus about Private Arik. There wasn’t much Cloud could say to that other than “Sorry.” The word seemed to get more hollow every time it was used.
“They died for what they believed it,” Luxiere replied without drama or flourish as if stating an uncomplicated truth.
Cloud had heard worse epitaphs.
“So Zack mentioned me?” Cloud asked, trying to steer the conversation in a less morbid direction.
“Yeah, a bunch of times. He used to hang out a lot with Kunsel and me. He said you were a plucky little kid. That you should have been one of us.”
Cloud wasn’t sure if he liked to being referred to as a ‘plucky little kid’. Especially the ‘little’ part, though it had been true. Unfortunately it still was.
The next part had been more satisfying. Yes, Zack had always insisted Cloud would have made a good SOLDIER, but there had always been a bit of him which had wondered if his friend had just being nice. And yes, while it hadn’t been like Zack to lie even to be nice. Still it was satisfying to know he’d said the same in private.
Then there was that name. “Kunsel,” Cloud said, rolling the name over in his head. “I think Zack mentioned him a few times. He said something about him being a bit of a gossip.”
Luxiere merriment cooled, the corners of his eyes tightening. “We all used to hang out together,” he said quietly. “but when Zack died… Kunsel didn’t take it particularly well. He started getting all into the most insane conspiracy theories that you’ve ever heard. A lot of them about the company. Used to tell them to anybody who would listen.”
Cloud couldn’t see that going over well with the company. “What happened to him?”
“Don’t know. By that point we weren’t on so good terms. I didn’t believe his stories. I mean he’d become utterly paranoid. Wanted him to get help, so instead he just stopped talking to me. Last time I saw him, Heidegger wanted to talk to him. After that, he was gone,” he said. “I guess the company got sick of the rumours and fired him.” He rubbed his arms as if brushing off some invisible dirt.
Johnny returned shortly after that. Apparently his cooking skills had improved. The toast had a speck or two of brown along its blackened surfaces and the eggs consistency was more like rubber than mud. Nothing could’ve improved the milk though, which kept a sour musk hovering in its vicinity. Nevertheless after examining the food then dug in with apparent gusto.
Cloud watched with abject horror as the SOLDIER inhaled the food, then, upon Luxiere’s inquiring look, offered his own plate. “You… like it?” he asked cautiously.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Johnny protested. A remarkable turnaround considering less than ten minutes ago, he’d seemed all too aware of the quality of his cooking.
Apparently even the SOLDIER wouldn’t brave the milk - Cloud wasn’t sure if he could handle that sight - sniffing it once before politely handing the glass back to Johnny. “I appreciate the effort that went into it. I sure Mr…” he said.
“Name’s Johnny.”
“I appreciate the effort that Mr. Johnny put into making it. As for the rest, it’s food, right? It’d be criminal to waste it.”
“See,” Johnny said to Cloud. “He likes it.”
Cloud thought it best not to point out that that hadn’t been what the SOLDIER had actually said. With any luck, the situation would eventually resolve itself. After all it was only a matter of time before the bartender attempted to cook for himself and experience could be a powerful teacher.
“So why are down here anyway? I mean Cloud I get. He’s an old friend. I thought they had some fancy twenty-four hour cafeteria for the troops,” Johnny commented. Apparently Luxiere’s appreciation of his cooking skills had elevated him in Johnny’s eyes, and the barkeeper had become more amiable.
Luxiere looked uncomfortable at the question, his shaggy eyebrows furrowing. “SOLDIERs tend to not to sleep too much. I was hungry and the private SOLDIER cafeteria hasn’t been finished yet. This was the only place open.”
“And that means?”
“We have to use the troopers' one. That can be kind of awkward.” He looked over at Cloud an unspoken plea on his lips.
Cloud obliged him. “Troopers and SOLDIERs tend not to get along,” he explained.
“Huh, I figured you guys we all buddies or something,” Johnny said. “I never imagined.”
“It’s complicated.” The whole relationship between the two main divisions of the army was a messy one. Too many had dreamed of being part of SOLDIER, only to end up in the infantry instead.
Not for the first time Cloud wondered what would have happened to him if he hadn’t met Zack. Hadn’t seen a SOLDIER as a person and not just some unobtainable ideal. Or if Rufus hadn’t given him other goals. Would his dreams of becoming a SOLDIER twisted inward, turning into from hope to resentment to hate? It had happened to so many others.
Arik. He still had to talk to Rufus about Arik.
“Hey, do mind if you turn on the television?” Luxiere asked. “I was hoping to catch the early news.”
“Sorry, I lost the remote control and well, you can see,” Johnny said, indicating the television which was high on the wall.
Cloud was about to point out that they could just use a chair when Luxiere rose from his seat. The Second strode towards the TV, and then effortlessly jumped straight up five feet, touched the power button and landed easily.
“Wait! Don’t!” Johnny spluttered.
The television spluttered to life. It was old one, the sound from its speakers cracked and distorted. Even so it was easy to hear an announcer said “Next time on All Gaia’s Children. Paula’s relationship with Antonio is strained when her twin sister kidnaps her and poses as her on her wedding day. Will Antonio see through his fiendish foe? Will Paula escape her captors or fall in love with them? Will true love conquer all? Next time on All Gaia’s Children.”
Johnny’s only response was a blush creeping across his cheeks.
It was the other redhead rescued him. “All Gaia’s Children is still playing? “
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Yeah, my wife and I used to watch it every evening. I thought they’d cancelled it.”
“They play reruns early in the morning, though there is some talk about it coming out in video.”
Cloud ate his orange in silence as he listened to the two redheads babble back and forth about the various characters and relationships of their beloved television show. There was something deeply disturbing about anyone, man or woman, putting this much thought into a fictional universe, so much so that he nearly missed the new broadcast.
“Yesterday afternoon all of the free world was terrified when young Rufus Shinra, vice president of Shinra Incorporated and only son of…”
Hopefully this wouldn’t make Rufus too insufferable today.
“…attacked and nearly killed by implacable monsters…”
Now that was a bit of an exaggeration.
“…then when Antonio first looked at Perdita, I thought he would…”
“…duty-bound to protect him, his bodyguard threw himself into…”
Over dramatic.
“…still, I always though she’d get together with…”
“…example of heroism in his…
Wait! What the -
“Did you do this?”
During his lifetime, Rufus had been woken up for various reasons. Some necessary. Others entirely frivolous. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, but he wasn’t sure if being woken up at six in the morning with his cat yowling and a newspaper shoved into his face by his irate bodyguard counted as the former or the latter.
“I beg your pardon?”
The younger blond shook his newspaper. ‘LAST SURVIVOR OF NIBELHEIM SAVES VICE PRESIDENT’ it read.
“Hmm… Correct me if I’m wrong, but you weren’t in Nibelheim during the attack,” Rufus mused. “I fail to see how that qualifies you as a survivor. And that friend of yours and his parents are still alive, right? So you don’t qualify in the last citizen sense either.” He made a tsking noise. “Someone really must write the editor.”
“You’re dodging the question,” Cloud growled.
Junon had little in the way of proper DNA labs. The few it did have were strictly watched and under Shinra control. It made verifying whether or not he and Cloud were actually related difficult. The only way to test it one way or another would to risk exposing the potential connection to the Turks. Rufus had no doubt that if he and Cloud were proved to be half-brothers, his father would inevitably become involved. A reality Rufus would not allow.
Looking at Cloud like this with his blue eyes flashing, Rufus could almost believe a DNA test wasn’t necessary. Here Cloud was - a youth from the middle of nowhere, born without money or status - attempting to stare him down. Him, Rufus Shinra. On paper the concept would have seen utterly absurd but it was happening. It was impressive.
The sheer determination required spoke of some kind of inborn greatness. Of course Rufus wouldn’t have stopped at a few grumbles and a threatening disposition to get any answers he wanted. Though he supposed he could hardly fault the other blond. Nurture might have something to do with it.
“Did. You. Do. This?” Cloud repeated.
“What exactly? Do you mean I ordered the story to be published? Or do you mean I simply gave an interview?”
“Either.”
“The answer to those questions and ones related to them is simple: I did absolutely nothing,” he answered truthfully.
Cloud pursued further. “And you didn’t know about this story at all?”
“No. Contrary to popular belief I do not control the media.” That particular avenue was no longer open to him. Now it sat entirely in his father’s meaty hands.
Still, the younger man did not let up. “You’re not surprised.”
“No, I am not. It was only a matter of time before you entered the public eye,” he calmly stated. “What did you expect? You’re the bodyguard to the vice president.”
This snapped the youth out of his ire. It was like a switch had been flicked. Within a millisecond he was blinking self-consciously. “Uh, sorry.”
Rufus straightened, reaching for the black robe on his coat rack, wrapping it around his body so he might talk to Cloud with a little more dignity. “Yes, next time wait until I’m fully awake before you harass me.”
“No, not that.”
“Harassing me while I’m fully asleep would be even less effective, Captain Strife.”
“I meant I shouldn’t have assumed you were involved.”
“It was a natural mistake. Many politicians use their entourage to draw media attention to them. Considering my position, your suspicions were perfectly logical. In fact I was impressed by how your questions had tackled any areas where I might have lied by omission.”
Cloud stood there, his fists bunched at his sides. “That’s not an excuse. You’re not that bad.”
There were times where Cloud’s spikes made his face seem especially young. They seemed to round it out, softening it. This was one of those times. Rufus found he couldn’t think of a proper response to Cloud’s declaration. His suspicions had been valid though misguided. There was no reason to apologize.
Finally, Rufus said, “You’re getting blood on the rug.”
It was then that Cloud first became aware of the wound on his arm. The injury was causing blood to trickle down onto the floor. “Sorry.”
“Then I would recommend getting off it,” Rufus suggested amicably.
Cloud shuffled out of the room.
“Dark Nation, no,” Rufus ordered - the curious feline had begun to lick at the blood stains - then followed his bodyguard.
“That cat hates me,” Cloud griped as he allowed Rufus to examine his arm.
Using some iodine and a cotton ball from the first aid kit, Rufus cleaned the wound. “Nonsense. He’s just curious about you. Believe me, you would be aware if Dark Nation hated you. It likely be the last thing you’d be aware of, but you’d definitely know,” he said. “As for myself, I am curious as to why you didn’t just use a potion on this yesterday.”
“It was just a shallow gash. It had already started scabbing over on its own. It must have broken open when I jogged back here.”
“It would have scarred.”
Cloud shrugged unconcernedly. “Zack always said that scars tell a stories.”
“With all due respect to your deceased friend, I find it more likely he thought they would impress girls.”
“He already had a girlfriend,” Cloud said as if that actually meant anything. That hardly stopped other men.
The fairer gender included, Rufus failed to see why anyone in their right mind would wish to have every injury in their life displayed where just anyone could see it. It seemed careless. He also could’ve pointed out that having a partner did not preclude a man having numerous affairs on the side, but decided that the statement wouldn’t have been taken well.
“While Lieutenant Fair’s policy may have its points, I have never known you to follow that particular one,” Rufus said, prodding for more information.
“The hospital only gives out free potions to people with severe injuries. I’m trying to save money.”
“For what, may I ask?”
“It’s private.”
It was a unexpected answer. Hiding things was not Cloud’s style. He was more shy than secretive and was tempting to try and pry open the door that blocked his way. There were ways it could be done. Perhaps suggest that Cloud should pay reparations for his earlier comments or that keeping secrets from his employer was not a good policy.
Rufus did neither. Anyways constant pressure could only distance Cloud from him.
“I’ve got an extra pack of potions you are welcome to have. It’s ridiculous that you should suffer because of your privacy.” Because Cloud had been trying to protect him. “As for your clothes, I suppose you don’t have time to get a fresh change of clothes…”
A few minutes later, Cloud was dressed in some of Rufus clothes. The top was normal tank top. The pants on the other hand were not actually pants but capris - a fact that Cloud had not been happy about. Unfortunately Rufus was almost half a foot taller than him and with his only other option was to spend the rest of the day tripping over his own feet, he’d been forced to reluctantly concede.
Both of the items were completely black and Cloud hesitated before asking, “Rufus, do you have any other colours?”
“I have white clothes if you prefer.”
“Any others?”
“Like your normal purple I assume? No. None at all.” The purple was a questionable fashion choice anyways. Cloud ought to be thankful.
“Great.”
“I’m surprised by you, Cloud. The clothes. The news. I would’ve thought you’d enjoy standing out. I thought everyone who tried to join SOLDIER wanted glory.”
“Not like this. These clothes aren’t army. And the news… It made it seem like I rescued you single handily. I didn’t do that much. Luxiere did most of the work and the article barely mentions him.”
“You did your job. That’s enough.” As for the ‘rescue’ part that much Rufus could agree was complete tripe.
“By the way, how’s your arm?” Cloud asked.
“Pardon me?”
“Your right arm. I saw you shooting the monsters yesterday with only one-hand.”
Rufus smirked. So he had noticed, had he? “I’m perfectly fine.”
“That’s impossible with a shotgun. You should have severe bruising at least.”
The executive used his right arm to flick his bangs out of his face, demonstrating its substantial mobility. “Not with a very special shotgun,” he answered. “You’re welcome to see it for yourself.”
Cloud raised an eyebrow at him before going in the direction of Rufus’ gun safe. Other than Rufus himself, Cloud was the only other person who had the combination. It had been a reluctant concession on Rufus’ part, the Shinra heir hadn’t liked anyone else being able to touch his weapons, but Cloud had insisted. Watching Cloud open the safe now was less grating then it had been the first time. On reflection the youth was right, in an emergency that every one weapon had to be accounted for. Cloud removed the sawed-off shotgun carefully, making sure the safety was on then thoroughly checking it for ammunition.
“I’ve never seen this model,” Cloud observed, rotating it so he could take in every facet.
“It’s completely custom-made. A rare collaborative effort of both Scarlet and Reeve.”
“The stock’s bigger than normal and the material slots are completely sealed off. Why?”
“While the barrel is almost entirely Scarlet’s - one of her better works I might add - the stock’s completely Reeve’s. Where most shotgun are a trade-off of accuracy for power, this one has both,” Rufus said reverently. He’d always been bothered by the lack of power of regular fire arms, but he’d also hated the unwieldiness of a normal shotgun. “There’s a Quake materia embedded in the stock. Reeve’s been trying to find ways to allow machines to use materia.” It had been slow going, though a couple gems like this one have emerged. “Unlike a regular Quake materia which pushes kinetic energy into the ground for attacks, this one has been modified to absorb it.”
“Kinetic energy that’s moving things… like the recoil, right?”
“Correct.”
Shame the youth had had such a pitiful education; Cloud had a knack for figuring out how things work. In his more talkative moments, the young captain would go on about motorcycles and radios. If Rufus hadn’t poached him, it was likely Cloud would have ended up a mechanic or possibly an engineer. Already Rufus could already see the wonder building behind Cloud’s blue eyes, a spark of understanding as he tested the gun’s weight and balance. “So it absorbs the recoil, and…”
“You get unparalleled accuracy,” Rufus finished.
“Can you still use it for spells?”
“No,” Rufus said off-handily, “it’s a mostly closed system. It wouldn’t work otherwise.”
“You used a Quake materia so you could -”
“A mastered Quake materia,” Rufus corrected.
“You wasted a mastered Quake materia so you could aim your gun better?” It seemed like Cloud couldn’t quite understand the notion.
Making a mental calculation, Rufus decided it wasn’t an entirely outrageous reaction; after all such a materia did cost more than what Cloud made in a year. “For what it’s worth I commissioned it years before I hired you, when I had considerably more funds. If I’d been able to hire you back then, I would have paid you considerably more.”
“Never mind,” Cloud muttered, shaking his head. Cloud looked downward as if entreating the Planet to give him patience.
In Rufus’ opinion, he ought to ask for a new set of clothes while he was at it.
“The budget for my security force is set, so I can’t much to remedy that. Perhaps something else? I am not without influence.” Albeit his power was a pitiful, broken creature compared to what it once was. It reminded him of the time when his father had he either put an electronic collar on his cat or get rid of it. At some primal level it had known what it meant, brutally fighting back - Rufus still had the scars to show for it. Once it was on, the Dark Nation had moaned tireless scratching at it and quickly the collar became as unbearable for Rufus as it was for his pet. Ever since Reeve had given him the cat for his birthday, Rufus had never once considered giving his pet up. At least until that moment. Soon afterward he’d started negotiating with Reeve to take the exotic animal back.
Only Tseng’s intervention had stopped things from progressing. After all the cat was trained to protect his son, the Turk had pointed out. What if potential assassins found the bandwidth of the collar and could remotely access it? The animal was a free bodyguard. Why make it’s duties potentially harder?
“There is something.” Cloud began. “The vandal from yesterday, I spoke to him. He had recently received bad news. I don’t think he was in his right mind when he did it.”
“So you don’t think vandalizing Shinra property, particularly the President’s own landing pad, is the actions of a sane person?” Rufus said sardonically.
“The airport’s security chief was worried Administrative Research might get the wrong idea. I was hoping you could help with that… and I there’s one other thing.”
“Go on.”
Instead of rising to the bait, Cloud kept the subject on track. “The person, I mean the body, from yesterday? I was hoping I could see it again.”
The requests washed over Rufus, waves on a winter’s day. Fierce. Freezing. It made him feel awake. Alive.
Both of the wishes concerned the company’s internal security, an area of Shinra that Rufus was supposed to stay away from. Not for the first time, Rufus wondered how aware Cloud was of his circumstances, the rules and limitations that governed Rufus’ life. The things that kept him from drawing his father’s ire once more. His powers went only as far as his father allowed them. To try to breach those barriers, to reclaim even the tiniest morsel of power… the results might be unpleasant.
Now Rufus was the one wearing the collar. Should he accept it?
Of course not.
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