Title: Old Puppet
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I dont own FFVII or the title. Square Enix claims Final Fantasy VII and Ib gets "Old Puppet", 'nuff said.
A dreary setting engaged the landscape, skies of a bright blue now dark with grey sobbing clouds. The tears of the Planet rained upon the quiet city of Edge, most of the residents taking shelter in their homes. The few stragglers left in the torrent ran for the nearest building, hoping to stay at least somewhat dry.
Except one.
Stumbling like a common drunkard, Cloud made his way down the slippery sidewalk, boots creating ripples in the large puddles he crossed. He has no weapon on hand, gravity-defying blonde hair sagging limply across his forehead. A dull look fills his mako blue eyes as he stares blankly at the ground beneath him, not paying attention to where he was headed. There was no one to run into, so he didn't care.
His thoughts skipped gaily through his mind, the fuzzy feeling from the alcohol in his system damaging their contents. He had been visiting Seventh Heaven quite often, willingly detaching himself from his growing depression in the alcohol served. He helped him forget, but once he left the noisy bar, his thoughts came back in a fury. It did nothing to help ease his steadily growing headache.
Cloud turned his head skyward, stopping dead in the center of the sidewalk. He stared with half-lidded eyes at the rain clouds, not blinking as droplets splashed onto his face before sliding off his chin and into his already-soaked turtleneck. A flash of lightning caused him to startle slightly, the alcohol numbing his reaction. He stared off for a few minutes more, before returning his gaze to the cement as he set a pace.
Who am I? He wondered absently, messing with his black gloves. Am I really a true part of him? Do I have my own choices anymore?
A wave of unrestrained anger swept through him, the male turning on his heel and punching the brick wall beside him with all the force he had. Eyes clenched shut at the pain, he screamed aloud, "Why am I just his puppet?"
Deafening silence answered him, the only noise cutting through being the rain as it pounded against the unforgiving ground. Cloud stared, emotionless, as crimson blood flowed from his wounds, the scrapes already beginning to heal from the excess mako lingering in his veins.
He stepped back as a noise rang out behind him, the blonde whirling around only to see a tabby leap from its post on a trash can lid and flee from the alleyway. He shook his head at his own skittishness, shoving his hands into his pockets and continuing his stumble down the empty road.
He'd always have the silver-haired general following him. He knew it.
He was the man's puppet, after all.