Cloud stood motionless, by the windowsill, staring out at the abysmally dark skies. His hand lay on his shoulders, clutching it with minor pressure, as a black viscous liquid would slowly ooze from it like syrup. He looked out the glistening window; it was obscenely quiet, the moons lights illuminating the skies. It was tranquil where he resided. He walked across the massive wooden timber that provides for the roofs structure and approached a massive hole along the edge.
He resided in the Sector 5 Church, which was surrounded by scrap metal that was sloppily distributed all along its perimeter; they formed a trail leading directly to the Church. The piles of scrap stood as high as the roof of the Church itself. Cloud was seated on the ledge of the Churches torn roof, which was circumvented in an oval shape, roofing material dangled along its edges beneath the shingles stapled on top. It was ripped right out of its place.
Cloud wore his traditional, long necked navy blue vest, which was zipped around its center, pulled slightly below his bulky shoulders revealing a small amount of chest. It was covered with vertical lines, which would change in thickness adorning it with dark stripes. It was cut around the shoulder on one side, revealing his well defined muscles; on the other, there was carbon shoulder padding overlaying a stitched black sleeve. His blond hair was cradling and resting along the scalp of his head.
Those voices…What are they, why do they call me….
"Who are you," Cloud mumbled to himself. His eyes were looking down, staring at the splintered wooden ledge. His eyes were loathing, drifting in every direction. He wasn't sure what to believe, what to anticipate from this sudden change in his thinking. How for years, he had thought he had managed to reclaim his mind, that the strings pulling his alien blood had finally been removed. But here, he can hear an alien voice, one he's never heard before in his life. It was a troubling revelation he never imagined he'd experience.
"You are mine, accept that you belong to me"….
The voice sounded controlling, it almost seized his mind, but he was too strong and proud to let it. It would instead try to manipulate and blend in with his normal thoughts. It had become increasingly difficult recently for Cloud to even know if his thoughts were his own, or if they were those subtly induced into his brain by the alien voices.
He settled in his current spot. And began meditating and wondering what the voices were that wandered aimlessly throughout his mind. He was distraught, unsure of where to focus his thoughts, his mental investigation was loosely conducted, thinking to superfluously, not even sure whether to believe or trust his own thoughts. He looked up at the stars which would patiently litter the night sky. It was a beautiful sight, and he had an absolutely amazing view of all of it.
It was 3AM, late into the night. Cloud was exhausted.