Hello everyone! This is my first fic that has ANYTHING to do with FF7. I haven't played much of the game, so I'm sorry if the fic doesn't correspond EXACTLY with all the details of the game. This fic is set after Advent Children, in a sort of alternate universe. Kind of. O.o;. Anyways, enjoy the fic. .
Chapter One
The front of the ward looked like any normal house. Built into the side of the mountains, only the front two floors were visible at the front. They had windows like any other house. Those beautiful, round windows that were painted white and where split into several sections dotted the front rooms, letting in much needed sunlight into the check-in counter and break room and other staff-only sections of the ward. A tall, white fence made of iron enclosed the front yard, which was decorated sparsely with a middle fountain and large hedges and flower beds. There wasn't a small cement ring for cars to pull up to the ward; after all, the patients that were checked into the ward usually didn't ever come out, and Shinra only needed to drop them off at the front gate, which was usually locked. The rest of the ward was located in the mountain itself and was filled with padded rooms, interrogation rooms, a mess hall of sorts, and a few entertainment areas. The ward had a basement, but only a select handful of staff members were allowed to go down there. What other secret Shinra could possibly be hiding down there, one could only speculate.
In the North West wing of the ward, where only the craziest of crazies were kept, a man stirred in a heavily padded room that only had a small futon to sleep on. He didn't even have a sheet, for Shinra feared that he might someone manage to strangle himself between the guard's ten minute shifts. A straight jacket kept him properly restrained, and he rocked back in forth in the farthest corner from the guards. He hated their dark eyes. Everything about them reminded him of a woman he saw in his dreams. They were dreams now, weren't they? The smell of the thick, white padding reminded him, too, of something in his dreams. But of what, he wasn't even sure. For all he had known, he was dead. He had seen that white light reaching out for him and saw familiar people extending their hands and calling for him and yet . . . he was still in this room. How many days had passed since then? With all his blackouts and fits, he couldn't keep track of time anymore. His last calculations pointed at a week, but then the madness set in and he couldn't think anymore. That and there was no light in the North West wing. He was above the floors that were lit and kept where, if he escaped, he could easily be captured again.
You're mad! Absolutely insane! We're going to have to administer ESTs on you. It'll hurt at first, but it's okay. It'll all be okay . . . eventually you'll be well enough to walk in the sun again, and hey! You might even get to go home, get a job, and make a proper living. They said to him. They injected him with this strange, green liquid before hooking up needles and probes to his body while he underwent strange epileptic fits and saw these strange hallucinations. He saw a beautiful woman standing tall in front of him, calling for him to release her and her son so that they could purify this world and the many others that they had yet to visit. He saw a man, her son . . . he was so familiar . . . and that man whispered to him frightening things about the people who were his caretakers. He spoke of all these things, of a company called Shinra. When he was trying to sleep, even, he heard this man's voice talking to him, rambling on. Did the man even know what he was saying or to whom it was being said? Maybe not. Maybe it was just all in his head and there wasn't anyone talking to him. Maybe it was the other prisoners. But what if it wasn't?
"Ahh!" the man cried out, jerking onto his side. The straight jacket cut at his arms as he tried to pull them free and he rolled around on the ground, spasming furiously. "Let me out! Not insane . . . not insane . . . may . . . makkk . . . mayyyyk . . . mm . . makkkk . . . makooo!"
Pain, which he was so accustomed to these days, coursed through his head and burned his eyes. The single light that was embedded in the padding in the ceiling and covered by a grate flickered and burned out. One by one, the rest of the lights fell into darkness, and silence settled around him. And then, the sound of squeaky wheels. Those wretchedly squeaky wheels that were never greased only meant one thing. He twitched around on the padded floor, slamming his head into the padding as they rolled the gurney down the white tiled hall. He knew what was happening, and he struggled furiously to get out of his bonds.
"No! Can't have me! Never! Never let you . . . let the … the? Shin . . . shin shin shinny! Shin raaaa . . . rashhi . . . shinra!" He screamed, breaking the silence. He saw the men clothed in white suits and face masks as they sauntered up to the glass wall and typed in the needed code to open his cell. It seemed that they were afraid they would contract his insanity by mere touch alone. Oh, but it was so much more. The man sneered at them and bared his teeth, "Be afraid! Very afraid of me! Yes! Fe fe . . . feee . . . fear me!" He fell into hysterical laughter as they lifted him off the floor of his cell and onto the gurney. With thick, leather straps they restrained him and slowly rolled him out of the North West wing. The other inmates watched him go with fearful eyes, as even they, who were among insane serial killers, rapists, and other nutcases refused to have anything to do with him. A part of him reveled in their fear, but another part just felt empty. Why did he always have to feel so empty?
The moment they left his wing, the lights flickered back on and the hallway they entered was submerged in darkness. It was the same routine every week: They would shut out the lights as they carted him to the head of his ward for examination, which always ended up in more treatments before he was sent back to his ward, crazier then ever. The reason for shutting off the lights was simple: his mere presence discomforted the other patients. They couldn't stand to look in his eyes, for some reason. He really wished he could look into a mirror and see what they saw. He wanted to know if maybe he was physically disfigured or if perhaps…
He cried out in pain as heat shot through his head, searing his thoughts into submission. A strange voice, the one he kept hearing when he was trying to sleep, whispered, They fear you because they know you. They know us! We are the two surviving children of Mother. You and I. And Shinra . . . the voice trailed off, silenced with thought. When it said nothing further, the man cried, "What? What about Shinra? Tell me!" He dug his nails into his palms, but the voice spoke no further. It was silenced completely as the man was carted into one of the examination rooms. It was filled with sterile equipment, needles, several books pertaining to strange subjects that he felt he knew something about. It was white though. He had come to hate white, as it entrapped him. It was suffocating him day by day and he couldn't die. Once, he attempted to starve himself, but the Doctor overseeing his section of the ward had him tranquilized and intravenously fed until he was well again. Why couldn't they just let him die? He wanted to die! He wanted to be able to live without feeling pain and without being consumed with incoherent thoughts! The voice spoke again, darker and more sinister, Shinra won't let you die, Kadaj. Because you are the only survivor of Jenova's bloodline . . .the only being they have in their hands that hasn't rejected her cells after all the Mako treatments they've given you. ESTs? Hardly.
"Who . . . stop talking . . . mako mako mako . . ." he sputtered. The two men dressed in white uniforms glanced to each other and then to the doctor sitting at her desk. The doctor tilted her head towards Kadaj, who was struggling against them again, and removed her wired spectacles. For a few moments, the blue eyed doctor studied Kadaj, before nodding to the two uniformed men. They both glanced at each other before slowly removing the straight jacket from around Kadaj and stepping out of the room.
He sat on a nearby stool, shakily at first. His hands were trembling terribly, so he folding them in his lap as the doctor, in her pristine white lab-coat, scooted over to him on her rolling desk chair. In her hands she held a plain, manila folder that was thick with graph papers and other documents pertaining to him. He eyed them wearily, and contemplated snatching them from her. After all, why shouldn't he be allowed to see them. His fingers twitched in anticipation, but a moment before he struck out, he heard the voice again. Don't be a fool, Kadaj . . . don't you want out of that white room? Don't you want to see the sun again? Patience . . . patience…
Kadaj straightened and focused on the doctor. She stared at him with her big, blue eyes that seemed ever so innocent. Shinra . . . Shinra . . . the man said that they were corrupt and not to be trusted. Could he trust that voice? It was probably just his own self speaking to him. But that didn't sound like his voice . . . no, it wasn't him. It was someone else. But why was someone else in his head? The man tried to keep himself from freaking out, but he was so close to loosing his nerves. Then the doctor smiled at him and laid the folder back on her desk.
"You seem a lot better today, Number 547," she said, smiling. That's all he was anymore. A number. He hated it when she said that, but he kept calm. He wanted to see the sun again. He was tired of that annoying light in his cell that flickered and buzzed and hummed while he was trying to sleep. After all, he couldn't sleep anyways, but that just added to his annoyance.
"I, uh, I feel better … the treatments . . . mako …" He accidentally sputtered. Damnit, why'd I say that! Why shouldn't I? Mako mako mako? The hell is going on with me? I need to pull it together!
"Yes, about this 'mako' . . . what do you mean?" She inquired, leaning forward. He caught sight of her cleavage underneath the lab-coat and white vest she wore. Suddenly, he felt very weak and out of control. He wanted to do something . . . he wanted to get up and run around and be alive. But he was so empty. Kadaj started trembling.
"I . . . don't know. Just . . . something in my dreams. Something someone keeps saying to me . . . mako mako mako . . . it's … I don't . . . ESTs . . ." Kadaj stuttered. He started fidgeting with the buttons of his medical gown and touching his hair and scooting his feet on the cold floor. It was so cold, like ice. "I'm . . . tired . . . I want air, fresh air . . . sunlight … mako mako . . . I want mako . . . Nibelheim . . ." he cried, clutching his head in pain. Heat was building in the back of his head, searing his vision again, and he heard the voices of hundreds of people speaking to him, urging him to do various things. But he kept what the man had said in mind. See the sun . . . the sunlight.
The doctor raised her eyebrows and put her spectacles back on. She flipped through the folder of documents and began jotting down a few notes, adding onto the mess of thoughts and notes made by other doctors that had examined Kadaj over the weeks he had been entrusted to the ward's care. He was a very vital experiment to them, and they believed that they could use his DNA to recreate Sephiroth. After all, any experiments created from Jenova's DNA had failed miserably and had to be destroyed. But Kadaj . . . he was a part of Jenova and had been created in a very similar manner as Sephiroth had. This time, however, Shinra was determined to control their SOLDIERs in a way that would allow them to harness power over the entire planet. First was first, however. They had to run various tests and experiments on him to see if his DNA was even capable of recreating the monster that Dr. Hojo had first produced.
Kadaj, in his ramblings, proved that there was something of Sephiroth in him: A flicker of a memory or perhaps the genetic material to recreate him. Either way, the doctor who was sitting across from him at that very moment was writing out a form to reduce the Mako treatments and move Kadaj to better rooms. If Shinra could make themselves out to be the good guy, then maybe they could persuade Kadaj back to their side, or, if that failed, they could simple try out their new mind control chips on him. Either way would work just fine so long as they could bend their creations to their will. If Kadaj was as useful as they thought he might be, they could create an army of Sephiroth clones to overrun the rebels and create a perfect race obedient to Shinra. It was a far fetched dream, but anything that meant more power for Shinra was something worth working towards. They even dreamed of recreating the ancients from their studies of the lifestream and what they knew of Jenova.
Glancing nervously at the doctor, he wondered if what he had rambled about was a good thing or a bad thing. Usually the doctor, whichever one happened to be with him at the moment, sent him away with a prescription of more treatments and less privileges. Why couldn't he read books like other patients? Or watch the television or walk outside once a month. He was a person too! He wanted to be able to breathe the fresh air and look at the sky and the trees and see . . . see all there was to see. Kadaj could hardly remember anything before he was entered into the ward. It was all blurred. Sometimes he remembered a blonde haired man and a sword . . . this large sword that was always cutting him through.
"You'll get to see your sunlight and have your fresh air," Dr. Mizu said as she finished filling out the form. She looked up to see Kadaj entirely relieved. He was afraid that he'd have to go back into the cell at the end of his wing, trapped in a straight jacket and forced to listen to the incessant flickering of that light. He didn't like hearing the other prisoners. They boasted of their nasty deeds, which always disturbed Kadaj. Though he may have been a bit off his rocker, he wasn't anything like them. He knew it. They knew it. Sometimes he suspected that they wanted to kill him. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Either way, he would be happy to know that he didn't have to ever see them again.
Don't get too comfortable with them, Kadaj . . . remember what they did to you. All the pain they've caused you. And know that they will try to use you for something. They are always up to something. Always. The voice reminded him gently, soothing his fried nerves over. That voice felt like velvet rubbing against his mind. It was soft and persuasive, but it pacified him too. When he heard that voice, he didn't feel so alone anymore, even if that voice was just a figment of his warped imagination. We're going to see the sun again . . . he thought to himself. Really, that's all that mattered to simple-minded Kadaj. Anything to get out of this clean, white ward that was really a prison. He remembered being carted in through the front doors and seeing how even most of the windows had bars over them or were reinforced plastic with small holes.
"No straight jacket . . . no more buzzing lights . . . murder murder? Murderers . . ." he rambled on, his thoughts splitting into a spider web of processes.
Smiling, she walked over to him and said, "No more restraints as long as you're good and take your monthly treatments without a fuss." She patted him on the head and called the guards in. The two men looked Kadaj over and opened the straight jacket. Immediately, he tensed, and his eyes shot over to the blue eyed doctor. She shook her head.
"No more jackets. I want him in the third cell in the South West Wing with library and courtyard privileges," she said, looking at them over the rim of her glasses. She handed them a signed form with all of her recommendations for the treatments. The two men glanced at each other and inquired, "Do you really think it's safe to do that? He really is crazy, you know!"
Her eyes flared with annoyance, "Why are you questioning me? It says on the form that if he displays any aggressive behavior to tranquilize him. And if he repeats his bad behavior, he'll go back to his old cell." She glanced over to Kadaj, who was curling his silver hair around his fingers. "And I don't think that he wants that. So he'll be good, right?" She inquired, treating him as though he were a child. But Kadaj simply nodded, grateful that he'd be able to access reading material in order to distract his crazy mind. The doctor smiled and shooed them all out of her office.
When they were gone, she collapsed in her swiveling chair and looked over all the documents concerning Kadaj. For a greater part of the year, they had been injecting him with mako treatments, but to no avail. He seemed to just get crazier and crazier as the weeks passed, but now . . . now he had mentioned something that only Sephiroth would remember. Nibelheim . . . that was the keyword. Also, he rambled about mako. He wouldn't have possibly been able to know that they were actually injecting him with that and not just regular fluids unless he had something of the former SOLDIER in him. The doctor smiled to herself, flipping through the paperwork. True, Kadaj had a very violent side, but they had only seen that once when he broke out of the guard's hold and, taking the gun out of his holster, shot him dead between the eyes and tried to run, very naked like, down the hall. He didn't get very far, and she doubted that he remembered even doing it. It had frightened her though, because his eyes hadn't been gray like they usually were. They were deep green. Very much like Sephiroth's eyes. She was convinced that Kadaj held the key to not only recreating Sephiroth, but making normal people into SOLDIERS.
There you have it! 3. Please review and maybe I'll write another chapter. >3
