A/N: one shot. Halloween angstiness... (happy halloween everybody), plenty of creepiness in store. Inspired by a line in on the way to a smile: case of the lifestream: black. The gist of it, is basically Sephiroth stating what his actual involvement and purpose was with the geostigma. Anyway, enjoy ^.^
*insert snarky disclaimer here*
- - -/- -_- - - -
Who is innocent?
No one is innocent?
Who is innocent?
Who is innocent?
No one is innocent?
Who is innocent?
Who is innocent?
Is it relevant in the world today?
I shake my head in disbelief
The killer walks again
Freed by evil men
And their dark charade
This can't be happening
A mother's selfish pride
Her child's homicide
Can she be to blame?
The suited vulture's circling
A father's cruelty
A murdered family
Is the world insane?
Their defenders ready to
Embrace their lies
With their devious smiles
Your corruption is like a cancer growing inside
You owe the world an apology
You've been taught all your life
That truth is easy to hide
You'll face your judgment another day
And suffer eternally
-disturbed, innocence
This world is filthy. Evil people should be removed to cleanse this world- light Yagami
It was one of those rare days when Cloud found himself in a location that was actually populated, though sparsely, with actual living people. He was in a bar. Not the Seventh Heaven in Edge, but a smaller joint that a young couple in Kalm opened recently. It was currently occupied by the couple mentioned, a close friend of theirs who acted as a chef, and a handful of drunks- most in their forties or older and balding, with red, sunburnt faces, peeling noses, and liquor glazed eyes on a potbellied frame that smelled of whiskey and urine. A small TV screen sat in the back corner where the sulking blonde sat by himself in a cushioned booth, scowling at the offending lights and shapes on the small plasma screen before him. The WRO was beginning to become far too powerful. There was apparently a new case of increasing domestic violence, a half dead child crying on the screen, his pale, roundish face, and lamp-like, wide eyes covered in assorted bruises and lacerations that bled profusely, large fat drops of crimson and dried mahogany crusting of blood coating his puffy cheeks.
There was unrest everywhere, people panicking and spreading fear amongst themselves. Rumors of phantoms in the night. The geostigma plague. General unease of the public over varying matters. Everything was in shambles. In his mind, Cloud berated the people on the screen, most of them formerly supporters of Shin-Ra, for even just existing. They were the ones panicking now that the world was saved. But they were the one who had brought it on, they weren't the ones that had to watch their childhood hero burn down the place they called home, or watch the love of their life killed by the same man. Or even have to kill said man in order to save the world.
Wait... Why were his thoughts turning so hateful? It's not like it was the public's falt that he had to- no, that's right it was. It was their fault for taking him away from where he belonged (was that thought his own? He felt a presence, but the feeling passed soon after, and he dismissed the thought.) he shouldn't have defended them. No he shouldn't have.
"Yes, that's correct, they stole you from me, didn't they? But you'll return once again won't you, puppet?" A voice goads, soft and low. A purring caress along his fragile mind. His head hurts. And he distantly recognized a pain in his arm, a sharp stabbing pain that shook his entire frame. But, he simply focused on leaving the bar without falling, willing himself to focus on the door, his bike, the steps he took. Anything but the way the voice cooed to him so persuasively. His blood surged at the call, body tensed in fear, as the voice racked his mind again. "Mine" Cloud paused. His blood sang out, his mind calling him to agree, to accept. Instead he forced himself to revert his eyes to normal (he could feel his pupils contract) and take a shaky step to the door. He made it out, a deep blossoming chuckle resounding in his head as he struggled over the threshold. He made it back to the inn in one piece, collapsing instantly when he made it to the room he'd checked out for the night. Ghostly figures flittered behind his eyelids, unwanted thoughts assaulted him again. He felt a cold hand on his cheek, belatedly recognizing the leather texture of a familiar glove as the spidery fingers pinched his chin in a tight grip. He felt the man pull his face up, and gazed back defiantly into blazing green eyes. Images flashed before him now. Fire. the smell of burnt flesh and wood smoke. The bodies, mangled and bloodied, and crisp black from the fire. He saw Aerith, not a drop of blood, impaled, her iridescent jade eyes blank and luminous brown hair falling from the confines of its braid as she died. He saw even worse things. Tifa's head, severed from her body, spinal fluid and blood spilling in a mixture on the floor. Marlene and Denzel chopped into small, crimson dyed chunks, and cast into a lake, turning it red as well. Barret blown to smithereens. Cid burned with his own cigarette. Yuffie frozen to death, face, fingers and toes stained blue from cold and poor circulation, eyes bloodshot and bulging. Vincent shot through the head. Red and Reeve impaled on massive spikes in the ground. Reno covered in cuts and gashes, his lifeblood spewing from the lascerations like juice from a watermelon. Cloud fell. His head hit the side of the matress (thankfully it wasn't the nightstand) and he felt the hands wrap around his arm. His stigma flared up in pain. "Tell me that you belong to me, that I am your master." The voice commanded him again. "Or should I prove to you that there is nothing else for you to do, that this is all that's left. They wouldn't forgive you, cloud, but they shouldn't. They should apologize- don't you agree? For turning you against me for so long." The voice continued, no longer in his mind, but ghosting along his ear, cold fingers tracing his cheeks the way someone would to a child or a stray animal that was hurt. Then the voice faded and blackness overtook his sight as he passed out,mind fading to oblivion.
Or so he thought. His mind never got the chance to fade to peaceful blankness, the other man's figure loomed over him in his mind, and sleeping, it was only that much closer. The touches felt solid now (had they felt hollow before? He couldn't remember...) as they trailed along his face, cold and gentle- belying the strong forcefulness they exhumed in combat. Cloud jerked his face back, stumbling over something slimy. Why were there slimy things in his mind? He looked and regretted it instantly, upon realizing it was some sort of fleshy tentacle appendage. He recognized it. He didn't bother looking up as a female presence approached his dream-self from behind, putting her hands- just as cold as those of the man-(demon? Was he even human now? It didn't seem like it. And he certainly wasn't a god yet...) and pushed him forward back to the taller 'man's arms, which held him still, close to the large pale chest left mostly uncovered by all the leather the man wore. Briefly, he debated turning to see if the woman had her head now, it was a dreamworld- she honestly could (was she still nude like the other times he's seen her too? Well, aside from shape shifted renditions of her.) but he decided not to, instead glaring back into the man's green eyes. He wavered then. Looked down.
"Let go of me." Cloud said, trying not to listen to the chanting call of the cacophony of voices all around him.
"Hm?" The arms tightened, "do you really want me too?" As he said it the scene changed to a sky, the man's wing out as he flew the two of them, the woman still floating on her own.
"I wouldn't agree to quickly if I were you." She said, a deep chuckle resonating from her lips at the sight of Cloud suddenly clinging back onto the man. Sephiroth was laughing too, a cold yet amused sound. The blonde simply glared. Turning away shame faced he glanced at the cruel entity that embraced him so firmly and, ignoring the call for reunion that he could feel pulsing, ignoring the silver man's cruelly twisted smirk and eyes which promised pain and punishment if he fought back, ignoring the blatant amusement blaring in those electric emerald eyes. He looked at the man's chiseled features and summed up the courage to do ... Anything, really.
"What do you want from me, Sephiroth?" The blonde finally asked his (former hero? Enemy? Master? All of the above?) he shook his head and awaited the others response. The taller man contemplated this with a feral grin,
"Your obedience and loyalty would be perfect." The silver haired nightmare said. "World domination, naturally- and it seems only fitting that you be the one to aid me this time around, for betraying me before. You are mine, Cloud ."
And with that, the dream faded. Cloud awoke in the hotel with a headache and headed for the sanctity of Aerith's church. And he didn't stop until he arrived in the colorfully lit chapel. He was safe here.
It was only a few days after he ran out of food, and dirtied every bandage wrap to his name that Cloud finally left the confines of his sanctuary. He wouldn't survive long enough without anything to eat, so he reused a dirty bandage, and slid the makeshift sleeve back over his arm to leave for a town to purchase supplies, while avoiding edge. He went back to Kalm, as it was the nearest village available, but the second he was at the exact halfway point, the voice came again. One simple phrase, and suddenly his hands turned Fenrir into the Mithril Mines, and all the way to Junon, where the voice grew more persistent. It was too much. The voices were angry, livid, pissed that he had avoid them for so long, the two of them called out loudest, ordering him- controlling him. He was trying to fight, throwing everything he had against it, but his resolve was weakening. The others might've snapped him out of this trance-like state if he had remained in Edge, but he didn't want them in danger... Or was it that he didn't want them to interfere? (His thoughts were too conflicted.) Of course, of all the voices in his mind, he payed the most attention to his voice. The one issuing the commands, the one he needed to fight back? Did he need to? Even want to? Fighting back felt wrong. So at the man's orders he stole a boat, hiding Fenrir in the storage compartment, and over the next few days slowly kept losing his sense of self (he'd done this before, he knew he had.) The voices guiding him, leading him. And finally, he stood there in the freezing cold of the crater, and three boys who felt like him, even appeared (or was silver hair that common? He didn't believe it was...) but they were wrong. Something too light, to good existed in them. Tainted lifestream imbued with the man's will. Cloud regained his senses, as they locked him in a prison cell a week later, somewhere in the city of the ancients. It had a bed, and everything associated with comfort- minus plumbing. They locked him in and fed him, but he'd often refused the food, even when the leader (Kadaj) would start complaining and worrying (why though?) or the bulky one (Loz) would cry that he didn't love them (was he supposed to?) still, he grew used to their presence. He eventually bothered to eat some (after they took to forcing him), got to know the three of them (it was a bit endearing that they called him brother, even if the reasons angered and frightened him) and came to understand them as individuals. They still never let him out from his cage. And when they didn't return after leaving him locked in for a day, chained to the wall with cuffs strong enough to keep him, he was concerned. Less about their safety, (death would purify them of that man's will, he knew instinctively) but because he knew that when they didn't return, it would mean that his plan succeeded, that he was back. Cloud could feel the presence in his mind increasing, the man drawing closer. He dreaded the man's arrival, and despite knowing that it was futile, he struggled against the chains that bound him. He wasn't giving in without a fight. Even as the sound of footsteps sounded at the door, he continued attempting to escape, pulling and pulling until his wrists were torn and bloody, the muscles in his arms sore and trembling. He could feel gloved fingers tracing his cheeks, and fell back in defeat, head hanging, resigned and hopeless.
"Giving up already, puppet?" He saw the pale entity smirk, lips a dark contrast of curls and twists of the cruelest form. The shadows in the room accentuated the demonic, predatory expression in Sephiroths eyes as he leaned forward and positioned his lips against Cloud's ear, pale hair falling out in a waterfall between the two. And then, it was all over in one simple utterance, one phrase and the world was doomed.
"... Yes. I surrender." The blonde uttered, his eyes changing to match the deity before him- permanently glowing that same eerie green, even as his friends fell to his own blows, as the countless towns and cities burned, and as the stigma overtook millions, darkness flooding everything. And Cloud woke up with a start. It was all a dream.