The screams of horror. Wails of pain. The weeping of a new found widow.
Seeing the light fade from so many eyes as he acted as their final
judgment. They played through his mind constantly like a busted record,
over and over again. The longer he worked for Tseng in those days, the more
the little voice inside his head towards the back of his brain went from a
hoarse repetitive whisper, barely able to make out the words, to a roaring
echo that he could not shake from his mind. The more the voice grew, the
less he felt it a necessity to breathe.
"How does a man (and now he doesn't consider himself even the faintest shade of a man) who had thought nothing of murdering a 7 year old girl, for no more than being curious of some dark men, find it just in leaving himself the ability to breathe?"
For years he had sought the answer in the midst of the roaring Voice. Always the roaring Voice, screaming at him, telling him to "Pull the goddamned trigger!!!!", never dying down, always getting louder, and now, it seemed, never resting. At first he was convinced that the suicidal impulses were by-products of the mako-infusion he had undergone when he was initiated into the Turks. Unfourtunantly, he knew better. The thought, the impulse, the god-damned roaring voice, ws only the by-product of his sins. Sins of murder, sins of kidnapping, sins of what is reffered to by the Turks simply as "necesesay dirty work."
He used to be able to ignore the Voice, but now he couldn't escape it, even in sleep. Dreams constantly repeating, of him sitting in the midst of a mass of bodies, some weeping, some dying, some already dead, all of it his fault. He sat indian style, with the barrel of the lariet clenched between his teeth, aiming at the tonsoles in the back of his throat. In his dream, it was always the same except the mass ocean of bodies changed, he desperatley pulled the trigger of the brightly polished, fully loaded gun, that never would end his misery no matter how many tims he pulled the trigger. The bullet would never come out of hte godamn gung, never ould discharge. The dreams, since the people always changed, he felt was his punishment for his sins before his soul was sent straight to hell to burn for eternity.
So he kept on living, suffering, accepting his punishment, isolated in his stout coffin in the hidden basement of thee mansion, where he plaaned his final glorious moment, when his earthly suffering would finally end. He used to c.ry, but years of being alone seemed to kill off his sense of emotion. He had none, except regretfullness and an undying hatred for Shinra and all its motives. It had never been for the greater good. It had always been aout Palmer, Heideger, Scarlet and Shinra himself. It had been about fattening their already bulging wallets. It was too late, he felt now, for him to make them pay for their sins. They would pay later.
Currently he had laid himself down in his comfortable coffin, and he longed for th end, but his dream wouold change this time. It would be th extenguishing of the only light in his life. This dream would have pushed him to finally pull the trigger had events poved different. It was a twisted version of the death of his beloved Lucrecia. He had not slayed her directly, but the nullifiation of her soul was his fault. The dream, however was extremely stange, even for him. He wa in an open feild, a baby chocobo chic grazing nearby, his beloved Lucrecia lying on the ground, naked.
"Where's her clothes?" he thought to himself.
The sight of her bulging belly quited his thoughts. She was on the ground, with an expression of extreme pain on her face, her mouth open, trying to produce a scream, but the pain kept that from happening it seemed. He then saw Hojo, the f*cking twisted scientist, the poor excuse for living mass, standing over Lucrecia, bare naked, penis erect, laughing maniacally. He started towards him, grabbing his lariet, ready to shoot him, point blank.
"BANG..." he thought "try to lugh with your head gone!"
Before he reached Hojo however, he stopped laughing and looked at him. His eyes seemed to produce an erie green light. The gaze made him freeze in his tracks, the gun limply hanging in his hand. The light grew brighter nd the day grew cloudy and dark. The chocobo was still grazing, not paying attention to any of it. The clouds continued to come untill they blacked out any light from the sun. The only illuminations were the erie green glwo from Hojo's eyes and a white light round Lucrecia. it pulsatd with her body, her chest heaving, her whole self covered in sweat.
Still trying to produce a scream that came out soundless. he fell to his knees, eyes pouring tears, staring at his beloved Lucrecia. The light in Hojos eyes shimmered and went out as he started laighing again. The vains in hi face were bulging now, his eyes clenched shut as the engrossing laughter continued. The clouds never died, the chocobo still grazed.
She started shaking violently and he was glued to his knees, crying, watchign his Lucrecia suffer. Her body shaking till he thought her limbs would come apart.
"Lu....cre.....cia.....how.....ca......"
She stopped shaking her head, her hair was soaked with sweat, turned to the right, slowly, still trying to scream, eyes clenched shut. She gasped as a new pain grew in her. Her gaze flew to the sky as she somehow manage a whimper. It did not stop but grew to a defening wail of pain. It made his bones shake, tears still pouring down his face to the ground below him.
As the very moment her scream had passed the point of defening to ear splitting, lighting without thunder came from the heavens and cooked the chocobo chick. her hardly notived, the other thing happening wa so gruesomly horrific, that he actually got tunnel vison just from watching it. Right from the sternum, directly between her bare heaving breasts, emerged a blade. It slowly kept growing, her body now convulsing, still wailing as she died, until it was as tall as Hojo, still laughing maniacally over the scene, still naked, still erect. Just as the blade halted, her body convulsed once more, then went limp. Lucrecia had died.
It started cutting down her chest, like a razor cutting paper, creating the same ripping sound it seemed, acorss her belly and stopping just short of her pelvic area before her body started to split open. Hojo fell over dead, decomposed, then turned to dust in a matter of seconds.
First from the body came a black gloved hand, holding the sword that reached up. Then the other hand came. A head emerged from her body also, metalic red long hair that wa really gray, slimy with the blood that was now flowing freely from teh reemains of his beloved Lucrecia. The face was deathly. green eyes with a child like face, twisted into that of a man with a demonic grin.
He, the person from the body, which he knew was the child she bore, not a child though, but a demonic pshycopath that would consume everything.
"Se....phir....oth........" he heard himslef moan. Where the name came from he knew not, only he knew it wa the correct one.
The new being winked before pulling the rest of his body free of the reamains of the person that was supposed to mother him. his black cloak dripping with blood. He now groveled at the demon as it looked at him.
"Please.....stop it! Just...... end it for me!' he crid to him.
Sephiroth nodded, still grinning, and wiftly thrust the tip of his sword betweem Vincent's eyes. The pain was like none he had ever imagined. Blood ran down his face, he felt its warm wet drip on his hans. The sword ws jerked free...... and then he fell limp, dying.
He was then awake, startled out of his sleep. Standing over him, while he woke, was a blonde, spikey haired young man with a huge claymore like sword that seemed to heavy for him. A red feiry like dog creature with a headress had its paws draiped over the edge of his coffin with a young orintal girl with short black hair. She also had a smug look on her face that he just wanted to smack right off.
"Why do you disturbe me from my slumber!?!?!?!?!" he demanded.........
"How does a man (and now he doesn't consider himself even the faintest shade of a man) who had thought nothing of murdering a 7 year old girl, for no more than being curious of some dark men, find it just in leaving himself the ability to breathe?"
For years he had sought the answer in the midst of the roaring Voice. Always the roaring Voice, screaming at him, telling him to "Pull the goddamned trigger!!!!", never dying down, always getting louder, and now, it seemed, never resting. At first he was convinced that the suicidal impulses were by-products of the mako-infusion he had undergone when he was initiated into the Turks. Unfourtunantly, he knew better. The thought, the impulse, the god-damned roaring voice, ws only the by-product of his sins. Sins of murder, sins of kidnapping, sins of what is reffered to by the Turks simply as "necesesay dirty work."
He used to be able to ignore the Voice, but now he couldn't escape it, even in sleep. Dreams constantly repeating, of him sitting in the midst of a mass of bodies, some weeping, some dying, some already dead, all of it his fault. He sat indian style, with the barrel of the lariet clenched between his teeth, aiming at the tonsoles in the back of his throat. In his dream, it was always the same except the mass ocean of bodies changed, he desperatley pulled the trigger of the brightly polished, fully loaded gun, that never would end his misery no matter how many tims he pulled the trigger. The bullet would never come out of hte godamn gung, never ould discharge. The dreams, since the people always changed, he felt was his punishment for his sins before his soul was sent straight to hell to burn for eternity.
So he kept on living, suffering, accepting his punishment, isolated in his stout coffin in the hidden basement of thee mansion, where he plaaned his final glorious moment, when his earthly suffering would finally end. He used to c.ry, but years of being alone seemed to kill off his sense of emotion. He had none, except regretfullness and an undying hatred for Shinra and all its motives. It had never been for the greater good. It had always been aout Palmer, Heideger, Scarlet and Shinra himself. It had been about fattening their already bulging wallets. It was too late, he felt now, for him to make them pay for their sins. They would pay later.
Currently he had laid himself down in his comfortable coffin, and he longed for th end, but his dream wouold change this time. It would be th extenguishing of the only light in his life. This dream would have pushed him to finally pull the trigger had events poved different. It was a twisted version of the death of his beloved Lucrecia. He had not slayed her directly, but the nullifiation of her soul was his fault. The dream, however was extremely stange, even for him. He wa in an open feild, a baby chocobo chic grazing nearby, his beloved Lucrecia lying on the ground, naked.
"Where's her clothes?" he thought to himself.
The sight of her bulging belly quited his thoughts. She was on the ground, with an expression of extreme pain on her face, her mouth open, trying to produce a scream, but the pain kept that from happening it seemed. He then saw Hojo, the f*cking twisted scientist, the poor excuse for living mass, standing over Lucrecia, bare naked, penis erect, laughing maniacally. He started towards him, grabbing his lariet, ready to shoot him, point blank.
"BANG..." he thought "try to lugh with your head gone!"
Before he reached Hojo however, he stopped laughing and looked at him. His eyes seemed to produce an erie green light. The gaze made him freeze in his tracks, the gun limply hanging in his hand. The light grew brighter nd the day grew cloudy and dark. The chocobo was still grazing, not paying attention to any of it. The clouds continued to come untill they blacked out any light from the sun. The only illuminations were the erie green glwo from Hojo's eyes and a white light round Lucrecia. it pulsatd with her body, her chest heaving, her whole self covered in sweat.
Still trying to produce a scream that came out soundless. he fell to his knees, eyes pouring tears, staring at his beloved Lucrecia. The light in Hojos eyes shimmered and went out as he started laighing again. The vains in hi face were bulging now, his eyes clenched shut as the engrossing laughter continued. The clouds never died, the chocobo still grazed.
She started shaking violently and he was glued to his knees, crying, watchign his Lucrecia suffer. Her body shaking till he thought her limbs would come apart.
"Lu....cre.....cia.....how.....ca......"
She stopped shaking her head, her hair was soaked with sweat, turned to the right, slowly, still trying to scream, eyes clenched shut. She gasped as a new pain grew in her. Her gaze flew to the sky as she somehow manage a whimper. It did not stop but grew to a defening wail of pain. It made his bones shake, tears still pouring down his face to the ground below him.
As the very moment her scream had passed the point of defening to ear splitting, lighting without thunder came from the heavens and cooked the chocobo chick. her hardly notived, the other thing happening wa so gruesomly horrific, that he actually got tunnel vison just from watching it. Right from the sternum, directly between her bare heaving breasts, emerged a blade. It slowly kept growing, her body now convulsing, still wailing as she died, until it was as tall as Hojo, still laughing maniacally over the scene, still naked, still erect. Just as the blade halted, her body convulsed once more, then went limp. Lucrecia had died.
It started cutting down her chest, like a razor cutting paper, creating the same ripping sound it seemed, acorss her belly and stopping just short of her pelvic area before her body started to split open. Hojo fell over dead, decomposed, then turned to dust in a matter of seconds.
First from the body came a black gloved hand, holding the sword that reached up. Then the other hand came. A head emerged from her body also, metalic red long hair that wa really gray, slimy with the blood that was now flowing freely from teh reemains of his beloved Lucrecia. The face was deathly. green eyes with a child like face, twisted into that of a man with a demonic grin.
He, the person from the body, which he knew was the child she bore, not a child though, but a demonic pshycopath that would consume everything.
"Se....phir....oth........" he heard himslef moan. Where the name came from he knew not, only he knew it wa the correct one.
The new being winked before pulling the rest of his body free of the reamains of the person that was supposed to mother him. his black cloak dripping with blood. He now groveled at the demon as it looked at him.
"Please.....stop it! Just...... end it for me!' he crid to him.
Sephiroth nodded, still grinning, and wiftly thrust the tip of his sword betweem Vincent's eyes. The pain was like none he had ever imagined. Blood ran down his face, he felt its warm wet drip on his hans. The sword ws jerked free...... and then he fell limp, dying.
He was then awake, startled out of his sleep. Standing over him, while he woke, was a blonde, spikey haired young man with a huge claymore like sword that seemed to heavy for him. A red feiry like dog creature with a headress had its paws draiped over the edge of his coffin with a young orintal girl with short black hair. She also had a smug look on her face that he just wanted to smack right off.
"Why do you disturbe me from my slumber!?!?!?!?!" he demanded.........