Welcome to the fifth chronological installment of the Adventures of the SPCFC! If you're joining us for the first time, I would recommend starting with SPCFC II, III, and/or SPCFC Origins. They can be found by visiting my profile.

Once again, Melchior is holding SPCFC I and SPCFC IV hostage; if you'd like to know what you're missing, contact me and I'll see if I can give you a summary.

And now, without further fanfare, AVAAntares presents...


SPCFC V: ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK

PROLOGUE
"Carrot and Stick" -- Imahori Tsuneo

Enishi stretched his long legs before him, feeling the pull of tense muscles through his back and shoulders. Their last mission had been more physically taxing than he would have liked to admit, and things had been so close at the end that he'd briefly had to rely on Nerves of Insanity. His ultimate technique put a strain on him even under the best of circumstances, but he felt it more acutely at times like this, when he was so horribly out of practice. He'd gotten soft, working with Sephiroth and his team. Enishi sighed and tipped his head to rest against the back of the couch. He hadn't really fought in earnest since his duel with Himura...

There it was again. Enishi hated this sedentary waiting period between missions. The inactivity gave him time to think, to dwell on things he'd rather remained in the dark recesses of his memory. The old, familiar emotions rushed over him, and Enishi closed his eyes. As always, his sister's face was faint, but he could still make it out in the darkness behind his eyelids.

Perhaps, when all of this was over, they'd be together again. Enishi hardly dared to hope that Sephiroth would keep his word. Their leader made so many casual promises, he knew it would be impossible to keep them all. Still, Enishi had been with him since the beginning, and had seen Sephiroth do so many impossible things. There was always a chance, no matter how faint. And, all loyalties aside, it was the only thing Enishi had left to hold on to.

That wasn't necessarily the case with the rest of the crew, he considered, raising his head to glance around the room. There was the mage, Vanduri, whom Sephiroth had recruited during one of their trips into the realm of the Authors. He'd found the wizard in one of the texts he was editing, and with a couple of quick alterations, had freed the mage and given him a sense of unwavering loyalty. Sephiroth hadn't had to lure Vanduri with promises; his obedience was assured as part of his character traits.

There was the child, Dilandau, who was so insane -- and, at times, so enamored of Sephiroth -- that there was no need to sway his allegiance. As long as Sephiroth allowed him to burn things, and smiled at the right moments, the child would do anything his master asked.

There was also Vicious -- slouched in a chair, sword resting against his shoulder, glowering as usual. Enishi wasn't sure of the details, but it seemed that Sephiroth had promised him some woman after they achieved their goals. Another carrot, like the one that had been dangled before Enishi's nose, but apparently it was enough to motivate him.

There were others, as well. Ignacio Desoto, the Spaniard, sat at the table with Vergil, the mystical swordsman. Another new member leaned against the wall in the opposite corner, holding a book near his face, but the reflections on his large, round glasses obscured his features from Enishi's view. The past few weeks had been dotted with recruiting missions into various worlds, and their ranks had multiplied accordingly. It seemed as though Sephiroth were preparing for something big, and wanted to beef up his troops before the engagement.

The door opened, admitting a couple of the newest recruits. One, Enishi knew to be a fellow member of the Hong Kong underworld -- though separated by a century and a half and a few alternate universes. The other man had a similar build and appearance, but spoke with a pronounced accent. As Enishi recalled, he had been picked up after an embarrassing incident with a Chinese chef and a news reporter in Australia. They were engaged in an animated discussion, and seemed to be making no attempt at concealing the topic of conversation.

"All I'm saying," the Australian man said loudly, "is that when I worked for Jean Carlo, we got paid plenty regular. And we knew how much we were gettin' paid, and for what. This Sephiroth guy don' give us no answers. I like to know in advance. How do we know when the cash is comin', and what we have to do to get it?"

The Hong Kong man nodded in agreement, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Why are we taking orders from him, anyway? The way I see it, even if he is the brains of this operation, we don't need him. We got ourselves enough muscle to take over any town we want. We could live like kings, with this bunch."

The Australian man turned to the nearest person, who happened to be Vanduri, and made his pitch. "What do you say, Merlin? You think we need Mr. Leather Pants in this outfit, or could we do okay on our own?"

Vanduri bristled at the implication that he would betray his sworn master. "You are speaking of treason," he growled, drawing himself up to his full -- and rather impressive -- height, "and if you value your lives, you will abandon these treacherous plans at once!"

The Aussie shrugged. "Touchy, touchy," he muttered, and turned to Enishi, still stretched out on the couch. "What about you, pal? You wanna make a go of it? We could have any city in the world."

Enishi massaged his eyes with his fingertips, suddenly feeling drained. "And this," he said, sighing heavily, "is why the muscle isn't paid to think." He raised his eyes to glare at the enterprising thugs. "You know, I used to run the largest syndicate in China, and from time to time, some of my boys would get bright ideas like this. And do you know what I found?" Enishi reached over and fingered the tassel on the hilt of his sword for emphasis. "I found that it was a lot faster and easier just to kill them and train new help, rather than try to explain to their rice-sized brains why their plan wouldn't work."

The Aussie and the Hong Kong man exchanged infuriated glances and shifted into a more aggressive stance. Enishi reluctantly tensed his sore muscles, knowing these two weren't worth the effort. Still, he prepared for the headlong rush he knew was coming. It wouldn't do for one of them to score a hit while the rest of the group was watching. Seniority wasn't everything; he did have to protect his image, after all.

His effort proved unnecessary. Before the thugs could charge forward, a long shadow fell across them from the doorway. Enishi marveled at how Sephiroth could manipulate everything -- even the light from the hallway -- to give him the advantage in a situation. It went far beyond charisma, or even vanity. It was just... a presence.

"My, my... and what transpires here?" Sephiroth's smooth baritone purr seemed to silence all other sounds in the room, and even the shadowy figure in the corner looked up from his book and adjusted his glasses. "You two couldn't possibly be entertaining thoughts of treason, after I magnanimously freed you from your mediocre supporting roles as recyclable punching bags." Sephiroth's angelic smile was countered by the unholy light gleaming in his eyes.

The two men turned in slow motion, visibly shaking in the presence of the leader they'd attempted to snub. "N-no, boss," one of them stammered. "We... we were just wondering, you know, about being paid on time..."

Sephiroth shrugged. "As I told you before, I pay when the job is done," he said smoothly. "But as I now know that you can't be trusted, I'm afraid you'll never have the opportunity to earn it." In an instant, the two were consumed in a flash of white-hot flame. Enishi squinted against the sudden blast of heat, and when his eyes opened again, he saw only ashes drifting down into an untidy pile where the men had been standing.

Sephiroth sighed and brushed some of the feathery dust off the skirt of his long black coat. "It is hard to find good help these days," he lamented dryly, making every person in the room wonder whether the words were meant for him. Sephiroth glanced up, his eyes meeting Enishi's across the room. Enishi quickly straightened under his leader's piercing gaze, but Sephiroth's eyes had faded to their typical aquamarine glow. The glance was accompanied by a lazy smile, and Enishi relaxed a bit. Apparently the two thugs had sated Sephiroth's homicidal streak for the moment.

"Enishi," Sephiroth said, his tone approaching conversational, "I want you to retrieve something for me." He turned to go without waiting for a response, knowing that Enishi would follow him. At the door, he paused to glance back at the mound of ashes. "Oh, and... someone should clean up this mess."

Enishi stood without a moment's hesitation and picked up his sword. Apparently he had earned his leader's confidence. And he would continue to do so, for as long as he was able -- not only because of the promised reunion with his sister, but...

For every carrot, he reminded himself, there was also a stick. He stepped past Vanduri, who was scooping ash carefully into a dust pan, and followed Sephiroth down the hall.