i see the devil gold and blue

A/N: There is nothing cute about Rufus' decision to systematically frame Cloud &co. for every bad thing that happens over the course of the game. There's not even anything clever. That was his dad's idea back when they dropped the Plate.


You've been stationed to protect the reactor against the terrorists that summoned Meteor and woke up Weapon and—anyway, the point is, these people are capable of godlike levels of destruction, and if they come you aren't going to be able to do a damn thing. An army of you would just slow them down. There isn't an army of you left.

You should desert. Should have years ago, probably. But the gig's been good, since the war ended, as long as you can keep away from Heidegger, and a good retirement wasn't that far away, and…well. Running away now just when Shinra's got a really good cause would stick in your throat. It's not like you'd live more than a few months longer, anyway. If you had a family to spend the time until Meteor with—but no. The other guys in your squad don't either. Mackerel's an orphan from Old Junon. Weapon killed Donnel's wife and kid. He's here for blood.

You're pretty sure he knows he can only hope for a few drops at best.

They come barreling around the corner, three of them—Waterfall-Fists, who broke out of an execution chamber on live television, and the Lion-Dog that looks like a monster and fights like a SOLDIER, and their mysterious leader who apparently isn't as dead as rumor had it back when Weapon first started its rampage. You are going to die. You are—oddly at peace with this.

They draw a little closer, and you blink. Could there really be two heads of hair like that on Gaia? With such huge blue eyes. Everybody in the unit used to tease him about how he looked like a baby chocobo. Never took it well, all scowling, which just meant he got ribbed more.

Your grip on your gun isn't as tight as it was a second ago. This doesn't make sense. "Wait, are you—Cloud?"

Strife, you should have said. Corporal Strife, by the end, good rank for a standoffish kid his age. Got assigned to your unit after his got killed off in some classified clusterfuck. He was always a good guy to have at your back, though. Fought like crazy when the chips were down, had a good eye for tactics, and never left anyone behind. You'd been friends, you liked to think, if not close, before he got sent off on that hush-hush mission with the General and none of them ever came back.

(Company coverup and you never pried, you knew better, you figured there were company politics and your guys just got caught in the gears, but now you wonder if Cloud was the reason the General disappeared.)

It really is him, too. He pulls up short at his name, just for a second, as your unit and his team of omnicidal maniacs come face to face, passes on a chance to strike. Conflict crosses his face, like he's recognized you too and maybe he's trying to figure out a reasonable way to spare you. You kind of hate him for it. All those innocent people and all these brave soldiers these terrorists are willing to slaughter to get whatever insane goal they're after, and one of you becomes human enough to him for mercy just because he's a person to you?

You hate him more because you can't help hoping he will leave you alive out of stupid nostalgia.

Mackerel and Donnell have already emptied their rifles and are scrambling to reload. You pull your trigger, too. Duty, honor, not being a slimy coward. There's hoping to survive and then there's crawling for it. The bullets catch Cloud in the stomach but he barely seems to notice. Doesn't even look any more nauseous than he did already.

You only know that's a nauseous expression because of how much time he spent determinedly not throwing up in every vehicle ever.

A materia set into the lion-dog's hair ornament glows, and a second later Thundaga rips through the whole squad. You smell your hair burn. You feel your boots melt. You feel. Your heart.

Stop.

You slump, and know you've been killed so thoroughly the body isn't even going to last long enough for anyone to bury, if there was anyone left who'd bother.

Cloud swings that meat-cleaver of a sword onto his back again without having used it. His expression is—he looks unhappy, is all you can tell. You wonder how many times he's been missing, presumed dead. You wonder if you ever knew him at all, or if that chocobo-chick boy you served alongside was an AVALANCHE infiltrator already.

You hope he regrets everything he's ever done for every second of every day until their damned Meteor kills everyone.


A/N: A dude you fight while taking the Junon reactor has this dialogue. I flipped the frigg out. It was bad enough mowing these guys down knowing they thought they were defending the world's last hope of salvation from villains, without one of them being a guy I knew when I was one of them.

Nanaki electrocuted them to death while Cloud was freaking. FFVII presents you with a lot of ethical challenges but does not provide many tools to negotiate them.