We Are Monsters.
Hello Dears.
It's been quite a while since I've written anything new that I deemed worth publishing, and I think this fic is something I am going to be very proud of. I've wanted to write a multi-chapter fic for quite some time now, and finally I have a plot in mind that seems to fit the bill. I do hope you enjoy it as much as I am enjoying writing it.
Summary: Awoken in the forest, a remnant finds himself conflicted. With no path and no purpose, what is it that drives him to continue living? The reason is hidden out there somewhere, and Yazoo is determined to find it, come hell, high tides, or the business end of Vincent Valentine's gun.
Warnings: Yes, Dears, warnings are in order for this one. There will be blood. There will be gore. There will be swearing and sex and a merry ol' time for us all. One definite male/male pairing, I may toss in another if I am so inclined to do so. And oh yes, let us never forget the threat of my ever present dry humor, which will no doubt weasel its way in here someway or another.
Disclaimer:I hereby denounce all claim to the characters and places in this fic. They are not mine, I am simply manipulating them to fit my sick and twisted pleasures in life. Who knows, one of them may even have a toaster fetish. Simply put, the plot is mine and nothing else. Ta ta.
Without any further ado, a Creature Creature literary work: We Are Monsters.
The explosion had hit him like a steeled kick to the chest, and when his consciousness returned, he still felt it. A puzzled expression molded its way across his sharp, yet delicate features as hazy jade eyes took in his surroundings. This was not where he had fallen. The was not the rubble of the crumbling city where the smallest of them had taken his leave from the world. This was cool air, moonlight, glowing trees, and the sounds of water and wind around him. The forest capitol that had served as their base of operationf for a time.
Realization struck him.
How was it that he'd gotten here? Had he died and been spit out by the lifestream? Rejected and left to wander? But if that was so, would he still feel the pain in his chest and ribs that continued to knock the very breath out of him? No, he decided not. Had someone brought him here? Found him in the streets and brought him out here in these woods to die? That would be without gain to them, unless perhaps it was Loz. But his senses, or what he could gather of them, told him the largest remnant was gone from the world as well. Loz was dead. As was Kadaj. He was alone here.
Utterly and completely.
It took a great deal of effort to sit up, but he managed, gritting his teeth against the ever lingering protests of his battered body. He laid beside the lake, he noticed. The same lake where they had gathered the infected children. Where Kadaj had sought to build his army. It was a familiar place to him, so perhaps he had somehow brought himself here. His head ached too strongly when he pushed himself to remember, so for now the middle remnant let the matter slide. How he'd gotten himself to safety; how he'd even managed to survive at all, it mattered not. He was alive, alone, and without a purpose. Why the planet left something broken and incomplete, with no purpose, was beyond his understanding, but he did not question it further.
"We'll go together."
The last words he had spoken echoed through his mind and he scoffed, the vibrations causing a coughing fit that left traces of blood dripping from his lips. His own blood. Something he had never seen before. Looking himself over, he noticed he was, in fact, quite damaged. Cuts and scrapes marred his once flawless skin. Blood dribbled from his lips down his chin, but he made no move to wipe it away. His hair was matted with blood, sweat, and dirt. A tangled mess he once would have been ashamed of. Glass and metal scrap was imbedded in his skin where his coat once would have protected him, though it now was torn and of little use.
He looked, he realized with a hint of humor, like shit.
As difficult as sitting up had been, standing proved to be ever more the chore. Again, he managed, shifting his weight to one hand only to have a staggering pain tear itself through his arm. His right hand, he decided, was broken, the shoulder dislocated. Digging his left hand into the ground beneath him, he pulled his legs in and pushed himself to his feet, swaying as he stood and cursing the planet under his breath. Gripping his shoulder with his good hand, he swallowed what would have been a cry of pain as he forcefully popped his limb back into its proper place. As he stood on shaking legs, Yazoo couldn't help but feel as if the glowing forest was mocking him. The silent trees seemed to laugh at him, though their expressions lay hidden behind bark and wood, branches, leaves and the like. He scowled up at one, half tempted to put a bullet in the damned thing out of sheer spite. Though as his left hand reached into his coat, seeking out the familiar sleek and cool touch of Velvet Nightmare, he was met with only the tattered remains of leather where his gunblade would usually be holstered. He must have lost it in the explosion on the rooftop. Lost to the rubble now. Perhaps, he thought, he would go back and try to find it. But some other time.
The first step forward was the hardest. The one after that even harder. After a few steps, they became a bit easier, and simple enough to execute, but each one brought on a new agony. The glass and metal and who knew what else that was imbedded in his legs threatened to knock him off his feet at each step, and soon enough Yazoo found himself leaning on the same trees he had cursed only moments before. Moments. Only moments. Mother, how they felt like hours. Using his teeth, he removed the glove of his left hand, letting the torn material drop to the ground as he reached down to remove a particularly bothersome piece of scrap from his leg. Blood flowed from the gash, but he ignored it, staggering on and leaving a bloody trail in his wake. His destination was unknown, but he pressed forward. Forward because the past was useless to him now. The mission was a failed one. There was no "mother." There was no hope for reunion now. It was a dream best forgotten. And forget he would. Forward because forward was the only way to go from here. And because standing by a little lake in the woods bleeding on himself wasn't going to get him anywhere. Breathing was agony. Walking was torture. But he made no sound of complaint and simply continued on. His mind relaying a mantra to him of "Keep moving, Yazoo. Just keep moving. Find a new path. " Somehow, for some reason, he had survived. It was a reason unknown to him, but he would continue to live until he found it. Because somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, Yazoo had not wanted to die there on that rooftop.
A root in the ground caught his foot and he stumbled, unable to catch himself before falling. A yelp of pain escaped through his chapped lips as he landed on his broken hand. He sat for a moment, collecting himself, then stood again, as best he could. Shaking his head against the slight sense of vertigo that unbalanced him, he took a step forward. As he moved to continue on, the familiar click of a bullet sliding into place met his ears and he turned quickly, finding himself face to face with a set of deadly crimson eyes.
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Hours now he'd been watching. Hovering in the treetops and slipping from one shadow to the next. The scent was one he'd picked up immediately and not been able to ignore. Blood and dirt and death and that unfamiliar but all too known to him trace of that thing. Jenova. The scent filled him as soon as the remnant had wandered into the woods. From that very moment, the gunman had sought him out, watching from the tress. Observing. The remnant was broken, injured, dazed, and unarmed, but Vincent knew better than to assume he was harmless. A remnant of the famed Demon of Wutai, imbedded with the cells of the Calamity Jenova itself. He was not now, nor would he ever be "harmless." Not until the day he was dead with the rest of them. Though for now, in these moments, he looked it. An unconscious, bloodied heap beside the lake. Vincent regarded him with a careful awareness, watching for any sign of movement from the fallen boy.
Boy.
The three of them had all appeared quite young. Misguided children thrust into a cruel world with one mission. One purpose. Find their so-called "mother." Revive their so-called "brother." A family reunion that would mean the destruction of the planet and the death of thousands of innocents. They had been stopped of course. Their plan, thwarted, by Cloud and his friends, himself included. The demons of the past haunted them no longer. But if this boyawoke and still sought for Jenova, Sephiroth, the damned reunion, or any combination of the three, Vincent would have a bullet in that silver headed skull of his sooner than he could speak his first words. Nothing would threaten this peace that they had fought for. Nothing and no one and most certainly not one misguided. Little. Boy.
Cold crimson eyes hardened as the remnant below began to stir. As he observed from his place in the shadows above, he had to admire the boy's sheer determination. What was it that drove him on so? He was in obvious pain, seemingly struggling just to breathe, yet he got back on his feet and shoved his dislodged shoulder back into place with a sickening pop that would have made an average man cringe. He walked on wobbling legs, like a newborn taking its first steps, and Vincent could swear the remnant would fall at any given moment. As he moved forward, his pace slow, Vincent followed through the treetops. This remnant could not be left to wander in the open. It was too much a risk. He had to be watched, and closely. Kept out of Turk hands for certain. He decided then that it would be his burden to bear. He'd discovered this boy, so he would continue to watch him. As the remnant stumbled, hitting the ground with an audible yelp of pain, the first sound he had heard from the boy, Vincent leapt silently from the trees, landing without a sound a few paces behind the other and drawing his gun.
As the bullet slid into place, the remnant turned quickly and their gazes locked, crimson eyes cold while jade ones blazed with a mix of curiosity, surprise, and fear. The remnant moved to take a step back but stopped when Vincent spoke three small words, barely audible, but with enough force behind them to leave him frozen in his tracks, staring down the barrels of Death Penalty.
"Do. Not. Move."
Ah, there's nothing quite like the fresh taste -?- of a new fic. Well, I hope it entertained. More to come soon, Dears.
xx Creature Creature