The man in black approached. Closer and closer still, until he reached the edge, waiting endlessly to discover the truth. About them. They didn't belong; he couldn't place them in his memories. It was as if he was the only one who could see the truth. They had not lived in this place, loved in this place or cried in this place. They were not real.
He knew they weren't. They existed, but they were copies of the real thing. But they had forgot one, and joined two sets of copies.
They forgot one. He had a name, the forgotten one. Red? Every time he tried to recall his name, he thought of red...like blood. Like a curse? He could feel it now, getting closer to the truth. A curse to never die...and a gun. Red, like a heart, like a...
Valentine.
He was not here with the others. He had not been copied. Strife, Lockheart and Highwind had been copied. They did not belong. And neither did the man in black. He was a copy too. What was his real self like? The darkness to Strife's light. No. He was...a monster. Something much worse.
And he was a shadow. He was glad. This man in black, looking over the cliff only wanted one. Strife. His opposite. So they could be real. But...he knew that couldn't happen now. He was a copy.
He couldn't remember further than four years ago. When this place, Radiant Garden became Hollow Bastion. He was an accidental copy. A fluke. He wanted something...lacked something. Mother?
To love and teach an-
Jenova.
Truth finally dawned on the man in black. He knew what happened. He had died. Slipped into darkness, and made these copies with his fractured, dead mind. And nobody noticed, as reality compensated. And for the first time, he felt free. He could be anybody. And live. Or...he could disappear, and die permanently.
He raised his sword.