"When are you going to be done?" Heidegger turned his back on him, his
rough military gruffness embedded in every movement. No minute understanding for
the fatigue from the lack of sleep, or the headache from stress and an unknown
other source that continued to weigh on the man's mind even in these late hours
of the morning. No thought whatsoever, except that work was not getting done,
and he had someone to take out aggressions on.
"Why don't you wait this out in your office. These orders could take the rest
of the night to come through. Your standing here, breathing down my neck isn't
speeding up the process."
"Don't speak to me like that, you little bastard. Ramuh only knows,
what was going through Shinra's mind when he put you on this force anyway?"
Mako-glowing eyes narrowed on the bulky man's figure at that comment. He held
back from spitting out a harsh reply.
A small sneer developed on the face of Heidegger and his eyes flashed, a
brief gaze spared for his silver-haired underling. "You don't know what in Hades
you're doing, do you? Shinra was a fool, as was Hojo... and your little idol,
Professor Gast, wasn't any smarter." A deep laugh rumbled in his throat as he
turned and strode out the door without a backward look. "... putting an arrogant
man such as yourself at the head of an army..?" he called, "...you don't know
what you're doing."
Sephiroth watched him as he left, bluish-green eyes burning brightly.. "Was I
given a choice?" he seethed through clenched teeth. Once again, he turned back
to the monitor and continued watching, and waiting, while he slowly began to
smolder the fire burning inside of him...
So many nights, thinking, clearly remembering a time when life seemed little more than a prison. Days, as they are, still appear that way often.
"Lay still." The small boy winced and turned away before he could see the long syringe
needle enter his arm, though images of it repeated in his mind from past events.
Being as young as he was, he couldn't help the warm tears that sprung to his
eyes, but his teeth grit and he took it in silence, far too used to the
sensation of the icy liquid in his veins and the contrasting burn of the needle.
The black-haired doctor dabbed at the tiny spot of blood with a cottonball and
covered it with a bandage. He then gathered up his notes from the day's
evaluation and walked off into the darkened part of the lab. The young boy heard
the creak of a door opening, saw the sliver of light beyond the doorway, and
then once again darkness except for the overhead light that shined down upon the
examining table, placing him in the "spotlight" as usual. The silver-haired boy
shivered slightly, drawing his knees up to his chest. He swallowed down another
batch of tears, the words of condescending from his past cries still vivid in
his mind. With a small broken sigh, the beautiful young boy lay down on his
side, lightly laying his left hand over his bandaged other arm. He closed his
eyes and tried to sleep.
"It hurts." a young voice quietly whined, desperation
nagging in his tone. The only response he recieved was a short, cold glance, and
then the demand was repeated. The old man turned back to his work without
another word.
And now, I stare up at the ceiling, listening to the rain fall against the glass panes of the windows. Another mission has led me away from the city of Midgar where I live, but refuse to call home. The thoughts of my past are like lead in my mind. Fatigue keeps me lying here in this bed, not even the thought of a shower to wash away the dirt and blood from a day's battle can draw me out of the dreams I'm having. I'm anchored here by the pain-physical and mental, of being what I am.
I'm nothing, I'm anonymous.
I don't even have a last name.
The midnight blue and green of the sky outside makes me think of Midgar's skies, heavy with smoke from the Mako Reactors placed around the city. That place is no home to me. My eyes narrow in the darkness. The laboratory was more of a home.
I can't help but feel numbed by it all. A constant pain, internal, external. When people stare as the SOLDIERs pass, myself in the lead of them. Children don't come near me because of the alterations to my body that the Mako treatments caused. My silver hair. My bright, glowing eyes. Catlike eyes, people have said. They see everything.
People have a right to avoid me.
I shouldn't be thinking like this. Things would be so simple if it were as easy as being able to ignore what I feel inside, and gain pleasure from being in the public's eye. As the elite SOLDIER, I have admirers all around me. People look up to me. That gives me a certain power, but my morals keep me from exploiting that. I may have been raised by Hojo and Shinra, but that doesn't mean I have built my life around the same shaky morals as they have.
Morals. I'm rambling about morals. What sort of morals can a man have that kills for a living..?
That I can't understand. What I do know is this: that morals aren't just judged by physical acts, such as leading these wars. War isn't morally wrong if you know what you're fighting for, and don't become hungry for the war itself. As someone once told me, An intelligent man must have morals, because it's the basis between what man can accomplish and what man should accomplish. A man without morals is as bridge with no guardrails.
I don't ever fear gaining a hunger for war, because that is not my way. If you judge that by my theory, that would make me.. morally correct.
I honestly don't know what to say on that topic.
Why fight without cause? I'm fighting for Shinra- fighting against Wutai, fighting for the advancement of technology and another reactor on the island. I'm fighting because...
Because I have to.
But I ask myself, how can anyone have a soft spot in their heart for a man who fights for a company like Shinra? I don't agree with all of their ideas, but the public doesn't know that. I'm Shinra's pawn to the public, but a strong pawn.
And that's all that really matters. If I ever lose that, I lose
everything.
But somewhere deep down, I know I will never lose that.
I'm so advanced compared to the other SOLDIERs. Stronger, smarter, faster. I'm also undeniably a beautiful creature. I say 'creature' because the sort of beauty I have isn't just what a normal person would define as "beautiful". It's different in a way that I cannot find the words to explain, but different nonetheless. Why I became how I am is a question I've never gotten a straight answer on, but I'll continue searching, within myself and within everyone that I know, until I'm sure myself. Professor Hojo told me that mother had died while giving birth to me. My father was never known after that, but had agreed to give me to the science research department of Shinra, Inc. for a study that would produce stronger SOLDIERs. Nothing else was ever told of my parents. I don't know my father's name. Or if he's even still alive.
People say I have an exotic look to me; if my father was part Wutaiian, it's possible that I was the one who killed him. I try and forget thoughts like this one as they enter my mind, because it's no use contemplating "What If".
I am so much more advanced than other men, but I haven't yet found anyone that can love me for what I really am. So strong is my image as the "Perfect SOLDIER" that it leaves hardly any room for anyone to know the person behind the title. All that they see is a strong, silent man. Perhaps it's better that way, there's a part of me that doesn't like being known.
Can a person live without someone to love them, though? I've been doing it for so long, sometimes I forget it's a need.
I wince, that thought strangely making my stomach twist..
I continue searching for more than just this war, because there's a child inside of me. And no pure child has thoughts of war and grief. I want to be that child, but it's too late. I've already hardened so much beyond that, it would be impossible to salvage any of it for me. But that child still shines it's need through my eyes, while war and something darker still seems to eat at my soul and, perhaps, my very morals every day that I walk on this Planet. No one could love something like this. Something like me.
I'm nameless. I'm anonymous.
Maybe I'm not even human.
But someday, I'll find something to care for, someone to care for me.
And
that's when my day of freedom really will arrive.
The storm starts to die out a little. The weather near Corel lives up to
it's rumours: Steamy and overcast. The window doesn't offer me much of a view as
the dark grey clouds begin to roll away, so I turn my back to it and lay on my
side. Tiredness finally begins to tighten it's hold on me until I can't fight it
anymore. The memories have gone for the most part now. I shouldn't have much of
an undisturbed sleep.
But as I begin drifting off, a certain quote drifts through my mind and I frown slightly at my remembering it. It repeats itself in my mind until I hear myself quietly saying it, in the dark of the room, the words just small sounds falling off my lips. My deepest fear..
"It hath been said-- For all who die, there is a tear
Some pining,
bleeding heart to sigh
O'er every bier
But in that hour of pain and
dread
Who will draw near
Around my humble couch and shed
One farewell
tear?"