A/N: Welcome everyone! Ready for some dark and angsty vampire-ness? This will be my first story on fanfiction, and I hope you all approve of it. I've had several stories written in the past, but I've never bothered to upload them on any site, for fear of criticism and hate-mail, lol. Today, I've decided to suck it up, and hope for the best. That is all I can do. Well, here it is, without further ado. By the blessing of the gods, let this fic be approved of!

Final Fantasy VII-

ORDER OF SHADOWS

Chapter 1- Nothingness

"Do not ask which creature screams in the night, Do not question who waits for you in the shadow. It is my cry that wakes you in the night, And my body that crouches in the shadow. I am Tzeench and you are the puppet That dances to my tune."
Karanzantor the Vile, The Traitor of Xian

Hunger. The most primal of all urges. No existing creature can deny it, suppress it, or reject it. No matter the struggle, eventually, you submit to it, you give in to the need. Every living being that walks or once walked this damned world, carrying on it's own cursed existence, is or was a slave to that eternal urge. Some puppets dwindling on a string, blissfully unaware of the control over their consciousness, over their actions, and ultimately over their fate.

For those intelligent enough to grasp those strings in realization and sometimes defiance, succumb to death or insanity in the end...

Centuries upon centuries have passed, and for the duration of those forgotten years, I've been dead to the world. A shadow among shadows, eternally damned to carry out my own cursed immortality in a blackened hell devoid of any presence of light. The twisted fate of a Vampire. For so long, I've watched humanity develop. I've bare witness to wars, oppression, death, sacrifice, plaque, and famine. I am one of the few who know the world better than it knows itself, yet the world has no knowledge of me. To it, I do not exist, and therefore, I am nothing

My eyes rose to the luminous moon above me, the only true friend I had found over the years who could somewhat relate to my suffering, and at times console my once aching heart. The moon, like myself, was a denizen of the night, forbidden ever to experience the warmth of the sun. But unlike me, it was known to the world. People knew it was there, and I envied it.

I directed my gaze to the darkened path ahead of me.

Wondering the back alleys of London had gradually become a hobby of mine. I claimed these paths as my own, the territory that I alone could wander when darkness descended. Occasionally, annoyances would cross my path, ranging from drunken fools, to thugs, and more often the Lessers of my kind; pathetic, half-witted creatures who had no claim to the term 'immortal'. I defined them as newborns, humans who had just recently been changed, and were reckless and abusive with their newly-obtained abilities.

The true scum of the world...

"I see you're still as deep in thought as always, Cloud."

From behind me, the voice came, a voice that I had come to know all too well. I turned calmly, not bothering to the suppress the annoyance that undoubtedly manifested in my expression. "What do you want, Vincent Valentine?"

I sized him closely. The man wore a tattered black shirt with matching jeans, his shoulders draped in a crimson cloak that slightly concealed his chin and mouth from view. A red bandanna was tied about his forehead, brushing the bangs of his lengthy, raven hair upwards. I stared coldly into his equally hard eyes, unwelcoming his presence.

"I figured I'd find you wandering these parts," he stated calmly, unaffected by my glare.

I scoffed, resting myself against the brick wall behind me. "And you've decided to hunt me down for what reason? I doubt it was for the pleasure of my company."

"There's a piece of information I managed to gain from the Elders..."

I narrowed my eyes, grasping the urgency of our meeting. Vincent seldom approached me with news from the Council of Elders without it being an important matter, for they were the order of our kind. The Elders were what administered punishment to berserker vampires, who threatened to pull our existence from the shadows. They were what ensured our position in nothingness, they were the law.

"And just what information is that?" I asked through gritted teeth.

There was a pause, and I could feel his reluctance emitting from the aura that surrounded him. I fixated my gaze upon Vincent's with caution, bracing myself for the impact of the knowledge he prepared to bestow upon me.

"Sephiroth has returned to London..."

My blood immediately iced over. My gaze softened in disbelief, searching his eyes for any shred of humor, anything to betray the seriousness of his voice. There was nothing but truth. I frowned my displeasure with tightened fists.

"He's returned," I began in a whisper, "at last."

Vincent pressed his back against the wall opposite of where I rested, facing me with his usual stoic expression. "His appearance was reported by a group of Scouts while patrolling the eastern side. Unfortunately, only one of the four managed to survive the encounter..."

"And this is occurred when?"

"As of 3:22 AM last night..."

"Why was this information not relayed to me sooner?" I lashed out, stepping forward to roughly grip Vincent's crimson cloak in my hand. Anger pulsated through my body. How dare they delay informing me of such events by nearly a days time!

His face remained nonchalant, and this only aggravated me even further. "Because the information was not leaked to me until recently. The Elders seem to have deemed it fit that you remain unaware of the situation, considering your violent history with him. They were concerned you'd attempt something foolish that could jeopardize your safety along with the safety of others."

"Damn it all," I scoffed, releasing him as I turned to stare once again down into the darkness of the alley, "They have no right to deny me!"

"Keep it in mind Cloud, you are not the only one whose life has been influenced by him..."

A cry sounded from the distance. My eyes turned to the sky, ears listening to the scream that carried out in the night like a banshee's shriek. The smell of blood drifted through the air.

"You claim this territory as your own, right?" Vincent inquired softly. " The Elders are occupied, so you'll face no interference from them if you decide...to seek him out."

I chuckled lightly. "Aren't you the helpful one tonight?"

"Some battles are better left finished between the ones who started it..."

A cold wind blew gently over my frame, and I knew he was gone. Vincent had been my companion, or the closet to one, for 200 years. He was my link to the Elders, my wolf on the inside. I was a prowler, one who wandered the darkness of London, while he was the informer. Vincent gave me information to go off, should anything interesting arise. The Elders called me their, "Hand of Judgment", or, "The Executioner of Shadows". Names, nothing else. Creatures that did not exist had no claim to an honor such as that of having a name. As Vampires, we were non-existent.

I hung my head as the scream came again, closer than before, marked by the heavier scent of blood that sent shivers running up my spine. Gently, I brushed a golden bang from my sight, heaving a sigh. Soundlessly, I moved forward, not bothering to hasten my movements towards the events that were happening near by.

Another night, marked as another day in nothingness...

FFVII-FFVII-FVII-FFVII-FFVII-FFVII-FFVII-FFVII-FFVII

Tifa Lockhart breathed a heavy sigh as she wearily rested herself against the decrepit wall of a long time abandoned warehouse. A shrill wound blew over her small frame, causing her to shudder and swiftly stroke her arms for warmth. Her dark eyes cast warily over the darkened path ahead of her.

"I just had to take a shortcut," she moaned will lightly banging her head against the brick wall, "stupid, stupid, stupid!"

By no means was she a woman of height, standing roughly at about 5'5, with such bust that it seemed impossible for one so small to walk upright. Long, raven hair danced about her shoulders in the harsh wind, her torso clothed in a white tank top while a black mini-skirt hugged her thighs. Her hands were fitted in a pair of fingerless gloves.

Tifa shoved herself from her resting place reluctantly, having to face an internal war between her mind and body before deciding to move onward. Thanks to her own stupidity, she'd thought it best to short-cut her way her home, and ultimately, succeeded only in getting lost. The hours only stacked upon repeated attempts to back-track and try different routes. Now she found herself so deep into the twisting black maze, not even the lights of London could hope to penetrate it's heavy darkness. Only the stars above offered their radiance, minimal at that.

A loud 'splash' jolted her heart, causing her to gasp in alarm as her foot was submerged in something wet. Tifa swiftly backed away, removing her victimized limb with a quiet cry. She bent forward, reaching a hand to rub the liquid away from her ankle. Another sigh.

"I just can't catch a break," she muttered under her breath, hugging the wall to her right to ensure she safely avoided the unseen puddled, "It's like fate is conspiring against me!"

To her dismay, the darkness struck again as her foot caught an unseen object, sending her tumbling forward with a cry. She went silent as her chin roughly struck the filthy pavement, her body smacking against the ground. Tifa bit her lip against the urge to cry out once more. Shakily, she rose to her knees, cursing under her breath as she tenderly massaged the cut on her chin with a finger.

"Now what?" The raven-haired girl asked, annoyance evident in her tone. As her coal eyes fixated upon the fallen figure to her side, the moonlight briefly lit it's appearance, and she gasped. Before her, strung out lifelessly on the pavement, was a man. His eyes were open, fixated creepily upon hers, but without movement.

Tifa's heart began to beat rapidly in her chest, threatening to explode.

Hastily, she scurried to her feet, taking off in a mad sprint down the alley. She didn't care where she went, so long it was away from there. The image of the man's face, pale even beneath the moonlight, eying her with his lifeless eyes, flashed in her head. She shivered with horror and disgust, fighting down the bile that rose in the back of her throat.

"Well, well..."

Tifa's body froze in place as she came to a stop, her bones iced over by the sinister voice that rose from somewhere ahead of her. Her eyes strained against the darkness, focusing ahead to identify where exactly it had came. She whimpered as a figure seemed to materialize several feet before her, moving sluggishly in her direction.

"W-who are you?" She asked, attempting to fight back the fear that had presented itself in her voice. 'Stay strong, don't let him know your frightened.'

"The question is," the man in the shadows began, "what is a young thing like you doing way out here?"

Tifa gulped nervously. "I was j-just trying to find my way out! I got lost."

"Lost?" He chuckled, drawing ever closer. "That's a shame."

"S-stay back!"

The man did not heed her words. "Now, now. There's no cause to act so cruel! I mean, we're both two strangers, meeting in an alley, on the same night! Don't you think it's more than coincidence?"

"What?" She blinked confusedly, trying to make out the image of the stranger as he advanced upon her.

"Maybe it's fate?"

"I d-don't know what you're talking about."

His movements came to a halt just feet ahead of her. "I'm saying, maybe you should be more friendly..."

"Look, just get out of my way!" Tifa demanded, her voice somewhat faint.

"Sorry," the man began once more, "but you're not going anywhere!"

In a burst of almost inhuman speed, the stranger lunged himself at her, his arms reached out for her neck. Tifa gasped, her reflexes kicking into overdrive, and narrowly slid below his arms. She gritted her teeth, pulling back a gloved fist as she eyed his exposed stomach, and drove a fierce punch directly into his gut. She smirked in satisfaction as the stranger released a pained groan.

Taking advantage of the stunning effect her punch undoubtedly gave, Tifa slid around him, taking off in a mad dash down the alleyway. She didn't get far before two strong hands gripped her shoulders. She screamed out as she was thrown back, sailing several feet across the ground before her back painfully smacked against the hard pavement. She rolled to her side, curling up in a ball as she sought to suppress the hurt shooting up her spine.

"You're a feisty bitch, aren't you?" The man asked, chuckling sinisterly. He knelt beside her, roughly gripping a handful of her hair between his strong fingers as he lifted her head up.

Tifa shuddered with fright as she peered up into his menacing, golden eyes that glowed brightly in the darkness.

"I'm going to enjoy you." With that, his mouth opened wide, revealing two glistening white fangs at the corner of his lips.

Her body went rigid as he drew himself in, his hold jerking her head to where the flesh of her neck was fully exposed. She whimpered fearfully, feeling his hot breath that reeked of rotten corpses on her skin. Her eyes closed, summoning up her will. And in an act of bravery and desperation, shot her hand to his crotch. Mercilessly, she squeezed, gripping the mans privates with all her might. He howled in agony, tilting his head back to the sky in a pained cry while his arms flailed helplessly around him. Tifa couldn't help but smirk.

Swiftly, she rose to her feet, certain to keep the hold strong. With her free hand, she pulled back, powerfully slamming a fist repetitively into his chin. For several seconds she continued her onslaught, suffering the consequences as her hand began to pulse with a mighty ache. She paused momentarily, unconsciously loosening her grip. At the moment, the stranger's left hand came down upon her, smacking her so fiercely she was sent sprawling through the air. Tifa crashed against the ground once more, coughing weakly as blood trailed down the corner of her mouth.

"You bitch!" The enraged man cried as he staggered to his feet, tenderly holding his aching privates as he stumbled towards her. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"

The raven-haired girl rolled on to her back, watching him advance upon her through the darkness in a daze. She cried mentally to move, to get up, to run, to fight, to do something! Her body simply refused to comply, and by the time her sight finally cleared itself, he was already standing above her.

"You," he breathed heavily, "are going to regret this! I'm going to make your death fucking painful." He pulled back his right arm, his fingers slid together while four pestilent, long nails glistened beneath the radiance of the moon. His golden eyes narrowed, face scrunched up in rage, and struck.

Indescribable pain exploded through her gut as her assailant's nails drove themselves deep into her flesh. Tifa screamed out in agony, instinctively gripping his wrist with both of her hands in an effort to pull them out. His position remained, her strength unable to overcome his. She laid her head back in a loud groan as two tears slid down the sides of her cheek. Blood began to stain her white tank-top.

The man chuckled his satisfaction. "Well, how do you like it bitch? I could have made you my slave, but you've done fucked that opportunity up! You hear me?! You could have served a GOD!"

"A God, you say?"

Another voice entered from the shadows as tall figure seemingly manifested beside them. His body was clothed in full-on black outfit, one sleeve running down his left arm, while his right was bare. Two black gloves fitted his hands, while his spiky, blond hair swayed lightly in the wind. Through Tifa's foggy sight, she could faintly make out his eyes, two fascinating green orbs that glowed beneath the heavy darkness. And oddly enough, smiled at the sight. Something about his presence was comforting, putting her mind at peace. Even from the wound in her gut, she could feel no pain.

"W-who are you?" Her attacker inquired somewhat nervously as he pulled back his hand, blood dripping from his claws. He rose to his feet.

The blond haired stranger narrowed his emerald eyes menacingly. "Your punishment," he spoke, his voice cold and serious.

The statement was sufficient enough alone to make the twisted assailant back away, his expression displaying obvious fear. Cold sweat dripped down the side of his face. "Y-you! You're Cloud! The 'Hand of Judgment!"

"Then you know why I'm here," the other returned, stepping forward.

"W-wait! That girl is dying you know. If you waste time fighting with me, you won't be able to save her!"

Cloud showed little concern. "Then I'll have to kill you quickly," he stated icily, raising his hand. His eyes flickered, brightening mysteriously as a violet aura began to emit from his body. "Turn to dust!"

"No, wait-" Before the dark attacker could finish, an agonized scream erupted from his throat as his body exploded in a burst of flames. Chunks of fiery flesh flew through the air, littering the ground with a terrible stench.

Cloud turned his attention back to the woman, his ears listening to the faint pulsing of heart. She was dying. It would be only a matter of minutes before that flickering flame of life was extinguished permanently.

"W-will...I die?"

He blinked as Tifa spoke, her voice strained and weak. "Yes..." The answer escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

She chuckled softly, blood trickling down the corners of her mouth. "G-great..."

Usually, Cloud would have done turned to leave, to abandon the girl to her fate, or offer a quick death over the slow one she was enduring. Strangely, he couldn't bring himself to do either of the two, and standing there watching her die wasn't something he desired either. His heart was in turmoil; for what reasons? A girl? One whom he'd just come upon?

He sighed heavily. The thought of this girl's death was somewhat...saddening to him. It made his heart feel heavy and weak. Cloud growled in frustration, before, with evident reluctance, bringing himself to his knees beside her.

"Do you," the blond-haired man began with a pause, "...want to live?"

Tifa nodded weakly, finding the urge to close her eyes almost undeniable now. "Y-yes..."

"Then so be it." Cloud shook his head slightly. "This was your was choice, remember that."

Gently, he drew her up into his lap, brushing her beautiful, raven hair from her neck. He couldn't help but admire her beauty, despite the pitiful condition she was in. Most humans would have looked terrible after such an ordeal, but she was an exception. She gorgeous despite it all.

Slowly, Cloud drew his head down, briefly inhaling her scent that seemed to intoxicate him. His mouth opened, baring two sets of fangs, and plunged them softly into the tender flesh of her neck.

"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die."
-H.P. Lovecraft