Author's Note: I always wondered what would have happened if Cloud spent a year training, before he joined the army. So this was my brain child. . .I think its obvious I've taken one too many hits to the head.
Warnings: Some swearing and a little violence in this chapter, one original character
Disclaimer: If you think a broke colllege student owns it, I suggest you see someone about the bump on your head

Chapter One

One day I will be able to look back on this and laugh. Mind you, when I finally start laughing, I will probably be commited, wearing a straight jacket in a padded room. There, I will be alternatly told to shut up or given a mix of what they consider good drugs. Considering the budget cuts these days I rather doubt it though.

However, my dear, former, roommate of a year will see to it that I am treated well. She will no doubt visit me, make some snide remark about canvas not being my color, bitch to me about the idiots she is surrounded by, and then cheerfully tell me that my predicament is all my fault. Her reasoning will likely be along the lines of 'for every action made, there will be a reaction', and due to the choices I made, it was all my fault I ended up in a nuthouse. Then she will offer to make sure my chakras are properly aligned and then threaten the nearest guard or doctor with a baseball bat to make sure they treat me well on her way out the door.

I know, she's weird.

Of course the first time I met her was under excedingly weird circumstances. I had literally just arrived in Midgar and just chickened out of joining the army. Thus I was stuck at the train station and lacked the sufficient funds to get a return ticket home. In addition to the culture shock that only a small town person can experience upon arrival in a big city, I was on the verge of hyperventilating due to (at the time) my perceived stupidity.

It was at that point, that one of the sweetest creatures said to roam the planet, attached itself to my ankle with razor sharp teeth.

Fucking Moogle.

A station master rescued me from the damn Moogle. He gently pried the evil Hellbeast off my ankle. He gave me a charming smile, trailing his fingers along my ankle, he offered to bandage it for me. He stood up and smiled down at me, trailing his hand from my shoulder to wrist, suggesting that I wait there while he got some bandages.

The smile on his face changed to a look of extreme pain so fast that it was possible to get whiplash just be looking at it. As I watched the blood drain from his face, he made an odd noise. Had his vocal cords not froze up, I beleive the sound would have been a scream. As it was, the noise he made greatly rezembled a garbage desposal backing up.

I was soon to understand why this was.

He hunched over and toppled to the floor, weakly clutching at his privates. Standing behind him was a young woman not that much taller than myself. She was dark of hair and eye and nature had been generous with her bust line. She was glaring down at the station master with such an intense look of irratation it was a wonder he didn't spontaniously combust.

Even though she had placed a swift and well aimed kick between his legs, the minute she opened her mouth I knew she was no lady. She told him in no uncertain terms to 'cut that shit out' and that the next time she caught him chasing after jail bait, she would soundly beat him with her baseball bat.

And that, was how I met Ilita Bedlam.