Summary: A young Sephiroth explores the darker side of the Shin-Ra laboratories. Warning: child soldier reference, gore and violence.
One-shot of our favourite Soldier.
"Don't take the fall
We'd hate to see.
That's entertainment."
-Chevelle, Get Some
He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his thin, frail arms around to keep his flabby legs slipping. He could feel his unsteady heart tap at his knees. He turned his head over to rest, listening to the pitter-patter of the muscle organ. He feared he would never be able to close his eyes again, never to know the sweet comfort sleep. So he flexed his hands, his bloodied hands, and decided to give them a show.
He stood up and listened to the roar; either inside his head or down the hall, for that he was uncertain. He saw one scientist tapping at the glass with his clipboard, silently instructing him to move into the center of the room. He looked at the small man, studying his smug little face. He would remember him for a later time, for a time when he needed inspiration.
There were two of them. Both were younger. But they were all forgotten. All lost. They were very much like him. Vacant eyes, dirty knees. The only separating factor was that one would live, the others would die. He grew accustomed to their scent, that disgusting putrid tang that would creep into his nose and churl his breakfast -a porridge of sorts, made of lukewarm water and stale oats. They would tell him how horrible they all were; nasty and vile beings that they scrounged from the bottom of Midgar's shoes and served him here in the sterile environment of the Shin-Ra labs. It was to rile him up. Get him excited at the thought of thwarting some evil Shin-Ra served him on a platter. But he knew better. One was a boy, younger. Did he look like a murderous thief? Or someone plotting to thwart Shin-Ra plot to seep into every home and recruit every man, woman and child as meat shields. Could he possibly murder his own grandmother in her sleep-in hopes of reaping his ill sought rewards in her sock drawer?
He lifted himself from the wall, pushing with the blades of his shoulders. They had given him two choices: they would allow him to have Masamune but would then require him to execute them in no contest or he would have put his hands at his disposal. He was no executioner. Some say it was because he liked the fight. And he did. But there was something freeing in having them fight back: he wasn't a villain; he was merely defending himself.
His hand slipped around the little boy's neck. The boy froze in his hands, his neck muscles tensing. Fear poisoned the meat, Hojo once told him. Maybe it was best for him to just end it before he would regret it. Sephiroth lifted the boy off his feet briefly before snapping his wrist to the right and slamming the boy into a cement pillar. The boy let out a whimper as his head collided with the cement in a splash of red.
The girl's eyes went wide for a moment, cogs moving. She knew she wouldn't be able to escape. She could run and make a fuss, but they wouldn't open the doors for her. No, they were locked in together and they wanted him to enjoy this moment, savour it. She collapsed onto her knees, her hands forming a temple under her chin. She reminded him of someone, someone so familiar and yet so foreign. She was weak. She was fragile. She reminded him of himself, something he wholly disliked.
Sephiroth reached, his bear palm touching her damp, cold cheek. He recoiled. She continued to beg as he reeled his hand back. He wouldn't miss. He couldn't miss. She was a Slum rat. A thief. A ruffian. Perhaps even a murder. She was planning something beneath her tears but he couldn't concentrate as tears turned into sobs, snot dribbling down her jaw.
"Run," he instructed clearly. He needn't repeat himself twice as she pushed herself off her knees and flailed across the Colosseum, screaming for help.
She continued to beg, slapping her palms onto the concrete walls. It made dull echoes as Sephiroth approached her. She was weak. She was fragile. And stupid if she thought they would come to her rescue. His bear heels slapped against the floor, concrete thick as the earth itself, in hopes of him never breaking out until his lesson was learnt.
"What's your name?" Sephiroth asked, cutting her wails for a brief moment. Realizing he was so close, the girl began bargaining with the higher entities watching them. She quickly exhausted herself and crumpled to the ground. She told him her name in hiccups, something forgettable, something not worth his time. Sephiroth wasn't sure why he asked to begin with. Give the name to the nameless, give a face to his faceless nightmares.
He reached for her hand, ripping her from the floor and launching her above his shoulder. She landed behind him, air sucked out of her as she landed with a thud. She started crying again to which Sephiroth calmly asked her to hush herself. But he broke her collar bone and dislocated her shoulder; he heard the distinct snaps beneath her soft tissues.
He pivoted on his began pulling herself up, failing on each attempt. She stopped begging, fear stealing away any vocalizations. Then, when that failed, she began crawling away.
"It'll be over soon," he promised. Hojo always told him not to play with his food. It's undignified.
With a heel to her back, he gently pushed her onto the wet floor. Quickly his heel dug down onto the back of her skull, collapsing the cemented skull plates. She was younger than him. She was fragile. She was broken in a mass of bone fragments and squishy tissue. She screamed as his foot collided with her soft curls. Then, silence.
His heart slowed. His palms steadied. His vision widened and brightened from that dark place he would instruct him to go. Everything was blinding. Slowly, he came around. They meant nothing to him. Nothing meant anything when he blacked out. He buried something deep in his fragile psyche so that it folded within itself and was locked away, far away from anyone. It was to protect him. Sephiroth was hiding a secret, even from himself. He wanted to deny it but feeling out of control, albeit brief, was the most at home he felt.
Let me know what you guys think! I really enjoy writing Sephiroth. Probably why I like writing OC's with him.