DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'FFVII', 'Silent Hill', 'Bleach' or 'Prosthetics'. All rights belong to Square Enix, Konami, Tite Kubo and Slipknot. I only own my OC, and this fanfiction. Thank you.
These walls. These four white walls that surrounded him. Like a silent cocoon, keeping its occupant a secret from the world, a surprise just waiting to be sprung.
Only difference here though, was that Kadaj had left this little 'safe haven', many times before. Of his own free will. And the only 'surprise' that was in store, was the true extent of his intentions, reflected in the faces of every sorry ant that was stupid enough to cross his path. Insignificant, worthless sacks of flesh, bone and organ! The single amusing thing about them-or the whole of them that always seemed to assail his vision-was all the wonderful red lifeforce they would leave behind. Whether in the wake of missions, or even just venting.
Right now, he really wished that he'd been able to do either one of those.
Especially when he was touchy from another excursion as a lab rat, and pissed at the world. At least he hadn't been doped up like a champion Chocobo on steroids and aphrodisiacs-like a certain someone he wouldn't name, but it still sucked. Fucking Hojo and those monthly tests. There were always, always, side-effects. It seemed like everything in this whole damn world came with side-effects, consequences. Far too many of them for his liking.
And the rules, too...whoever said he was a stickler for fighting fair? He'd use any means to get what he wanted. Blood was not a problem, and neither was power.
Or hatred. He had plenty of that to spare.
He was holed up in his bedroom in the late hours, unable to sleep because of all the nerves that seemed to have been electrified throughout his body. It was impossible to just lie down and relax. Kadaj sat on the edge of his bed instead, elbows on knees and leaning forwards. His hands were threaded through those silky, silver, shoulder-length locks of his. So different, so uncommon. So unnatural. Beautiful, and yet...an anomaly. Not normal.
Not treated the same.
"Feh!" The male lifted his head quickly, allowing his arms to drop down to his lap, resting on his thighs. The leather that coated his lean, muscled form was taut. Raising one hand up in front of his face, Kadaj clenched and released it a few times, watching as the leather there too, warped with his actions. To make a fist, it felt so good. He wouldn't have minded smashing it through something nearby.
There were other things he liked using his fists for, however...like holding tight to the hilt of his Souba, and slicing through all enemies in one clean, swift strike. The shower of warm, crimson red that would rain over him, with every new bit of human that was carved, diced, chopped, ripped, torn away. Torn away by his strength and ability to use that Weapon in his hands like it was a goddamned third arm.
All that red...it would've certainly made a nice contrast to the dull whiteness that surrounded him. He would've had a ball painting this whole space red, red to suit his twisted little blackened heart.
Remember how he'd been talking about side-effects? Well, this was one of them, in full action.
And the worst part? It wasn't entirely because of the test alone-even if that had played a role in the reaction he was having now. No, there was another reason why he was so tense and on edge tonight. In general, his whole day hadn't been easy. And it didn't look like his evening was going to get any better. It had all started with the examinations, Hojo...and that damned older Brother of his, Yazoo.
Diligently, like clockwork, Kadaj and Loz had attended their appointments, and gotten the work over and done with. But Yazoo...oh, Yazoo. That prick. No, he just had to be the one to mess it all up. That bastard had decided to skip his checkup, again, and since Kadaj was the Leader of their 'Remnant' trio, it had fallen on him to go and find where he'd gotten to...and hopefully give him a good earful of just what Hojo had inflicted on him. Whether or not the man was responsible for their existence, he didn't care. He only put up with it because it kept him on his path to the ultimate goal:
To be the best. Perfect. A perfect person-no, being...
...yet he was constantly referred to as a fucking 'specimen'. Or 'second best', outside the labs. A 'clone', like he didn't have his own personality, beyond his genetic matter. The only thing he was happy for was the fact that the genetics gave him the ability to actually have a shot at that elusive title of fame, acceptance, recognition...
But from who? The public?
"Ha!" The thought made Kadaj both laugh and reach for his sword by the bedside in one smooth sweep. The 'public' was a joke! They didn't know a thing about him, much less anyone he was related to, and they never would. He had no interest in any of them, unless he was looking for another target on which to practice his swings. The ones outside, in the real world, and the ones who worked the lowest level floors inside Shinra. Hell, even the faces employed for menial labor and tasks upon the upper levels. They were all disgusting.
It wasn't like he was deaf. Even if they had garnered their own fanbase, there was still backlash. Kadaj and his two Brothers, having been created from Brother Sephiroth's genetic material, were brought into the limelight as three younger siblings. But they had nothing to their name other than a bloodline. And thus, they hadn't nearly as much of the unflinching majority support like he.
Sephiroth had done great things; he was the SOLDIER program's best recruit, now a First Class and General. He'd single-handedly ended the Wutai War. He had been a blessing, a marvel, something new and shiny that had attracted the masses to him immediately.
Along with the fact that they couldn't get much information on his personal life, for the most part, as well as his exceptional skills in battle, stunning physical appearance, and charisma when needed, i.e in front of the rolling cameras? That only served to further whet their appetites. Their 'adoration' would soon reach critical levels. Then, the second go.
They had been brought into this world. Not by normal means-even Sephiroth had had a human mother. But not them. They had been created in tubes, born in labs, and raised there among the company headquarters for the rest of their lives, all up until now. Of course, the general public didn't know about all this, they just bought the crafted cover story of triplets who had been living far away, brought back now to join their Brother.
Once more, cue the "Oohs" and "Ahhs". Something new, yet familiar. More Sephiroths! More faces to gush over! That's what they must've thought, upon first hearing the news. It had certainly been the exciting affair, when they'd come around. Not much was revealed about where they came from, which also helped in the long run. In their case, people stopped asking quite as many questions, allowing them those few years to breathe. Gradually, they grew up, hidden from the world, yet somehow still connected to the public eye. And that was when he'd first noticed it.
The stares. The whispers. These were the signs he observed at the beginning, from either the lower-level employees, or the upper nitwits. Then, certain segments of the outside population, on those rare occasions he'd gone beyond the company walls, once old enough and with reason. He remembered a few instances where all three of them had had to attend something or other with Sephiroth. During those moments, the burning attention would increase, boring into him as these people tried to judge him without knowing a damn thing. They had no inkling of anything close to the truth. Because of where they'd come from, their 'identities' mainly consisted of them making Shinra look good.
Behind the scenes, however, they were being trained just as well as anyone else as a line of defense and further weaponry, should Shinra need the extra assistance-or just wanted to leave an impression.
He'd supposed his Brothers had taken notice of the scrutiny as well, but if they had, they must not have cared enough to have done anything about it. Either that, or they were just that plain ignorant. He wouldn't have been surprised. He was the Leader, wasn't he? Give him some fucking credit here! Was it a matter of different methods to dealing?
Trembling. Why was he starting to tremble? All these issues, past and present, coming to overwhelm him here and now, in one fell swoop. He didn't need anyone to help him prove anything. He could do it on his own, and show those bastards. Make them eat their words like the garbage they were.
"More pretty faces. Seems Shinra's good for collecting those." Only concerned about the surface.
"They seem...sort of dangerous. Not honorable, like Sephiroth. I'm not sure if I'd ever trust them to do anything." Ignorant, and quick in jumping to conclusions.
"God, why do they have to have those girly faces? Fucking freaks. And what's with all the leather? At least Sephiroth wears noticeable armor, too." Judgmental assholes.
"They just don't have that same quality that General Sephiroth has. I don't think I could ever listen to anyone like them, to be honest. If they were to try and take up his mantle." Assumptions, assumptions.
"Are you serious? I wouldn't be able to stop laughing if I saw them out and about!" Plain, straight-up mockery.
"What's so special about them? So what if they're Sephiroth's Brothers? He's still better than all three of them combined." Comparisons, just like always.
"They're just cash-ins looking to ride on Seph's coattails. A publicity stunt from Shinra, bringing them out this way. They want the attention." Big talkers, who riled themselves up with delusions of actually having an inkling as to how Shinra worked. Attention was only a bonus, not the absolute goal.
"Where the heck do they hail from? Do these three even have the same mother...?" Mother. A Mother. No...no, they did not.
So much overwhelming hatred and loathing. That pure desire to make everything within a 500 foot radius suffer at his hands. Better. Better. Better. The word echoed in his head like a ringing bell. He knew his Brothers hadn't seen things his way, hadn't heard it the way he had. They didn't have the same sort of reasoning as he. They would never understand why those rats beneath them couldn't be allowed to say such things.
So what if they didn't have a mother? A human one or a motherly figure, it didn't matter. They were here, they were alive, right? Didn't that count for something, anything at all?
First. First, first, first. A pounding was starting to build in his head. Sephiroth was always to be considered first, all the way back to Jenova, his human mother. But no one else, not even the man in question, had much of a clue as to who she was. A woman who had been abandoned by her lover while pregnant with child, dying shortly after its birth. That child would be crafted and raised, to become a hero to the world.
Kadaj could feel the handle of the blade against his gloved palm, tightly pressing the material into skin. That urge to strike out was almost overwhelming-but he couldn't act on it. Frustrating though it may've been, he'd gotten a restriction placed on him, from every time he'd wound up having what they called 'temper tantrums'. He preferred to call them as they really were, 'stress relief'. Shinra had gotten irritated with the damage bills, and had told him, in no uncertain terms, to knock it off. If he was going to make damage, it had to be small. Not noticeable.
But. That hadn't satisfied him, at all. Most of the time now, he would devote himself to the training simulators-which were also starting to take a beating from all his 'venting', and would probably cause the higher-ups to come calling again.
Or, even better, his missions. Then, he would actually get to unleash all that pent-up vitriolic thirst for mayhem and massacre.
It wouldn't just be an image; his sword would be slicing through flesh and sinew, cracking and snapping the bone with every well-aimed stab. Turning the insides and out into nothing more than meat thrown into a blender, and set to 'puree'. In that moment, he truly felt alive, taking others lives in his stead. The rush of euphoria coursing through him, surveying everything he had wrought, all in the silent name of Shinra...and his bloodlust.
To prove himself on these killing fields, that the world would never know, never see. A bloody warrior, a fallen angel. Fighting in the dark, making the bodies rise...until nobody could ignore the missing, the loss, the blood.
And the smell.
"Heh..." Letting out a low sigh, Kadaj relaxed his grip on Souba's handle. Turning it in his grasp, he watched the two strands of fabric, extending from each side of the hilt-dark and light, respectively-and mused to himself once more on the ignorance of the public.
They would never know. They didn't know now, and that wasn't going to change. Shinra was working to make the Planet a better place. Their role as a major energy company helped in that department, as well as providing a good umbrella for everything else. But they still had those armies and operative forces, Weapons and regular guards and alarms; hell, even the Turks! Shinra was well equipped, and more to the point, they were willing to extend that power as far as they could reach, under the table.
However, there were no limits for a group like Shinra.
They didn't mind portraying a 'softer' image, something cleaner and friendly. The energy was a good resource to be involved in. The production was steady. And they liked having those fan bases build up for their strongest fighters, or the general myriad of colorful characters that made Shinra home.
A slight, fleeting thought, just two words on the wind. Like her...
Shinra knew how to fight, and they weren't shy about using that firepower, either-when it was of benefit to them. They weren't reckless. Again-Wutai War, anyone? It was a suitable example though, if you wanted something major. And don't forget all the cover-ups and take downs, those missions of eternal silence on anyone who could be considered a 'liability', or a 'loose end'. So many names, an endless list of enemies...and not all were necessarily 'evil'.
Their hands were stained, no matter how many masks they flashed in front of the public eye. No matter how much they tried to make up for each unspoken sin. They could never get them clean-those spots had built up, spread out, soaked in, down into the muscle and skeletons. The marks were no longer skin-deep.
And still, so many supported them willingly, without bothering to truly get to know the people they were revering. Everything that existed beneath the twinkling spotlight of business and politics. A pretty portrait indeed. Yes, he was thankful to Shinra. If it wasn't for their company and labs, he and his Brothers would've never come into existence. His life was something he would cherish. As long as he was breathing, he still had a chance. A chance to become something more than what he currently was.
More than just an afterthought in the background. The runner-up.
But Shinra was certainly not a peaceful name, by any means. It made perfect sense, if you really thought about the faces that lived beyond the company walls. Of course, nobody ever did, outside of their fantasies. It's not like 'celebrities' were real people, they all just existed for the entertainment of the masses...but these were characters, beings who could've easily overthrown and destroyed the whole world, if they were so inspired.
Yet their public continued to treat them like garbage; either revering their fantasy imaginings blindly, following in a brainless single-file line, or they spat on their names, and crushed their honor beneath their heels.
It was coming back. The pounding. All the rage was starting to rise again. Never would those people guess, that the ones they worshiped so fervently without rhyme or reason...could be just as monstrous as those they 'protected' their adoring public from, realizing their presence or not. Monstrous in their own ways, but the comparison was still apt.
The blood of the guilty, the nameless, and simply the unfortunate targets-all of them mixed and mingled beneath the feet of the employees who actually had a vivid idea as to what was really at work in this powerhouse threat. The puddles splashed, leaving red footprints that would smear and fade, but never wash away completely. Bodies would continue to rise, and eventually, the entire ground would be a rippling river of lifeforce and stepping stones. The names that kept falling in the race for further control and domination, all with that warm smile of a familiar brand label.
Control...domination...familiar...
Shinra was home. But it also bore its own horrors. They were both sheltered and exposed here, in this gigantic madhouse of progression and aggression.
Kadaj wasn't usually the most cheerful of presences to begin with. And having to deal with Hojo and that irritating dick of a Brother, Yazoo, in one sitting? Was not something he wanted to face on a regular basis. He would have had to kill at least three people a day, just to get rid of all the negative energy. One for each figure that had irritated him, and then one extra for good luck, or something, who the hell really knew. Maybe even more than just the three.
Following the exchange in Hojo's lab, Kadaj had wound up nearly turning the entire complex upside-down just to find him. Because Hojo, when he'd wanted something? Didn't only ask once. Especially considering the case of all of them; his so-called 'greatest creation', and then the siblings. Kadaj had had to listen to the sleaze-ball's criticism and repetitive questioning, while he still hadn't found hide nor hair of Yazoo.
Loz wasn't helping, either. He'd wanted to go work out after getting his shots done, and wasn't entirely interested in tracking down their smart-ass Brother. The male had gotten his fill of their middle sibling for the time being, seeing as when he'd offered a friendly reminder of the morning appointment, he'd been received with a quite biting and snippy comment. Sometimes Yazoo was really mean with his words. Why couldn't he have been given some sort of verbal aptitude...?
Kadaj couldn't blame Loz for his distance-even beyond today, there were so many other stunts that Yazoo had pulled on him, while the rest got directed towards he himself. But come on! Didn't anything about their familial relations count here? He didn't want to be the only one suffering bloody eardrums at the mercy of Hojo's voice!
Mercy...?!
It had happened before he'd realized it; Kadaj had stabbed at the floor beside his feet, nicking it with the double-bladed tip of his sword. With those catlike, vivid green eyes, he observed the sharp scratch against the marble. Well, so much for no damage, here's hoping this one would work as 'small' damage, so long as no one got down on their hands and knees to inspect the floor physically.
The male was now walking across his room, to the other side. A bare expanse of white wall greeted him here, and he took the opportunity to lean against it, allowing the solid surface to press into his back. His arms were at his sides, Souba's handle digging against the smooth plaster. Just waiting for him to return it to its rightful place: held tight in his left hand and ready to paint the town red.
Right now though, he couldn't focus on the sword. He had no current access to the training rooms, not at this hour. More to the point though, he wouldn't have gotten any satisfaction from them. He could take out enemy after enemy in the simulations, but he felt nothing upon doing so. There was no thrill, no chase. He could do this in his sleep!
No, he needed something tangible, something that would actually tear and waver under his touch. Something that would show it had encountered him, been handled by him. Something with more than just a programmed reaction.
That twitch in his eyebrow. He hadn't wanted to let the thought slip through, but there it was, that one point of recognition in his situation. Maybe instead, he needed something...something that would yield to him, yet was not necessarily weak...
Or someone.
Now the fury inside of him was starting to warp, this time to a bottomless swirl of both anger and...affection? It wasn't only reserved for the slaughter this time. His heart was beginning to pound, and he felt the sweat of stress begin to form at his temples. Another twitch of the brow as well as the eye below it, and a flash of teeth in a tight grimace. More thoughts, flooding back to him all at once. That hadn't been his entire day, oh no. Not even close.
Of course, Kadaj hadn't been able to find Yazoo. The asshole had gone traipsing off to the academy, to do who knew what during the presentation being given by his Sisters. That's right. He had Sisters. They had Sisters, at least the trio did. Sephiroth hadn't acknowledged any of it. Which was fine, considering the current relationship he had with one of them. But yes. There were two of them.
Not blood related obviously, just...by bond. A sort of 'adoption' or 'initiation', if you will. That wasn't important here though, not yet anyway. He'd soon found out exactly why Yazoo had been doubly eager to skip his tests this day, and it wasn't a reason that sat well with him. It had extended beyond merely attending the show. From what Kadaj had been able to find out, Yazoo had been a busy little bee.
Seems that before the class was set to begin, Rufus had wound up calling in a favor from Sephiroth-or he would've, if Yazoo hadn't apparently picked the instructions up first, relaying them to his older Brother, while cutting out a few details here and there. Like, oh...the presentation itself? All he'd mentioned was the fact that Shinra wanted him to be the one to fetch some gear for the Princesses, since he was engaged to one of them. But that was it.
Oh, right. Kadaj hadn't yet mentioned that tidbit: those 'Sisters' of his? Were half-blood siblings to none other than Rufus Shinra, as well as more children to the late President before his son...thus making them viable heirs to the company and bloodline, as well.
Again though, he wasn't going to elaborate on that now. Just on the fact that as kids enrolled in regular lessons, the presentation was part of an elaborate cover-and another promotional tool for Shinra. The girls were pretending to be hired help for the upper levels, specially trained to deal with things that may arise in such a line of work. They had to be able to elaborate, and build up that proper facade. It would not be an easy task for anyone, he'd have to agree there. Ultimately though, it was just an act.
Why was it taking so long to reach the goddamned point? He needed to sort out his thoughts here, try and find some sort of cohesion and coherency. Otherwise, the snap of the synapse that would soon follow if he didn't bother acknowledging the many parts to this particular batch of trouble? It would be grand, but not in a way anyone else would encourage. All he could say here: lock your doors and duck for cover.
And then, be good little sheep and let him rip you apart, as soon as he'd shattered your barriers, dragging you out kicking and screaming to meet your maker. Right then and there, he wouldn't be thinking of distinctions, like 'friend' or 'foe'. A frightening smile was starting to tug at his lips.
Of all things, Yazoo had managed to convince Sephiroth to follow him into a sex shop. Yes. That wasn't a mistake. A sex shop. Let that sink in.
No matter if Sephiroth was the oldest and strongest, his charm and smarts were shared by Yazoo, who knew damn well what he had been given. Then add to that the fact that the younger bastard had honed those 'skills' of his to a dangerous perfection, using them on anyone he wanted something from? Yeah, a particularly nasty combination.
He'd sharpened his 'abilities' probably even further than Sephiroth's-Kadaj was pretty certain his eldest Brother didn't pout nearly as much as Yazoo. Or talk his way right out of-or into-situations as often as he did. Sephiroth was good with words, but he didn't need to use any sort of manipulation with them, just to get what he wanted. He could've, he just chose not to. Most of the time, he didn't need to-his regular words were forceful enough on their own. His intent was always crystal clear.
There was no desire to manipulate anyone else for his personal gain, when he'd already found all he could've ever wanted-and more, by this present moment in time. His life was truly enviable, if you looked in at it from an outside perspective.
The head of the Remnants couldn't argue with it, either. Sephiroth was first...he was always first. First to be born, first to be noticed, first to be praised and adored. First to come to mind, first to achieve all these things. First to find and claim a mate. Kadaj-and to a certain extent, his Brothers, he just commented on it more-had to struggle and claw their way up, like wild animals caged below in the bowels of the Planet. A hole that had no beginning or end, even with the faint glow just out of his reach, above his head.
Kadaj had a grittier perspective of it than they did, this was evident. His mind was starving for stimulation and focus, in search of an outlet. The image went on. His fingers were bloody and gnarled, clutching so hard and deep at the crumbling, high walls surrounding him. The scent of being so far down in the dirt was swarming his nose, the rising smoke clouds choking his already strained lungs. His figure was stained in mud and more blood, sweat, and maybe even...a tear or two.
Not out of sadness. Out of venom. Jealousy. Anger. Spiteful fury that it was taking so long just to reach his goal. How many times would he have to climb up that unforgiving, claustrophobic tunnel, only to fall short once more? When would he have that moment, when the world would finally notice his greatness and merit on its own, instead of constantly comparing him and his siblings to fucking Sephiroth?!
A/N: And so, a new tale begins. Where one perspective ends, another is picked up in its wake.
Hello there, everyone. Welcome to a new story, though one that does not quite stand on its own [as much as its Narrator would prefer otherwise]. This fanfiction is a tie-in, or second telling, of the events that occurred in a previously posted story, 'Jigsaw Girl'. If you're interested in reading it, it's on my profile.
Basically, this tale focuses on the perspective of a different face: the youngest of the three Remnants, Kadaj. And, like Yazoo, he's not shy about sharing his POV. Yazoo's tale focused on both the events of the current day, as well as the past. The same is true here. However, being that our guide is not, it's obvious that things would be different this time around. How much so? Well, you'll have to wait and see.
Like the prior story, the same warnings/guidelines apply here. It's an AU universe, featuring Crossovers and OCs. If that is not your cup of tea, that's fine. I would much rather people read what they enjoy, as opposed to otherwise. Fandom is big enough for everyone to play in w/out stepping on toes. At least, that's what I believe. As always, feedback is welcomed, encouraged and appreciated. I'm not perfect, and if there's anything I could work on, I would appreciate the head's up. I can't get better if I'm unaware. One pair of eyes is not necessarily enough to produce a good product.
Next time: more musings. A taste of the tumultuous thoughts and temptations that whirl around, through his mind and bloodstream. Things are never stable; they just break and hold together in different ways. They learn to work through the pain. But those cracks will never truly mend...and the past can only be ignored for so long, before the sensations and memories are triggered once more.
Until then, take care everyone.