A Good Soldier

Snow eased the door open and wheeled himself into the room. A rueful smile tugged at his lips. It was almost funny. It had been more than a year now, and there were still times when he forgot that he didn't need to reach down for the doorknob anymore. Old habits never died easy.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he lifted his chin and brought his hand up in a salute. "Sergeant Villiers reporting, sir."

"At ease, sergeant." The words came from the man behind the table at the far end of the room. He had dark hair streaked with grey, and a pair of glasses perched haphazardly on his face. He had a moustache too, one that was just shy of messy. "Thank your coming. I am Professor Gast." He gestured at the table. "Would you like to have a seat?"

Almost as soon as the professor had spoken the words, Snow saw him bite back a wince. Snow chuckled softly. "It's all right, professor," he said as he guided his wheelchair over to the table. "I know what you meant."

The professor nodded. "Even so, I apologise."

Snow glanced down at his wheelchair for a moment and then shrugged. "I don't need anyone's pity, professor. There are still things that I can do."

"I see." Gast smiled faintly. "That's good." He paused for a moment. "Tell me, sergeant, do you know why you are here?"

Snow shook his head. "Not really, professor. I was told to report to you for a briefing of some kind. That's all." A small frown crossed his lips. "If this is about what happened last week…"

Gast waved one hand. "Relax, sergeant. This briefing isn't related to what happened last week. By all accounts, you've been doing quite well. No, this briefing is about something else." He tapped his fingers lightly on a thick manila folder in front of him. It had Snow's name on it. "Tell me something, sergeant. Why did you join the Sanctum Armed Forces?"

Snow was silent for a moment. He hadn't expected a question like that. No, he'd expected a briefing about maybe taking on more administrative work – the only work he could do now that he was in a wheelchair. Still, he didn't see the harm in answering, and from the way his superiors had been acting, this Professor Gast was someone important. If the professor wanted to make small talk, Snow would just have to go along with it.

"I'm an orphan, professor. I spent my childhood as a ward of the state. When I turned eighteen, there really wasn't a place for me anymore." Snow wasn't bitter about that, not anymore. The law only mandated care for people under eighteen, and at least the state had paid for him to finish high school. "I didn't have the money for university, and there wasn't a lot that I was good at. The military seemed like the only place for me."

"Is that so?" Gast tapped the manila folder again and Snow had to fight not to look down at it. What did the professor know about him? "Is that all, sergeant? You just joined because you didn't know what else to do?"

Snow opened his mouth to agree and then stopped. There was something about Gast that made him a little uneasy. The professor didn't seem like a cruel man, but he did seem like a very, very perceptive one. The professor wanted the truth, and Snow had a feeling that he'd go a very long way to find it.

"I guess that's not the only reason." Snow laughed softly. "But it's going to sound a little stupid."

Gast smiled. "Let me be the judge of that."

"Do you know those cartoons they show in the morning, professor?" Snow looked away, his eyes drifting over the walls of the room. "The ones with superheroes. When I was a kid, professor, I used to watch those everyday, and dream about how great it would be if I could do something like that. I wanted to make a difference, to go out there and make the world a better place." He looked back at Gast. "I was eighteen when I joined the military, professor, eighteen and all I had was a high school diploma and enough money to rent a tiny apartment in the bad part of town. Where else was I supposed to go to make a difference?" He patted his useless legs. "Well, you can see how that turned out."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be a hero, sergeant. There's nothing stupid about wanting to make a difference." Gast's voice was oddly gentle. "I've certainly heard worse in my day. One man I spoke to joined the military because he wanted to shoot someone." He opened the manila folder and leafed through the papers inside. "And from your records, sergeant, you seem to have done quite well. You've served two tours of duty, and received two special commendations for valour."

Snow chuckled. "I'd almost forgotten about those." He shrugged. "I just got lucky, that's all."

"Lucky?" Gast shook his head. "You were awarded your first commendation for singlehandedly taking a machine gun post that had your entire squad pinned down. Your second commendation was received for disabling several tanks." He grinned. "Luck? Maybe. But I like to believe that we make our own luck, sergeant."

"Well, it was either do those things or watch everyone in my squad get killed," Snow said. "Anyone else would have done the same."

"I'm not so sure about that." Gast paused. "But one year ago, you were injured. According to your records, you suffered extensive damage to your spinal cord after being caught in an explosion. The doctors didn't think you would survive, never mind regain the use of your arms."

Snow's jaw clenched. The professor didn't have to remind him about his injuries. He lived with them every day. "That's right."

"Why didn't you quit?" Gast asked. He leaned forward. "No one would have blamed you, and you would have received a reasonable pension for the rest of your life."

Snow shook his head, and straightened in his wheelchair. "I didn't sign up just to quit, professor. I might have lost my legs, but like you said, I've still got my arms." He grinned. "And there's always paperwork that needs doing. It's not much, but at least I can still help."

"I see." Gast glanced back at the contents of the manila folder. "I've reviewed the notes taken by the physicians and psychologists that helped you during your recovery. They make frequent reference to your determination, to your refusal to quit. They say that you handled yourself very well, that you never complained about how hard the rehabilitation was. In fact, their primary concern was that you were pushing yourself too hard." He pursed his lips. "They also make note of the positive influence you had on your fellow patients. Apparently, your example proved to be quite beneficial."

"That's very kind of them," Snow said. "But can you tell me why I'm here? I know all of this already."

Gast closed the manila folder. "Of course, I suppose it's about time I got down to business. However, before I begin, you must agree to keep everything I am about to say secret." His gaze hardened. "This is not a joke, sergeant. What you are about to hear is top secret and if you divulge this information to anyone, you will be imprisoned for a very, very long time." He paused to let his words sink in. "Do you agree?"

Snow nodded slowly. "I do."

"Good." Gast sighed. "Are you familiar with mako, sergeant?"

Snow frowned faintly. "As in the stuff they put in mako reactors?"

Gast nodded. "That's right. Sergeant, I am one of the world's leading mako researchers. Those reactors that you've heard about are just one example of the research I've been involved in. Properly controlled, mako has enormous potential as an energy source, although we're still trying to work out all of the kinks." His expression grew serious. "One of the more serious issues we've had to deal with is the effect that mako has on living things."

"Radiation poisoning," Snow murmured. "I think I heard about something like that in the news."

"Precisely," Gast said. "Overexposure to mako almost always leads to severe radiation poisoning resulting death." He paused. "It's the 'almost always' part that makes things tricky. One of my colleagues, a Professor Hojo, was intrigued and with government support, he decided to investigate the effects of mako on living things more closely. After all, understanding why mako poisoning kills some things and not others has obvious implications when it comes to safety. Unfortunately, he didn't stop there."

"What do you mean?" Snow asked. There was something in Gast's tone that unsettled him.

"Hojo discovered that under certain circumstances, mako could actually be used to physically enhance human beings." Gast's lips curled. "Infusions of mako – properly treated and organised – vastly increased the physical abilities of his test subjects."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Snow said. "But there must have been a problem, otherwise why aren't we using mako for that now?"

"As you suspect, there were problems." Gast shook his head as though to clear away some bad memory. "Further testing identified several flaws, including, but not limited to: homicidal aggression, fundamental changes in personality, and extreme paranoia." He shuddered. "Hojo's research should have been stopped there, but it was allowed to continue. The lure of producing superhuman soldiers was just too great. Eventually, however, one of Hojo's test subjects – Sephiroth – put an end to the program himself. He destroyed the facility where Hojo was conducting his research, and in the investigation that followed, the full extent of Hojo's… research was revealed. Suffice it to say, what we discovered was not only extremely far from pleasant, it was also very much illegal." He sighed. "Hojo escaped our custody and we have been searching for him ever since."

Snow ran one hand through his hair. This was insane. Sephiroth was a notorious criminal, one alleged to possess superhuman physical abilities. To find out that he had been created, and by a government scientist, no less, was nothing short of horrifying. "Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke."

"I wish it were." Gast sighed. "As one of the few people capable of understanding Hojo's research, I was asked to examine what little we were able to retrieve from his facility in the hope of developing a countermeasure. Sephiroth was not the first of Hojo's experiments to escape, and we are not even sure if he was the worst. That's where you come in."

Snow frowned. "I don't understand."

"I have examined Hojo's notes on Sephiroth, and I do not think that Sephiroth started out as a bad man. No, I think what was done to him brought out the worst in him. The problem with mako is that it seems to drive a person toward what we would call 'evil'. Increased aggression, psychopathic behaviour, paranoia – these are all changes that have been observed in numerous test subjects. However, I believe that this does not have to be the case." He paused. "I have developed a new procedure, sergeant, one that I believe does not have the same draw backs. Instead, it should 'supercharge' the test subject, improving not only their physical abilities, but emphasising their personality and other personal characteristics." He looked across the table at Snow. "And that is why you are here. I have spent months looking for a suitable candidate, sergeant, and I believe that you are that suitable candidate." Snow opened his mouth to protest, but Gast cut him off. "You are suitable, and not just because of the accomplishments you have on the battlefield, but because of who you are. I've had you watched, and every report I receive is the same. You are a genuinely good, kind, protective person, someone who always tries to do what is right. That is why I chose you."

Snow shook his head. "Maybe, but in case you've forgotten, professor, I'm in a wheelchair. I can't help you."

Gast smiled. "If my procedure works, sergeant, you won't be needing that wheelchair anymore." He leaned forward. "Will you do it?"

Snow bit his lip. "How risky is this procedure?"

"The chances of it succeeding are less than ten percent. The chances of you dying during the procedure are at least fifty per cent," Gast replied.

Snow trembled. He'd gotten used to his lot in life, but the thought of walking again, of being able to make a difference again… "What else is in it for you, professor? There's no way you'd just give me the procedure and then let me go."

"Of course not." Gast met Snow's gaze squarely. "As I have said, I was asked to develop a countermeasure to Hojo's research. If the procedure succeeded, you would be that countermeasure. Not only would you have to remain part of the military so that we could keep track of your development, you would also be asked to take part in missions on a regular basis."

Snow's hands dug into his thighs, but he didn't feel a thing. Slowly, he nodded. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Gast asked. "Think carefully."

Snow nodded again, firmly this time. "I might not have been born a hero, but it sounds like you can make me one. I'll do it."

"Good." Gast smiled. "Get your things together, sergeant. We leave tomorrow morning."

X X X

Snow looked at the large tube and did his best to beat back a shiver. It was at least seven feet tall and four feet wide. In the middle of it was a frame where he would be strapped down, and he could see a host of needles and IV drips just waiting to be put to use. It didn't help much that there was an audience of about twenty people watching the whole thing.

"Are you ready, sergeant?" Gast asked.

Snow looked at the professor. Since Snow's arrival at the facility, the professor had gone over all of the risks. He had given Snow some idea of what to expect, but even he couldn't be entirely sure of what would happen. After all, Snow was the first person they'd tried this on. "I'm as ready as I can be." He tried to smile. "And call me Snow."

Gast smiled back and reached up to adjust his glasses. "Then good luck, Snow. Try to think of something pleasant, and remember, if this works, you'll be up on your feet in no time." He leaned down. "Now, come on, let's get you set up."

Snow reached up and looped one arm over Gast's shoulder. The professor wasn't especially tall or broad of shoulder, but somehow he managed to get Snow up and out of his wheelchair. As they made their way over to the tube, it tilted, turning onto its side so that Snow could be laid flat onto the frame inside.

"You know," Snow said. "It might have been easier to get someone to help you carry me over here. I'm not exactly small."

Gast chuckled and started hooking up the IVs and securing the restraints. "This is my procedure, Snow. You're already taking a big risk in agreeing to be a part of it. The least I can do is get you hooked up to everything." He connected the last of the IVs and tied an oxygen mask onto Snow's face. "Ready?"

Snow nodded. "Ready."

Gast reached over to press a button and then stepped back as the tube closed and moved into an upright position. "Good luck."

Snow took several deep breaths as the tube began to fill with a bright green liquid. It seemed almost to glow, and the moment it touched his skin, he felt a tingle run through him. Moments later, a needle slid into the base of his spine, followed by another and another. He bit his lip and then let out a hiss as fluid began to flow through the IVs. It had begun.

At first it wasn't too bad, but once the tube was full, there was a low hum before the liquid around him began to bubble. All of a sudden, his world became pain. The fluid pouring into his veins felt like molten fire, and his skin burned. He thrashed – or tried to – but the restraints held him in place. The needles in his spine twisted, driving deeper, and he cried out as agony raced along every single nerve in his body.

The world swam before his eyes, lost in a swirl of bubbles. Lights danced along his vision, and the pressure in the tube seemed to grow and grow. He was being crushed, his bones ground into dust. He clenched his fists and tried to ride the pain, but it was too much, far, far too much. His back arched and he screamed as the whole world turned first white and then black, a deep, endless black –

"Snow!"

He opened his eyes to find himself on the floor of the room. Clumsily, he tried to get up, but his body refused to obey. Dimly, he realised that he could feel the coldness of the floor against his legs.

"Snow, can you hear me, are you all right?" It was Gast. The professor helped Snow up onto his hands and knees and draped a towel over him. "Snow?"

Snow shook himself, and spat out a mouthful of vile green liquid. "I'm fine," he muttered. "I'm fine." He swallowed thickly. He was on his hands and knees. And no one was holding him up. "My legs…" he whispered. "My legs… I… I can move them!"

Gast smiled. "Yes, Snow, you can." He helped Snow up onto his feet. "Here, come with me. We'll have to use the wheelchair for now, since you're not used to walking again yet, and the procedure has probably left you feeling a bit weak."

Snow slumped into his wheelchair, his hands going down to squeeze his thighs. He could feel his legs! He could feel them! "It worked," he murmured. He clenched his fists, surprised by the raw strength he now felt flowing through him. "But you're wrong about something, professor. I don't feel weak… I feel better than I have for a long, long time."

X X X

The next month passed by in a blur of rehabilitation and testing. They quickly established that Snow was at least five times stronger than a man his size should be, maybe more. He was faster too, and his reflexes were off the scale. As for his legs, they were as good as new. He spent hours in the facility's gym getting used to walking again, and when he could do that, he ran, and then he ran some more. It made him want to throw his head back and scream with joy. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt to just run around and feel the floor beneath his feet. From there it was a matter of more training, more exercise, until Snow felt even more capable with his legs than before his injury.

And then there was the psychological testing. He spent hours being interviewed, and even longer being subjected to a barrage of psychological attacks. The professionals at the facility did everything they could to get him angry, to make him lose his cool, but he kept calm. He'd always been fairly easygoing, and it seemed like nothing had changed. Gast was especially pleased when he heard about that.

"All of your psychological evaluations have come back – you passed with flying colours." Gast was sitting on a bench off to one side as Snow laid into a punching bag with punches and kicks. He'd broken almost a dozen of them so far, so Gast had ordered this one in. It was five times heavier than usual, and wrapped in shock and tear resistance fabric. "I have to admit, I was relieved. Your physical abilities were easy enough to see, but the psychological side of things is a bit harder to get at."

Snow chuckled and landed a thundering roundhouse kick. "You and me both, professor. I read some of those reports you gave me about Hojo's experiments. It wasn't pleasant reading."

Gast nodded grimly. "Yes, and that's why we're here: to correct his mistakes." He patted the bench beside him. "Take a break, Snow, I'm getting tired just watching you. I've also got some news you might be interested in."

Snow gave the punching bag one last kick and then ambled over to the bench. Rather than sit down, he chose to stand. He'd sat down enough over the past year. "What kind of news?"

Gast reached down for his cup of coffee and took a sip. "As you know, you're going to be sent into the field to carry out missions. Now, we could just send you out the way you are now. After all, you are stronger, faster, and tougher than any normal human being. However, after some discussion with my colleagues, we decided that it would be better to train you more."

"I know how to fight," Snow said.

"True," Gast agreed, "You did receive the standard military training. But that's the problem, Snow. You are no longer a normal soldier. You have the potential to be so much more. That's why we'll be bringing in experts. Hand-to-hand combat, firearms, covert operations, the works – we're going to make you one of the best."

Snow felt a grin slip across his lips. Now, they were talking. He'd always loved training, and there was nothing quite like learning from the best. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything else to do. They'd made it pretty clear that he wouldn't be leaving the facility until they thought he was ready. This training would only help speed that along.

"Sounds good." Snow smiled. "When do we start?"

Gast took a sip of his coffee and then grinned. "How about now?"

Snow had just enough time to blink before the gym doors burst open and a dark clad figure shot toward him. He just barely managed to dodge a punch before a kick caught him in the side and knocked him back. He winced and brought his hands up, ready to defend himself. That kick had hurt.

His attacked paused for a moment and Snow quickly ran his eyes over them. His attacker was dressed in covert operations clothing: black pants, black shirt with flak jacket, black gloves, and a black mask that covered almost all of their face. In fact, the only features he could make out were the person's burgundy eyes and their impressive chest. His eyes narrowed. His attacker was a woman.

"He's got fast reflexes," the woman murmured, voice soft and just slightly husky. "But his technique could use some work."

Snow's brows furrowed as he looked at Gast. "Wait just a second –"

Gast shook his head. "Questions later, Snow. For now, eyes front."

The woman darted forward again, throwing a punch straight at his sternum. He caught the attack in one fist, but before he could do anything else, she used her other hand to punch him in the liver. He winced, and as his grip loosened, she tugged her arm free and jumped up to elbow him in the face. He reeled, hands up to guard against another attack at his head only for her to kick him in the side of the leg. He dropped to one knee and received another elbow in the head for his trouble. Damn, he thought, whoever this woman was, she could hit. Those strikes felt like he'd been hit with a crowbar.

Growling, he got back to his feet, and threw a textbook left jab. The woman slipped away from the punch and he threw an overhand right to try and catch her on the move. Rather than try and dodge the punch, the woman lunged forward, bracing one arm against his before she drove an uppercut right into his chin. He lurched back, seeing stars, and then crashed to the ground as she swept his legs out from under him. He looked up just in time to see a boot headed straight for his head.

He rolled out of the way, coming up onto his hands and knees, but before he could get any further, the woman's right leg whipped out. She kicked him twice, first in the ribs, and then in the side of the head before she launched herself forward and caught him in the chin with her left knee. He skidded across the floor, biting back a curse as he stumbled to his feet. He growled and tried to meet the woman head on as she rushed forward, throwing another punch and then a knee of his own. She ducked the punch and sidestepped his knee before she drove one fist into his gut and then reached for one of his arms and heaved up him over her shoulder.

He hit the ground again and scrambled away. The woman let him go, giving him a chance to get into a fighting stance. His eyes narrowed. Whoever this woman was, she wasn't just strong, or fast. She was skilled, very, very skilled. A little more cautious this time, he attacked using every bit of training he had, along with years of experience. When punches and kicks didn't work, he tried grappling, but she seemed to know every trick in the book. An attempt to pin her down ended up with him on the floor staring up at her just before she kicked him in the stomach hard enough to drive the breath out of his lungs. He staggered to his feet only for her to land an axe kick to his right shoulder that forced him down onto his knees. A second later, he was on the ground again, as she used the leg that was still on his shoulder to throw herself into a perfect flip kick that put her boot on a collision course with his chin. Damn it, if he'd been a normal person, he would have been dead ten times over.

"That's enough," Gast shouted. "Agent Lockhart."

The woman relaxed at once. "Yes, professor." She walked over to Snow, and extended one hand to help him up. "No hard feelings?"

The woman's voice was warm and friendly, and she seemed genuinely apologetic about beating him like a drum for the better part of ten minutes. "Of course not – as long as you teach me how to fight like that."

Gast chuckled. "Actually, Snow, that's why she's here. Agent Lockhart is one of the world's premier hand-to-hand combat specialists. From now on she will be your instructor in all things combat related." He came over to pat Snow on the shoulder. "As you can see, being strong or fast or tough isn't enough. You need to be skilled, and one way or another, Agent Lockhart is going to make sure you are."

Agent Lockhart rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Professor, give Snow a little credit. He did better than most people do." She glanced back at Snow. "Get some rest. We're starting tomorrow."

X X X

Training with Agent Lockhart was an interest experience, to say the least. After the beating she'd given him the first time, Snow had simply expected more of the same. However, he got quite the opposite. Agent Lockhart turned up the next day in sneakers, tracksuit pants, and a t-shirt. Without her mask on, Snow was able to appreciate the fact that Agent Lockhart wasn't just pretty – she was beautiful. Her features were soft, almost gentle, but there was a subtle strength there as well, visible now and then in the determined set of her jaw, and the confident way she held herself. Her hair, when it was untied, fell down her back in a long, dark tide. However, it was her eyes that really drew his attention. Outside of sparring, they were always kind, filled with the same warm humour that infused her voice whenever she spoke. During sparring, however, it was a very different story. Her eyes were deadly serious then, not to mention inscrutable and almost cold.

"You've already learned a bit about how to fight," Agent Lockhart said as she led him over to the middle of the gym. "The basic training you received when you joined the military involves a certain level of hand-to-hand fighting, and I could tell from our earlier fight that you've learned a few things on the street as well." She grinned. "My job is to take you past all of that. I'm going to filter out all the junk and make sure that you learn what you need to fight anybody anywhere." She paused. "You're fast, you're strong, and you're tough. That makes you dangerous. I'm going to give you skill on top of all of that. That's going to make you deadly."

Snow nodded eagerly. "Bring it on."

And she did. She started by drilling the basics into him. Every single error in how he threw a punch, a kick, an elbow, or a knee was pointed out and corrected. It didn't matter if it took hours, or hundreds of repetitions, he would fix the problem, and if he didn't, she would mercilessly exploit it in sparring until he did. But it wasn't just striking she fixed. She taught him how to stand, how to block, how to grapple. He'd learned the basics, but only enough to make them functional. She taught him the how and the why and then beat the lessons into him one sparring session at a time. For instance, he hadn't even realised that he had a tendency to drop his left hand after throwing a jab rather than bringing it back to his chin. Well, she made him realise – by kicking him in the head every single time.

At the same time, he was amazed by how quickly he learned everything. Agent Lockhart said that it was probably a side effect of Gast's procedure. Whatever it was, he felt like a sponge, soaking up all the knowledge that Agent Lockhart had to offer. And she had a lot of knowledge. From what he'd seen, she'd mastered dozens of styles, and combined them into something that was altogether new, a unique style of fighting that was at once incredibly graceful and disturbingly effective.

Even more impressive, however, was how quickly she'd begun to tailor her training specifically to him. They were very different, and rather than trying to make him fight exactly like she did, she taught him how to use his own advantages: his size, his strength, his speed, and his toughness. By the time she was done, he would have his own style, something designed just for him.

As the weeks passed, he came to both love and hate the training sessions that went on for hours as she drilled technique after technique into him before dragging him onto the sparring mats to make sure he could use what he'd learned. It was almost funny how much better she was than him. No matter how hard he tried, he could hardly ever hit her, and it was only when she brought in other sparring partners that he truly realised how much progress he had made. He beat all of them, easily, and not just because he was stronger or faster than they were. He'd been able to read their attacks, to predict what they could do, and then respond accordingly. He wasn't just throwing punches and kicks anymore, he was stringing together combinations and forcing his opponent to leave openings, ones that he knew he could use to end the fight. When he got hit, he no longer reacted rashly. Instead, he learned when to cover up, when to give ground, and when to retaliate.

Still, it took a little over three months before he managed to land a decent blow on Agent Lockhart. He felt bad about it for roughly three seconds, which was how much time it took for her to punch him in the face and then kick him into a wall without enough force to rattle his teeth.

Throughout it all, Agent Lockhart treated him with a warmth that he found reassuring. He wasn't sure if they were friends, but he liked to think they were. When they weren't training, they would often sit outside, drink bottles in hand, and just talk. Of course, she wasn't allowed to say too much about herself, but she seemed happy enough to talk about anything else. She had a good sense of humour – when she wasn't beating him up – and she didn't seem to mind listening when he talked about some of the worries he had.

As he got better at hand-to-hand combat, Agent Lockhart expanded his training. It wasn't enough for her that he could hold his own in unarmed combat. His opponents would often be armed, so it made sense to shore up his training in that respect too.

Just like he'd already known how to fight, he already knew how to shoot a gun. But Agent Lockhart taught him more, she taught him how to move, how to use cover, how to use each shot as efficiently as possible. A combination of luck, guts, and determination had won him his commendations for valour – she made sure that the next time, he'd only need to rely on his skill. When he grew comfortable with one weapon, she gave him another until he felt confident with dozens of firearms. It made him wonder just who exactly she was.

More months passed, and Gast brought in other specialists to teach him about surveillance, about covert operations, and even about improvising weapons like explosives. He learned a lot from all of the specialists, but always it was Agent Lockhart who helped him piece it all together, who helped him see how all of the disparate pieces could be put together into a single deadly whole.

X X X

A little over a year had passed since Snow had undergone the procedure. He had spent that whole time at the facility learning everything that he could. Recently, however, Gast had told him that he was almost ready. Soon, he would be leaving the facility and going on missions. He was going to start making a difference.

It was the thought of leaving the facility that finally got him to ask Agent Lockhart about her past again. To his surprise, she didn't immediately say no.

"Ask," Agent Lockhart murmured. The two of them were sitting outside watching the clouds after another training sessions. "But remember, there's only so much I can tell you."

"Who are you?" Snow asked.

Agent Lockhart chuckled softly and brushed back a lock of her dark hair. "You're very blunt, Snow, although I have to admit, I kind of like that." She smiled wistfully at his puzzled look. "You see, there's another blonde with blue eyes that I happen to know who is the complete opposite. He's strong, Snow, but he likes to keep things to himself, maybe a little too much."

"Okay…" Snow shrugged.

She laughed again. "All right, I've got clearance to tell you a few things. As you might have guessed, I'm not exactly a normal person. I'm a member of a special operations team called AVALANCHE. Amongst other things, we help clean up some of the mess that Hojo left behind."

"So that's why you disappear sometimes," Snow mused. "But how are you so strong and fast? I thought I was the first person they used this procedure on."

"You are," Agent Lockhart said. "The thing is, I've been learning how to fight my whole life. When I was a child, I met a man named Zangan." She smiled. "Don't worry if you don't recognise the name. Trust me, he was a genius, one of the greatest martial artists in history, and I was lucky enough to be his final student. He knew things that, well, science still can't quite explain."

That piqued Snow's interest. "Like what?"

Agent Lockhart grinned. "Watch." She walked over to a patch of grass and lifted one hand. For a split-second, the air around her fist seemed to shimmer before she drove her hand into the ground. The result was a crater several feet wide. "What do you think?"

"How did you do that?" Snow breathed.

"Zangan believed in the existence in some kind of spiritual energy that could be honed and accessed through rigorous training and meditation." Agent Lockhart moved back over to Snow. "It took me years to understand what he was talking about, but as you can see, it works."

"Professor Gast must find that pretty interesting," Snow said.

"He does." Agent Lockhart chuckled. "But he still can't understand how it works. It drives him crazy." She smiled. "Now, that's enough questions. Time to do some more sparring."

Two weeks later, Snow finally got the news he'd been waiting for.

"Snow," Gast said. "Today, you'll be going out on your first mission."

Snow nodded. "Good." He looked around the lab that Gast had called him to. It seemed to be empty except for the two of them. "What sort of mission is it?"

"We'll get to that in a moment." Gast grinned, and pressed a button on the wall next to him. The wall opened up revealing a costume of some sort.

Snow stared. "What is that for?"

Gast's grin widened. "It's for you. Since you are part of a top-secret operation, we do need to take some steps to hide your identity from the general public." He waved at the costume. "What do you think?"

Snow looked at the costume again. It would cover his entire body except for his nose, mouth and eyes. Colour-wise, almost the entire thing was white, although there were black boots and gloves, along with grey stripes along the torso. The part that would cover his head was also grey.

"It looks ridiculous." Snow winced. "Really ridiculous."

Gast just chuckled. "Well, if it helps, it's made out of a bullet proof fabric that is also designed to withstand blows from knives and other edged weapons." He paused. "It's also fireproof and able to insulate you from extreme changes in temperature."

"Well, that sounds pretty good," Snow said. "But did it have to look like… like that?" He looked more closely at the head of the costume and winced. There were little white wings emblazoned on the side for crying out loud.

Gast shrugged. "Well, I was the one who designed the fabric. The actual look of the thing came from somewhere else." His lips twitched. "We've decided to pass you off as a new superhero, Snow. Apart from undertaking missions with teams from the military, we also want to see how you work with civilians. Being a superhero should help with that."

Snow's eyes narrowed. "I don't suppose you might have mentioned anything to your colleagues about what we talked about in your office, professor?"

"About you wanting to be a superhero when you were a kid?" Gast smiled innocently. "No."

"Fine." Snow sighed. "What's my superhero name?"

"Well, we were a little stuck for the name." Gast gave Snow a pat on the back. "But since you'll be helping to keep Cocoon safe, we thought we'd go with Captain Cocoon."

Snow groaned. "Seriously? You couldn't come have come up with anything better?"

"Not really." Gast reached for something on the wall beside the costume and handed it over to Snow. It was a circular shield with an intricate symbol in the middle. "This is yours too, take it."

"Why a shield?" Snow asked as he took the shield. It felt good in his left hand, sturdy but light.

"The shield is one of my finest works," Gast said. "It's practically unbreakable and all but immune to energy-based attacks. If you're going to go up against some of Hojo's creations, you'll need something like it." His expression grew serious. "And it's a symbol too. Hojo designed weapons, Snow, things that killed. You're going to be different. You're going to be the shield that protects the innocent people of Cocoon from all the mistakes that we've made."

Snow stared at the shield for a moment longer and then looked at the costume. "It doesn't sound that bad when you put it like that."

Gast nodded. "Good, now change."

Fifteen minutes later, and Snow was ready. Just how they'd gotten the costume to fit so well, he didn't want to know. "So, what's my mission?"

Gast went over to a table and pressed several buttons on his computer. An image appeared on the screen at the front of the lab. "A special operations team has reported trouble near a place called the Hanging Edge. Based on their reports, they may have spotted some of Hojo's creations. Your task will be to assist them in either apprehending or eliminating the threats."

"And after that?" Snow asked. "Will I be coming back here?"

Gast shook his head. "No. Based on Agent Lockhart's reports, we believe that you are now ready to leave the facility. We've had an apartment rented for you in Eden City."

"Why Eden City?" Snow frowned. "And what about my training with Agent Lockhart?"

"There is a facility in Eden City that will be able to continue monitoring your progress. In addition, Eden City is centrally located, which will make it easier to deploy you anywhere in the country." Gast glanced at the door. "And as for Agent Lockhart, you can ask her yourself."

Snow looked toward the door. Agent Lockhart was standing there, dressed in her full covert operations uniform.

"I've taught you as much as I can," Agent Lockhart said. "Everything else you have to learn in the field." She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.

"What's this?" Snow asked. There was an address on it, along with a phone number.

"That's the address of a bar called 7th Heaven. You'll find it in Midgar City. Stop by some time, or if not, call." She chuckled at the look of surprise on his face. "Don't look so surprised, I don't spend all my time fighting evil, and I do need somewhere to live." She turned. "Good luck, Snow. I'd go with you, but, I've a mission of my own to worry about."

"Wait!" he shouted. "What's your real name?"

She stopped for a moment and then looked over her shoulder. "Tifa Lockhart. And Snow, I mean it. If you need someone to talk to, or if you just want someone to come over and beat you up, give me a call. After all, what are friends for?"

He laughed. "That's right. What are friends for? Take care, Agent Lockhart – I mean… Tifa." He watched her leave and then turned back to Gast. "So, what's the name of this team that I'll be helping?"

Gast looked down at his computer for a moment. "NORA. The team's name is NORA."

X X X

Author's Notes

As always, I neither own Final Fantasy nor am I making any money off of this.

Well, I had to get around to Snow eventually. It took me a while to settle down on my approach, and I actually ended up discarding my first draft entirely since it was pretty much one big train wreck. That said I'm reasonably happy with the way this turned out.

Snow's character is loosely based on Captain America (especially the more recent movie version of Captain America). What I've always liked about Snow is that despite his occasional (or not so occasional) lapses into somewhat goofy behaviour, he has a good heart, and the guts to stand up for what he believes is right. That's one of the things that separates Captain America from a host of other superheroes – that quintessential goodness and willingness to fight for what is right, even if seems impossible. In the movie, Captain America starts off as a scrawny young man who undergoes a radical transformation into a superhero. I didn't want to go quite that far because there are a number of problems with that approach (e.g., how does he get so awesome at fighting?), so I decided to make Snow a wounded soldier, someone who already has a foundation to build upon.

And speaking of foundations, I wasn't sure about whom I should pick to help turn Snow from a regular soldier into Captain Cocoon. At first, I thought I might go with Fujin who has done a pretty good job of training Vanille (in Whispers of the Gods), but I wanted to avoid too much crossover between my stories idea wise. I also realised that Fujin's personality really wouldn't fit that well with Snow. She'd probably just strangle him or something. Apart from Fujin, however, Tifa is one of the Final Fantasy characters who really excels in unarmed combat. In addition, she also has just the right mixture of warmth and strength that I think Snow would really respond well too. It doesn't hurt that she's also just all around awesome (definitely one of my favourite Final Fantasy characters of all time). As for which superhero Tifa is based on, in my head she's sort of a mash up between Iron Fist and Black Widow (both from Marvel Comics), but with a distinct twist in personality to stay true to her character. Really, there's a part of me that just can't wait to drag some more characters from AVALANCHE into things (I'm thinking Yuffie and Vincent, in particular).

The choice of Gast was actually one of the easier decisions I had to make. Hojo is a great villain, and Gast's views on science (and basic morality) are diametrically opposed to his. This Gast, however, is not as naïve as the one in Final Fantasy VII. He is not going to let Hojo go about unchecked, and he is not about to let people take research he had a part in and use it for their own evil ends.

Finally, for those of you who weren't aware, Tifa, Hojo, Gast, and Sephiroth are all from Final Fantasy VII. Snow, of course, is from Final Fantasy XIII.

As always, I appreciate feedback. Reviews and comments are welcome.