7. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust


Xehanort-Ansem began laying out his plans for this great new world they'd rule, answerable only to themselves and him. He claimed their attention so thoroughly that nobody was expecting it when the door to the lab not only crashed open, but tore off and flew across the room. It slammed against the wall, falling and crushing some of their delicate equipment. Even loosed an outraged shriek, but fell silent at the figure looming over them at the top of the stairs.

Sephiroth was terrifying to behold. Gripping the longest sword Braig had ever seen, he glowered at the six men. "You are behind all this?" His gaze settled on Braig and his jaw set. "I saw you appear from that piece of darkness in the Great Hall. I should have guessed there was more to Zack's disappearance than just a personal vendetta, but I never imagined the rot in Radiant Garden went so deep."

Xehanort-Ansem didn't reply, he just reached out and the air between him and Sephiroth shimmered as if with heat haze. Sephiroth launched himself from the top of the stairs right before the handrail crumbled like it'd been clenched in a giant fist.

"Kill him!" Xehanort-Ansem shouted. "He'll ruin everything. Kill him now!"

Dilan pulled out another extendable spear to match the one already in his hand. Braig knew his body armour used to be littered with them, and couldn't see why Dilan would've stopped carrying his favourite weapons now. Aeleus's massive tomahawk was still in his hand from the Great Hall, and they advanced on Sephiroth together.

Braig made to join them, falling into Blood Trio manoeuvres his body remembered better than his mind, but he'd noticed the other figure at the top of the stairs – the one who'd stepped back into the hallway like a frightened little mouse at Xehanort-Ansem's display of power. Braig rushed up the ruined staircase, pulling Revolver from its scabbard as he went.

By the time he reached the top Captain Trepe had shaken off her fear and was advancing back onto the stairs. She faced him with the authority of one used to dealing with unruly students, but he could see that fear hadn't actually gone away. It was still in her eyes, and written in the patterns of blood and black dust on her dress uniform.

"Commander, how could you?" she demanded. "All those people -"

"What the hell do I care about them? I've kept my mouth shut for too long, Quistis. I'm overdue an opportunity to show my fangs."

"But … the other faculty members. Captain Reno, sir. He's dead. So are the students – I saw Kinneas and Dincht. They had their hearts ripped out by those things. And you set them loose?"

"No."

Relief briefly washed over her face.

"But if I'd been around, I would've. Those kids were nobodies. Captain Reno was an idiot with a big mouth."

"Commander!"

Avoiding her bullwhip was easy. He'd always considered it a useless weapon in a fight, though she'd tried to convince him countless times that it was just as effective as firearms. They moved down the hall, her trying to wrap the leather of her whip around his throat or Revolver so she could rip it from his hands; him deftly evading every blow and forcing her back. When he fired one of the gunblade's explosive shells she ducked through a doorway and he followed, battle-lust driving him on.

Trepe was pretty good at hand-to-hand, but when he removed hers at the wrists she was at a distinct disadvantage. She stared at the stumps, too shocked to even register the pain, and he separated her head from her neck in the instant she was distracted. Just because he preferred bullets didn't mean he couldn't do the job just as well without them. He was the only gunblade master this side of Resplendia, after all.

Which was when he heard the hammering of fists on glass, and saw the only other gunblader in Radiant Garden on his knees, watching in horror as Braig murdered one of his own. Disbelief cut its curves in Squall's face. The box was soundproofed, but he didn't need to talk to communicate his incredulity and revulsion – and the betrayal burning in his blue eyes.

Braig turned his back on him, made overconfident by the kill and eager to return to the battle with Sephiroth. Blocking the doorway, however, was an irritating gnat with a bo staff.

"I thought you'd have bled out by now."

"Amazing what even trainee healers can do," Highwind gritted, and charged him.

Braig might have finished the injured Highwind in an instant, had it not been for the other body that launched itself through the door and set about him with kicks and punches.

"Squall!" Cadet Lockheart yelled. "Hold on!" She'd obviously followed Highwind down here, judging by the way he grunted and tried to make her stay out of the fight, which she refused to do. "Don't worry, Squall! We'll get you out!"

"Two or two hundred, I'll kill you all," Braig snarled, lost to the frenzy of battle. His head swam and his veins quivered as he used his body for what it had always been meant to do. "Yaargh!"

"Oh gods … Captain Trepe …" Lockheart stumbled at the sight of the woman who'd been in charge of her dorm since she joined the cadets.

"Fuck it, Braig!" Highwind blocked the strike intended to skewer the girl. Bo staff and gunblade locked in a test of strength Braig knew he was destined to win. "Why? Just tell me why? You owe that at least."

"As if. I don't owe you anything. Except maybe this." Braig twisted and pulled the pistol from its holster again. Highwind's kneecap made an enjoyably wet crunch. So did his ribs when he toppled onto his side and Braig kicked him. "Sweet Shiva, I've wanted to do that for a long time, you sanctimonious bastard."

Lockheart launched herself with impressive speed and kicked out at his head, forcing him away from Highwind and towards Squall's box. Her eyes widened in alarm at what she'd done. On instinct, Braig looked around, and gave a furious roar at the sight of the little healer girl from earlier undoing the locking mechanism.

Braig swung the gunblade around and fired without thinking, but it was too late. Squall shoved the door open from the inside, cannoning into the girl and knocking her out of the way. The container was built to withstand Heartless attacks, but not the destructive force of a gunblade shell. There was a reason even gunblade masters rarely used them. The report alone was enough to liquefy eardrums. The container's glass shattered, sending thick chunks in all directions. Braig covered his face with his arm to shield it and heard yelps of pain from everyone in the room. One shard lodged in his forearm, sticking out from both sides. It numbed his hand, forcing him to drop Revolver from suddenly nerveless fingers.

Squall's face was a mask of red from the slash across the bridge of his nose and forehead. He was lucky the wound hadn't blinded him, though he blinked rapidly as his own blood got into his eyes faster than he could wipe it away. The little healer he'd sheltered with his body trembled and stared between him, Braig, and the crumpled forms of Highwind and Lockheart. Lockheart had taken a blow to the head from a piece of flying debris, knocking her out cold. She sprawled over Highwind, who groaned and tried to push her off without passing out from the pain in his knee and chest, and the half-healed damage to his heel and shoulder.

Adrenaline coursed through Braig's system, but he knew his first impulse – to pull the shard from his arm – was a bad one. Right now it was acting as a plug to keep him from bleeding out, though it'd also rendered his hand useless. He grunted against the pain, blocking it out. Pain was just a message for the brain to interpret, he told himself, and his brain was holding all calls.

The scrape of metal brought him back to the present moment. It sounded inordinately loud in the silence following the explosion.

Squall held Revolver in both hands, facing Braig like a seasoned warrior instead of a boy who hadn't yet graduated. "Aerith," he gritted to the healer girl. "Go heal Captain Highwind, and make sure Tifa's okay."

"But -"

"Do it." He set his feet, planting himself between her and Braig. "I don't understand, Commander. Why are you doing this?"

"You have no idea what's going on, Squall."

Squall frowned at the over-familiar use of his name. There was an undercurrent to it Braig no longer tried to conceal. "No, I don't, but I know this isn't you."

Braig chuckled. Yeah, still such an innocent. He wondered whether the boy would ever lose that. If he did, Braig wanted to be the one to take it from him. It was his right, after all. Squall belonged to him now. "Like I said, you have no idea. I worked really hard to keep you safe, kid, but you're determined to play the hero no matter what I do. You just keep finding new people who need you to play that part for them, even if it gets you hurt. You're better than they are. You've always been better than everyone else, but you treat them like they're worth something. Ansem's new world doesn't have any place for nobodies like that, Squall, it only has room for people like you and me – people who matter; who are willing to show their fangs and make sacrifices to get what they want."

"Ansem? Lord Ansem ordered you to do this?"

"Lord Ansem … released those monsters?" Highwind wheezed. "I dun' believe it. He wouldn't sentence all those people to death like that. He ain't no mass murderer."

"Shut the hell up, Highwind, and open your eyes. You think all those orders to wipe out the enemy with acid-dragon blood bombs and whipsnake grenades came from his food-taster? Lord Ansem may have made himself into some super-nice, hi-everybody-I'm-harmless-really weakling since the war ended, but there's blood on his hands, the same as the rest of us. That hypocrite has just as much darkness in his heart as … well, me. And I never even looked at my probe results." Braig rounded on Squall. "You've never known Radiant Garden as anything but this fake paradise where everybody gets along and yadda-yadda-yadda. Newsflash: that's bullshit. The place was built on bones, but nobody talks about that because, hey, we won the war, right? History's written by the winners, and Lord Ansem wrote a real doozy of a fairytale for this shithole. Problem is, he started to believe it, and he shoved it down everybody else's throats, too."

"Radiant Garden -" Squall started.

"Is a sham. Now's the time you'd better learn the most important lesson I'll ever teach you, Squall: everything too good to be true is, and if you're not willing to be the strongest and take what you want by force, you'll get sucked into the lie and trampled like every other blind fool."

Since his dress uniform had no gloves, Squall's hands were visible. Braig could see the whiteness of his knuckles. "Commander, what happened to you?"

"I was given the opportunity to be in on a new world order, if you'll believe the rhetoric. But this is a lesson I've always known, Squall. Too bad your daddy didn't when he took on Ansem and lost."

Squall's eyes widened so much the whites were visible all around his irises. "You're lying."

"As if. I've never lied to you, Squall. Your father's dead. All your little friends are dead. I'm the only one left who matters to you."

"You're lying!"

"Yaaaah!" A tiny bundle of silk and gold flew out of the shadows as if it'd been part of them. It wrapped around Braig's head, effectively blinding him. "You keep away from my future husband, you poopy-head!"

"Highness!" Squall yelped.

"Princess Yuffie!" cried the healer girl.

"Damn it, I thought someone was following us," Highwind growled. "Goddamn ninjas!"

A small foot landed directly on the shard of glass in Braig's arm, jolting it sideways and cutting into the muscle. He roared, unable to register the message as anything but excruciating pain. Reaching up with his good hand, he grabbed the little Wutai princess by her leg and swung her around like a mace on a chain. She squealed. He let her fly and, predictably, Squall transferred the gunblade to one hand and leaped to catch her with the other. He rolled, cutting himself on the scattered glass, coming to rest against Captain Trepe's body.

The princess began to scream. "She hasn't got a head. Why hasn't she got a head?!"

Braig decided the irritating brat didn't much need her head either. He had enough rounds left in his pistol to take her out and cover himself while he went to fetch another weapon that wasn't just a glorified club.

However, when he levelled the pistol something hard and metal smacked against the back of his head and he saw stars.

"C'mon," Highwind shouted, pressing a foot down on the back of Braig's neck to pin him in place. "All you kids get the fuck outta here. I'll take care of this."

"I'm not leaving," Squall began, but the look Highwind threw him wasn't to be trifled with.

"That's an order, Cadet. I may not be a Royal Guard, but I still outrank you. Move it! Get the princess to safety. Lockheart! Gainsborough! Shift your asses and go with him. This sack of shit is mine."

Braig sniggered, nose squashed against the floor. "As … if."

He reached around at a thoroughly gymnastic angle and grabbed the ankle of Highwind's injured foot, pirouetting him towards the floor. Once again, Highwind obviously hadn't waited for the healer to finish completely, because he yelped in agony and grabbed the knee Braig had shot. Still, he managed to land a solid boot into Braig's ribs that left him breathless despite his enhanced strength and agility.

"You have … no idea how long I've … wanted to do that," Highwind gasped.

"Save it for whatever god comes to collect your mangy soul and take it to hell."

"Only if they come for you first, you murderous scumbag."

The room rocked suddenly with the force of an explosion so immense it seemed to shake the whole castle down to its foundations. It had come from next door, where Sephiroth and the other apprentices were still, presumably, engaged in battle. Braig got the feeling Xehanort-Ansem was cutting loose with some more of those freaky powers, heedless of the structural integrity of the building they were inside.

"Fuck." Braig leapt to his feet and dashed into the corridor.

"Get back here!" Highwind shouted.

Flames licked out of the doorway to the main lab, but vanished in a second without leaving any scorch marks. Braig ran towards the door, but stopped when General Sephiroth appeared, slashing at what looked like a whipsnake with three heads. The glowing blue reptile snapped at his sword, attempting to electrocute him through it with its special bite. With a flick of his wrist, Sephiroth decapitated all three heads and the creature vanished. Then, pulled by some sixth sense, he looked sideways.

"You!" The glare was as sharp as that ridiculously long sword. Sephiroth's slitted pupils had narrowed until they wee almost invisible, lost in the unearthly green glow of his eyes. Braig recalled the stories that this man had non-human blood in his family tree. It would account for how he'd spent all this time fighting multiple opponents, one of whom was the far-more-powerful-than-Braig-had-ever-realised Xehanort-Ansem, and was still standing.

For the first time since his enhancements – possibly in his life – Braig felt afraid of an opponent.

Aeleus appeared out of the lab, bleeding profusely and with tomahawk raised. He charged Sephiroth, which gave Braig the chance to turn and bolt. With an entire arsenal he'd be wary about trying to face Sephiroth one-on-one, but with a half-empty pistol and a busted arm it was suicidal. He heard Aeleus roar with pain but kept on running, reached the stairs to the dungeons and pelted up them, so that when Sephiroth somersaulted over his head and slammed him backwards he catapulted into one of the cells.

"You're responsible for Zack Fair's disappearance, aren't you?" Sephiroth demanded. "And the death of Quistis Trepe, plus the deaths of countless others who 'went missing' for this disgusting scheme you and those other traitors have been running. A new world order? You've condemned everyone with your dreams of power and madness!"

"Like you wouldn't have taken the chance to sharpen your claws again? Don't tell me you've never felt like a caged animal since the war ended, General. Men like us are built for fighting. We only truly come alive in battle."

"What happened upstairs," Sephiroth growled, "the death of my king, my comrades, and all those other people – that wasn't a battle. That was a slaughter."

Spitting blood, Braig sniped, "And part of you probably loved it."

Eyes literally flashing, Sephiroth raised his sword to stab him through the heart. Braig was only saved by a concussive force that knocked Sephiroth across the room.

Xehanort-Ansem trembled with rage and something more. His labcoat hung off him in charred strips, a large chunk of his scalp and cheek missing and his effortless good looks destroyed. Behind him, Braig could see the other apprentices, lingering like they'd been ordered to follow but didn't know what they were meant to do. Braig sat up and scrambled aside, allowing them to fully enter the cell.

Sephiroth got to his feet, but not before treating the sad little bundle of corpses on which he'd landed to a fresh scowl. "This is your new world order, Xehanort? Massacring innocents to create monsters, locking children away to experiment on them, and lying to those who trusted you most?"

"There is no Xehanort, only Ansem."

Some of the prisoners had died in these cells before they could be set free. The Heartless had ignored their bodies, since their hearts had ceased to beat. The smell of excrement from when the bodies evacuated their bowels was stifling, as was the burgeoning stench of decay beneath it.

"For you," Sephiroth said, looking around at them, "all of you, I'm willing to break my oath not to take a life. Especially," he added, looking directly at Braig, "you. Zack Fair was my best friend. I will not let his death go unpunished."

"You're welcome to try," Xehanort-Ansem said, opening his hands to show a globule of the same swirling dark substance he'd used to make his earlier portals. He made a shoving motion with his hands, sending it careening towards Sephiroth. It wrapped around him, suddenly sticky instead of smooth, and no matter how hard Sephiroth fought he only entangled himself further.

Braig's breath caught in his throat: Xehanort-Ansem had truly discovered a way to use the darkness in his own heart as a weapon, just as Braig himself had always dreamed of doing.

"What -?" Sephiroth was cut off by his bonds constricting his chest. He wheezed, until they wrapped around the lower half of his face, covering his mouth.

"If I can't kill you in this world," Xehanort-Ansem purred, "I'll simply banish you to the Realm of Nothingness where you belong."

The sticky darkness lengthened and thickened until it completely covered Sephiroth. He fell over backwards, corpses sticking to him and becoming absorbed into the substance – absorbed into his body, it seemed, since his shape didn't change no matter how many bodies vanished. He struggled and screeched like a man in the throes of unutterable torment, though his voice was muffled.

When he kicked one of the corpses it groaned. Apparently, when the Heartless bypassed these empty cells, they'd missed a prisoner who was too weak to move, but not yet dead. Braig squinted, recognising the filthy mop of blond hair as Cloud Strife, a cockroach of a boy who was good at surviving when he should've died. Well, he was plumb out of luck this time.

Sephiroth began to fade away from the feet up. It was a slow, agonising process, which made Braig wonder whether Captain Leonheart had died before Lord Ansem was banished this way, or after watching it happen.

Cloud Strife's body snagged in the substance. He groaned, eyelids flickering as it began to consume him.

"Cloud! No!" Someone shoved through the line of apprentices. "No! No!"

Braig swore and tackled Squall to the floor. The kid was alone; probably having come back for Highwind like the little hero he was, only to hear the sounds of battle from here. He elbowed Braig but Braig pinned him down, and Squall wailed as he saw the friend whom he'd though had abandoned him, then died in the Heartless attack, alive but being taken away once more.

"Cloud!"

"He's lost, Squall," Braig gritted.

"No! I won't lose him! Not again! I won't fail him again!" Impulsively, Squall dragged up Revolver and fired twice before Braig could stop him. The first shell passed straight through Xehanort-Ansem from behind, but the other went wide, slamming into the trussed Sephiroth.

The effect was explosive. The darkness snapped outward like an enraged octopus, flinging globules of itself around the cell. Wherever they landed portals appeared, and from these Heartless flowed in their hundreds.

Braig watched, aghast, as Dilan convulsed and one Heartless tugged another out of his blood-brother's chest. Aeleus swung his tomahawk in a wide arc, while Even attempted to use Ienzo as a human shield until they were both mobbed.

Xehanort-Ansem was on his knees, trying to staunch the fatal wound in his chest that should have killed him outright. A cluster of Heartless pounced on him. Though he flung them off, even he was soon lost amidst the swarm.

Someone booted Braig in the back, kicking him off Squall. "C'mon, kid, we gotta book it," Highwind's distinctive voice rasped.

"But Cloud -"

"Ain't nothing you can do for him now, kid, 'cept live instead of die on his behalf."

"No!" Braig grabbed Squall's ankle, unable to rise because of the Heartless on his back and legs. "You're mine! You're mine, Squall! You're my prodigy! I'm all you've got left!"

Squall looked down at his mentor and kicked him into a wall of skittering black bodies. "I'm nobody's. I'm a failure."

"You're not!" Braig thought of the gold warrior and the way his voice sounded so much like Squall's. You could be great -"

"Leonheart!" Highwind barked.

Braig's last sight of Squall was his retreating back, as his vision crowded with shadows. Cold, inhuman fingers thrust into his chest to pull out his twisted lump of a heart. There was a moment in which he met the eyes of the Heartless created when his inner heart ruptured. It was huge. Apparently the darkness within him was immense.

I guess I really don't need to look at those test results anymore, he thought as he faded away, vacating his body with a last desperate thought.

"The darkness within the heart is the true measure of a person, which makes hearts the most destructive weapon ever. I fight with the power of my heart, while you rely on your guns and bullets, therefore I will always prevail because my weapon is the stronger one."

Braig died as he'd lived: chased by phantoms, bloodlust and memories of a keyblade warrior in gold armour.


To Be Concluded …