I'm a bad, bad little monkey. :(
Long story short, WoW steals souls, work sucks, and families are a bitch. That and I fell out of the whole FFVII fandom shebang thing for...quite some time. Sorry. :( Anywho, this isn't all that long, but I hope it might've been worth the wait. This also might be subject to change since I wrote the last part of this on maybe four hours of sleep. Hurray sleep deprivation!
Oh, and did I mention this is more or less AU now? I wrote this before AC and DoC came out, sooooo...yeah. AU FTW. (Cookies if anyone knows what 'FTW' means. v)
Godsent, Regrettably
By: SilverKnight
Chapter 5: Duh Re Me
"Genocide often does have drawbacks."
--Red XIII
Sephiroth would have let go of the struggling Yuffie, but he knew that had been her intent when she kicked them both from the tree. Momentarily, he also wondered if it was her intent to have him hit every single branch, limb, and other protruding object on the way down, but he was more concerned with trying to judge the distance they'd fallen already.
Thud.
Well, so much for that.
Groaning, the ex-General opened his eyes and slowly pried himself from the mild indentation his impact had left on the lush green grass. Damn that scrawny tomboy. Instantly, he discerned the unmoving form of the ninja brat beneath him, twitching and slightly bloodied from the branches raking across her skin. More slowly, he discerned seven others formed in a semi-circle around him, their eyes brimming with shock, fear, and utter hatred. (Guess which one the last belonged to.)
Sephiroth suppressed another groan. There was no way this was going to end well.
Certain of their initial reactions, he deftly untangled himself from the unconscious lump of ninja and moved to stand. Not surprisingly, before he managed to even rise from his quasi-kneeling position, he found himself staring down the barrel of Wallace's weapon he so atrociously grafted to his stump of an arm. In the half-second he remained stock still, he realized that they were either:
1) Giving him the benefit of the doubt and silently allowing him a moment of explanation before blowing him to kingdom come, or;
2) They were just too stunned to gather their wits, declare their undying hatred, and then blow him to kingdom come.
He harrumphed. Fair-play was for suckers.
Like lightning, he launched himself away from the Little Cadre that Could, bullets spraying the ground by his feet as he ran for cover. He dove behind a tree just as its glowing white trunk was peppered with .45 caliber bullet-holes, smoldering angrily in the mid-day haze. Heedless of his shoulder that all but wept for the immediate discontinuation of all extraneous activity, he leapt upon a low-lying branch, swiftly and nimbly leap-frogging his way to higher, safer territory among the canopy while AVALANCHE busied themselves with searching for him.
Aeris inexplicably appeared next to him. "That could've gone better."
He shot her a vicious glare from the corner of his eye, his lips curling back to spew the most heartless, viscerally damning insult he could possibly think of. Thankfully, he was spared the indignity of drawing a blank when Strife decided to pipe up. "Sephiroth!" he challenged, his young voice bold and unflinching, his perennially flapping mouth wide open to continue.
Sephiroth's scowl smoothly transformed into a smirk; which, given that his teeth were still bared, made him look more rabid and blood-thirsty than normal. 'This I have to hear.'
Unfortunately, as the seconds ticked away, the Sleeping Forest continued to sleep, and his feral grin strained to stay alive against all odds, it became increasing apparent to the ex-General that the lanky boy had no idea what to say after his initial burst of leadership. Did Strife expect him to reply and give away his position? Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised; after all, in all of their previous encounters, he had been the one to do all the talking, and Strife the one to do all the 'duh'ing.
Gritting his teeth, Sephiroth shoved his shoulder back into its proper position with a wet, sickening pop, and briefly contemplated if snapping Strife's moronic neck would sound similar. Shame that he would never have the chance to find out. C'est la vie.
"Foo', what tha hell you doin'?" Wallace chided angrily, his gravelly baritone striking a timbre that neared absolute panic. "We can't jes stand here and let him - "
"I know that," Strife responded. "But he tricked us into coming here."
'Duh' Rule #1: Point out the obvious as early and as often as possible, because nobody around could have possibly noticed it as quickly as you.
The spindly blond paused in thought. Sephiroth likened the scene to watching a train wreck. "And if he brought us here, it was for a reason," he finally finished.
'Duh' Rule #2: Reiterate yourself repeatedly, because redundancy always makes you sound more intelligent.
"No shit, Columbo!" Highwind snapped, running a hand through his unruly locks of hair in agitation. Sephiroth's personal opinion of the unkempt pilot went up a notch; from 'speck', to 'worm'. "Got any idea what that reason might be?"
Strife glared intensely at the dense forest surrounding him. "I think..." It took all his will not to burst out into a hysterical fit of laughter and reveal his position. As it was, the feral grin's existence was guaranteed for a few more precious moments. "He wants us to follow him."
'Duh' Rule #3: The farther the jump from the facts to your conclusion, the better. Your brilliance will be sure to astound those around you.
Sephiroth's eyebrow arched quizzically. It appeared Strife was pinching cliff-notes from the Cetra's hand-book. He wondered why that surprised him.
"He does?" Highwind squawked. "How the hell do ya figure that?"
Strife attempted to think. Sephiroth sighed in exasperation. "Oh, for God's sake..." He stood and dropped to a lower branch, landing in a low crouch.
Aeris gaped at him from above, appearing unaffected by the height she now stood at. Damn her. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
He grimaced. 'None of this was a good idea.' "It beats listening to Strife's attempts at detective work, and I'd rather expedite this before I grow old and die again." Taking a step forward onto the branch, he inhaled deeply, and -
Felt the cold, hard nuzzle of a rifle press into the back of his head.
His slitted gaze flickered up into the canopy in muted distaste. 'Thanks for the warning, harpy.' "Good of you to join us, Valentine. We've all dreadfully missed your presence here."
"Why have you returned?" Valentine questioned, his deep, gravelly voice an odd amalgam of a growl and a whisper.
His lip notched into the hint of a grim smirk. Only Valentine would be wholly unconcerned with the 'how' of his return. He supposed only another man who came back from the dead would really understand how incredibly bothersome those questions could be. Maybe, Valentine just realized that there wasn't much he could answer with. "I was kidnapped by a deranged female-sounding entity and forced to do her bidding. Hope that doesn't sound too familiar," probably wouldn't have gone over well.
"Isn't that the million gil question," he muttered instead, harrumphing. "And do you really think that toy of yours is going to do you any good against me?"
"You sound awfully cocky for a dead man."
"Speak for yourself."
The rounded metal bit harder into his skull. "You haven't answered my question. Why have you returned?"
He sighed; a bored, almost wistful expression dulling his sharp features. "Would you believe a reunion?"
Sephiroth glanced to his left. Valentine's ashen face was impassive as always, but he did detect a slight annoyance growing from the downward curl of his lips. "Jenova has summoned you."
He chortled. "No no, I've long since parted ways with that one. She was bad for my health, anyway; what with me dying twice and all that. You'd probably know what that was like, though."
Vincent stared at him, unphased. Damn. "Only once." His eyebrow curved up slightly. "Why should I believe you?"
"I don't lie," Sephiroth answered bluntly, and it was true, to an extent. He hadn't lied to these idiots yet, and had no reason to start. He glanced to the Cetra trying to inefficiently find her way down from the branch she was stuck on. He revised that previous thought into having no reason to lie without due cause. Besides, lying implied long-term, and anything Strife-related coupled with 'long-term' was something he wanted to frantically avoid. "Are you going to put that gun down, or do I have to break it and your arm with it?"
Vincent's ruby eyes glittered in his peripheral vision before the barrel was removed from his head. "Rifle," he corrected dully. "If you aren't the tool of Jenova, then who or what revived you?"
"That I'll explain to all of you in full, once Strife stops frothing at the mouth," Sephiroth replied sternly. Cocking his head to the side, he stared at the gunslinger evenly. "Perhaps, if you would be so kind as to join your friends and ensure they don't turn me into swiss cheese, I would be most appreciative."
Valentine's eyebrow quirked again. "You're that desperate?"
He felt an intense dislike for the look he was being given, as if he were something of a walking punchline. It appeared Valentine had been misinformed; that was solely Strife's department. "I'm that impatient."
Valentine turned his gaze down to the squabbling troupe that had managed to save the world despite itself, and asked, "Do you really think they'd kill you?"
"Doubtful," Sephiroth grunted. "All the same, getting shot hurts like hell." His thin lip tugged up deviously. "You'd probably know what that was like, too."
Valentine blinked, pursing his lips. "I doubt it would be as painful as getting impaled by a sword." His red eyes flickered to him for an instant, past a waterfall of black locks. "Twice."
He snarled as the gunslinger smirked faintly, diving off the branch and winding through the myriad of limbs with an acrobatic skill that was clearly inhuman. The damn show-off. Just because he had a claw for an arm and four demons running around inside of his head did not mean he was anything special.
Harrumphing, he crossed his arms and carefully watched the scene beneath him unfold as the shrew - once again afraid of heights, it seemed - clumsily hopped down three branches to land on her stomach in front of him. The remnants of his soul that hadn't been torn asunder by Shinra or trampled under heel by Jenova sighed, resigned to its fate that it just couldn't win. Awkwardly, she swung herself into a quasi-sitting position on the branch, audibly gulping back fear. "That was close," she muttered.
He snorted derisively, but otherwise ignored her; focusing instead on the commotion below. Wallace was the first to recover from Valentine's odd request, and from the string of obscenities that poured from his lips, Sephiroth guessed that the following reactions would be just as unwelcoming. Oh well, nothing lasted forever, and if they killed him, he could laugh at them for sealing their own fates after they died.
Even as Valentine attempted to calm him, Wallace continued in his diatribe, weaving a grand tapestry of vulgarity while waving his arms in a strangely comical fashion. He was almost tempted to let him continue in his blatant disregard of all things calm and rational, but sadly, there were still more important things at hand than his own twisted sense of enjoyment. Besides, he could always try pissing him off at a later date. That could be a fun past-time.
"The hell's wrong wit'chu?!" Wallace spat. "Leavin' him like that - shi't, he's probably 'bout to jump our asses right now!"
"I wouldn't jump you if you paid me."
Like a single entity, the troupe of AVALANCHE all turned their heads up, beholding him leaning against the tree-trunk with his legs and arms crossed casually. The harpy shot him a look of incomprehension. "I thought you said you were going to let Vincent handle it."
'Since when do I ever listen to you? Shrew.' "Nice to see you all being so attentive," he stated silkily.
Valentine raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you wanted me to handle it."
Wallace aimed his appalling gun-arm towards him and fired. He deftly leapt to the branch he'd previously occupied moments ago as the Cetra squeaked in fear and jumped, covering her head with her arms while bullets sped through her astral form and dug into the glowing trunk behind her. Disappointment bit down hard. "I'm not here to hurt you, you imbeciles!" he chided. "This is no way to treat an..." He resisted the sudden urge to vomit. "Ally."
Strife's Mako-hazed eyes brightened with rage. He would have smirked challengingly, but knew that it would have been a waste of a perfectly good scare tactic. Wallace scoffed, reloading his weapon and scanning the trees suspiciously. "Ally? Foo', don't make me laugh! Crazy mothafuckas like you are always the same, they ain't never change!"
He smirked challengingly anyway, to hell with who couldn't see it. "Good thing you never ran into the people you blew up."
Wallace howled an obscenity and randomly fired into the surrounding forest, the staccato rat-tat-tat of the gunfire echoing loudly against the surrounding landscape's silence. The Cetra removed her hands from her ears with a wince, glaring up at him. "Making him angry isn't going to help convince him, you know."
"Lucky for me he's so hard to set off, then," Sephiroth retorted.
Wallace snorted, hefting his gunarm as if attempting to make an obscene gesture. For all Sephiroth knew, he probably was. "Yeah, you an ally? So, why the hell are you hidin' in the goddamn trees?"
"Because I'm not here to die, either," he shot back; muttering more quietly, "twice was enough."
Strife hoisted that glowing atrocity of his in an offensive stance and hunched down, as if preparing to jump and fight him among the branches. His eyebrow arched in the barest hint of amusement. He could barely control that thing on flat terrain, much less having to deal with keeping his balance along with avoiding cleaving off tree-tops and inadvertently killing himself. 'Can't have that happening,' he thought morosely, before adding a small expletive in direction of the Planet. Sucking in a deep breath and praying to whatever would actually listen to him, for once, that the harpy would stay out of his affairs, he stated, "I propose a truce."
"Like hell!" Highwind shouted immediately. He frowned as he dropped the cantankerous pilot back to 'speck' status. Pity.
"We should listen to him," Valentine advised flatly, earning him the instantaneous hatred of the others.
"I'd rather die," Strife growled. The harpy sucked in a breath. Sephiroth mourned the declaration for the missed opportunity it was.
His glittering eyes going hard, the pale gunslinger's shoulders stiffened in reluctant decisiveness. "Fine; then listen to me." The rag-tag band, now formed in a rough semi-circle around him, continued to glower, but remained silent. "Something is amiss, beyond Sephiroth's return. If he were our largest concern, and our purpose to kill him again - " The ex-General felt a twinge of self-righteous fury twitter somewhere in his chest. How dare that glorified cadaver trivialize him, and twice in a single sentence, to boot. " - Do you honestly believe that it would be this simple? That he would lure us to the Ancient Forest and appear before us unarmed? Sephiroth was a General; he's no fool, and no easy kill." His glare travelled to Strife's distrusting one. "You, Cloud, of all people would know that he would never present himself unless it was to his advantage."
Strife appeared dubiously interested in what the deceptively young assassin had to say. "Or unless he was given no other choice," he concluded. Silently, Sephiroth slipped out of the canopy and landed in a low crouch as the conversation continued. Maybe this wouldn't require someone's untimely death, after all. It figured. "It makes no sense, though." 'Surprise, surprise.' "He's responsible for a near-apocalypse, and before that, was just barely short of being considered a homicidal maniac. Explain to me why we should trust him?"
"You know, it is rude to talk about someone in the third person when they're right next to you," he quipped with a humorless smirk. The group whirled and prepared to strike, but Strife's motioned with an upraised hand for them to hold their fire. To date, it was the smartest gesture the boy had ever made. "Why trust me? That's an unusually intelligent question from you. Ordinarily, I would even have to agree; you shouldn't." His gaunt face became pinched in disgust, trying to rid himself of the abhorrent taste of compromise. "But, in this case, as you said, I have no other alternative. I have to trust you." A sneer arose unbidden, distorting his features further. "Ugh, I feel dirty just saying that."
Falling silent, he squared his shoulders and waited for their verdict. AVALANCHE was filled with a bunch of idiots, social rejects, and borderline lunatics, but at the moment, they stood his best chance of success. Come what may, he was a man of his word, and would not stop them if they chose to fire.
If Strife was smart, he would see it his way and agree. If not, well, at least then it wouldn't be considered suicide, and their inevitable deaths could be placed only on their shoulders. Who knew, he pondered as the seconds dragged on, this might even turn out well -
A shrill cry broke the heavy silence, along with the tell-tale whooshing of air that signified something was sailing through it. Instinct kicked in as Sephiroth hastily twisted left to dodge the object while ducking and raising his arms to potentially catch or deflect it if necessary. Occupied by that, he unfortunately didn't notice the fist flying towards his face.
His head snapped back from the force of the blow, sending him reeling face-first into ground for the second time in less than five minutes. Momentarily stunned and half-blinded by stars, the commotion around him passed in chunks of garbled speech.
"Tifa!"
"Damn, girl."
Sounds of struggling -
"Stop fighting."
"Let go, Vincent! He was trying to attack!"
Sephiroth barely held back a groan, pushing himself to his hands and knees and working his throbbing jaw. "No, I was not, you idiot! I was blocking..." He searched around the irritatingly green grass blearily. "What the hell was I block - " Off to the side, a small, worn sneaker detached itself from the landscape and slammed into the side of his head with a small thwap. "Ow!"
"That, jerk-wad!"
Damnable Wutai wench. "Did you just throw a shoe at me?"
"Alright, everyone, calm down," Strife ordered authoritatively, stepping between himself, the crazed shinobi, and any other articles of clothing she might want to hurl his way. He hastily pried his mind from that train of thought before the image could continue any further. Beaten brown combat boots came into his line of focus, and Sephiroth suddenly noted that he was on his knees in front of the failed clone, like some grovelling imp.
He scowled, scanning the tree-line for the harpy. She must have been getting a real kick out of this. The blond crossed his arms in front of him, looking down with the most frightening glare he could muster. He was left wholly unimpressed. "I don't trust you," he uttered, his voice low and dangerous. His youthful face then twitched. "But, I can't distrust you, either."
'Duh' Rule #4: Contradictions are a myth. Don't worry yourself with them.
The stupidity emanating from him acted as a sponge, sucking all the life from Sephiroth's body. If he weren't careful, he could devolve into some kind of drooling primate if he kept this close a distance. Harrumphing, he rose to his full, imposing height; more than happy to see the boy flinch and immediately prepare for an attack. He always preferred it when his subordinates were on their toes and ready for anything. "Make no mistake, Strife," he commanded, "I have no intention of apologizing, atoning, or anything else that involves physical or emotional reimbursement on my part. I'm not here for redemption."
Strife's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?"
"Your beloved Planet suckered me into helping it defeat some sort of new danger." He grimaced; his lips a thin line. "It's always something."
The cogs attempted to turn. "What kind of danger?"
He hesitated for barely a second. Here came the fun part. "If I knew that exactly, I wouldn't be wasting my time with you."
"Yer here and ya don't even know why?" Highwind squawked sharply, hands on his hips.
Before he could catch himself, Sephiroth mumbled, "That's what I keep saying." The rag-tag group glared silently, their thoughts written too clearly to be mistaken by even the dumbest of people. On cue, Aeris seemed to materialize just behind the semi-circle, her doe eyes misting over as she rose a thin hand to her quivering lips.
He ground his jaw, studiously ignoring her and returning to the task at hand. "The fact of the matter is," he continued soberly, "that whatever it is I was brought back to do will only be made more difficult if we're opposing each other every step of the way." Bowing his head minutely, he crossed his arms over his chest thoughtfully; a loose fist coming to rest under his chin. "Furthermore, it appears that you and your ilk have...access to areas of information that I don't."
"Genocide often does have drawbacks," that strange quadrupedal creature lilted, his fine accented voice all but dripping with sarcasm. "As does trying to atone for them."
"I already said I'm not here for atonement," he rebuked sharply, feline eyes slit dangerously. He was not going to be outwit by a dog. Or was he a cat? It didn't matter. "I'm here to achieve a mission before being relegated to my lovely dark section of Hell; which I'm certain you will all be more than happy to oblige with."
The wench's tear-swollen gaze danced between the shoulders of Strife and Valentine somehow, focusing on him. He willed his insides not to crawl. "The Planet never said anything about what would happen after it's been saved."
"Allow me to express my deepest shock at that," he jibed dully. A fraction of a second later, his mouth snapped shut with far more force than was necessary, discerning how the already wary glares of AVALANCHE intensified ten fold. 'Oh, hell. Masterfully done, you imbecile.' "But," he hastily added in an attempt to recover some ground, "there are more important things to be concerned with than my fate, or even my intentions."
"Oh, I think your intentions are very important," Strife replied darkly.
A cool, calculating smile slithered across Sephiroth's ashen face, sensing an opening that couldn't be refused. "All the more reason to accompany me, then. Don't you agree?"
He could fairly smell the contents of Strife's head broiling away as the small former-clone's eyes narrowed at the condescension in his tone. In the back of his own mind, Sephiroth cackled triumphantly and happily steepled his fingers in rabid anticipation of the reply he knew was going to come. He'd forgotten how much fun it was to manipulate the blond toy to his will. Some things simply never got old.
The harpy glared at him, uncharacteristic disgust marring her otherwise sickeningly cherubic features. "You really enjoy this, don't you? Manipulating people?"
'Ah-ah, harpy; won't fall for that again,' he rebuffed confidently, continuing to whittle down Strife's mental objections with a brain-scorching glare. Even so, he answered her question with a small widening of his grin; perfect white teeth making a small debut appearance in front of the small crowd. It was either a testament to the lanky blond's hatred of him, or a confirmation of every negative thing Sephiroth thought of the boy that it took him so long to come to a decision on the matter. For the sake of safety and efficiency, he concluded it was most likely a mixture of both.
"Fine," Strife hissed, hand falling from the worn leather grip of his blade. "Where do you plan to go?"
'Duh' Rule #5: If you ignore or forget everything that has been said up to present, that's more than alright. Someone will be sure to remind you and bring you up to speed again.
Sephiroth almost sighed. Of course the idiot couldn't make this simple, could he? His grin took on a forced countenance. "That," he began with a sickly attempt at amiability (because Sephiroth didn't even know the zip-code amiability resided in, much less how to properly fake it,) "my dear Chocobo Head, is up to you. If you recall, I've been dead for two years."
Strife's rounded face turned both pensive and irritated. The attention-starved hate-monger that was his inner self all but tittered with joy. It was like Christmas had come, and his present was the personal pain and suffering of the blond failure that killed him. How he loved receiving heart-felt gifts. "How am I supposed to know where to go if I don't even know what it is I'm looking for?" he questioned with a frown.
The ex-General's vindictive happiness began to dwindle as the memories of what price his constant manipulation exacted floated to the surface. The boy was dumber than a damn rock. Still, the aggravation couldn't quite dampen his anticipation. He feigned an almost fatherly understanding. Or, it would have been fatherly if he'd had some reference to go on. As it stood, his attitude reeked of arrogance and cynicism. Arrogance, understanding - it all worked out, in the end. "Well, then, I suppose if you're in no condition to do the thinking, then I have no qualms taking the lead - "
Strife's eyes widened at the slight, mouth open to protest. Luckily for the boy's standing, his words were prematurely cut off by Valentine's deep monotone. "Shinra still has its hands in a lot of dirty dealing," he deadpanned. "If there is anything illicit going on, they'll know where to go next, if they aren't the cause to begin with."
Sephiroth's blue-green eyes flickered to Valentine's sharply. The gunslinger was apparently determined to ruin every attempt at fun he was going to have while remaining alive. Great. If it wasn't going to be the ghost, it was going to be the corpse. Dead people had the most against him, it appeared. "Right," he agreed begrudgingly. Returning his attention to the former-puppet, he put on his most winning smile. Needless to say, it didn't win much. The fact that it held obvious mocking undertones probably didn't help, either. "Lead the way, mon capitan."
Strife refused to budge. "No." He nudged his spiky head in the direction of the path they'd followed, his glowing Mako-infused glare focused on him. "You lead the way."
The purpose for that was only too clear, and despite himself, he was almost pleasantly surprised by the boy's paranoia. "You're finally learning, I see," he chided, by way of compliment. He confidently turned upon his heel and took two long strides, before his feline gaze flitted across the irate ninja-waif to his right. He slowed to a halt, his expression mildly thoughtful, save for an odd glint in his eye that said ninja-waif probably took for a trick of the light.
The Cetra obviously knew better, though. He chose not to acknowledge the contradiction in that. "Whatever it is you're planning on doing, don't," she warned, her Lifestream green eyes flashing with worry and--was that malice in there? Oh, that was rich.
He raised a hand in feigned remembrance. "Ah!" he exclaimed. "But I forgot one thing." His face a blank slate, he hastily returned to the small dent he had made from his two trips to the ground. Reaching down, he scooped up the worn orange sneakers into his large hands; placing their soles together and bundling them tight with the ostentatiously long laces. Pivoting on his heel, his expression still carefully devoid of any ill intent, Sephiroth's stare rose from the offensive objects in his hand to their owner. "These belong to you, correct?"
Her eyes were the picture of wary disbelief. "Yeah. You gonna stand there all day sniffing them or give them back to me?"
He nodded, cautiously. "Very well." He held them out in front of him as if they were a gravely important peace offering. "Here."
Waves of distrust emanated from her as she took a step forward, extending her arm to grab them--
Before he did a quick wind-up and chucked them headlong into the densely packed underbrush. Her head swiveled on its base like a bird's as she watched them sail into the darkened bush, her jaw flapping uselessly and a choked-off squeak rising from her throat. "Hey!"
A devious grin plastered on his face, Sephiroth leaned down and sweetly crooned, "Enjoy your stroll through the snow." Without a further word, he strode off into the forest.
To be continued...
