Silver Demons
by SkyFire

Hugs and virtual cookies go out to: Katreal, Basia Orci, KitsuneToy, Saphira1204, Demetra666, CNome, and hittocerebattosai! Thank you so much for your reviews! Virtual cookies for everyone! \^_^/

Katreal: Well, you know Inuyasha just left so if there was some big noise from, say, a big fight of some kind, he might decide to turn around and go back... ~_^

KitsuneToy: Glad I was able to make your day a little better! And oooo! I have a minion! Yay! \^_^/

Saphira1204: Sorry again about your name. They should all be fixed now...

Demetra666: Why thank you! I'm glad that you think he's in character! ^_^

CNome: Hmmm... we'll just have to wait and see... *evil grin*

hittocerebattosai: Sesshoumaru: "This Sesshoumaru is not being single-minded! He is being focused!" SkyFire: "Suuuure you are..." Glad you like it! ^_^

Warnings: Eventual Sess/Seph (shonen-ai or yaoi, I haven't decided. We'll see when we get there. ^_^)
Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII or InuYasha and no money is being made.

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Chapter 11

Sephiroth was almost embarrassed by how easy it was to escape from the place he'd been imprisoned. He had thought that it might present a bit of a challenge since, after all, they had managed to capture him in the first place, something that no one had ever managed to do no matter how many were sent against him. Well, except for Hojo, but that didn't count. No one without Shinra's authorization, perhaps he should say. Wutai had tried often enough during the war, knowing that without him able to lead, to stand against them, the war would suddenly be a lot more even. Perhaps even favor them, since they were on their home ground and knew the land inside and out.

But if this was their idea of confinement, perhaps he had given them a bit too much credit.

Granted, the stink-bomb and incense had worked against him with humiliating success but to think for one moment that paper sutras, wooden bars, and a bit of chanting would be enough to prevent his escape... sheer carelessness. Had these people forgotten everything they had learned from going up against SOLDIERs?

Two passes with the Masamune was all it took to reduce the heavy wooden bars to just so much kindling.

The watching monk's eyes widened in shock even as he scrambled to his feet and backed away, stammering.

Sephiroth ignored him, stepped out of his former prison and into the room beyond. A quick glance around revealed a single exit and one more cell like the one he'd recently occupied, empty now.

All of which was beside the point as he spotted a familiar bundle of leather and steel on a table in the far corner. Good; the draft he was getting up the robe was getting to be a bit disconcerting. And to think that he'd once thought traditional Wutainese clothing a prime example of modesty! He couldn't wait to squirm back into his own pants!

Movement behind him, more sensed than anything else, had him bringing up the Masamune even as he spun, blade ringing against the surprisingly sharp edge of the headpiece of the monk's staff, meeting furious brown eyes with his own calm gaze over their crossed weapons.

"Demon!" the monk growled, glaring. "You won't get away!"

"I am not a demon!" Sephiroth said, keeping the edge of his frustration from showing through with an effort. He disengaged, then with an almost lazy flick of the sword sent his opponent to the floor, clutching at the gash that had suddenly appeared on his leg, his screams rising to join those he could still hear further away. "I am SOLDIER. I have never had problems with Wutainese monks before; please don't make me have to kill you."

"...'Wutainese'...?"

He said it only partially out of respect for those monks he'd met during the war with Wutai, the only people he'd ever met who had simply taken his physical differences in stride; even his own SOLDIERs needed time to get used to him. But not them; they'd only offered him tea - and it hadn't been poisoned, either. They were actually the ones who taught him most of what he knew about their culture and beliefs.

That being said, his main reason for not slaughtering his assailant was a purely selfish one. If he killed them and word got out, he didn't doubt that the news would spread across the country like wildfire and spark a wave of outrage and political unrest. And if Wutai was uneasy, Shinra would have to send in troops to re-secure it, which would spark more anger and end up costing a lot of gil.

If there was one thing that President Shinra hated, it was to see the numbers in the company accounts go down instead of up.

At one time, the President's displeasure over his actions would have meant little to nothing to Sephiroth; the man's threats rolling over him like just so much hot air. How could the man possibly censure him? He was the irreplaceable SOLDIER-General Sephiroth, after all; he could hardly be demoted!

Then Shinra discovered that there was a way. The next time he angered the President, he was relieved of his duties under guise of a 'vacation' and ordered into Hojo's custody in the labs for a week.

He had to admit that as far as deterrents went, President Shinra would be hard-pressed to find a better one.

So he left the monk alive behind him and turned back to his things. One familiar, rolling squirm later and he was encased in skin-tight black leather from waist to ankle, the robe he had been wearing folded neatly and put aside. Granted, the robe had been easier to move in than his preferred gear but for him it was still in no way practical.

He was searching for the wide, SOLDIER-issue belt when the priest moved again. This time when he turned, the Masamune went straight for the heart.

The monk's eyes widened in shock, a small trickle of blood escaping one side of his mouth. His hand, that had slipped into his robe with the sudden move that had alerted Sephiroth, thudded to the floor, hand opening to let a familiar ball roll harmlessly to the floor. One of those damned stink-bombs. Did they all have them, then? He would have to assume so.

Death was fast approaching but the monk only smiled, though his eyes glared with fanatical hatred. "You won't get away," he said again. "It is the end for you, demon!"

This time Sephiroth didn't bother trying to correct him. He just pulled his blade free then went back to his things and finished dressing. He saw almost immediately that his Materia was gone; his bracelets mangled to the point of uselessness by whoever had removed the orbs. What kind of fools were these monks? Granted, Shinra had prohibited Wutai from posessing Materia since its defeat but it hadn't always been so. How could they not remember how to properly unset them?

Maybe he was reading too much into it. Perhaps the destruction of his bracelets had been intentional. Even he couldn't easily replace them as he had spent a lot of gil to have them custom-made to his exact specifications. Did he even still have those notes stashed away somewhere...?

He shook the thought aside; there would be time for that later, once he was well away.

He moved for the exit. The screaming that had started before had quieted somewhat, but not yet stopped. He supposed it would be as good a direction as any other; if he was lucky, it would be a Shinra troop come to retrieve him. Leaving aside the question of just how they would have found him since he was on a different continent from where he should have been - some Turk secret, most likely - he moved toward the noise.

oOo

Sephiroth could only stare.

He'd made his way through the temple, this time not bothering to give any monks he encountered the benefit of the doubt when they called him a demon. In most cases his preemptive strike had been justified as he found more of those stink-bombs on the bodies.

At last he'd reached an outside door and there was only one more group of monks standing between him and freedom. Their backs were to him, their attention elsewhere, but that only made it easier to cut them down.

Now, though.

Now he found himself standing there, monk blood slowly creeping towards his boots as he stared at the man standing just a few steps below, one thought echoing in his head.

What in Shiva's name had Shinra's PR department been doing to his image?!

Over the years, he'd come to tolerate - but not accept - the fact that thanks to Shinra publicity and that damned fan club of his, his image was everywhere and that some people, hoping to shine by reflection, were willing to do everything they could to look like him. He'd seen the bad bleach jobs, the creepy reptilian contact lenses, the outfits straight out of an 'adult' store. He'd seen poor copies of himself on tall people, short people, fat people, and skinny people. He'd even seen it on women. Men he could sort of understand as idolizing and mimicing him, but women? He wasn't that androgymous, and his customary lack of a shirt should have made it obvious that yes, he was male, thank you very much. Still they persisted.

He'd seen a million bad reflections, but he'd never seen anyone like that. What had the PR department been up to? Had his image been superimposed on a snowy backdrop in a new poster and the white furry thing over the man's shoulder supposed to be their 'Sephiroth version' of a fur coat?

Hmph.

Well, at least the other man got the hair right; though the fringe was too short, he'd managed to bleach it in such a way that it actually looked natural. The clothes, though; he'd never worn anything like that. And what was the big idea with the markings on his face? It reminded him of what it would look like if the Turk Reno suddenly decided he wanted to be one of the clones! And while he got the shape of the pupils right, the color of the eyes was way off. What was this guy thinking?

The sound of cracking knuckles brought his attention back to the situation at hand, and he met cold golden eyes with his own blue-green gaze.

"You stole my lawful prey," the other man said.

'Prey'? Since when do I speak like that? When I get back to Midgar, I think a visit to PR is definitely in order!

Then he had no more time to think as his oddly-dressed fanboy surged up the few remaining stairs with surprising speed and swiped at him with glowing green claws.

-

TBC...

Next time: Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Uh... I still say those are love-sparks. And deep glares of affection. Really. *hides*

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