Author's Note: This chapter may or may not mean anything to you, since it's kinda long and doesn't really have many of the characters you so love (unless you love Saan, and in that case -hugs- I love you, too); however, it is essential. Just on what part, I'm not completely sure. This particular chapter sort of wrote itself. I guess that's what happens after I read Inkheart, Inkspell, The Thief Lord, Peter Pan in Scarlet, and about two hundred pages of The Complete Collection of Sherlock Holmes (which is roughly one thousand pages of tiny, tiny font). This is my life without Internet...

Also, thank all of you who reviewed. I can't remember all of you at this moment and I'm a little pressed for time; but, love you bunches. -hug-

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, Peter Pan, Superman, nor anything else I mentioned that I do not own... I honestly can't remember what I mentioned. Anways, if it's not Saan, or Jerry, or a suit and staff, I do not own it. Lawls.

Edited on 7 Oct 2010 for errors and goofs. I'm supposed to be reading Chapter 11 of Film Studies. Shh. Don't tell my teacher.

I had looked forward to having a grand tour of the forty-ninth floor. Since I was in SOLDIER, I wasn't afraid to go up there. In fact, I was giddy with excitement. Think of all the fun toys the boys got to play with! It reminded me a little of when I had been in Girl Scouts. The Girl Scouts sold cookies; went to firehouses; did nice things for little old ladies. While the Boy Scouts…the Boy Scouts got to go outside, start fires, pitch tents, and shoot arrows and BB guns. I hated Girl Scouts.

Unfortunately my tour was going to have to wait. I was scheduled for my 'Mako injection' thing, and before that, I couldn't do shit. I hadn't even managed to run into Sephiroth again. I had wanted to tell him I was 'in.' That I had joined of my own free will and that Hojo hadn't stuck me full of wires and tubes—yet. But, the General was nowhere to be found. Neither was Zack. I had a funny feeling those two would be scarce for quite a while. Attacks against Shin-Ra had been increasing—among other things.

I had thought that Director Lazard was going to accompany me to my date with the kooky scientist, but he wasn't. He had other business to attend to, and, according to Ronnie, no one ever watched Hojo when he did anything. Except, maybe a few other scientists.

I'd gotten a little worried because of that. I mean, who didn't watch the crazy people when they were doing stuff to make sure they didn't fuck somebody up? I would've if I was running the business. But, I didn't run the business. Shin-Ra did.

That explained a lot of things, I came to realize. It was an excuse I had long since made-up for my own corrupted company. 'Anytime something comes up, or something unbelievably stupid happens, just blame it on the President's idiocy and all your problems are solved. You'll never have to worry about it again.' Wow. That was just how most Americans used to think, too. Before they all got blown up.

But, I digress.

When I entered Hojo's lab, he was nowhere to be found. Hallelujah, no shots for me. Not that he would have given me any in the first place; I had already vowed I'd fight him tooth and nail before that happened. Still, the relief at not seeing his greasy head was still there. I figured since no one else was there to greet me I could just turn around, leave, and lie to Lazard about the shots—until Hojo tracked me down, that was. But as I turned, I spotted the syringes he was going to use on me. Shocking? They were.

I couldn't believe my eyes as I stared at the strange, glowing liquid within them. I had never seen Mako before. Ever. I'd heard it used before in sentences, and I'd known Shin-Ra had 'a monopoly' of it like Ronnie had said, but, I'd never actually seen what it was. To say it terrified me was an understatement. I'm not even sure I knew why I was scared of it. Probably because it was glowing; probably because they wanted to stick it in my veins. Whatever the reason, I found myself quickly backing away from the table on which it sat.

"Anubis, you're earlier than I expected."

I jumped forward about a foot and spun around to stare daggers into Hojo. He couldn't see the metaphorical daggers because of the suit's helmet, but they were still there and they were embedding themselves into every damn wrinkle on his ugly face. Hojo frowned at me, cocked his head back, and stared at me for a second before stalking his way over towards the table. If one could consider the way he walked stalking...that slight slouch of his kind of ruined what he was going for. I watched him wearily as he approached the Mako-filled syringes.

"These," he said as he picked up the needles, "are merely the samples I will use to see if you are suitable for the real procedure."

I thought about keeping silent, but curiosity got the best of me, "And why do you have to test that stuff on me before you can do the 'procedure'?"

Hojo walked over to a nearby table and placed the syringes down. He then looked at me, "Mako, just like any other drug, has its side-effects. Some people are not able to withstand the liquid in their veins and, therefore, are unable to join the SOLDIER program because of that. Only those strong of body and mind can handle it."

I snorted, "And you think I'm strong of body and mind? That's funny. Really, it is."

"Your blood is appealing, Anubis," Hojo said, smiling mischievously and completely ignoring my sarcasm, "it's very similar to every other person's blood on Gaia. However, there is one small difference."

I held my breath at that. Something had been different in my blood. That wasn't good. Hopefully, it hadn't been anything too different to catch Hojo's eye. If it had been, I might just become his new experiment after all. Then again, since he was bringing it up that must have meant it already had caught his eye. Yeah, definitely not a good thing.

"In fact," he continued, "I'm certain that that small difference is what allows you to control that device whereas the other's couldn't. Are you familiar with DNA?"

"Deoxyribonucleic Acid. It's the code within our bodies. It gives us our parents' looks, tells the cells how to build themselves into organs, and a whole heckuva lot of other things that I can't quite remember."

Hojo nodded, "You're well educated. Where were you schooled?"

"At home," I replied, remembering what I had told Reno. "Science was always my favourite subject."

Hojo 'hmphed.' He probably thought I was trying to flatter him, but I wasn't. It really was my favourite subject—followed closely by math. I'd hated English. I had still made A's in it, but that hadn't stopped me from despising those damn sentences our teacher made us write everyday when we first got to class. Semi-colons had been my worst enemy. Never could quite figure out where those damn bastards went.

"Am I right in assuming you're familiar with Mitochondrial DNA?" Hojo asked.

I paused before answering. Yes, I was familiar with it. Mitochondrial DNA was the DNA sequences found within a cell's mitochondria. Forensic scientists used it to identify long-dead bodies. Mitchondrial DNA was also passed down from a person's mother. Since mitochondrial DNA was passed from mother to mother and so-on and so-forth, scientists on Earth had used it to trace back human lineage. Unfortunately, I wasn't on Earth, and had no idea what the scientists of Shin-Ra had done with it. So, I had to settle with a short and simple:

"Yes."

Hojo smiled, "Good. Then I won't have to waste my breath on explaining it to you. Your blood results showed that your mitochondrial DNA is different from a majority of the people on Gaia. It's a tiny variation, but it's still a variation nonetheless. As a person familiar with science, what do you think of that?"

He was toying with me. A child could've figured that out. He was trying to set me up into exposing myself—telling him all my dirty little secrets. Well, it wasn't going to work. All I had to do was find a way to say what he wanted without fucking myself over. Simple, yes?

"I think," I replied calmly, "that it means my mother was different from a lot of other people's. And her mother before her, and her mother before her. And, hell, probably her mother before her. What is that? My great-great grandmother? Do you know how often mitochondrial DNA mutates?"

Of course he did, he's a scientist. Idiot...

Hojo smirked, "Not that often, I assure you, Anubis. Before I begin these injections, I wanted to ask you if your family has ever experienced anything strange before."

"Like what?" I hesitated.

"Oh, hearing voices. Strange relationship with Materia. Able to use magic more easily than a lot of your peers."

I smirked, "Nope. I'm pretty sure that there is a chance certain members in my family have heard voices, but that would be from psychosis."

Hojo frowned and gave me a look. If I'd have ever looked at myself in the mirror before that moment, I would have been one hundred percent certain that was my 'you're an idiot' look. Unfortunately, I never looked in a mirror when giving that look; I was usually looking at Ronnie.

"A shame," he muttered before picking up a syringe.

He walked towards me, glowing needle in hand. I remained stockstill as I glared at him from under my helmet. He frowned again.

"You're going to have to remove the suit, Anubis," he said blankly.

"You're not pumping my veins full of that stuff, Hojo," I replied coolly.

"Oh?" Hojo cooed, "But I think I am. You were ordered to come here for these injections, and you came. Now, you're going to get them. There's no changing your mind in Shin-Ra, girl. It's about time you learned that."

I was about to open my mouth and protest that Hojo was acting way too dramatic and his Mafia-style antics wouldn't affect me when Hojo looked behind me and nodded his head. The next thing I knew I had two scientists on me, forcing my arms behind my back and slamming me over the table in front of me. I growled at both of them—men from what I could tell—as I thrashed around. One was focused on keeping my arms held painfully behind my back while the other was keeping my chest and head pressed against the table. Teeth clenched, I shot a dirty look at Hojo as he came around to my side of the table.

"You really should stop squirming, Anubis," Hojo said nonchalantly. "If the needle pierces your neck too violently, you might injure yourself."

"Hojo," I growled, kicking futilely at the men behind me. One yelped as my foot collided with his shin, but his hold never slackened. Perhaps I should have aimed a little higher. "If you come anywhere near me, so help me—"

He wasn't stopping, and the smile on his face was starting to seriously creeping me out. I wondered what would happen if I jerked too much when he shoved the needle into my neck. What was the time allotted to someone who had their jugular cut? A few seconds?

"Hojo," I squirmed more, that time screaming. It was difficult for the scientists to hold on to me, but unfortunately, they were still managing. "I swear! If you put that shit in me—"

He roughly grabbed a hold of my head and held it still, "Anubis, I'll warn you again. Squirming is a very bad idea when receiving a shot."

My heart was beating so fast, I thought it was going to come out of my chest. Perhaps I should have listened to him. Just allowed him to stick the needle in me the old fashioned way—through the arm and not the neck—wait out the reaction and then go about my life with glowing veins. It was just a simple procedure that every SOLDIER went through. There was no need for me to react so violently at the thought of it. But, I had. And the reason I had was because, I didn't know why, but whatever was in that needle was not supposed to go in me. I could feel it. It sounds crazy, but it's the truth.

I tensed up right before I felt the needle prick the skin on my neck. Doctors and nurses always tell people never to do that. I didn't give a damn. Maybe I thought that if I squeezed my neck muscles tight enough the liquid couldn't get in, or it'd just squeeze right back out, like snake venom. Leave it to my stupid suit to cover every area but my neck and mouth.

The Mako was only in my veins for a second before everything locked up. And by everything, I mean my body. All the muscles, all the nerves, everything seemed to go into shock. Ever had shots before that burned like hell going in? Phinigrin's a good example. Yeah, think that, but ten times worse.

I screamed—loudly—before I fell to the floor, knocking over one of those metal surgical trays in the process. I didn't even wonder why the scientists had let me go so suddenly, or why them and Hojo were giving me surprised looks; I was too busy flopping around on the floor like a fish to care. I couldn't see; I couldn't do anything. My body was moving of its own accord, my eyes burned, my ears were ringing. Images seemed to flash before my eyes so fast that it would have caused a seizure had I not already been having one.

As I twitched violently on the ground, trying to make sense of what was going on around me, my brain vaguely registered the sound of a yelp and something shattering on the floor. Then I felt it again. That strange sense of dread I'd felt earlier before Hojo'd injected me with the Mako. On instinct, I flipped myself over—smacking the ground a little harder than I'd aimed to—and tried to crawl away. My vision was finally coming back, the flashes had stopped, and my body was only shivering. Everything had happened within a few seconds, but it felt a lot longer than that.

Looking back, I saw something I hadn't expected to see. Both the unknown scientists that had grabbed me were over in a corner, cowering, while Sephiroth had a hold of Hojo's wrist in a vice grip. The General looked far from pleased while the scientist was trying his damnedest to look unimpressed—though it was obvious he was scared shitless. Despite how crappy I felt, a small spark of elation hit me when I saw that expression on Hojo's face. Yeah, take that, ya bitch.

I took a quick look at the floor to see the other vials Hojo had planned to use on me lying broken on the floor—near my feet. That explained the shattering noise I'd heard.

"Hojo," Sephiroth spoke calmly, "May I ask, just exactly what you think you are doing?"

I could see Hojo's jaw clench. "My job," he answered cooly. "As you should be doing yours, Sephiroth."

The General's hand only squeezed tighter, "I am doing my job. Lazard assigned me to take Anubis to his office for debriefing. She'd been taking too long so I decided to see what was keeping her. I was quite surprised by what I saw."

Hojo frowned and roughly ripped his hand from the General's grasp. Sephiroth let him. "I was merely giving her a Mako injection. It's not my fault that she responded the way she did to the liquid."

"You know that's not what I meant," Sephiroth replied cooly.

Hojo gave him a look before walking away, "You can take the girl back now, Sephiroth. I'm sure Lazard would like to get his work done on time. I'd hate to be the reason for the Director to get yelled at by the President."

Sephiroth stared into the man's back before walking over to me and offering me his hand. I was still shaking a little as I stared at it. He didn't honestly expect me to get up and follow after him after my body had just gone through that trauma, whatever it was, did he?

"Come on," he said. "Let's go. Lazard's waiting."

Yes, yes he did. I tried to push myself off the floor so I could take his hand, but I ended up falling back down. It took me two other tries, but eventually I managed to push myself up on my knees. That was about as much as I could manage.

"Uh," I croaked. I tried to clear my throat. "I'd love to and all, but my legs aren't quite working right at the moment. Maybe if you could just drag me to the doors, or the rest of the way, we'd get there a lot faster."

Sephiroth blinked, but bent down, grabbed me under my left arm, and hoisted me to my feet. I nearly stumbled back down and had to latch myself onto his arm to keep from falling face first to the floor again. So much for a free ride.

"By the way," Hojo called as I was trying to separate myself from the General without falling, "you know what her reaction means."

Sephiroth didn't even bother to respond to that, but I could still feel him tense up. I, on the other hand, was not going to put up with Hojo's taunting. He'd nearly killed me for all I knew, and what kind of self-respecting person would I have been if I let him get away with it without at least yelling a few choice words at him?

"Yeah, well—" I began, trying to turn around to face him. I wound up smacking the helmet's snout on the General's arm. Growling at my clumsiness, I snapped, "If you come at me with that crap again, I'll fucking kill you. Ya hear me?"

I saw Hojo open his mouth to respond, but Sephiroth roughly jerked me forward as he walked quickly out of the lab. He led me towards the elevators; me stumbling along beside him as we went. When the doors parted for us to enter, he nearly chucked me inside. I let myself bounce into the wall on the other side. I was too sore to give a damn.

After the General had pushed the button for the fifty-ninth floor, he whirled around on me. My eyes widened a little. He looked pissed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He growled.

I stared at him blankly. I had no idea what he was upset about, let alone what he was talking about.

"Huh, what?"

"Why did you join SOLDIER?" He hissed.

Oh, so that wass what he was upset about. To him, one moment I was a scared little Turk who'd wound up with a strange device wrapped around her body, and the next I was an equal. Ok, maybe not an equal, per se, but a SOLDIER member at least. It was shocking to me, but it had to be worse for him considering how he was the General and probably hadn't even been informed of my transfer until a few minutes before he'd saved my ass. Again.

"Because I wanted to," I replied nonchalantly.

He scoffed, "Do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into?"

"I have a clue, yes. Why?"

He frowned a little, then turned around and faced the doors again. I stared at him as he stared intently at his reflection—clearly trying to ignore me. My frown deepened.

"Why?" I repeated.

"Do you know what the results of your tests were back there?" He asked blankly.

"...Poor, I guess. I'd consider falling to the floor and screaming one's head off a poor rating for a test. Why? Is that going to affect anything?"

Sephiroth shook his head before looking at me over his shoulder. He seemed to be contemplating something, but I couldn't quite make out what. Whatever it was, he finally decided to clue me in.

"Do you know how much Mako he injected you with?" Sephiroth asked, yet it didn't sound like a question. More like a rhetorical question; one that he was about to elaborate on.

"Considering how fast the time was between pin-prick and burning pain, I'd think not much. Barely any, actually. Why?"

"I've seen Mako reactions before," Sephiroth continued, "I've seen Mako poisoning before. None of which were as bad as what I saw happen to you, and none with such a small dosage."

I frowned thoughtfully. Uh-ohs. Saan had bad reactions to Mako. Really bad reactions. Was it because my DNA was different? No, that couldn't have been it. Because, if I remembered correctly, Hojo had actually thought that there was something in me—DNA, no doubt—that would have allowed me to practically bond with the glowing liquid, yet the reverse proved true. If it hadn't been my DNA, then what? The simple fact that I came from another planet? What was Mako, anyway?

"So," I replied, ignoring my inner monologue, "if I have such strong reactions, what does that mean, exactly? I mean, as a SOLDIER, what does it mean?"

Sephiroth frowned, "It means you aren't a SOLDIER." He held up his hand when I tried to object, "The President might say you are, Hojo might say you are, but, other than on paper, you're not. SOLDIERs are pumped full of Mako to make them stronger, faster, and more capable of doing the jobs that are required of them. You can't have Mako injections—you'll die."

"You're saying," I interrupted, a bit angry, "that because I can't have green, glowing liquid pumped into me, that I'm not going to be good as you, or any of the others for that matter?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Sephiroth replied as the elevator doors opened at floor fifty-nine.

If looks could kill...nothing would have happened, technically, since Sephiroth was already leaving the elevator and his back was towards me, but had he been looking at me, he would have dropped dead. At least, I thought he would. Who knew, maybe he really was Superman and his only weakness was kryptonite. There was Earth, there was Gaia, maybe there really was a Krypton floating around out in space and I could fly to it, pluck the kryptonite from it, and then come back to Gaia and throw it at Sephiroth. But, that was highly unlikely. Luckily, I had something better than kryptonite. I had Materia. But, upon reaching for it, I realized it was in my pocket, which was inside my suit...which meant I couldn't get at it. Dammit.

We took the other set of elevators to floor fifty-one. The entire ride I didn't say another word. I was too busy fuming. Eventually, the doors opened. I followed Sephiroth as he walked to a translucent door with '51' printed on it. I snorted. Let's state the obvious, shall we? He waited for me briefly, and seeing that I was actually following him, he took a step toward the door and it swished open. Waiting for the both of us on the other side was Lazard's office, and, of course, Lazard himself. The Director was sitting at his desk, a very computer-worthy thing at that, and was fooling with one of the screens. Upon seeing me enter, he quickly pressed a button on the console. I figured he was trying to hide something he didn't want us to see.

"I see you made it alright," Lazard commented.

I laughed, much to the surprise of Lazard. He looked uneasily at Sephiroth, who, in turn, looked at me. I grinned, "If you consider having a seizure alright, then yes. Everything went smoothly, sir."

I held my grin as Lazard frowned. "What?"

"She had a reaction," Sephiroth explained.

"A severe reaction," I smiled.

"A severe reaction," Sephiroth corrected. "Worse than anything I've ever seen. And you know I've seen enough."

Lazard sighed, "That's not good."

"Why?" I broke in. Lazard looked at me, frowning again. I ignored it as I walked slowly towards him, my hands behind my back, "Because that means that your new warrior is a little weakling compared to everybody else? Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions, sir?"

Lazard stared hard at me as I continued to approach. He tried to say something but I held up my hand just as Sephiroth had done to me. "Save it. Sephiroth's already told me. Now, listen here, Mr. Lazard. I have no idea how strong your SOLDIERs are. I only know what I've seen with Zack, Angeal, and Sephiroth, and I can tell you right now, that wasn't much. Granted, Sephiroth did save my poor, pitiful self, but he did that with an aid of a rock. Now, other than a few big muscles here and there, what makes these men better than me, huh?" I placed my hands on Lazard's desk and leaned down towards him. "And don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be sexist," I smiled.

Lazard and I stared at one another briefly before he smiled, too. "You want to prove yourself."

"Bingo," I replied. "Big whoop. I can't have Mako injections. I can still use magic, I can still use martial arts, and I have an ancient suit that nobody else has. Who's to say that, with the aid of some training, I can't be as good as your little boys, huh?"

"I have no problems giving you training, or even a little test, if that's what you so desire," Lazard replied calmly. "That's not what worries me."

"And what does?"

"Your safety."

I frowned as Lazard pushed himself up from his desk and began to stalk around the room. I, however, remained with my hands on the desk, watching him silently as he continued.

"You're smart and headstrong, I can see that. I can also tell you're well-educated and because of that, surely you can see where I'm coming from. As Director of SOLDIER, I am responsible for everyone under my command. People die, that's a way of life, but my boys, as you call them, are well-equipped to withstand situations that, for other people, would be quite lethal." He had walked over towards another desk, near where Sephiroth was standing. He looked over his shoulder at me, "The Mako in them allows them to withstand those situations. You, however, do not and cannot have Mako put into your system. What does that say?"

I looked away from him and down at his desk, "It means that I am weaker than your SOLDIERs. That I probably always will be, unless this suit makes up for the defensive qualities the Mako gives SOLDIERs. Offense I can easily make up for with a weapon and some Materia, but the defense will always be an issue. You're worried about that. But why? Because you're a good man and don't want to lose anybody, or because it'd look bad on the report sent to the higher-uppers?"

I looked back over my shoulder to see Lazard smiling faintly, "Believe me. I don't give a damn what the President thinks, and I wouldn't go around calling myself a good man."

I stared at him a little more before turning my attention back towards his desk. Something caught my eye. Something I hadn't been expecting to see. The screen wasn't facing me, and it had a cover on it that made it difficult to see anything from the angle I was at, but what I could make out was a word. A name, in fact. A name borrowed from a word that usually wasn't used unless talking about a certain book.

Genesis.

I quickly stood up and turned away from the desk. If I continued to stare at it, Lazard might have grown suspicious. He was still looking at me as I tried to get my thoughts away from the name and back to the topic at hand.

"So," I said, "how about a deal? You allow me to join SOLDIER, more than just saying so on paper, that is, and I try my damnedest not to die? How 'bout that?"

"Why are you so insistent on joining SOLDIER?" Sephiroth finally spoke up. It was clear on Lazard's face that he wanted to know the answer to that question, too.

"Because I hate the Turks," I replied.

Lazard frowned, "Funny. Verdot said he was hesitant to let you go."

"No, I doubt that," I replied. "And if he was, it wasn't because he valued me. I had a habit of botching my missions. I think the only people going to miss me will be Tseng, Reno, and Ronnie. On second thought, Reno probably won't. He's got Rude to keep him entertained. Ronnie definately will, though."

"Why?" Lazard asked. "Who's Ronnie? Another Turk?"

"The only friend I've got left from a world long ago," I replied solemnly. I almost chuckled. There I was, going dramatic as well. Eh, why not? I could have my fun, too.

Sephiroth and Lazard looked uncomfortable, something that did not escape me. Sephiroth more than Lazard. It was hard to tell what Sephiroth was thinking most of the time, he was so good at masking any and all emotions, but what he did do was obvious to anyone who paid close enough attention. Basically, fan girls, Hojo, and me. Maybe a few other people I didn't know about.

Lazard finally broke the silence, "Well, it seems there are others that have lost friends." He cleared his throat and walked back to his desk, "You spoke of a weapon earlier. I'm sure Hojo's informed you that that suit came with one?"

"Yes," I replied, watching him sit down in his chair.

He started pressing buttons on his console, "Luckily for you, we have it; so, you don't have to go back to Hojo's lab. Sephiroth can take you to it."

Sephiroth pushed himself off the other desk in the room and made for the door. I didn't budge, "Wait a minute." Lazard cocked an eyebrow. "Hojo said it was a staff weapon."

"Yes?"

"I'm not good with staff weapons," I said.

Lazard smiled, "Then I guess that's another thing you're going to have to train for."

—FFVII—

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I mumbled as Sephiroth tossed the staff towards me. I caught it effortlessly.

It looked more like a decorative piece than a weapon. The three Materia slots were obvious—placed symmetrically in the golden, ankh-shaped head of the staff. My allusion to Anubis had been spot on, I concluded. From the ankh protruded three very sharp blades that were shaped in a trident-like fashion. The center blade was thicker than the two on the sides, but that was because it protruded from the top, rounded portion of the ankh; the other two blades were thinner and curved out from the 'arms' of the ankh. From the bottom of the ankh came the shaft, completely black and metal. The 'tail' end of the staff was a diamond; a very big, shiny diamond that was carved into a point and was faceted in the staff with gold. I frowned as I looked at it. Had that really been necessary? A giant diamond on the end of a weapon? Please.

I blinked rapidly as I nearly blinded myself with the rainbow cast off by the diamond. Well, I thought, that's one use for it. Also, by having the diamond at the end sharpened, it became just as deadly—if not more so—than the three prongs at the head. Death by pointy diamond. What a way to go.

"I can't use this," I said matter-of-factly.

"Learn," was all Sephiroth said as he began to leave.

"Even if I learn," I snapped, "it's still not a very efficient weapon."

Sephiroth paused to give me a look.

"It's close combat," I continued. "I suck at close combat. Ok, yeah, I know martial arts to an extent, and that could help me, and there are styles of martial arts that allow one to use a rod or staff weapon, but it still sucks. I mean. I'd have to get close enough to my enemy to either slice them with the top, or stab them with the bottom. Or vice versa."

"You yourself said you could use Materia," Sephiroth replied, folding his arms. It seemed he'd forgotten he was going somewhere else before. That, or he was amused by my pitiful attempts to get out of using such a stupid weapon.

"Three," I said, holding the staff up and waving it a little. "Wow. No, wait, scratch that. Two." I poked the white Materia positioned in the center of the staff, "I forgot. Hojo said this one won't come out."

"Then you'd better make sure those other two count," Sephiroth said, his voice taking on an amused tinge.

I glared at him, "And I have shitty use of my hands when it comes to these things. I can't even spin a baton without dropping it."

"Train."

"But, the weapon sucks!" I tried to stress for the last time. "It's-it's...not even a weapon." I shook it. "It's a mantle-piece!"

"And what's a weapon, Anubis?" Sephiroth asked, an eyebrow raised. Yes, he was clearly enjoying my little rant.

"Oh, I don't know. That six foot plus sword you carry? That giant—if not slightly ridiculous—sword Angeal carries? Come to think of it, your sword's a little ridiculous, too. Ok, what did I say? Because something just upset you!"

Sephiroth's facial expression had changed when I'd mentioned Angeal. It was subtle, as subtle as his expressions always were, but it was the same one he had given in Lazard's office.

He didn't say anything for a moment, but when he did it was a fully resolved, "Nothing."

And then, just like that, he was walking briskly out of the room again, his hair and coat swishing behind him. I took a deep breath. In high school, as a Senior, I had taken two classes of Psychology at the community college. I knew a little something about people's behaviours. And, right then, Sephiroth was avoiding a problem that I had inadvertently brought up. He needed to talk, but was probably too proud to. That, or he didn't want to bring it up because it was painful. Whatever the case, it had me wondering what the hell was up, and because I was a curious little thing, I was not about to let him walk away without a fight.

Taking a step back and lifting my arm over my shoulder, I threw the staff at him like a spear. Much to my amusement—and amazement—it flew relatively straight and embedded itself some four feet behind him. He stopped walking and looked back at me, staring at me blankly.

"What," I said slowly, "is going on. Both you and Lazard acted a little strange in his office, and just now you reacted when I mentioned Angeal."

"It's none of your business," Sephiroth said defensively.

"Okay, fine. I'll give you that one. Maybe it's not. Then tell me this: What or who is Genesis?"

That time Sephiroth twitched. I'd never seen Sephiroth twitch before. Nor had I seen him narrow his eyes at someone like he was at me. The whole intimidation factor came back again full force. Yet, that time, I managed to keep a straight face. Sephiroth seemed to be thinking it over. What it was exactly, I didn't know. But he was definitely thinking whether or not he should tell me.

"You're a very strange person, Anubis," Sephiroth replied. "You work for Shin-Ra and yet you know a lot less about it than a person on the street does." He faced me fully, "In fact, if I recall, you didn't even know who I was when I called you."

"Yes, I did," I said quickly.

"No, you didn't. You said, 'Aren't you the General of SOLDIER, or something?' Meaning you weren't completely sure of my status within SOLDIER when all of Gaia knows who I am. All but you, that is. Or do you just like playing dumb?"

"You know, I think I said 'like' somewhere in there. In fact, I'm pretty sure I would have said like."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Just like you're avoiding mine."

"Genesis was the Lieutenant of SOLDIER."

"Was?" I asked. "As in, past tense?"

Sephiroth frowned, "Yes, as in past tense. He...went missing a few months ago on a mission in Wutai. A few other lower-classed SOLDIERs disappeared with him."

I frowned, "Is that that desertion thing I heard about?"

"So, you do know a thing or two about Shin-Ra."

"Shut up and answer the question."

Sephiroth smirked, "That's a contradiction, but I'll humor you anyway. Yes, it's part of the desertion you heard about. The first, actually. The rest happened not too long ago."

"And that's where everyone's been," I said, the pieces finally falling into place. "I mean Angeal, Zack, and everybody else. Since a lot of SOLDIERs quit, the ones left behind have had to pick up the slack. And, don't think I didn't see that reaction when I mentioned Angeal again." Then it hit me, "Wait a minute... Did Angeal leave?"

Jackpot! So, Angeal had also left, and it appeared to weigh heavily on the silver-haired General. They were most likely friends. Duh, of course they were. All three seemed to go together. Just like Mickey, Donald, and Goofy. That was an amusing thought but, before my brain could go off trying to think of which one Sephiroth would be, it went in another direction.

"But, why would he leave?" I asked, more to myself than Sephiroth. "I've only met the guy once, but he seemed to be someone who wouldn't just quit."

Sephiroth chuckled dryly. I looked at him uneasily. The laugh disturbed me. Not because it was creepy, or maniacal, or anything remotely similar to Hojo, but because...I wasn't entirely sure why. But it did make me extremely uncomfortable.

"Why don't you ask Genesis?" Sephiroth practically hissed before finally walking out of the storage room we were in.

I stared after him for a long while. My thoughts kept wandering to many different places. Genesis deserted along with a group of SOLDIERs. Lower-classed ones. They more than likely had followed him because he was higher up in command and he'd convinced them, somehow, to follow him. But, why would he have needed them to quit with him? Most people wouldn't quit a job just because their boss told them too, that's how they made money to live. People would, however, quit en masse if they were guaranteed to have another job waiting for them. But, what kind of job would be waiting for them?

Wouldn't it be interesting, I thought, if Genesis, for whatever reason, had quit to form his own little gang? Interesting, yes, but would it be probable? Who knew? A mission in Wutai and a few months before were the timeline I had been given and that meant the War was still going on. Why desert during a war? I didn't know the answer to that question either.

A lot of other SOLDIERs had deserted after the War. Was that the work of Genesis, too? If so, why? I sighed and tried to rub my eyebrows...and then realized I was still wearing my helmet. Too many questions that I didn't really care to have the answers to. But, like I've mentioned before, I was a curious little thing. I wanted to know anyway. I wouldn't get the answers from Sephiroth, or Lazard, I was sure of that. I'd just have to do some snooping around the SOLDIER floor.

I walked over to my staff and jerked it out of the ground. I frowned and cringed a little when I noticed the hole I'd left in the floor.

"Eh," I muttered, "that's not good."

I looked around guiltily before hurrying out of the room. I was not paying for that hole in the floor like Ronnie had paid for the Turks' training room ceiling. Though, mine was undoubtedly cheaper.

—FFVII—

I had a funny feeling that Sephiroth was also meant to show me around the SOLDIER floor, but since I'd probably pissed him off by bringing up a sore subject, he probably wasn't going to do that anymore. Actually, the fact that I hadn't seen him after our little incident meant that he definitely wasn't going to show me around. Oh, well, I guessed that meant I was going to have to find stuff on my own.

It was amusing, to say the least, as I walked around floor forty-nine all by my lonesome. The number of looks I received was staggering. I couldn't quite tell what looks they were since everyone else also had a helmet on. I could tell, though, when I got stares of awe—the men had their mouths open for that one.

No one approached me, no one called after me. They didn't avoid me, really, but the poor boys definitely had no idea what to make of me. If I saw a person in a suit reminiscent of a black god of death with a staff equally as black and imposing—if not pretty—I, too, would have been at a loss of words and at loss with what to do with myself. Case in point, when a poor boy of at least sixteen had stopped right in front of me and found himself unable to move.

We both stared at one another with our helmets on—each unable to tell what the other was thinking. I raised an eyebrow that I knew he couldn't see. He was a little shorter than me, and was looking up at me, and the whole image of him was so freaking hilarious I had difficulty not to smile. We stayed that way for at least a minute.

My eyes drifted behind him and I noticed a few other SOLDIERs had stopped what they were doing to also stare at us. I looked back at the boy. Feeling that I was probably going to be standing there for a while, I frowned. Such a small amount of movement on my part seemed to jump start the boy.

"Please, don't kill me," he whimpered, still unmoving.

It was then I realized what had happened. The poor boy hadn't moved because he was scared shitless. I tried not to laugh; I failed. The boy jumped back so fast one would have think I'd shot a gun off.

I coughed into my fist, "I'm not going to kill you."

The next sentence the boy said caught me off-guard.

"You're a girl?" He whispered.

I frowned then looked down at my chest. The suit did a good job of hiding whatever boobs I had to begin with with a piece of metal that went straight across and stuck out in the middle. Anyone could confuse it for a flashy piece of material meant to be for aesthetic value only, but I could attest to the fact that it was indeed there for a reason. No matter how not-impressive that reason was.

I looked back up at the boy, "No, I'm a woman." I held up my staff, the three prongs slightly leaning towards him, "Hear me roar."

Much to my surprise, the boy screamed—a sound that sounded a lot like a squeak—and tried to run away. Frowning, I quickly grabbed a hold of the ridiculous turtle-neck undershirt the little Grunts were made to wear. He screamed louder and started thrashing. The kid's screams of 'No' 'Please' 'Don't kill me' and 'Ah' alerted his other little friends to our little predicament; and, I realized, I was either going to have to let go of him or shut him up. Otherwise, those swords the other men were reaching for might or might not have wound up inside me. I went for the latter.

Without releasing my hand on the boy's shirt, I raised my staff in my other hand and bopped him over the head. It didn't hurt him, of course, since he was wearing a metal helmet, but it did make him shut up long enough for me to shout:

"I'm not going to kill you!"

"Don't hurt me!" He came back with.

"If you don't stop struggling, I'll hit you again."

He stopped. The other SOLDIERs, upon hearing my voice and realizing I was a 'girl' had stopped their slow, 'sneaky' advances and watched on—some with smirks on their faces. I growled at them. The smirks quickly disappeared, as did the boys. All except the one I had a hold of, that is. He hadn't moved a centimeter since I'd told him to stop.

"I'm going to let you go now," I said slowly, "and you're not going to run. You're going to stay put, and then I'm going to make brief conversation with you. Understood?"

The boy stayed quiet.

"You're allowed to answer that," I muttered.

"Yes," he squeaked.

I let go. The boy didn't move.

"Good," I said, "now..."

And then I trailed off when I realized he wasn't going to move to turn around and face me as I talked to him. Gripping his shoulders—which made him flinch—I spun him around to face me. I let him go and put my hands up to show him I wasn't going to hurt him, then dropped them.

"Good. Now, I was supposed to be showed this floor by Sephiroth. Yes, I said Sephiroth, close your mouth. Unfortunately, we had a little fall out you might say and I have no guide. Why are you trembling?"

"I'm sorry, sir, MA'AM! Ma'am...Sir." I resisted the urge to rub my eyebrows again as the boy stuttered over himself in his sad attempt to guess which formality he was supposed to use. "It's just...You remind me of someone."

"Oh?" I asked, uninterested, "And who might that be?"

"Once, I was sent to do guard duty at the gates, and this man and woman appeared on a Chocobo and—"

He didn't get any further.

"That was you," I hissed.

The boy paused then took in a deep breath. The kind scared people take right before the begin running for their lives. Which is exactly what this kid tried to do. I grabbed a hold of his shirt collar again, only this time I yanked back so hard he slipped and fell to the floor with a loud thud. He quickly found the diamond on the end of my staff pointed between his eyes. Or, at least, where I supposed his eyes to be.

"Alright, bucko," I growled, "there's only one way you're getting out of this. And it's not in a body bag. So don't even go there."

"Oh, goodness, you're going—" and then what I said finally registered with him, "Wait, what?"

"You heard me," I said. "You owe me an apology for nearly shooting me instead of that damned bird. Honestly, what the hell were you thinking? And don't give me that Wutai bullshit!" The boy quickly closed his mouth and whimpered. "You're too young to be in the military—"

"I am not!" He suddenly burst out with. There was a lot of conviction in his voice all of a sudden. I slammed my staff into the third light on his helmet, causing it to break and crackle. He quickly went back into 'terror-mode'.

"Yes," I hissed, "you are. You're a scared, little weakling who has no business behind a gun. I can't believe Shin-Ra recruits people as young as you. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to apologize for nearly shooting me, and then, after we're done here, I want you to go apologize to my friend. Don't worry about paying him back, I'm sure you probably need that money a lot more than he does now, considering he's a Turk. Ah, didn't know that, did we? Anyways, apologize; I'll let you up; and we can continue where I left off."

"And if I don't?" The boy asked defiantly. His voice cracking ruined any hope he had at sounding threatening.

"I can stand here all day, kid. And if that doesn't work, I have a Thunder Materia in my pocket. You already know who I am, so I have no qualms about powering down this suit, grabbing it, and shocking you with it. I know for a fact it won't kill you, but you definitely will feel it and it definitely will hurt. So, what's it going to be?" I asked.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

I grinned, "I'm sorry, I don't think I quite caught that."

"Sorry!" he shouted bitterly.

"Good boy," I said and removed my staff from his face. I offered him my hand, and he just looked at it as if I'd lost my mind. Then he looked at me. I smiled, "Simple apology's all I wanted from you. You're the one that made it into a big deal."

The boy frowned and pushed himself off the floor, completely ignoring my outstretched hand. I smirked and dropped it as he dusted himself off. A procedure I thought was pointless considering the spotless floors.

"Too proud to accept help from a girl?" I asked, amused.

"Not trusting of someone who throws me to the ground and threatens me just because they want an apology," he grumbled.

"Would you have given me one otherwise?" I asked. The boy frowned but remained silent. "Didn't think so. Now, where I left off was asking you to show me around. Can you do that?" The boy was silent again. "Ok, dude, if you're trying to communicate with your eyes, I can't see them. Use your words."

"I have a mission to do," The kid said quickly. I stared at him for a moment. It was pretty obvious he was lying, but just on the safe side…

"Tell them the new recruit kidnapped you, now come on," I said and grabbed a hold of his collar, dragging him along behind me as I started walking through the halls.

"Knock it off!" He protested as he slapped at my arm. "I really do have a mission to do." I ignored him. "Lazard will be angry if I don't do it." I still ignored him. "It's a matter of life and death?" He half-asked.

"Cute," I said as I came to another door. I stared at it, trying to figure out where it went without actually going inside it. I nodded at it, "What's this?"

"If you let me go," the boy began, "I'll tell you."

I looked over at him, "What's the little word that gets things done?" The chance of the boy having ever read Peter Pan was zero, but I thought I'd throw it out there anyway.

"What?" He asked.

"I'll give you a hint, it starts with a 'p' and ends with an 'e'."

I watched the boy frown as he tried to think of what word I was talking about. I thought it should have been readily obvious, but maybe that was because I already knew the answer to the question. Regardless, it was hilarious to watch him wrack his brain.

"Give ya another hint. Puh—" I trailed off.

"Please?" The boy asked hopefully.

I abruptly let go of his collar and he jerked away so fast I wouldn't have been able to catch him even if I had had lightning-fast reflexes. He straightened his collar and stared at me. Hell, he could have been glaring at me; I couldn't tell. He kept his distance.

"I guess you're not coming within arm's reach again, are ya?" I asked nonchalantly.

"No."

I shrugged, "Too bad. I would have removed your helmet. I hate talking to people whose face can't be seen."

"You're one to talk," he grumbled.

He did have a point there. I jerked my thumb towards the door I was standing in front of, "I repeat, 'What's this?'"

"The Materia room," he replied.

"So," I asked, "this is where they keep the Materia? Kind of big for a storage room, don't ya think?"

"That's where they make it, not where they keep it. The SOLDIERs get their Materia from the storage bins a few yards down on the other side of the wall, along with weapons and anything else they need to do their missions. Weren't you debriefed on that? I mean, I know you haven't been here that long, like, a day, but, they should have told you that..." The boy trailed off and leaned forward a little. He asked suspiciously, "Are you sure you're with SOLDIER."

I turned my head from looking at the door to stare at the boy. A few seconds passed while I thought of what I could say to that in return.

I finally settled with a slightly sarcastic, "Does it look like I belong anywhere else?"

"It doesn't look like you belong anywhere," he replied honestly.

Ouch. Talk about harsh. He hadn't meant it to be, that was for sure, but one had to take into consideration that I was an alien from Earth—one of only two that existed on Gaia. I didn't belong anywhere, really. I put that startling revelation behind me and continued my snooping.

"They make Materia in here?" I asked, jerking a thumb at the door again. The boy nodded. "And how do they do that?"

The boy frowned, "Why don't you just go in there and see for yourself?"

"We can do that?" I asked, genuinely stunned.

Shin-Ra just allowed little SOLDIERs to walk into a room where they made magic rocks and expected no altercations what-so-ever? Wow... Maybe, the company was more trusting than I thought. Or, maybe I was just a paranoid little person and thought everyone else should be, too.

"Yes," the boy grinned. "You can do that."

"We. You're going in first," I said, stepping back a little and pointing at the door. "I'm not losing another tour guide."

The boy frowned, grunted, but obeyed anyways. Once again, I found his situation hilarious. He probably thought there was no way to get out of the predicament he was in and that he was going to be forced to be my slave for the remainder of the day. It wasn't true, of course. If he had thought things through he would have realized, by then, that he still had a sword strapped to his person, and that, if he wanted to escape, all he had to do was swing it at me. Of course, he didn't which meant he hadn't and he really was going to be my slave for the remainder of the day—at least until I was done exploring.

The door swished open when he stood close enough to it, and then we both stepped inside. Inside was definitely spacious and grey, just like the rest of the floor. Random scientists were walking around and chatting with one another, spouting off jargon I didn't understand. My eyes briefly took in my surroundings before they zeroed in on a couple of tanks near the wall. Involuntarily, I took a step away from them.

Inside was Mako. The green liquid seemed to glow gently within the canisters, but I knew better. It wasn't as gentle as it'd have one believe. There I was, going off being dramatic again. It wasn't possible that a liquid could purposely make itself appear gentle—not like it was alive or anything. I hoped.

To my surprise, the boy must have finally warmed up to his role as 'tour guide' and began to explain what the scientists were doing.

"See that Mako over there?" He asked, nodding at it. Boy, did I ever. "They use it to make Materia."

"Mako makes Materia?" I asked curiously.

"Condensed Mako does. They're able to form it into the spherical Materia that everyone uses. I don't know how."

"So, those shapes aren't natural? The balls, I mean. There's other kinds of Materia on Gaia?"

One of the scientists had heard our brief conversation and decided to join in, "It's possible to find Materia naturally, but it's very rare to do so, and usually the deposits are so huge that they're unusable by our standards."

"What if they weren't unusable?" I asked. The whole topic on Mako and Materia I found to be very intriguing.

The scientist frowned, clearly thrown off by my question, "I beg your pardon?"

"What if they weren't unusable?" I reiterated. "You're a scientist, I'm sure you like hypothetical situations. Let's say, for instance, someone was to run upon a giant crystal of Materia and that said someone found a way to tap into its power like we do our tiny spheres. They stumbled, or something, and touched it, and at the exact moment they linked with whatever power was stored inside and released it. What would happen? Does the Materia's size have to do with how powerful it is?"

"Not necessarily," The scientist replied. "However, I'm pretty certain that if there was someone that existed that could tap into the power of raw, unrestrained Materia like that...they'd be a formidable opponent. Even to someone like you or Sephiroth."

"There's no one strong enough to beat Sephiroth," my tour guide said, oddly proud.

The scientist gave him a look, "That's what Shin-Ra wants you to believe. Now, if you'll excuse us, we scientists have our jobs to do. I'm going to have to ask you to step out."

I turned and went to leave. The boy had his mouth open, finger raised, as if to object to what the scientist had just admitted to before I was forced to grab him by the arm and lead him outside. The door swished shut behind us and I let go of his arm.

"Did you hear what that man said? Someone strong enough to beat Sephiroth? Pah! No such person exists! I bet even the other Firsts couldn't stand a chance against him. Why, Sephiroth's—"

"Child," I said quickly.

"Will you stop calling me 'kid' and 'child' and everything else that makes you seem older than me?" He snapped back.

"I am older than you," I replied calmly.

"Not by much!"

"By at least seven years."

"How old are you?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'm not telling you!" I barked defensively.

"Ha! I bet you're lying."

"Twenty-two! There, are ya happy?" I huffed.

The boy crossed his arms in all manner of a childish way, "Only six years."

"Geh!" I pulled at my hair to keep from strangling the kid. "Look, I don't care. I'm still older than you and I'm going to call you whatever the hell I like—"

"My name's Jerry."

"—I'm going to call you whatever the hell I like. Whether that's Bob, Chuck, Bill, kid, or child. You are who I say you are. Ya got that?"

The boy had started to frown. He waited a moment before replying, "You're a very bossy, annoying person, do you know that?"

I stared up at the ceiling. Lord help me, I thought.

"Ok, yes, I'm a very bossy, annoying person. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry I kidnapped you, threw you to the ground, smashed out your third eye thing on your helmet, nearly choked you to death, and forced you to give me a grand tour of the forty-ninth floor of the Shin-Ra building."

"Thank you," he replied, smiling gently.

"I am, however, not sorry I called you kid or child," I finished. The boy's smile quickly vanished. "You can't win them all, just take what you get and move on. That's what I'm doing. Moving on. Now, back on the topic of Mako and Materia. If Mako makes Materia, why are SOLDIERs pumped full of it?"

"Mako does a lot of things," the boy replied. "Gives us power for our homes, makes Materia, allows SOLDIERs to become stronger than regular people."

"But, how?"

The boy shrugged, "I don't know. Mako energy was discovered long before I was born. Shin-Ra really doesn't give much detail on it. I don't think they really know either."

That was where he was wrong. Shin-Ra knew a lot of things that the general populous didn't know. I'd learned that fast from working with the Turks and hanging around Rufus. The Ancients, Jenova, all the things Hojo and President Shin-Ra whispered about to one another. Only a handful of people knew about those things. I figured only a handful of people knew what Mako was, too. Like for instance:

"Why is it so toxic?" I asked.

"You mean, why do people have bad reactions to Mako sometimes?" The boy asked, a little confused.

"It just doesn't make sense," I mumbled to myself. "If it's so great..."

Why did it nearly kill me? I wondered. It was like I was compatible with everything else on Gaia: the food, the species, the language. Hell, I could use Materia! Just not Mako...

"What else is on this floor," I nearly snapped as I tried to pull myself out of my thoughts once again.

"The training room, debriefing room, those storage bins I told you about earlier, and the lounge area. That's about it," the boy hesitated. "Are you alright? You seem a little out of it."

I smiled, "My dear child, how can you tell anything about me when I'm wearing a helmet that's ten times more obscuring than yours is? And more imposing."

The boy—Jerry—frowned, "There you go. Being all mean again."

I sighed, "I wasn't out of it, I was thinking. I interrupted my thoughts to make it appear that I wasn't, but because I did so without following them to the end of wherever the hell they were going, I got grouchy. It happens sometimes."

"That made no sense at all."

"It did in my head."

"Uh-huh," The boy replied doubtfully.

"You think I'm insane, don't you?" I asked dismally.

"Are you?"

Yes, he thought I was insane. It was possible that I was insane. I mean, I was going around spacing out over a green, glowing liquid. Did that make me insane, or just inquisitive? Maybe both. I sighed.

"Look, I've wasted enough of your time and I'm going to go now. I'll probably be seeing you later. Not that I can tell you apart from the rest of the helmet-headed goons around here—who all have mysteriously disappeared for some strange reason. Until then I want you to have a happy and prosperous life, and if I never see you behind the barrel of a gun again I'll be just as happy. Ta-ta."

I turned swiftly and began to walk in the direction of the elevators. Just as I turned the corner of the hall I remembered something else I'd told the boy earlier. I jerked back and peered around the corner. Jerry was just starting to walk away. I had enough time to catch him.

"Yo!" I called. He stopped and turned to look at me. "Don't forget: You're supposed to apologize to my friend. I'll ask him if you do or not. If you don't, rest assured I will hunt you down again."

Author's Note: I know ya'll caught the Superman reference. If you didn't, you're not a stalker. Is that a good thing, or a bad thing? I don't know. Lotsa stressing of Mako in this chapter. Which is what I wanted to stress. I could keep stressing it actually, but if I do, I'll give everything away. That, and this chapter just wouldn't end. So, how do you like my Jerry? He's named after the entity in Sphere, a book I read after I watched the movie on Encore (that's a satellite/cable station for those of you without satellite/cable). -cries- I NEED PEOPLE! -shakes DSL box- GIVE ME MY PEOPLE!

Also, before uploading this, my dog died. Ronnie and I had to dig his grave, where we then put him—in a DirectTV box wrapped in a plastic bag—into the ground. Do not feel sorry for there is no need. He had a long run. Eleven years to be precise. And now he will never be bothered with fleas or old men with Alzheimers ever again. I am not so fortunate…

Edit: I can't breathe through my nostrils. Pollen—why is it so annoying? How they hell do trees and grasses give off pollen as they die? I mean, honestly, what the hell. And, I fixed the rank error with Jerry. –coughs on all of you as she continues editing-