Author's Disclaimer: I do not own Super Smash Bros or any of the characters involved in it. I am earning no profit from this story, other than the enjoyment of writing it and sharing it with others! I hope you all enjoy reading it!
When Cloud woke up, he was back in his bed. But not at the mansion. In his house. Tifa was sleeping in hers on the other side of the room. Cloud sat up, confused. He was wearing his usual attire; the one long black sleeve, the short cape, the red ribbon tied around his forearm. The Buster Sword was nowhere to be seen and his other blade was not in the room. It must be downstairs with his motorcycle, and Zack's sword must be back in the church.
What had happened? Had he just dreamed everything about the mansion? Were all the others nothing more than a figment of his imagination? Deciding he didn't care, Cloud got out of bed and walked downstairs. He peeked into Marlene and Denzel's rooms, just to reassure himself for certain. Both kids were sound asleep. A glance out Denzel's window told Cloud that it was way too early to be awake. He better get back to bed. He climbed upstairs and paused when he noticed Tifa sitting up in her bed, stretching. Her eyes landed on him, and she cocked her head.
"It's too early to be awake, Cloud," she scolded softly.
"I know," he agreed quickly. "I just...I needed a glass of water."
Tifa nodded, though her expression suggested she wasn't convinced. "This isn't the first time you've woken up early like this."
"Sometimes I don't sleep well."
"Why not? Everything's fine, Cloud. Sephiroth is dead. Nobody's got geostigma anymore."
Cloud shrugged.
Tifa gestured for him to sit on her bed. He did so absentmindedly, still thinking about his nightmare. Had the entire thing been a dream? Everything about the mansion was just something he made up while he slept? He hadn't realized his imagination was that active. Tifa rested her head against his shoulder. "You need to stop worrying so much. You're not a fighter anymore, Cloud. You're a delivery boy."
"I know," Cloud mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. "And I'm also tired."
"Then go on back to bed," Tifa suggested, rubbing circles into his back.
He relaxed, resolving to go back to sleep when she was done massaging him. His muscles were very tense, and she was helping them unwind. He closed his eyes contentedly, the mansion drifting from his mind. Maybe it was all fake. How could anything like that be real anyway? The mere notion of it was-
Cloud screamed as Tifa's soft touch was replaced with the cold bite of a knife. Steel sliced through his skin and grazed his bones, blood flying everywhere, and pain ricocheting throughout his entire body. He heaved himself off the bed, pulling the knife out of his back as he did so, collapsing onto the floor. Tifa stared down at him with a sneer on her face. Her hands were bloodied and she seemed unbothered.
"T-Tifa?" Cloud sputtered, coughing up blood. His spine hurt so badly. He doubted he'd be able to stand anytime soon. "W-Why…?"
"Why? I'm tired of living with a science experiment like you, Cloud," she spit, kicking him in the stomach. He dry heaved, blood flowing from his back even faster, his head quickly beginning to feel weightless. His vision danced between white and black, and Tifa raising the knife over his chest was the last thing he saw before he totally lost consciousness.
When he woke up again, he was in the mansion. So, it wasn't a dream. And that was Master Hand's punishment. Being betrayed by an illusion. Well, he was going to have to do better than that if he wanted to end Cloud's resistance. His back still ached, but a potion could fix that no problem.
You're awake. Mewtwo's voice broke into Cloud's thoughts.
"Sure am," Cloud agreed. "That wasn't so bad."
Mewtwo gave him an incredulous look.
"Could you get me a potion? My back hurts. I took a knife to it in there."
Fox is returning now.
Cloud nodded, relaxing in his bed. He might still be stuck here, but if this was all they did to naughty people, Cloud would never have to bow before Master Hand. He could take that. It wasn't real, and he knew it.
Fox got up the stairs only a few minutes later, offering Cloud a potion. Cloud reached out to take it, but Fox pulled his hand back. "You know, I've been thinking," Fox said, holding the potion out of Cloud's reach. "Why have I been hanging out with you, Cloud? You're just a science experiment. Just an empty puppet. A failed copy of somebody else. That's all you are."
Cloud grit his teeth. "Just give me the stupid potion."
Fox reached down to his belt and pulled his gun loose, pointing it at Cloud's head. "Useless puppet. Failed clone. That's what you are."
Cloud felt anger mixing with his pain now. He stared down the gun's barrel. "W-what did I do to deserve this?"
Mewtwo watched the entire ordeal with an air of nonchalance.
"Mewtwo! Help me out!"
He is right. You are useless. At least I have a will of my own. You follow the command of Jenova. You belong to her.
"I do not!" Cloud screamed.
"We'd be better off without you," Fox whispered. He pulled the trigger, and a laser fired right into Cloud's forehead. He blacked out immediately, his brain feeling fried and all of his nerves alighting with agony.
The next time he woke up, he was lying on the ground in the Forgotten City. His entire party was there; Vincent, Yuffie, Tifa, Barret, everyone. Except Aerith. Cloud knew where she was. He didn't want to go find her, fearing what would happen if he did. But after Barret threatened him, he complied, marching through the city to the altar where Aerith was patiently praying.
Cloud almost collapsed right there. There she was. Aerith...he hadn't seen her in so long. It'd been so long...too long. His heart twinged with desire, and he shook his head slowly. She was dead. This wasn't real. She was dead. Sephiroth killed her. Master Hand just wanted to make him watch that again.
"Go on," Red XIII said patiently. "We've spent all this time looking for her. Go say hello."
Cloud nodded numbly. It was an illusion. He knew that. It had to be. Aerith was dead. He had watched her die. He'd laid her to rest in these very waters. He'd felt her last breath leave her body. She was...dead...He knew that…
Cloud paused, a stray tear slipping from his eye. She was dead. But she was also right there. He could go say something to her. This wasn't her. But was it better than nothing? Was this illusion better than nothing at all? He wasn't sure.
Cloud made his way to the altar, his thoughts whirling. What should he say? Why did he care? She wasn't real. She was dead. He was full-on crying by the time he reached her. She had waited for him, it seemed. Her hands were clasped patiently in front of her chest, her green eyes closed as she concentrated on her task. But when Cloud reached the altar, she paused in her work.
"Aerith," Cloud said quietly, offering her a hand to help her stand.
"Cloud," she greeted, smiling brightly, sending Cloud's stomach fluttering. "You came."
"Of course I did," he agreed. "I missed you."
"You missed me?" she repeated, giggling, and he blushed. "Has our SOLDIER boy lost his hard edge?"
Cloud opened his mouth to reply, but ended up crying out in pain. Sephiroth's control invaded his mind, and his body wasn't his anymore. He jerked against the one-winged angel's possession, but he wasn't strong enough. His hand went to his sword, slowly, shakily, but it got there all the same. He drew the blade, holding it over Aerith's head, his blue-green eyes swirling with conflict.
"Cloud, what are you doing?" Yuffie screamed at him.
"C-Cloud?" Aerith stammered, tripping over herself as she tried to back up.
Cloud pushed against the control with everything he had. Last time, he'd broken free. Sephiroth had jumped from his perch and killed Aerith himself when Cloud refused to do it. But this time...that didn't happen. For a solid two or three minutes, Cloud stood with the sword raised over his head. Aerith had nowhere to go. Nobody else dared attack him. His arms shaking, he just held the sword over his head, fighting Sephiroth's command to bring it down on her. Tears streamed down his face. He couldn't lose her again. He couldn't do it himself. He just… he couldn't.
But he didn't have a choice. His strength eventually exhausted, and Sephiroth fully assumed control over Cloud's body. His arms stopped their quivering. He readjusted his grip on the sword. On Zack's sword. And then he brought it down on Aerith's head, cutting off her scream within seconds. Blood went everywhere, staining the precious Buster Sword a sickly red color. Aerith fell to the ground and Cloud dropped his sword. He fell to his knees, now in control of himself, but he didn't know what to do. He'd killed her. Not Sephiroth. Cloud had killed Aerith. He buried his hands in his hair, pressing his face against the ground.
"What have you done?" Barret demanded, placing his gun next to Cloud's head.
Cloud shook his head slowly. He didn't know. He didn't know. He wasn't strong enough. He hadn't fought it. And he'd killed Aerith. Her blood painted his chest and his sword. He'd killed her. It was all his fault.
"Go back to where you came from, puppet," Barret spat. "Shoulda never trusted you in the first place." He fired his gun, and Cloud collapsed yet again.
He woke up back at his house. A few minutes later, Denzel shocked him when he took the kid's hand. Tifa brought him dinner that scorched his throat until he couldn't talk anymore. No matter how many times he told himself it wasn't real, he shouldn't trust anyone, he just needed to wait it out...He couldn't bring himself to believe it. Every time he thought maybe he was out. Every time he thought maybe he was home or awake or back with Aerith in a dream. Over and over, he was betrayed by someone he loved. Over and over, Sephiroth or Master Hand forced him to do terrible things. He killed Aerith more than once. Killed Tifa. Marlene. Denzel. The mansion residents. He heard the word puppet and science experiment so many times the words just rang in his ears permanently. His body was worn out from constantly being shot or stabbed or shocked or any other manner of wounded. But his head always felt heavy, his heart constantly ached, and he slowly came to loathe himself. He woke up mumbling, "Puppet, useless, clone," over and over until someone forced him awake. He cried every time he took hold of the Buster Sword, using it not to defend his honor but to destroy someone else's life. For what felt like all of eternity, Cloud was forced through scenario after scenario, every single one of them feeling just as real and hurting just as badly as the last. No matter what he told himself, he always ended up trusting both himself and the people around him too much. Nobody was safe. He told Tifa to run from him. She didn't listen, and he killed her. He told Barret to shoot him down. The man ended up with a sword through his chest for his hesitation. No matter how hard Cloud fought, he couldn't resist his master's desires. He was a puppet. He was useless. He had no will of his own. Whatever Sephiroth or Master Hand wanted...he did it. It didn't matter if it was killing children or burning cities. Cloud did it.
Finally, Cloud woke up to the color white. Someone was standing behind him. Everything around him was white. The ground, the sky, the horizon...he was standing in a world of white. And he relaxed.
"So what if it looks hopeless?" Zack asked him, the taller man leaning back into Cloud nonchalantly. "If it were me, I still wouldn't give up."
"Z-Zack," Cloud breathed. Now, more than ever, he needed his best friend's guidance.
"What are you even doing, man?" Zack laughed. "You're just letting him win, you know. You're not any of those things. Not in any way that matters. All that you just saw? All of it was fake."
Cloud breathed a sigh of relief. He stared down at the Buster Sword grasped in his hands, relishing in Zack's breathing from behind him. An illusory realm of his own, to be sure. But it was better than anyplace he'd been recently.
"Cloud...you remember what I told you, right?"
Cloud nodded. "I am your living legacy."
"That's right," Zack agreed. "Not a clone. Not a puppet. My living legacy."
Cloud's arms stopped shaking. He raised the Buster Sword to his forehead, just as he'd watched Zack do right before he died. "I have to protect my honor, whatever happens."
"Exactly," Zack praised. He turned around, resting a hand on Cloud's shoulder. "Don't give up hope, Cloud. You're going to wake up soon. Don't let Master Hand beat you. I mean, you already beat Sephiroth, right? This guy should be a synch."
"I know," Cloud mumbled.
"Now, go on and give it everything you've got!" Zack encouraged, pushing Cloud towards the edge of their white world. "Wake up and show that stupid glove who's boss!"
Cloud smiled softly. He took a deep breath, and a step forward. Just beyond the veil of white, he could see his ceiling in the mansion.
"Wake up," Zack encouraged. "But never forget to embrace your dreams."
Cloud nodded. He took another step forward, the ceiling wavering as he left his illusory realm behind. And then he froze, his hand resting against a solid wall, separating him from reality. He was trapped.
"What are you waiting for?" Zack teased.
"T-the wall," Cloud mumbled, pushing against the invisible barrier. It did not budge. He doubted it would yield to him. Suddenly, the whiteness around them darkened to black, and Cloud drew his sword off his back. Zack startled, both of them searching for the source of the disturbance.
"You cannot leave," Master Hand's voice began, and the glove flickered into existence just above Zack's head, "until you strike him down, my puppet."
Cloud clenched his fists. "Never."
Master Hand snickered. Zack stared up at him, but there was nothing he could do. He was unarmed. And he wasn't real either, Cloud reminded himself. Just a figment of his own imagination. "You act like you have a choice. When will you realize that all puppets have strings?" He gestured to Cloud's back, and the ex-mercenary risked a glance over his shoulder. His breaths came out in shaky gasps as he beheld his own shoulder blades. Puppet strings extended from his skin, going up and up and up until Cloud couldn't see them anymore. His shoulder blades weren't the only parts of him bound by strings. His elbows, knees, and neck all had strings coming from them. He raised and lowered his arm, watching as the string coming from it jerked along with his movements.
"And when will you realize that those strings are now mine?" Master Hand finished, and Cloud gasped as his vision shifted. He wasn't standing in the corner of the realm anymore. He was standing just in front of Zack, his friend's blue and green eyes glaring up at something above Cloud himself. Cloud looked up. Master Hand was holding the strings that extended from his body. Master Hand had control over him.
Zack looked back at Cloud. "It's your choice, Cloud. No matter what that thing says."
Master Hand sneered. "Kill him, numberless clone. Take his life." He jerked his fingers forward, and Cloud stumbled as his strings dragged him towards Zack.
"You always have a choice, Cloud," Zack said calmly, lowering his head and exposing his neck. "It's up to you."
"Zack...run…" Cloud breathed. His arm felt numb as Master Hand raised it over his head, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword without his consent.
"Fight him!" Zack commanded. "You can win this fight!"
"I-I can't!" Cloud screamed, pulling his arm back. Master Hand yanked it forward again. The Buster Sword's blade rested just under Zack's neck.
Zack's expression soured. "Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe I should've left you in that tube and saved myself. You're useless."
Master Hand paused, letting Zack talk.
"You promised you'd be my living legacy," Zack went on. "And within three days you forgot I'd ever existed! I dragged you around the continent for four years, Cloud! And all I got for it was death! Maybe I should've done it differently. Left you with Hojo and gotten away by myself. I probably could've killed Sephiroth faster than you did. I wouldn't have handed over the Black Materia either."
"Shut up!" Cloud cried weakly, the sword still poised under Zack's neck. He tried to pull his hand back, but Master Hand kept his strings too taut to move.
"Maybe you are just a clone, Cloud," Zack spit, the friendly look in his eyes now completely gone. "Maybe you are just a useless science experiment. An empty puppet. That's all you are. I trusted the wrong person with my honor and dreams."
"I'm sorry!" Cloud yelled. "I'm sorry! I'm...I'm sorry…"
Zack nodded, his hands clenched into fists. "You should be. Now go on. Kill me. You can't fight it. You're too weak. Too pathetic. Kill me."
"N-no," Cloud wailed. "N-no, I won't. I won't kill you, I won't do it!"
"Yes, you will," Master Hand said calmly. He pulled his fingers forward. And the Buster Sword went through Zack's neck.