A/N:
For those who are reading Five Hearts as well, the first scene of this chapter will feel very familiar to Genesis's stay in the hospital. But it is a lot shorter, so hopefully the confusion won't last as long!
Now onto the unpleasant bits. This chapter is very intense, perhaps more so than the last chapter, so I apologize again for that. But I promise it ends on a much better note! With that said, parts of this chapter might resonate with the talks of the "tribunal" that the January 6th insurrectionists had planned. I would like to stress again that I've had this part of the plot planned out since at least a month before those attacks happened, so I decided to keep the story as I initially planned it. But I do realize that this might be particularly sensitive for some people, so please take care while reading.
Like last time, there is a separate trigger warning below. If you don't think you're likely to be triggered and want to avoid as many spoilers as possible, feel free to skip it. Otherwise, please please please read the warning before continuing with this chapter.
! ! ! TRIGGER WARNING ! ! !
There will be mentions of PTSD, hallucinations, feelings of self-worthlessness, mob violence, and attempted self-sacrifice in this chapter. Also, I stand by what I said last chapter - there will be no sexual assault/harassment nor the threat of it in this chapter or any other chapter, however there will be a particular scene where one or more characters will be afraid that sexual assault will happen. I promise, though, that it's not on any of the assailants mind's. I know that all of these are very sensitive topics, and I've tried to keep the violence and the general unpleasantness as non-graphic as possible, but please keep all of this in mind while reading.
"What's taking so damn long!?"
Cloud jolts awake, terror clawing at every fiber of his being. He knows that voice, doesn't he? That tense, fury-ridden voice. He has to…! Has to… Has to run away… doesn't he…?
No wait, he thinks, startling to a stop – or as much of a stop as he can manage with whatever numbness is holding him down. He should figure out how he ended up in the back of this sickeningly yellow pickup truck first, right? Should try to remember what happened to make it so that, even with how desperately he struggles, he still remains slumped against the wall of the truck bed, his arms unresponsive at his sides.
"He's tiny. I told you not to go for that high of a dose."
"Hey! You saw what he did to the others!"
Cloud should run, he knows he should, but he can't manage to do anything more than shake. Shake uncontrollably from the dread coiling around his heart like a vice, and from the flashes of slicked-back hair and unbuttoned leather jackets that almost mean something to him. "Rise 'n shine, short stack!"
W-Who's there? Cloud almost stutters out, the overly saccharine voice and phantom hands on his shoulders doing nothing to calm his frayed nerves.
"We're friends, right?"
Zack? He tries to gasp, tries to move, but his tongue remains stuck to the roof of his mouth, his eyes staring listlessly at the tips of his standard issue boots. Where are they? What are these voices he keeps hearing? And why in Gaia's name does he still feel the overwhelming urge to run away? To grab Zack and protect him this time?
They're safe here… right?
Bang!
Zack, please! Tell me what's going on! Cloud wants to beg. But his heart lodges itself in his throat, the thought that Zack might be hurt something that was entirely too painful for him to bear.
But luckily, he doesn't have to bear it for long. For the next moment, Zack has him in his arms, the teen – the man? – lifting him as easily as he would a baby Chocobo, Cloud's relief (and the bullets whizzing past his head) enough to distract him from the strange feeling of jute around his wrists. "Cloud, ride's over!"
And then they're flying. Flying high in the sky, his arms almost stretching up, up, up, like he could just hold Zack to him and never let go. But the pretty thought is ruined, dashed, when a particularly harsh shudder wracks his body, his head sent flopping side-to-side as those phantom hands dig into his shoulders again. "I said wake up, dammit!"
He tries, he really does – though, he's already awake, thank you – but the moment he opens his eyes again is the same moment he wishes he hadn't. The same moment he nearly throws up at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.
"My honor, my dreams… they're yours now."
Zack.
The blood caking his sweater. The light missing from those once bright, vibrant… wonderful eyes. And that gentle smile faded from his lips. Forever.
Dead.
Zack… Zack was dead.
Cloud screams to the heavens, he knows he does. Wails, cries, curses anything, everything in the vicinity for the loss of his friend. How could this have happened? How could this be possible? Zack was… Zack was just there, holding him, talking to him, whispering that everything would be alright. How could he be dead already? Had… Had Cloud done this? Was this… Was this all his fault?
"You have failed again, I see."
"I-I… What?" Cloud whimpers, desperate to wrap his arms around himself, to shrink away from the horrifying sight that is Zack dissolving right before his very eyes, another taking his place. But his arms are bound, and he finds himself frozen in place, fighting the urge to vomit, as black fades to silver and round blue contracts to slitted green.
As Sephiroth rises gracefully – unnaturally – from the still blood-soaked rock, a nauseating smirk twisting that otherwise angelic face. "You are too weak to save anyone."
"I-I… I thought…" Cloud thought he would be happy to see the man. Thought he would have stumbled over himself to apologize for whatever injustice he had done him. But now he just quivers like a leaf in the wind as Sephiroth looms tall and cruel above him. This wasn't the Sephiroth he knew. This wasn't the one he wanted to see. "You were supposed to be different! You were supposed to be better!"
Sephiroth clicks his tongue. "Don't pretend you're sad. Why tremble with anger that's not even there?"
"P-Please," Cloud begs, his heart already breaking into a million tiny pieces. "Please don't say it."
But Sephiroth's smirk remains. "Face it, Cloud. All you are is an empty puppet."
Cloud chokes on his tears, the urge to cover his face stronger than ever before. All he can manage, though, is another all-body shudder, the fingers digging into his shoulder blades not even bothering him anymore. "Y-You lied to me…"
"You better not have killed him already."
"Oh, shaddup! He's still breathing!"
"You shut up!" Cloud yells, squeezing his eyes shut and praying – praying – that when he opens them again, things will finally make sense. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
I… presume you've heard by now that Sephiroth was being controlled by Jenova? Everything he did was entirely against his will.
"Leave me alone!" Cloud cries – he's not ready to hear this. He'll never be ready. "He doesn't get a pass for that!"
He couldn't so much as breath without Jenova telling him to. That's how deep her control ran.
"I don't care! He should have been better!" Cloud sniffles. "He was supposed to be… supposed to be better…"
He was nothing more than a puppet for Hojo and Jenova, but he still feels personally responsible for everything that happened… everything he put you through.
"Please…" Cloud begs, trying to curl up on himself as far as his restraints will allow. "Please… I don't want to hear this anymore… I can't hear this…"
"Cloud…"
The voice is soft, hesitant, no trace of the earlier inhumanity left. And it's the only thing that convinces Cloud to peel his eyes open again. "S-Sephiroth…" Sephiroth is still there, still in front of him, but his once dark and foreboding presence is lighter now somehow. His eyes, which were so painful to look at before, now hold nothing but warmth in them. And Cloud's heart flutters at the sight. "You… You really came…"
"I'm sorry it took me so long."
"No," Cloud shakes his head, almost too forcefully. "You're here now. That's all that matters." He feels like he should add something else – I'm glad you're here. I thought I'd never see you again. I'm sorry for everything I've said – but his shaking turns almost violent, and the whole world is ripped out from under him this time.
"The boss is not going to be happy."
"Then why dontcha get off yer ass and do sumthing about it!?"
When the shaking finally stops, Cloud finds himself grateful for whatever sinewy material is holding his arms up – he no doubt would have toppled to the floor otherwise. What's going on? What the hell do you want from me? Cloud wants to ask. Wants to demand some sort of explanation as to why these… these… these creatures were using his head as their own personal playground. And, more importantly, he wants to tell them, in no uncertain terms, that he's had enough. But the nausea from the earlier jostling and the terror that hits him like a bullet to the heart once his vision finally clears prove to be more than sufficient at keeping his lips sealed closed.
Glowing, green-white liquid.
A prison made entirely of glass.
The panic-inducing flick of a white lab coat in front of him.
How? How had this happened? How was he back here again? They… They had escaped, hadn't they? Zack… Zack had gotten them out.
Slap.
Bile rises in Cloud's throat – he knows what's coming next. Knows who's coming next. And yet. And yet, that knowledge doesn't prepare him for the sheer amount of horror that seizes him when that greasy face comes into view and presses its monstrous nose up against the glass. "What a shame! You would have made the perfect plaything for my son!"
Please, Sephiroth! Cloud pleads, scrambling to grab ahold of whatever link they once had. I promise I'll be good! Just get me out of here! He tries, he really does. Tries with all his might, with every fiber of his being, to latch onto the staticky web that used to be their connection. Stretches and strives and strains to summon up the pressure and the tension that always heralded his master's return. But all he manages to find is the foggy confines of his own brain.
He's all alone here.
"Imagine the irony! His would-be murderer turned obedient pet!"
No, no, no, he continues to beg, lost in his own head. Lost to his own terror. Please don't leave me here! Please! I promise I'll listen to you this time!
"That's it. I've had enough of this bullshit."
Slap!
Cloud jolts back to the present, the slap to his face a rude awakening in an entirely different way than that of Hojo's very existence. While a spike of alarm does run through him at the sight of the thugs and troopers surrounding him – ones he can't even begin to count, especially with how badly his head swims – he's just relieved that Hojo's no longer there. Sure, his cheek may sting and he's heaving down air as if he had just run from one end of the eastern continent to the other, but he's free of that mako tank, free of that terrible fate as nothing more than a freakshow attraction.
He'll take what he can get. Even if it means he's still trapped here in this damn maintenance facility.
"Finally got your head out of the clouds, eh?"
The helmet-less trooper in front of him scowls like he expects a response, his face an almost familiar tinge of red, but Cloud doesn't care. He ignores him in favor of tilting his head up, almost too groggily, to inspect his shackles. What he finds, though, is not reassuring – old, worn jute wrapped quite shoddily (but no less effectively) around his hands and wrists, and fastened, by a long trail of rope, to the walkway directly above his head. Something that leaves Cloud quite literally stretched out and on display in front of his captors.
Which is definitely not an ideal situation. He knows that some part of this should concern him, should frighten him really – and he guesses he is a little afraid if he thinks about it – but he can't help but be relieved at the same time. Can't help but be a little zen about everything. Hojo's dead and Sephiroth's not evil (and wasn't that still a rather novel thought?). He could handle whatever these two-bit assholes tried to throw at him. He's ready.
Probably.
Maybe.
He could handle this better than Hojo, at least.
"Hey! You've got a lot of nerve!" The same trooper growls, fingers curling almost painfully into Cloud's jaw and yanking his head back down to face the now seething man. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"
So, Cloud does as he's told. He studies the grump in front of him – red splotches growing on his face, hatred and far too much pride in the eyes of a single infantryman, and an increasingly (and unpleasantly) familiar sneer curling the man's lips. Ah, Stevens, was it?
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
Cloud's not sure whether it's the adrenaline still coursing through his veins after his near miss with both Hojo and evil Sephiroth – and wasn't it weird to have to clarify 'evil' now? – or something else entirely that makes him answer the way he does. All he knows is that he can't help himself. "Ugh. Dude, you look better with your helmet on."
Thwack!
In hindsight, Cloud really should have seen that punch coming. Should have realized that provoking these assholes while all trussed up wasn't exactly his best idea, but he'd never been one to back down from a fight before, especially not when he was this off-kilter – Gaia, what did those thugs drug him with anyway?
But if nothing else, at least the punch brings him back to his senses. Back to his senses enough to remember that he's still unenhanced, still technically not battle-hardened physically, even if he certainly is mentally. If he has to play the long game here – and, oh, he really does – then he can't keep getting hit for his smart mouth. He'd have to think things out carefully, or WWVD as he likes to call it. What Would Vincent Do?
"Watch your goddamn mouth!"
Stevens's face has turned a worrying shade of purple by now, the rest of Cloud's jailers grumbling angrily on the sidelines (a worrying sign indeed). So Cloud ever-so-carefully gathers up the blood in his mouth and spits it out to the side – and not in Stevens's face like he's so dearly tempted to. "That's disgusting…" he mutters to himself, figuring that even though this isn't exactly how Vincent would have handled things, it was probably a good enough start anyway.
"And there's more where that came from too! So you better start talking!"
"Oh, I can talk now? I thought I was supposed to watch my goddamn mouth."
Thwack!
Cloud realizes rather belatedly, his head knocked to the side from the force of the blow, that he's not very good at playing this game, apparently. Which isn't the best considering he's defenseless right… now –
Wait.
His hands might be tied and his nose was probably broken – unless it was just the blood dribbling down his face that was making it difficult to breathe – but that doesn't distract him from the fact that he's not as powerless as he initially thought. They had left him with his materia. All of it. True, he didn't have any attack materia on him, but they didn't know that. And they hadn't tried to Silence him either. If they really were taking this seriously, they would have done that ages ago. It wouldn't have made a difference – Cloud's magic power was too high – but the fact that they hadn't even tried was proof enough that they either didn't have that sort of materia on them or they just didn't see him as that much of a threat.
And didn't that work to his advantage?
"I wouldn't be so mouthy if I were you," Stevens warns.
Don't talk, do talk, don't be so mouthy – Cloud doesn't know whether he's more bothered by the sheer amount of whiplash this conversation is giving him or the jeering that bubbles up around him. But he bottles his residual fears away and opts for a pseudo-confident display of rolling his shoulders (as much as the restraints allow) and arching a single eyebrow (something that would probably look more intimidating without all of the blood on his face). "I told you already," he says, preparing to cast Shield on himself. "I can do this all day."
"Aww, now, don't be so hasty." A new voice picks up, just as Cloud's arm starts to glow. "Don't you wanna see your present first?" The sight of Scotch sauntering forward from the ranks of Cloud's captors in that unflattering grey tracksuit of his is just as unsavory as the dark smirk splitting his face. "It's our way of sayin' thanks for pickin' such a great spot for your interrogation. Now, even if people hear you scream, they'll just assume it's the ghosts actin' up again." Cloud lets his spell fizzle out into nothing as he watches the man approach. "Ah, got your attention, did I?" Scotch taunts. "Good, good. We went to so much trouble preparing everything while you were asleep, I would hate to hear you weren't interested."
"…What are you getting at?" Cloud indulges him, but nothing, not even Scotch's ominous "Bring 'em out" nor the sight of the goons' hatred melting into something more like sadistic glee could have prepared Cloud for the horror that was his actual 'present'. Could have prepared him enough to see three bound, dirty, cadet-wearing individuals dragged from the train car to his right, the bags fastened over their heads doing absolutely nothing to detract from the fear rolling off of them in waves.
"No…" he breathes as the thugs force the three over, knocking them to their knees and yanking the bags off their heads. "No!"
They had Colin, Garrett, and Logan.
Reno was having a good day. A very good day, he thinks as he strolls into the conference room, not even bothering to conceal the little spring in his step. He'd met a pretty lady, flirted a little (ok, flirted a lot), and then, to top it all off, he'd had the immense pleasure of watching dear ol' Sephy squirm (figuratively, of course) before the stern presence that was Tseng.
So what if Tseng had laid into him too? Heck, he'd gladly suffer through the whole damn thing again – even the uncalled-for "You're supposed to be a mature adult, Reno" – if he could just see that wonderfully uncomfortable (dare he say embarrassed?) wince on Sephy's face again.
So. Priceless.
"You're looking awfully chipper," Rude says just as Reno flops down next to him at the table. And, oh, what an understatement that was. Reno wasn't just chipper, he was absolutely giddy.
"Today's been the absolute shit, yo!" Reno laughs – cackles even – and turns his massive shit-eating grin to Rude (not before sending a jaunty little wink Sephiroth's way, of course).
But all he gets is a groan in return, Rude looking for all intents and purposes as if he had suffered long enough already. Which, what with him receiving only the barest of slaps on the wrist for crushing on a practical toddler, wasn't really fair. "Please tell me you're not going to regale us with news of your latest crush."
"Hey, just cause you're ok waitin' forever for that little barmaid – " Rude splutters – "doesn't mean I have any intention of lettin' my balls turn blue."
"Reno." Tseng warns, but Reno's not about to let him ruin his mood. And what a fabulous mood it is. Really, there was only one thing that could make it better. One thing that was curiously absent.
"Oi, speakin' of star-crossed lovers, where's Blondie?"
"Now, you better start talking," one of his jailers growls, not that Cloud pays him any attention. He's far too focused on the sound of Colin's whimpering, the hunched set to Logan's shoulders, and the haunted look in Garrett's usually carefree eyes. How? How had this happened? They were supposed to be helping out Public Security because of the trouble… in… Banora…
No.
A shiver shoots lightning-fast down his spine – it was a trap. All of it. Banora, the extra patrols, everything. But how had they done it? How had they managed something of this sheer size? He thought these guys only had one brain cell collectively between them (and he thought that was being generous). So how had they planned all this out? How had they managed to get along long enough to work together? But, more importantly, how had they convinced Scarlet to request backup for a no doubt non-existent situation in Banora?
Wait.
Scarlet…
You know, Sephiroth. Your little kitten is absolutely adorable. You should be careful or somebody might snatch him right out from underneath you.
It wasn't a joke. It wasn't Scarlet just being her usual provocative self, or messing with Sephiroth for some entirely unknown reason. It was a threat. A promise. She had had this all planned out then, since the day after Heidegger's coup. But why?
"Oi! Are you even listening to me!?" The gruff voice snaps Cloud back to the present, and he turns startled eyes to the trooper in front of him. The one who, while just as red in the face as Stevens, definitely wouldn't be passing as his twin anytime soon. Which was perhaps more surprising to Cloud than it really should be – he knows he's in a whole world of trouble, but he can't help but marvel at just how different, just how individual each of these men look without their helmets on. Forget Hojo and the labs, all Shinra needed was a single piece of headware to completely erase a person's identity. "I asked you a question! Just what is the President planning?"
"And you better tell us the truth too! You won't be pulling the fool over our eyes this time!"
The idiom-idiot, Marshall he thinks, appears to be just as upset as Stevens and his currently unnamed colleague, if the indignation in his voice is anything to go by. But he remains a respectable distance away, as if afraid Cloud is going to kick him again. A tempting idea, really, but Cloud's not about to risk the lives of his roommates just to get in one last jab. So, instead he swears, "I don't know what you're talking about!" and shifts his weight from one leg to the other in a vain attempt at taking the pressure off of his wrists. Gaia, had they purposely strung him up like this, with his feet barely touching the ground, to tire him out quicker?
"You better think again about lying to us, runt." Stevens warns, his face a disconcerting blend of the earlier red and purple. "Nobody's coming to save you. They haven't even left the Tower yet. Not when they're too busy dealing with the experiments we set loose in the labs."
Cloud feels an icy numbness spread its way from his chest to every corner of his body. Sephiroth… Sephiroth is still in the Tower? He isn't… He isn't coming? Cloud swallows, a little desperately, around the lump in his throat, and he hardly even registers the voice that crows, "Not like Sephiroth would come anyway! The brat doesn't even have his number in his phone!" or the sniggering that swells its way through the ranks. He… He wants to see Sephiroth again, he really does. The Sephiroth who smiles softly rather than smirks, who plays footsies with his closest friends… and who looks at Cloud like he's actually worth something.
He wants that so much.
"Ha! Right you are! This Cloud won't have no silver lining! Trouble in paradise, indeed!" A fresh wave of cackling rolls through the crowd, and Cloud barely has time to realize that Scarlet really is behind all of this – trouble in paradise was her phrase – before the trooper-that's-not-Stevens has twisted a hand quite roughly into Cloud's hair. "See, kid – " cruel beady eyes seem to bore straight into his soul – "we've got you all to ourselves now. So either you tell us what the big plan is or we're gonna slit your friends' throats right here in front of you."
"But I don't know what you're – ah!"
The hand in Cloud's hair tightens painfully, and then he's being tugged up, up, up towards that still scowling face. "Don't lie to me!" The man yells, spittle landing on Cloud's face. "I was there! I saw you kill Director Heidegger!"
"H-Heidegger?"
"Don't tell me it wasn't you! I remember your voice!"
And Cloud finally remembers – this was that same officer he had tricked up in Rufus's office. The same one he and Tseng had played for a fool. And from the look of things, that trick definitely wasn't going to work twice. "Heidegger – " the trooper gives his hair another harsh tug – "ow! I mean, Director Heidegger was trying to kill the President! That's the only reason I killed him!"
"Oh, really?" The man drawls, very much unconvinced, and Cloud hopes his shaking can pass as a side-effect of his toes barely touching the ground. He wasn't lying, not exactly. He had killed Heidegger because of his horrible display in Rufus's office, but his memories of the future – of fire, and death, and so much pain – certainly hadn't made it difficult. "And you're saying that that little imp you were seen with had nothing to do with it?"
"W-What?" Cloud splutters, completely at a loss as to how it had come to this. Gaia, if his head wasn't so damn fuzzy right now, maybe he would have a better chance of lying his way out of this. "But she said she was forced to do it! She said Hei – ow! Director Heidegger kidnapped her!"
"Why dontcha tell that to our new friends." The trooper pulls Cloud's head forward to get a better look at the very angry thugs in the crowd. "See, they have this very interesting tale about how their boss was butchered by some mysterious warrior with a giant shuriken." The big meathead from before stands threateningly behind Cloud's roommates, like some sort of vicious guard mammoth; Scotch and Kotch have retreated somewhat from the center of the room to observe the proceedings with an almost Corneo-esque delight; and last but certainly not the least concerning of the lot, the thug from the plate yesterday now leans against the side of one of the train cars as he flips a coin almost casually in the air (though Cloud can see the rage simmering under the surface there), his eyes never once leaving Cloud's face. "A shuriken that sounds awfully like the one that little Wutai scamp was carrying with her. Now, if you won't talk, perhaps we should pay her a visit instead."
"What? No! She has nothing to do with this!"
"I told you not to lie – "
"This is gettin' us nowhere!" Another voice snarls, and the trooper-that-isn't-Stevens finally releases his hold on Cloud's hair. Something that Cloud normally would have been grateful for, if it didn't end with him stumbling backwards onto his feet, the restraints digging painfully into his wrists. "Get outta my way and I'll show ya how it's done."
"Now you listen here," Stevens cuts in, the man turning his red face to the approaching thug – the same thug who had harassed Cloud yesterday. "The only reason we agreed to work with you lot is cause our boss needs answers."
"Yeah, well, if you'da just let us do things our way from the get-go, you'da already had yer answers by now."
"Oi! We know what we're doing!"
"Sure doesn't look like it!"
The atmosphere in the room has changed. The thugs and troopers, who once glared so menacingly at Cloud, have now turned their ire inward, their once seemingly tightknit (even if rather slapdash) group unraveling at the seams. And Cloud knows he should be more concerned about these men and what they intend to do to him, but all he can think about is maybe, just maybe, these guys will start to fight amongst themselves and forget all about him and his roommates. He prays that all it will take is one more dis, one more flex for their bond to dissolve completely. For their unlikely alliance to be broken, and Cloud's roommates spared the consequences of his mistakes.
If nothing else, it would give his head and wrists a chance to rest – they ached something awful.
But then Marshall opens his mouth and destroys any hope Cloud has of making it out of this unscathed. "You know, he's right. This is taking too long."
"Marshall!" Stevens yells. "Just whose side do you think you're on?"
"Hey. All I'm saying is we can't distract Sephiroth forever. Eventually somebody will notice the brat's missing."
"So what if they notice he's missing! We've got eyes everywhere! The moment Sephiroth even twitches, we'll know! And then…" Steven trails off, his compassionless eyes flitting to Cloud for only the briefest of seconds. But Cloud understands. He doesn't need any more context clues than that. The moment Sephiroth tries to leave the Tower, they'll kill Cloud and be done with it.
"Do you want to be the one to tell the boss that we got nothing?"
Stevens falls silent, his face scrunching up in thought and displeasure, but Cloud is too lost in his own head to pay him any mind. This was his fault, everything was his fault. If he had just let Sephiroth protect the President, like is his job; if he hadn't let revenge sway his hand, then none of this would have happened. They wouldn't be here on the chopping block because of him.
He wants to apologize; hopes his eyes convey how truly sorry he is – all he's good for is getting people killed. But it's not until Colin squeaks that he realizes why Logan looks so horrified. It's not until Colin tries to shrink further in on himself that Cloud notices that Stevens has forgotten all about him in favor of leering at Colin like a cat would mouse.
Shit.
"Have it your way then, Marshall," Stevens concedes. "If the rat won't talk, then maybe one of his little accomplices will." And before Cloud can beg him to stop, before he can promise to tell them everything, Stevens has yanked Colin from the floor by his collar. "Let's start with the blond first, yeah?"
"Stop! They don't – " Cloud tries to beg, tries to struggle against his restraints as far as he can, but Garrett – dear, sweet, foolish Garrett – beats him to it.
"Get your filthy hands off of him!" The red-head bellows, before tackling Stevens to the ground in a move that would have been impressive any other time, but is just nerve-wracking now. His defiance catches Stevens off-guard, and Garrett somehow manages to get a hit in even with his hands bound up as they are. But that's all he gets. All he gets before Stevens has flipped them over and uses his heavier girth and unchained hands to his advantage.
"Did I – " thwack – "give you – " thwack – "permission – " thwack – "to talk?"
"Stop it! Stop it!" A shrill voice cuts its way through the ringing in Cloud's ears, begging them to see that you're killing him! But it's not until he feels how hoarse his throat is and tastes the salt on his lips, that he recognizes that voice as his own. "Stop, please! I'll tell you everything!"
"Time… travel?"
It was a long shot, really, them believing him. But if there was any chance of him fixing this, of him fixing his terrible mistake (of course killing that idiot Heidegger would have consequences), then he had to take it. For Colin, who cries so quietly given everything that's happened. Logan, who tries his best to keep it all together for his friends. But, most of all, for Garrett, who still hasn't moved from where Stevens left him, not even to twitch when Stevens had spit on his bloodied face or even croak out some dumb joke about 'my head's harder than it looks' when Colin whimpered his name.
And it was all Cloud's fault. All of it. The ambush, the interrogation, all of it. His roommates – his friends – had trusted him, had believed he knew what he was doing. And it was going to get them killed. Cloud was going to get them killed.
"You don't expect us to believe this bullshit, do you!?"
Cloud's not sure how Stevens became his de facto interrogator. Or, well, he could guess – either the idiot outranked all the other idiots here (and what an idiot he had to be to want to kiss Heidegger's ass) or he just outpaced them when it came to aggression and blind loyalty. And, unfortunately, that was proving to be Cloud's downfall. For while most of his jailers had been stunned speechless by his tale of a desolate future, the only sound to be heard that of the groaning of the train cars outside (wind, not ghosts, he thinks), Steven's rather choleric disbelief seemed to be rallying them once more.
And Cloud knows he doesn't have much time left, not with confusion twisting into indignance, horror hardening into ire. It wouldn't take long for these creeps to decide that they weren't getting the answers they wanted and turn their attention to his roommates once more.
He has to do something.
"Considering you're an idiot, no, I don't expect you to believe me."
Logan makes a strangled noise of alarm, terror clear as day in those green eyes of his. And Cloud understands, he really does. It was a foolish strategy, what he was trying to do, but he had run out of options. If he could just distract these assholes for long enough, then maybe somebody would happen along before any more harm befell his roommates. Maybe he could protect them after all, even if he didn't make it himself.
And honestly, that's fine with him. So long as his roommates live to see another day, he'll do what he has to.
"What did you just say to me?"
Foolish strategy, indeed, judging from the veins popping on Stevens's forehead, but Cloud has a job to do. He has some jackasses to distract, and what better way to do that then to make them angry? True, one wrong move, one poorly placed insult, and he'd find out just how sincere they were when they said they would slit his roommates' throats. Which, honestly, must be why Logan looks so queasy right now. The poor thing must think Cloud had gone off the deep end and was going to get them all killed. And that was fair. He was being very reckless right now. So, if they wanted to hate him for the rest of his life (or long after his death), that's fine, he doesn't mind, just so long as he could manage this one little thing here. Just so long as he could do something right for once.
And whatever that something is, he'll do it.
Whatever it takes.
"50,000. That's what I'm saying," Cloud says, not wavering even as Stevens glares death down at him. "50,000 people were living in the Sector 7 Undercity when Heidegger dropped the plate on them. 50,000."
"Shut up!"
"And how many do you reckon were living on the plate?" Cloud can feel the hatred now, inky and black, though whether it's Stevens's hatred for him or Cloud's for Heidegger and all his crimes, he doesn't know. Not that it really matters. "Another 50,000? Sure, why not." Cloud shakes, twisted metal and broken bodies behind his eyelids. "Just in case you're bad at math – and I can't imagine how you would be good at it – that's 100,000 people. 100,000 innocent people Heidegger condemned to death just so he could fuel anti-Wutai sentiment. And you think he was a good man?"
"I said shut up!"
"You're an idiot."
Thwack!
Cloud laughs – a breathy, hysterical-sounding thing – and he gets the feeling he isn't exactly thinking straight. He doubts he's supposed to be laughing while having the snot beaten out of him, but whatever those thugs had given him must have been strong stuff. "Y'know, I just can't wrap my head around it. Heidegger rigged two mako reactors to explode, dropped an entire fucking sector plate on the slums below, blamed it all on Wutai – " Steven's shaking should probably be more concerning than it actually is – "and you're telling me that your master plan just consists of you kidnapping a 14-year-old and asking him all about the President's deepest, darkest secrets?"
"I told you to watch your damn mouth!"
"Absolutely pathetic."
Thwack!
"Stevens, stop!" Marshall yells, the man wrapping a hand around Stevens's bicep and trying to bring order back to the quickly deteriorating situation. "We still need answers!"
"Or what, your new boss won't be happy?" Cloud mocks. "Honestly, guys. Heidegger hasn't even been dead for two weeks and you're already licking somebody else's boots? Wow, talk about desperate."
Thwack!
Colin looks about as appalled by the entire situation as Logan is, but that's fine with Cloud. Just so long as they're safe for now, he doesn't care what they must think of him. "And let's talk about Corneo's thugs for a second." Somebody snarls – literally snarls – he's sure of it, but he's not done yet. Oh boy, did he have more to unload on them still. "Those creeps are so lame they have to force women to be intimate with them."
"Take it back!" The big meathead of a thug whines and stomps a foot in his frustration. And, wow, Cloud wasn't expecting him to throw a tantrum.
Not that he was about to go easy on him. "You're a fucking rapist."
"I said take it back!"
But Cloud doesn't take it back. Instead, he looks the ogre of a man in his surprisingly shiny eyes – was he doing mako recreationally? – and signs his death warrant. "Make. me."
As (bad) luck would have it, Cloud's guess about the massive brute having enhanced himself extralegally turned out to be spot on. One punch would have been enough for him to know, but Scotch and Kotch had been all too happy to confirm it for him. "Like that?" They had leered as he struggled to regain his breath, barely restrained fury evident in their eyes. "It's amazing the things mako'll do to a person when injected straight into their veins. Even the dirty slop found here in the slums." Cloud hadn't been able to blink Hojo away fast enough. "Can't say this is exactly what he was goin' for – he's dumber than dirt now – but you can't argue with those results."
Actually, Cloud had wanted to argue with those results – mainly because he's pretty sure that that punch alone had fractured a few of his ribs – but the moment he had opened his mouth was the same moment Scotch had tutted in his face. "I'd advise you to watch that smart mouth of yours." The spite in both of their eyes made it clear that it didn't really matter one way or the other whether he kept his mouth shut or not. "Ya see, Clyde here used to be just like you once – a wide-eyed cadet strivin' to be the strongest SOLDIER the world has ever seen. And ya know what they told him? Too aggressive. Doesn't listen. A hazard to those around him." The oaf had glowered throughout the entire story. "Will never be a SOLDIER." Scotch had leaned in close, his eyes pinned to Cloud's own. "How d'ya think he felt when a literal shrimp was hand-picked by Sephiroth himself?"
Cloud had chosen not to answer then. Had kept his complaints about how he didn't want to be Sephiroth's student in the first place to himself. Not that they would have listened to him anyway.
But his measured silence hadn't done a thing. The inquisition continued, his captors growing more and more agitated in their interrogation – "Who's your next target!?" – and violent when Cloud's answers proved to be entirely too insufficient (or barbed) for their liking – "Why, your dumb ass, of course" (the trooper-that-wasn't Stevens had hit him twice for that particular one). But just so long as it kept them away from his roommates, then it was worth every second. It was worth every ounce of pain coursing through his body.
He had still (perhaps foolishly) hoped that Sephiroth would somehow magically appear before him, even with the man's every move being watched. Had hoped that he'd be able to see him one last time. But that hope had faded with every punch. And then, when Stevens had confirmed that Sephiroth still hadn't left the Tower, that he was far too busy dealing with some Hydra-esque experiment in the labs to worry about anything else (to worry about Cloud) – "That thing's got at least 20 heads and arms now, but he just keeps slashing away!" – well, that had just put the nail in the coffin for him.
This was the end then, wasn't it?
"I-Is t-that… all y-you… got?" Cloud asks, trying to maintain his cool, confident act even as he stumbles over his words. Even though he wants nothing more than for this whole ordeal to be over – Gaia, everything hurts so much. But he knows he can't throw in the towel just yet. Not when Colin has worked himself into near hysterics; Logan has given into his fear, tears rolling silently down his face; and Garrett still hasn't budged an inch, the slight rise and fall to his chest the only incentive Cloud needs to never give up. He has to be strong for them. "I've… h-had… worse," he vows, pretending like he's just leaning forward aggressively rather than actually sagging against his restraints.
But nobody rises to the bait this time, all of his attackers seemingly tired of his charade. And Cloud is just wondering if he'll finally have a break when the creep that had harassed him yesterday stomps forward and Cloud starts to understand the trouble he's really in. "I've had enough of this!" the thug growls, his hands shooting out to grapple with Cloud's waist.
Put his pretty mouth to good use, Johnson!
"W-What are y-you doing?" Cloud squeaks, his pseudo-cocky voice from before now uncomfortably high-pitched and laced with terror. He can't help it, though. Can't help but remember Johnson and the terrible things they intended to do to him. Can't help but fear that that's what his captors have planned for him now.
How was he supposed to take them all?
"What does it look like I'm doin'?" the thug snarls and yanks Cloud's belt apart with a particularly forceful ease. "I'm puttin' an end to this damn game once 'n for all!"
You can have the leftovers when I'm finished!
The black spots dotting Cloud's vision swell and spread, twist and bend until it's Johnson in front of him. Until it's Johnson advancing on him, one hand down his pants and a nauseating leer on his face. "Stop, please!" Cloud begs, his voice sounding less like his own and oddly more like Logan's. But Johnson doesn't stop, he just keeps closing in, his smirk growing that much crueler. And Cloud swears he can almost hear Colin crying his name.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing!?" Stevens's anger snaps Cloud out of his hallucination and drags him sharply back to the present. "We're not done interrogating him!"
The thug scoffs and continues what he's doing – slicing a sharp dagger through the suspenders holding Cloud's belt up and dumping it and Cloud's shoulder guards noisily to the floor below. "Idiot. Yer not gunna get anything outta 'im. He's been playin' y'all for a fool this whole time." Stevens splutters, but the thug has already turned hard eyes back to Cloud. "As for you," he says, slowly drawing the dagger up Cloud's front and reveling in the way the buttons pop clean off… and in the way Cloud trembles like a leaf before him. Please no. This can't be happening. "I'm gonna take my time with you – " he tears Cloud's shirt open – "and carve you up like yer friend did t' our boss."
Wait.
"W-What?" Cloud stumbles over the word, terror taking a swift backseat to confusion. Carve him up? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
But the thug ignores him, the smile on his face sending another shiver down Cloud's spine. "Don't worry. Yer President'll get ya back – " his chuckling tells a different story – "just maybe not all 'n one piece!"
Now, Cloud's sure he should be terrified, or at least more terrified than he already is, but he finds himself conflicted instead. He doesn't like pain, never has, but he just can't deny his relief at finding out the thug wasn't interested in him the way he feared he was.
Colin still cries.
"Hey!" The trooper-that's-not-Stevens interrupts, dragging the thug away and scowling at the dagger pointed in his face. "That wasn't the deal! You don't get your revenge until we've gotten the information we're looking for!"
"Yeah well. Deal's off, Princess."
"What'd you just call me?"
The tension that had ebbed and flowed all afternoon returns thick enough to cut with a knife. Apparently, Cloud was the proverbial glue holding these guys together, and now that he was almost out of the picture, so was their faux camaraderie – "Are ya deaf as well as stupid?" And, oh, Cloud doesn't want to get his hopes up again, even though the two look ready to rip each other a new one, but he just can't help himself. Can't stop himself from imagining that he can hear a broken-off cry from somewhere outside the maintenance facility – "How'd you get – !" But no one else notices, no one else turns, the lot far too absorbed in the fight brewing right in front of them.
And Cloud wants to cry. He wants it all to stop. All of it – the pain, the hallucinating, everything. Cause, honestly, how on all of Gaia could Nanaki be here, charging through the open doors of the maintenance facility like he was getting ready to use Sled Fang. Ugh, that can't be right, Nanaki was still in Cosmo Can –
Woof!
Cloud jumps at the sound, his heart lodging itself in his throat and his insides lighting themselves on fire over that one small movement. But the throbbing doesn't bother him. Not when red cools to bluish-purple and all of a sudden it's Darkstar who's storming his way through Cloud's captors. Darkstar, who releases another fierce battle cry – Woof! – and launches himself at the person right in front of Cloud, a still-stunned trooper-who's-not-Stevens.
"Get him off – ahh!" is all the man manages before he's sent crashing to the floor, Darkstar landing heavily on top of him. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" The trooper tries to struggle, tries to push the guard puppy off of him, but he's no match for the enraged canine. And before he can curse again, Darkstar has found a way around his swatting hands and has sunk very long and (Cloud knows) very sharp fangs deep into his neck.
The trooper screams, shrill and strangled. Thrashes too. But then Darkstar clamps his jaw down and shakes his head back and forth like all he has is a ragdoll in his mouth, and the trooper's frantic screeching fades to just a weak gurgling.
"Shit! Whadda'we do?"
"Kill it, you idiot!"
"Darkstar!" Cloud begs. "Please, you have to get out of here!" If Cloud could think clearly, he would probably wonder how Darkstar had gotten here in the first place, but he's just so terrified that the loveable pup might get hurt because of him. Darkstar doesn't listen, though. He retracts bloody fangs from the barely twitching trooper and places himself between Cloud and the rest of the assailants – like a true guard puppy. Not even the rifle cocked in his direction distracts him from the task at hand. He just casts Barrier on Cloud and his roommates in quick succession and growls at the men in front of them. "Please, Darkstar!"
KA-BOOM!
A ball of Firaga explodes at the assailants' feet, and for the second time that day, Cloud is left to gape as a helmeted figure strolls deeper into the maintenance facility. A 3rd Class SOLDIER this time, going from the blue of his uniform – something that Cloud is almost disappointed by, until the man opens his mouth to speak. "Oh, please don't hurt him. My boss is rather fond of that mutt, and he's a moody enough bitch as it is."
Stevens recovers first, as per usual. "Just who the hell do you think you are!?"
"Aw, who cares?" Kotch interrupts, turning his scowl from the guard puppy to the helmeted individual coming to a graceful stop in the middle of the floor. "It's just some third-rate SOLDIER and his pet. We have 'em outnumbered 39 to 2! They won't get the better of us again!" But the thug who had just threatened Cloud doesn't seem to share his comrade's confidence, his face ashen white. And Cloud can just guess that he recognizes the SOLDIER's voice too. "Men!"
The rest of the thugs take their orders well, Cloud will admit, the lot of them readying their weapons and sneering at the SOLDIER as one. But it wouldn't be enough. Not with this opponent. "Oh? Is it time already for the hero to make his big reveal?" the SOLDIER asks, smirking dark and vengeful below that helmet of his. "I've been waiting for this moment for hours."
The roaring in Cloud's ears builds to a crescendo as Rhapsodos reveals himself, til all he can hear is his own gasp as Rhapsodos shakes his hair out, time slowing itself to a crawl like they were in some sort of cheesy commercial – Maybe he's born with it. Maybe it's Makolline. "Goddess, that thing reeks," Rhapsodos grumbles and tosses the helmet across the building, just like Cloud had back in Rufus's office. "You alright over there, little bird?"
"I-I…" Cloud splutters. He wants to say he's 'hanging in there', but his surprise keeps the joke stuck to the roof of his mouth. Instead, he finds himself breathing, "Y-You… You really came?" as he gapes, unbelieving, at Rhapsodos.
"Oh, please." Rhapsodos rolls his eyes. "As if I'm really so petty that I wouldn't come rescue you just because you called Sephiroth instead of me." He sniffs exaggeratedly. "Even though I'm obviously the better choice."
"No, no, no," one of the troopers interrupts, but Cloud doesn't really care who, he's far too busy focusing on how his own heart skips at the mere mention of Sephiroth. "He couldn't have called Sephiroth! He didn't even have his number in his phone!"
"It's called misdirection, you buffoon," Rhapsodos scoffs, looking down his nose at the man who had spoken. "Now, if you don't mind, the grown-ups are talk – " his eyes land on the thug that had harassed Cloud before – "…ing. Wait. I remember you." The thug eeps and drops the dagger in his hand. "Little bird, did this man touch you?"
"T-They – " Cloud pauses to spit more blood out of his mouth – "Yuck… They took turns."
Rhapsodos twitches, almost imperceptibly, and turns to face the thug head on. "I see."
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean nuthin' by it!"
But Rhapsodos doesn't listen. He lifts a single hand into the air and smiles, cold and chilling. "I did warn you, did I not?"
And then he snaps his fingers and the thug is engulfed in a white-blue inferno.
The screaming is almost sickening to listen to, but Rhapsodos's face remains entirely void of emotion. "Oh dear, are you trying to say something? I can't hear you. You'll have to speak louder."
Cloud's not sure how long the man burns – thirty seconds, a minute, ten – Rhapsodos snapping his fingers every time the fire ebbs too much, the rest of Cloud's attackers too horrified to do anything about it. But by the time Rhapsodos is satisfied and the flames fade away, all that's left behind is a small pile of ash. "Remind me not to step in that. I'd have to buy new boots."
And Cloud knows that a man was just murdered before his eyes – just incinerated before his eyes – but he's far more concerned that Rhapsodos might get the wrong idea. "I really do have Sephiroth's number in my phone," he blurts, feeling for the world like he's pleading his case. "I just changed his name to Biggs in case I got caught."
"Oh, please don't tell him that."
"I… W-What?"
"We ran into your friend near the train station earlier, and, well, how do I put this delicately?" The twinkle in Rhapsodos's eyes belies his desire to be 'delicate'. "Sephiroth was quite jealous when he learned the boy's name."
"J-Jealous? What, no – " Cloud tries to contradict him (cause why on all of Gaia would Sephiroth be jealous?), but his complaint fizzles out into a terribly strangled sort of sound when the rest of Rhapsodos's words catch up. "W-Wait… The t-train station?"
Rhapsodos nods. "Don't worry, little bird, he's coming," he promises, and all the air leaves Cloud's lungs in a single, breathy rasp. Perhaps an inconsiderate reaction with Rhapsodos right there – he certainly hadn't acted that way when Rhapsodos first showed up – but the man takes pity on him anyway (after a dramatic shake of his head). "I tried to convince the oaf that he should be your knight in shining armor, but he's far too afraid of traumatizing you more than he already has." There's still a particularly fond look in Rhapsodos's eyes. "So, he's trying to cool his head while he cleans up all of the idiots playing guard outside."
"S-S-Sephiroth?" For once it's not Cloud stammering like a fool.
"Shit!"
"I'm gettin' outta here!"
Cloud knows he should tell Rhapsodos to stop them, to keep the assailants who have broken rank from fleeing out the back doors of the maintenance facility – he wouldn't be of any use himself strung up as he is – but all he can concentrate on is the warmth filling his own body. Sephiroth cared that much, even after all the nasty things Cloud had said to him?
"Fuck!"
That's not the word Cloud would have used, but the alarm in it is enough to have him spinning on his heel (bad choice really, cause owww). What he finds, though, is that Rhapsodos doesn't even have to lift a finger this time (or snap again) – the attackers are already routed. "Oi, where y'all going?" Reno crows wickedly, the red-head tapping his electro-mag rod on his shoulder as he waltzes into the maintenance facility. And for once, Cloud is glad to see him, especially since he's flanked on either side by Vincent and Rude. "The party's only just started, yo!"
"H-How…?" Cloud asks, vaguely aware of Reno's answering – "Ouch, Blondie. They got you good…" – but he's far more absorbed in the way Vincent's eyes move from Colin, Logan, and Garrett on the floor, up Cloud's form (probably cataloging his injuries), before coming to a stop on his bloodied and bruised face.
"Spare me!" Kotch begs, and Vincent's dark eyes turn golden. And stay that way.
He was letting Chaos out to play.
"You said he didn't call for help!"
"He didn't." A very deep and very angry voice joins the fray, the baritone Cloud had so longed to hear ringing its way throughout the building from behind him. "He was saying goodbye."
If Cloud thought he couldn't breathe before, that was nothing compared to now. Nothing compared to his heart stopping the moment he finally manages to turn around and his eyes land on silver. For there in front of him, silhouetted in fire and holding his mother's lifeless body like some sort of sick trophy, was his nightmare reborn.
How…? How could this have happened? He was supposed to be better, wasn't he? He… He had promised!
I'm glad you're safe.
The earlier warmth returns, burning away whatever doubts Cloud has left. Burning through the fog surrounding his brain enough for him to remember that Sephiroth was different now, dammit. And he shakes his head, fighting through the pain and the terrible vertigo the motion causes, until the nightmare in front of him fades, the fire clears, and in its place is the Sephiroth he knows. The one he had so longed to see. Even if the man is almost unrecognizable decked out in a 3rd Class SOLDIER uniform, his hair twisted back into a tight bun.
"Seph…iroth," Cloud breathes, watching, captivated, as the man in question stalks forward, a standard issue broadsword clutched tight in his left hand, the headless body of some poor trooper dragging along behind him in his right.
Sephiroth had come for him.
A/N:
- So, yeah, Cloud actually did call Seph last chapter. Surprise! For those who actually believed me when I said it was Biggs (sorry btw), note that during the call, he never actually referred to 'Biggs' as Biggs in his head, he only called him 'the man'. And every other time he's interacted with Biggs, he's always referred to him as 'the teen'. Very subtle, I know, but I'm a fan of subtlety.
- One small note - with the time rewind, Cloud no longer has S-cells in his body, so there's no sort of physical link remaining between him and Sephiroth. So as cool as it would be, he unfortunately cannot communicate with Sephiroth telepathically.
- Credit for the inspiration to have Genesis and Sephiroth disguise themselves as 3rd Class SOLDIERs goes to my beta reader. I had considered just putting Seph in a hat (to hide his hair), but she was like "Put him in a shirt, nobody would recognize him! "
- Not entirely related, but I just found out this month that some people (most?) can see images in their head, like they can think of a beach and actually see the sand and the water. And here I just thought that the phrases "conjure an image in one's head" and "mind's eye" were just fancy poetic ways of saying "have a thought" *sigh*. Well, now I don't feel so bad that I have to load up the game every time I want to describe something in detail.