A/N: After I had given up totally on writing my
friends convinced me to write this (which is only a prologue) as a leaving
statement. This fic is rated (currently) PG-13, but I think it should in fact
be A-14, in later installments. Seeing as this might be my last story I won't
bother with and disclaimer, so sue me.
It was dark out. At night it's
always dark out. Cloud Strife normally welcomed the dark, but tonight was
different. Tonight was his son; Zack's second birthday and he wanted to be home
in time to give him a present before Tifa put him to bed. Thinking of Tifa put
an extra skip in Cloud's step. Tifa Strife (formally Lockheart) was Cloud's
wife of three years. Suddenly Cloud heard a sound behind him. He tensed,
wishing he had Ultima Weapon with him, but alas Tifa had insisted on putting it
into storage. All Cloud had was the small handgun Vincent had given him for a
wedding present. Cloud reached into his belt, pulling the weapon from it's
concealed position.
"Oh man, Tifa!"
Cloud muttered, fresh anger flowing threw him at the thought of Tifa throwing
his lovely sword into storage. Cloud brought the gun up, ready to shoot at
anything. "Six bullets better make them count." At least the beast can't be
very big, otherwise the automated defenses would have killed it. "Come on you
bastard I am late for a birthday, attack already." Cloud began moving towards
his house. The sound again, it sounded like footsteps. "Oh?" Cloud slipped his
gun back into his belt. The sound, coming closer.
"Attack, what a
pleasant idea." That voice? Could it be? Cloud spun around to meet a blade face to
face, or more rather, face to steel.
