Chapter One: The Seeds of Mutiny
Everyone at ShinRa knew exactly what happened when you gave a SOLDIER a beer.
In fact, they were so familiar with it, that substantial prevention measures had long since been implemented. The strongest drink on the SOLDIER floor was coffee, and every other drink-containing machine in the building had posters clearly outlining the penalties ascribed to both offenders and accomplices. Despite the eye-rolling the SOLDIERs gave, it was a standard issue to be thoroughly hashed out at every employee training meeting.
However, because it was sometimes difficult to keep a raging SOLDIER from his spirits no matter what preventative action you took, there was a sniper or two from the Turks always on call to immediately sedate any offenders. It was just easier for everyone that way. ShinRa had also learned very quickly to set aside a hefty chunk of the PR fund – in cash – to mitigate inevitable damages.
It was something about SOLDIER metabolisms – booze stuck in their systems for weeks and caused hangovers of a severity known to drive men mad. While the exact physiological explanation had thus far managed to elude even the top scientific minds at ShinRa, what everyone did know was that in the weeks of inebriation, hell was more likely to break loose than not.
The immediate concerns were three-fold. First was that a SOLDIER had gotten drunk in the first place. The second was that the PR money budgeted for rogue-SOLDIER related catastrophes had been used up after an unfortunate incident at the company's New Year's party.
The third and most disturbing was that Genesis Rhapsodos was a smart drunk, and in spite of – or perhaps because of - his intoxication, he had incinerated the entire supply of sedatives that might have been used to stop his rampage.
Genesis was unique in that he could usually hold a glass or two, unlike most SOLDIERs. Rumor had it that he had once chugged a whole bottle of champagne at a company party and had done nothing stranger than usual. But from the way he lugged himself through the halls of the SOLDIER floor – sans-shirt and shoes, brandishing an open bottle like a war banner, and singing loud enough to wake the dead - it was clear to see that he had hit the bottle way beyond his capacity to handle.
The majority of SOLDIERs had been roused from their bunks, watching the scene unfold. They had been drawn in by innocent curiosity, but now were now held silent and frozen by simultaneous repulsion, fascination, and terror.
"They're going to kill meeeeeeeee," Genesis sang, waving an open bottle with a distinctly foreign label in the air (he was much too refined for the common beer). "They're going to kill meeeeee…." He held out every last note until a hiccup cut it short. The liquor sloshed on his hair and down his bare chest unheeded. Better there than in his mouth, his dumbfounded brothers-in-arms all silently thought to themselves as they mutely observed. "ShinRa-hic-is going to kill meeeeeeee…"
Drenched, half-naked, and well out of his mind, his dirge continued, and everyone was too terrified to do anything but stare. Genesis was volatile enough when he was sober. Plastered, this ticking time-bomb's potential for devastation went from level frag grenade to level nuclear.
"They're going to kill meeee-hic-eeeee…." He began to giggle like an enamored schoolgirl as he took another swig. "They are!" he insisted, thrusting the bottle at one of the men as if it was now his rapier. At least with the motion more of the alcohol fell on the floor where it could do no more harm. "And heehee…they'll kill you too! They'll kill all of us!"
For some reason, this was hysterical, and he collapsed to the ground writhing from his own joke.
It was clear at this point that the Turks had jumped ship and were probably safely bunkered down somewhere. The men shifted their eyes in silent panic. Genesis's affinity for fire was no secret, he still had his materia on him, and alcohol was flammable.
"Oooohhh…" Genesis sighed, making himself comfortable lying on his stomach on the ground and lapping up a bit of his spilled happiness from the floor. "I know you don't believe me. No one does. Mmmm." He stroked the floor with his fingers, drawing little circles on the tile. "But they will. And they'll do it soon. Decommission, they're calling it. Mmmmm…yes. Permanent-hic-decommission."
Someone in the back made a break for it. All the prayers of the men went with that silent hero.
"They'll kill Seph first…make an example, ya know? But I'll bet they save some of 'im. Maybe his muscles will be used to make the-hic-new war robots Scarlet wants or maybe he'll end up as one of Hojo's toys. So it'll be just like old times, you see? He'll still be killing for the company. You can't escape SOLDIER…even when you're dead!"
Genesis leapt to his feet and was screaming now. With a flare, the materia in his belt ignited, and his body was wreathed in flames with a great whoosh. The trail of liquor he left flashed as the flames lashed down the path in one searing breath. The men jumped back, fast but not fast enough. There were several howls as uniforms and hair caught fire.
"We'll all be like that!" Genesis screamed from inside the flames. "SOLDIER is dead! We are dead. The only choice left to us is whether we will die inside or outside of ShinRa! We'll all DIE! DIE! DIE! EVEN AFTER THAT WE. WILL. NEVER. HIC. ESCAPE—"
The fires hissed their last, savage breaths as Genesis suddenly, literally froze.
The silence was sweet after the roar of the flames and Genesis's terrible howling. Eyes wide, the men admired the perfectly cast Blizzard spell that had immobilized the threat, making a perfectly detailed ice-sculpture of the half-naked, drunken lunatic, bent over and holding his head in his hands, mouth still grotesquely open and round in a silent shout.
"There is nothing more to see," Angeal said, deadpan, brandishing a fire extinguisher. Foam sprayed as he loosed a few spurts at the smoking SOLDIER beside him.
"You may return to your quarters," Sephiroth finished, left hand still sparking blue with remnants of the spell.
The men obeyed, but not without quiet murmurs and several looks back. Genesis had done his terrible job spectacularly. Sephiroth and Angeal could try to hush it up, but no amount of reassurance would extinguish all the doubt that the spectacle had caused. Genesis made scenes all the time, but not this kind of scene. Everyone knew that this time it was different. This time, there was truth behind his drunken words.
For better or worse, the seeds of mutiny had been planted.
"Well," Angeal said, tiredly rapping his knuckles on the still-frozen skull of his redheaded friend, "I hope he had his fun, because he's not going to be seeing the light of day anytime soon."
"If you can actually manage to keep him confined, please let me know how it's done," Sephiroth said.
Angeal grunted. "He really did it this time."
Sephiroth hummed a low, quiet agreement.
Angeal salvaged one of the several discarded bottles and made a face. "Foreign stuff. Expensive. He would have had to specially order it. This was premeditated." Angeal threw the bottle over his shoulder and let it shatter against the wall.
"He always did love a show."
"It's going to be weeks before he can get this out of his system," Angeal said. "Maybe a few days at the very best, if we get him on dialysis."
"Hmph. Either way, we will be doing his paperwork."
"…He definitely did this on purpose."
Angeal and Sephiroth stared at the mute ice-statue in mutual contempt. "I do not envy him of the imminent hangover," Sephiroth said dryly.
"Serves him right. Thaw him out now, I want to yell at him the exact moment that his headache sets in."
"I rather prefer him this way," Sephiroth said, picking up his frozen friend with one arm around the iced waist and proceeded to haul him down the hallway. "Easier to transport, and quieter. You can yell at him while he's hooked up to the dialysis machine. He's an idiot if he thinks he can play hooky for two whole weeks."
"He's an idiot regardless," Angeal murmured under his breath. "But you are right."
But the problem that both Angeal and Sephiroth could ignore was that Genesis had been too.
After several minutes through empty hallways, Angeal took his turn hauling their friend-shaped block of ice. Sephiroth relinquished it without comment. Together, they walked through the silent halls of the SOLDIER floor, footsteps echoing down the corridors. It had always been a hollow, lonely place to be at this hour, but with the pall hanging over SOLDIER, the feeling wasn't just rampant at night anymore.
"You think the men will brush it off?" Angeal said quietly. "Genesis was soundly wasted. We could blame it on the alcohol."
Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. "They're not stupid. They feel the danger too. All Genesis did was throw more fuel on the fire." He quickened his pace to summon the elevator with a brisk swipe of his ID.
Angeal lagged behind, weighed down by more than just Genesis's dead weight. Carved into the wall between the two elevators was an enormous SOLDIER logo. Angeal stared at it and could not help but reflect on the situation once again. Once, that insignia had been a second symbol of his honor, as much of who he was as his Buster Sword.
He could not hold back a sigh. "Is Genesis right?" Angeal asked his friend. "Is SOLDIER dead? Are we really just left to choose whether we die with the company or fighting it?"
The silver general said nothing, and Angeal cast a wary eye his way. Sephiroth had a strange, sinister snarl on his lips, and from his lips came a laugh that was not his own.
Angeal lunged for Sephiroth's right arm, where he knew the bangle housing the colorless materia was. "Seph!" he called, loud and strong. He did not have to see his friend's eyes through the veil of silver bangs to know his pupils would be dilated to slits, that they would be glowing with a light from something far more foreign, potent, and malicious than mako.
The colorless materia let out a small burst of milky light.
The snarl vanished. For a moment, all was tersely still. It was over as quickly as it had begun.
"Thank you, Angeal," Sephiroth said in his normal, cold and composed voice. He was back.
Angeal still held to the bangle. "Seph—"
"In response to your question, nothing has changed. Nothing except the name of the enemy. We are SOLDIERs. We do what we were designed to do."
Angeal sighed and readjusted Genesis in his arm. "Right," he said. "We fight."
"Indeed."
The elevator arrived with a ding and Sephiroth stepped inside. Angeal barely had time to lug Genesis in before the doors closed on them. He shot Sephiroth a look as they began to descend – he could have held the doors – but Sephiroth wasn't paying attention. His eyes were focused on the elevator buttons, brows furrowed, corners of his thin lips tilted down.
Angeal had nothing to say. This was the second time this week that he had slipped like that. Sephiroth had never given any details about either what exactly was ailing him or how the materia fixed it, but Angeal thanked Gaia that whatever that mystery materia was doing was fixing whatever was happening to his friend.
"It will just take time, I'm sure," Angeal tried. Just like all materia, this one had to be mastered, right? Its effectiveness would grow with more use and practice.
"Time?" Sephiroth said, and he was distinctly frowning now.
They arrived on the medical floor and Sephiroth grabbed Genesis from Angeal, taking off so quickly as to nearly leave Angeal behind in the elevator. Sephiroth wasted no time, simultaneously melting the ice off one of Genesis's arms as he slapped the ice-block on a gurney. "Start him on dialysis," he commanded a nearby nurse, pointing to the single, defrosted arm. "Once he's hooked up, I'll defrost him the rest of the way so he doesn't bolt."
"Will he need to be…restrained, sir?"
"Most likely. I assume I don't need to tell you that the standard straps will be ineffective."
"Ah. I will inform the staff."
Angeal shook his head. Sephiroth was back to business. He would be all right, especially now that Genesis had given him an additional problem to solve. Lately, the more tasks he had to drown himself in, the better off he was. Distractions were a vital part of his life now. It was when he had a lull in work that the shadows started to creep back.
The creaky wheels of Genesis's gurney kept Angeal from hearing the soft pop as another hair-thin fissure appeared on the surface of the colorless materia, and he did not see that as it appeared, Sephiroth staggered and his pupils dilated dangerously thin once again.