Chapter Two-The Angel of Death

The sun was setting, bathing the small town in red light. It was picture perfect, and that was one of the reasons he chose to settle here with his wife.

"Cyril?"

He turned to see the beautiful raven-haired girl staring back at him, her blue eyes sparkling. Her dress fabric stretched across the bulge on her stomach. She smiled happily

"Our baby just moved again." He placed his hands on her stomach feeling the little life within. It kicked and was very active. But it was alive! Anne had been so happy when she first learned of her pregnancy. Years of failure and heartbreak, and she was finally carrying a healthy baby boy. She sighed happily, before turning to go back into the house. Cyril returned his attention to the setting sun. But his caught something else instead. A tall figure, robed in black, a halo of silver surrounding his face, green eyes that rivaled his own. In his hand he held at least a twelve-foot long blade. He blinked and was gone. Shaking the cold feeling off of his shoulders, he followed after his wife into the house. Anne was leaning over a pot on the stove, a spoon in one hand and a cookbook in the other. She smiled at him and he returned it as he went out the front door. Kalm was a nice town, very peaceful. They moved there from Midgar at the beginning of Anne's pregnancy, to reduce the amount of stress on her. He also was more relaxed since then. He stretched out his arms above his head, taking in the crisp, autumn air. Winter would be coming sooner the news had said, than it had in a long time. It would snow soon, and just in time for the birth of their baby. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud shriek from one of the neighboring houses. Anne came running out, holding his eight-foot long rifle in her hands.

"Cyril…" she began. He shook his head, pulling the gun out of her hands, saying

"No Anne, stay inside, go to the basement, don't come out until tomorrow morning, or until I call for you."

"But…"

"GO!" she stared at him for a second before, nodding and running back inside.

"Alright." He said, years of SOLDIER training and missions kicking in. Memories of the ShinRa-Wutai War flooded his mind. He ran into elderly Madam Jensen's house to be greeted by a hideous surprise. The normally spotless white walls had turned red from the blood splattered on them. The clean floor rugs were soaked with it. Taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves he made his way throughout the house his weapon posed and ready. He soon found the source of the crimson fluid splattered throughout the home. Madam Jensen lay upon the floor her head severed from her shoulders, and forcibly shoved into her hands. Numerous stab marks were found on her body, her chest and lungs were ripped open.

A sword, the killer had used a sword.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy breathing. Cocking his gun up he aimed at the wardrobe and shouted

"Whoever you are, come out this instant! Or else I will shoot!"

"Guns cannot harm a god foolish mortal."

From behind the wardrobe, the same man he had seen earlier on the nearby cliff stared back at him, eyes glittering with child like joy at the massacre around him.

"You sick bastard, you killed her didn't you?"

"Killed her? I saved her, gave her new life, as a part of me. She and I are one body, one mind, and one soul. We are one, and there will be others who will also experience this joy." Cyril clenched his teeth, this man was clearly mad!

"Joy?!" he shrieked in anger. "What joy is this? The joy of dying in cold blood, by the hand of an insane savage, who sees pleasure and rejoicing in death and destruction? How is that a joy?!" The other man shook his head in sad sort of way.

"How can I expect mere mortals to comprehend the beauty of what I do?"

"Where is this beauty? Answer me that!" He remained silent.

"ANSWER ME!"

Shaking his head slowly the other man said

"You will understand better if I show you." He raised his sword. Experience kicked in and Cyril fired his gun madly, hiding the other man in cloud of smoke. He fired until he ran out of ammunition. He sighed, surely no man insane or not could survive that kind of abuse. He turned to leave when…

"You clearly are one of their race, for you have inherited their arrogance and stupidity." He turned the man was surrounded by used bullets, not a scratch on him. Smiling that sick smile, he raised his blade above his head and whispered.

"May you find your peace." He had no time to react as the blade slid smoothly through his stomach and out his back. Staring at the man he whispered one last phrase that would haunt the man till his dying day.

"Those who will speak in the name of good, are not guilty." Cyril collapsed to the floor, his blood pooling all around him. Sephiroth sheathed his sword and disappeared in a blinding flash of light, engulfing the whole town. Screams rang out, as Anne listened horrified in the cellar. When the cock crowed she pushed open the door to a sight that would haunt her nightmares till death. The sun bathed the town in light, which was colored red from blood. Far away in a crater, far into the earth, the madman laughed.

End Chapter Two.