Ambition

met my match today

felt the blood rushing and mingling

a curious and enigmatic thing

now spiders in my dreams…

--Incubus, "Smile Lines"

It did feel kind of weird, just going up and knocking on Sephiroth's door. That wasn't something you did every day. In fact, it wasn't something a lot of people would ever do in their lifetimes. Sephiroth had this aura about him that made him quite literally untouchable, which made one feel as if he was above everyone. Therefore, associating him with something so mundane and normal was peculiar indeed. However, Zack was given a reality check since there he was, standing in front of his very door, staring at A100.

He was being unreasonable. Sephiroth had asked him to come here, and he was doing nothing wrong. Straightening himself up a little and puffing his chest out so that he seemed orderly, he took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles firmly against the door, then taking a few small steps back as he waited for Sephiroth to answer it.

Zack frowned a little when no one came at first. What, was he not there? That was kind of rude, really—leaving him a note ordering him to stop by and then not being there. Then again, maybe Sephiroth had assumed he'd be waking up at a different time, and had gone off to do something else. After all, he was probably a pretty busy man, being the highest Shin-Ra general and all. The SOLDIER just didn't much like the thought of rejection and this also meant that he had wasted his time and wouldn't have any good excuse for showing up late for practice.

Waiting for a few more seconds, he soon turned around and was about to start running in hopes of making it on time to practice (very false hopes, of course), when the sound of the door creaking open halted him. He very dubiously looked over his shoulder, half expecting that he had been hearing things, only to see the general standing in the doorway, wearing his same attire and that same apathetic expression. Not that Zack was expecting anything other than that, really.

He slowly turned himself back towards the dormitory door, still skeptical, and raised an eyebrow at the older man, as if asking him for permission for something.

"Come in," Sephiroth ordered, then walking back into the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. Despite the order, Zack didn't feel welcome, though he supposed that that was the point; Sephiroth probably didn't want anyone to feel welcome in his room. He was quite the loner, from what Zack had heard. Scratching at his spiked head for a few seconds, he shrugged his shoulders and edged inside.

The silver-haired man was seated at a large table that was installed in the room. The room was generally like Zack's, but, of course, larger and more accommodating. Well, it certainly wasn't homey or anything. It looked almost like an office, and everything was extremely neat. It didn't look… well, lived in. It appeared that the man's stoicism extended even to his living area. Zack himself could hardly understand it; his room was generally a mess, covered with everything from photos to novels to old pizza.

He tried not to seem too curious, though, and instead took a seat across from Sephiroth at the table, folding his hands on the wooden surface in front of him. He did his best to look professional about this, since he was sure that Sephiroth would only tolerate him if he remained serious. This wasn't the easiest thing for Zack to do, but he was trying his best. "What is it that you wanted, sir?" he asked carefully, trying to sound both inferior and yet not scared.

Sephiroth, who had taken to reading something while he had been waiting for Zack to sit down, then glanced up with that normal disinterested manner. "As you probably could have imagined, I wanted to talk to you about the incident from yesterday."

Well, yes, he wasn't stupid. What else would Sephiroth have wanted to talk to him about, after all? He didn't voice these indignant thoughts, however. Because really, he didn't want to get backhanded by the general. Well, that would be a rather dubious honor, but still. He said nothing in response to that, instead waiting for the other to ask whatever questions needed to be asked or say whatever he believed he needed to tell him.

Sephiroth seemed to like this decision, obviously not a fan of too much unnecessary speech. "You received three Mako injections when you went into the lab yesterday, correct?" Zack gave a quick nod. "And the results weren't very satisfactory…" Sephiroth mused. "Could you give me a recount of your symptoms?"

The younger one frowned a little. "It's sort of hard to remember, but of what I can… I started to feel really sick to my stomach, and my head started to hurt. Then I lost my balance, and after that it was hard to move at all. I couldn't even lift my leg up to try and take a step." Yes, and that had been the reason why Sephiroth had been forced to carry him to his room. How embarrassing.

Sighing, the general grabbed a pen and started jotting some of these things down on a pad of paper that was sitting on the desk, looking rather bored with the entire affair. It seemed as if he wasn't enthusiastic about anything, really, and something about that intrigued Zack. Mainly because he wondered if there was anything that would cause Sephiroth to break out of his shell a little. Probably not, but it was still fun to think things up.

Once the other was done writing, he glanced up again. "How are you feeling now?"

"A lot better," Zack admitted. "Still a little sore, but it's nothing serious. I mean, I feel up for practice today and everything."

Sephiroth looked at him curiously for a moment before he seemed to realize what he meant. "Oh, you're starting practice with Pratchett today. Hmm. Doesn't that start at ten o' clock?"

Zack glanced at the clock that was on the bedside table with a wince. "Yeah, it does." And it was ten-thirty.

"I hadn't anticipated that I'd be keeping you from your training," Sephiroth remarked. "I suppose I'll have to walk you over there and see to it that you don't get your ears blown out by your lovely instructor."

The porcupine smiled in spite of himself at that comment. Seemed that Sephiroth did have a bit of a sense of humor, even if it was rather dry. Better than nothing, he supposed. "All right." Well, at least he didn't have to worry about that now.

"Let me ask you a few more things first. How often did the woman who saw to your injections say that you'd be getting them?"

Zack scrunched up his face a little as he made an attempt to remember. "Hmm. I think it was every two weeks or something…? Something like that. She went on about how I needed to build an immunity to it, blah blah blah. That Professor Hojo was basically giving out all of these orders." He had heard a little of the 'mad scientist' before, and what he had heard was enough to merit his dislike of the man.

And it did seem that Sephiroth agreed with this conclusion, since his features seemed to darken quite a bit at the mention of that name. "Is that so…?" he asked, though it seemed more like he was questioning himself. "Hmm. Interesting." He then stood from his seat, adjusting his leather trench coat and then casting a glance at Zack. "That's quite enough. I'll take you over to your training now."

Wondering to himself about just what relationship Sephiroth had to this Professor Hojo, Zack stumbled to his feet and gave a nod, too busy pondering to say much of anything. Though Sephiroth didn't require any response, anyhow, and made his way for the door the second Zack had gotten to his feet, opening it and holding it for the younger boy. Zack bowed his head in thanks and scurried out, waiting for Sephiroth close the door behind him. He wasn't quite sure how to get to the training area from here, so he was more than happy to allow Sephiroth to lead the way.

They started on their way when suddenly Sephiroth looked back at him. "Wait a moment. Aren't you supposed to have your weapon with you?"

Oh. Shit.

He'd left his sword in his room. He was such an idiot, a grade A moron, and he was showing his worst colors in front of Sephiroth. This wasn't fun. Not at all. He just sort of stared blankly at the man for a moment before he was supplied with a somewhat amused expression on Sephiroth's part. What? He thought this was funny?

"Go get it and meet me back here, SOLDIER."

And he listened. Better not to question his somewhat good luck. Rather than getting scolded, he had seen some expression on Sephiroth's countenance that wasn't complete exanimate stoicism, and that was something to take note of, for sure. He doubted it was often that anyone was so rewarded, even if he had only witnessed it as a result of his own stupidity. He didn't really care; it still made a damn good story to tell to anyone that wanted to hear it.

He made it back to his room in record time, bursting through the door and retrieving his much coveted weapon. While a lot of people thought the Buster Sword was a bit bulky and hard to use, Zack had always been somewhat of a fan of brute force, and it really was effective if you learned how to use it. His battle instructors had told him that he was one of the best wielders of that particular type of weapon that they had encountered in a while. He supposed that being able to properly use such a damaging weapon was one of the reasons he had upped his way through the ranks that quickly.

Grabbing the sword, he quickly strapped it and the sheath to his back (it was a good thing they supplied him with one that he could wear on his back, since a belt sheath would have been extremely difficult and uncomfortable to deal with) and then bolted back out of the door. He also managed to backtrack without getting lost or confused about where he was going once, and found Sephiroth leaning against the wall, waiting for him. He quirked an eyebrow and paced over to the man. "Sorry about that," he panted.

"Just don't let it happen again." Sephiroth pushed off of the wall with a type of grace that seemed unparalleled (not many people could make pushing off of a wall look regal, after all), and then continued pacing down the pristine Shin-Ra hallway, expecting the First Classer to follow. Which he did, of course, making sure to quickly recover from his loss of breath so that he didn't seem washed out when he made his first impression with his new instructor.

The entire migration from there to the training area was done in pretty much complete silence, which Zack had to admit he wasn't a big fan of. He loved to talk himself, and so having it so quiet just made things seem like they were awkward, and the tension was as if it could have been cut through with a spoon. Of course, there really wasn't anything that would have garnered tension between him and Sephiroth; Zack merely felt that way since he was so used to always having conversation with the people he was in contact with. Seemed he'd have to adjust that if he planned to be around Sephiroth a lot, since the man seemed to almost demand silence. Not that he was planning to be around Sephiroth a lot or anything, since this one time itself was amazing enough.

As they entered the training grounds (which were also indoors, in a large, well-lit area), Zack found that they were already into the meat of their practice, with the one-on-one sparring. He examined each separate fight carefully, studying their techniques and wondering if he was good enough to stand up to them. Of course, being who he was (meaning he was overly arrogant), he figured he'd do just fine against them.

Then, before he knew it, Sephiroth was pacing through the area, right past all of the SOLDIERs, and the only thing Zack could do was follow, which he did. As they walked by, some of those fighting stopped to watch, and Zack managed to notice some of the jealous glances that were thrown his way, which caused him to snicker to himself. Yes, this was a rather extravagant entrance, one that would either result in all of his new battle companions liking him or hating him. Unfortunately, with his track record, it would be the latter. People just couldn't stand the fact that he was so much better than them.

"Back to work!" came that rough voice that Zack remembered from the telephone conversation. Looking ahead, he saw an older man with a rather mean expression barking out the order and he winced a little. So this was Pratchett. Great. He had had some not-so-nice instructors before, but this had to be the worst thus far. And he was determining that when he'd only seen him for two seconds or so. All right, so maybe being in First Class wouldn't be the most wonderful thing known to man. If he was lucky, he could get on his good side or something. Though coming late to his first practice wasn't going to help. Except that he was coming late to practice with Sephiroth in tow. That had to stand for something.

Pratchett did in fact walk over to where he and Sephiroth were now standing, not looking all too happy. Ignoring the general for a moment, the man instead made his way for Zack, grabbing him by the collar roughly and growling, "SOLDIER, I'd like to know why you think its proper conduct to waltz in here late on your first day. I have half a mind to throw you back in Second Class—"

The snickers of the other SOLDIERs made distracting background noise, but it was soon hushed when a rather chilling voice ordered, "Unhand him."

Pratchett glared over at Sephiroth. "Who do you think you are, telling me what to do with my own students?!" he spat.

Sephiroth wasn't fazed by the man's anger, instead giving a simple shrug of his shoulders. "I didn't want you to blame the wrong person for his tardiness. Zachary was late merely because I ordered him to come see me this morning."

Taking a fleeting moment to look around, Zack saw that everyone was rather stunned by this little piece of information, Pratchett included. "See you for what?" the instructor asked.

"Yesterday he collapsed because he was given three dosages of Mako, and I needed to get some information from him regarding that, since obviously that amount was incorrect. Any other questions?" Sephiroth said, seeming rather annoyed, as if he wanted to get out of there and back to whatever he had been planning to do as quickly as possible, and this man's unnecessary questions were stopping him from doing so.

"Look here," Pratchett grumbled, trying to be intimidating, though being intimidating towards Sephiroth was practically impossible, "That is no reason to just pull him out of my class. You could have found a better time to do that—"

"Well, what's done is done, and there's nothing you can do about it, so I'd advise you stop lecturing me, Chester."

So that's what his first name was. No wonder he didn't tell anyone. As if his last name wasn't bad enough. Zack couldn't take it. He just fell into peals off laughter, literally forced to double over and clutch at his middle as he did so. And it seemed that all of the others had been doing their best to contain their giggles, since the minute he started, the rest of them erupted into laughter as well, which made for a rather amusing scene. Glancing up through the tears that had gathered in his eyes from laughing too hard, Zack noticed that even Sephiroth looked rather amused.

"That's enough!" Pratchett bellowed, staring all of the First Classers down with beady eyes. He then whipped his head back to Sephiroth and grated, "I suggest you remove yourself from here. You've distracted this session enough."

Sephiroth bowed his head gracefully. "If you don't mind, Pratchett, I'd like to watch for a little while. President Shin-Ra has requested that I find a second-in-command for missions and such, and it seems appropriate that I'd choose one from First Class, so I need to see who I think is the most capable." The group seemed to hold their breath at this. One of them would get to be Sephiroth's second-in-command? Everyone jumped back into their battle stances, preparing to do their best in order to impress the man. Zack just grinned; this might prove to be fun.

"All right," Pratchett sighed. "If you must. But go sit on the benches and watch from there."

"Of course," Sephiroth replied, spinning around and heading for the bleacher-type setup that was near the entrance of the training area, where he then seated himself and proceeded to watch.

Pratchett stepped over to Zack, then. "All right, brat," he said. "You'll have to go up against me since we have an odd number of people here. And I'm not going easy on you." The man took a moment to walk over to the racks of weapons they had set up on one wall and grab a Buster Sword for himself, returning to where Zack was still standing. The way he was wielding the weapon, it almost looked like he was aiming to injure. With a quick glance around, Zack saw that the others were fighting in the same manner.

His instructor seemed to notice that he was realizing this fact and gave a quick chuckle. "The trick is being able to fight like that and still not hurt your opponent," he explained. "If you hurt someone while sparring, it means you aren't doing a good job." Hmm. It made some sense, he supposed. He slowly pulled his arm back over his shoulder to remove his sword from his sheath and then held it in front of him, double-handed; he was facing a man who was holding the same kind of weapon threateningly and who probably didn't like him very much. One could understand why the porcupine was a little nervous.

Before he could really assess just how bad of a situation he was in, the man was already lunging at him, blade reared upward and prepared to slash. Yelping in shock, he reacted quickly and rolled out of the way, which caused the other to run right by him and almost collide into two other people that were sparring. Grinning to himself, Zack quickly jumped to his feet and then decided to get on the offensive, heading in Pratchett's direction and making a quick jab that was just as easily parried.

Luckily, Zack was good on his feet, which allowed him to jump around a bit and avoid most attacks without having to cross blades, since the impact of two swords that were so heavy hitting each other was enough to quickly tire one out. That meant that one had to be agile, even with such a large weapon, if they wanted to win. That was why the Buster Sword was one of the harder weapons to learn how to use, but it was well worth it when you got a hit in.

He was met with a swipe at the legs by the other, though he managed to jump up fast enough that the blade arced under him instead of cleaving into his calves. Descending from the leap, he pulled his blade down towards his instructor's chest, only to be met by the opposing sword. Wincing at the pain that shot up his arms at the impact, he jumped back and landed in a crouch, cursing to himself and panting a little. This was one of the best fights he had had in a while, though that was to be expected.

Getting to his feet again, he charged forward another time, this time making a horizontal slash that was cut off by yet another parry. The other overpowered him, causing their blades to spark and pushing Zack back and little, which left him slightly open for a follow-up attack, though he managed to defend himself just in time. As the other was pulling his blade away, however, he made a quick jab with his own blade and stopped it just in front of the man's chest.

Pratchett blinked down at the blade that was a fraction of an inch away from piercing his skin, then up at the boy holding said blade, looking rather impressed. He started laughing. "Nice job!" he praised. Zack lowered his sword, grinning to himself. "I haven't had that much of a challenge in ages. You caught me off guard, SOLDIER."

Zack shrugged and gave a quick nod, still breathing hard. "I get that a lot," he said, then swiping his hand through his hair. "I guess my other instructor wasn't wrong to upgrade me to First Class, then."

"You move surprisingly fast for having such a heavy weapon," Pratchett observed. "I wasn't expecting it."

Zack gave another nod. "Yeah. I think I win a lot of fights that way. People think my actions are going to be slow, but then I move around as fast as if I had a smaller weapon, and so they're taken aback. It can be tiring, though," he said, wiping some of the sweat off of his forehead. "You gave me a run for my money." Glancing over his shoulder at the bleachers, he then saw Sephiroth stand up and leave the room. Hmm? That was strange. Maybe none of them were good enough to be his second-in-command, and he'd gotten fed up. Zack wondered where the general got off thinking he'd find anyone better than the people in First Class, but it really wasn't his problem at that point.

After practice. Six or so hours of training, including breaks, and he hadn't even been there the entire time. Thank God they only practiced three times a week, or he doubted he would survive a week of it. At least he wasn't the only one that was dead on his feet by the time it was over. So were the rest of the SOLDIERs there. All of them just sort of collapsed and rested up in the training area until they had recovered enough to return to their rooms, and Zack had decided to do the same thing. He also decided to help patch up a few of those that had gotten some scratches and cuts during the day, and was busy pressing a band-aid over the cheek of another SOLDIER when Sephiroth stepped into the room.

Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing. The man just demanded that kind of attention, and all eyes were turned towards him as he stepped through the place that now reeked of sweat and a bit of blood, heading over to Pratchett yet again, who was busy cleaning things up and putting some of the weapons back in their proper places.

"Wow," said the SOLDIER who Zack was tending to; if he was remembering correctly, his name was Matthew or something like that. "Seeing the Great Sephiroth twice in one day. We must be lucky."

"I got to see what his room looked like," Zack bragged. How couldn't he? He hadn't told a single soul yet and he felt like someone needed to know just how lucky he was.

"Really?" the other asked, staring at him in awe. "What was it like?"

"Boring," he admitted with a smirk. "Clean-cut and all that. Though I kind of expected it to be."

"Right. So, what do you think he's talking to him about?" They both watched as the man and their combat instructor started speaking in hushed tones, and it seemed that they rest of the boys there were thinking the same thing.

Zack shrugged. "No idea. Maybe we'll find out." As they continued to stare, Pratchett gave a few nods of his head and then pointed over to the group of SOLDIERs that were gathered in the middle of the large room, either sprawled out and still gaining their breath, talking amongst themselves, or getting their wounds looked after. Sephiroth nodded in return and then started to head towards them.

"He's coming over here!" Matthew exclaimed, watching in amazement, as did the rest of those there.

"Maybe he did pick one of us out," Zack heard another say, and he really couldn't help but think the same thing. He was allowed to have wishful thinking, wasn't he?

Sephiroth then stopped in the front of the congregation of First Classers, eyes scanning over them for a moment until he apparently found who he was looking for and then started to make his way through the crowd. Zack just couldn't believe it when he stopped in front of him.

"Zachary Knightblade," the man remarked, shaking his head, as if in dismay. "I almost got the feeling that I'd be seeing more of you." Without a second word, Zack was grabbed and pulled to his feet. He just stared in bewilderment at the taller man and waited for him to continue speaking. "You'reu' stared in bewilderment at the taller man and waited for him to continue speaking.ng over them for a moment until he apparene going to be my second-in-command from now on, if you agree to it."

Zack just sort of blinked and stared for a few more seconds before asking, weakly, "You're not joking me, are you?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "If I was joking, wouldn't you be laughing? I watched you today, and I must admit that despite your age, you've got the potential to be quite the menace out on the battlefield. You're going to need some work, of course, so I'm going to have to pull you out of Pratchett's care and do some private training with you myself in order to properly hone your skills. Not that Pratchett isn't a good instructor; it's just that you aren't going to learn much more in a group class like this." He took a quick look around at all of the others that were watching, most of which were gawking at both him and Zack. "So, do you accept?"

All that Zack could really do at this point was sort of nod.

"Keep in mind that eventually we will be sent on missions all over Gaia that will be much worse than any you've been assigned to before. The reason I needed a second-in-command was to make sure I had someone capable enough to accompany me on missions that are of a more fierce quality than you're used to."

"But sir," said Matthew, looking up from his cross-legged position on the floor, "Do you really need any help?"

Sephiroth quirked an eyebrow and responded, "Contrary to popular belief, I am not perfect." This seemed like news to quite a few of them, as they started turning to each other and talking in hushed whispers. Sephiroth just rolled his eyes and looked back to Zack. "Are you still up for it, SOLDIER?"

"Of course, sir," Zack said. How could someone turn down such an offer? He doubted that anyone in this room would have done such a thing. If they had, they would have been insane.

"All right, then. Go take a shower and then come see me in my room. I'll give you more of the details then." Without a further word he turned around, his trench coat swaying behind him, and made his way for the exit.

And Zack was left there to stand in utter amazement, mixed with a giddy bubbling in his stomach. This had to be one of the best days ever. First Class had been nice enough, but second-in-command to Sephiroth? He felt like he was about to faint, and therefore sat himself back down next to Matthew, breathing a little hard.

Matthew looked over at him, mouth slightly ajar. He placed a hand comfortingly on Zack's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I… I'll be fine," he assured him, though before he knew it, he had a ton of his fellow SOLDIERs crowding around him, yelling things at him or asking him questions. He couldn't deal with this, not right now. Besides, Sephiroth had given him an order. He quickly finished tending to Matthew's cut and then got to his feet, heading for the door before he could be smothered.

Still, he couldn't help but notice some of the others, towards the back of the area, casting him dark looks. Not that he really cared; they could think what they wanted. It just left him a little uneasy, that was all.

Leaving the area, he quickly made his way to his room, and upon arriving there, dumping his training equipment on the floor (he, unlike Sephiroth, did leave his room a mess) and then going into the bathroom to take a shower. God knew he needed it after such a long training session. He was glad that he would have one-on-one training from now on. Being sweaty yourself was bad enough; being around so many others that were just as sweaty was almost unbearable. That place had had a stench to it by the end of the day; that was for sure. He wondered if Sephiroth was even capable of sweating; whenever he saw him, he looked absolutely perfect, not a single hair out of place. He didn't understand how it was possible, but it seemed like one of life's great mysteries.

Well, it seemed that his questions would be answered soon, and that thought was enough to make him want to skip all the way to Sephiroth's room. The second time in one day; he really was the luckiest SOLDIER around. Prancing out of the bathroom with a towel loosely tied around his waist, he quickly got dressed (in normal attire, this time) and then left the room, strutting on his way to A100.

It seemed that he wasn't the luckiest SOLDIER around, however, since when he was about halfway there, he was stopped. By a group of very angry First Classers. The same ones that had been looking at him with such mean faces a little earlier. And they had their weapons with them. He didn't. There were six of them. There was one of him.

Certainly not a fair match.

He had a few guesses as far as just what their plans were. Stepping up and making sure he didn't look intimidated, he asked, rather arrogantly, "Can I help you boys?"

The supposed leader of the group returned with a cockier smile, his sword draped over his shoulder. Zack figured he must have thought he was hot shit or something, the way he was acting. And he was really rather prepared to prove him wrong. He just wasn't sure how easy that would be when he had five guys flanking him. "We just wanted to kindly let you know that we don't appreciate a shrimp like you getting picked to be his second-in-command first day on the job," he explained.

"I'm not sure if you're taking it up with the right person," Zack remarked, planting one hand against the wall to lean against and then bringing up his other hand, admiring his nails. "I can't help that I'm God's gift to this corporation." After that bold statement, he watched with slight amusement as all six of them seemed to bristle up like cats in their anger. He almost felt honored, to have pissed off so many people with hardly a flick of the wrist. Still, this wasn't the best situation to be in, and he was beginning to worry a little.

With a yell, the leader of the group headed forward, removing his sword from his perch and taking a swing at him. He reacted instantly, jetting away from the wall he had been leaning against and making a flashy back-flip to ensure that the only thing the jerk's blade cut was air. Landing steadily on his feet, arms outstretched in the mockery of a gymnast, he didn't have long to gloat regarding that nice move before he had three more people rushing towards him.

Being without a weapon gave him one advantage; that being that he was even more agile than usual, and could avoid the swipes and slashes they threw at him. He even managed to get a few punches in here and there, though nothing that damaging, meaning he didn't knock anyone's lights out, which meant he was still up against six people when he was already tired out.

The onslaught did cease for a moment, though, and he was given a few fleeting seconds to catch his breath as they decided to take some time to taunt him a bit more. "It looks like Mister Second-in-Command isn't all that he's cracked up to be," the head honcho of the group jeered. "I'm sure that Sephiroth could take six guys out with just his fists," he hypothesized.

"I never said that I was Sephiroth," Zack said between heaving breaths, glaring up at him.

"No. You're just his little bitch, aren't you?" he asked, which got some sneering and cackles from the five others.

"Better than Pratchett's bitch," he countered with a smirk. "Or should I say Chester?"

Some of the lackeys laughed at this as well, which of course earned them a silencing from the leader. Zack considered running, but quickly pushed away that thought. That was probably what they wanted him to do, and he didn't feel like giving them what they wanted. He had never been known to run away with his tail between his legs. He simply didn't work that way, and he doubted he ever would.

One might argue that there was quite a difference between bravery and pure foolishness, but he didn't really care. Maybe he would be called an idiot for staying and fighting a losing battle; maybe he was too stubborn for his own good. He'd had that trait since childhood, and he'd survived so far. In fact, a lot of that hardheadedness was what had gotten him this far, and he wasn't about to drop that just because he was being bullied.

Oxygen was finally making its way in smooth cycles back to his lungs, which was a good thing. He straightened from his slightly slumped position and tossed his black spikes out of his face, placing one hand on his hip. "So, what are we waiting for?"

"Round two," the leader announced, and like clockwork, all six of them took him on at once. A bit overwhelming, to be sure, especially when they managed to surround him in a neat little circle. Anyone could tell that this was not good news for Zachary Knightblade, since this left him about as open as one could be. He halted, turning his head from here to there, trying to anticipate which one would attack first. He hissed under his breath, the direness of this situation sinking in more and more with each passing moment.

There were six of them. They all had weapons. They all looked rather hungry. For all he knew, these guys were prepared to kill. But would they be so stupid? It wouldn't be easy to cover a murder taking place in the middle of a Shin-Ra corridor, and chances were that someone would probably stumble upon them and take the proper actions. But could that someone even stop them from tearing him into pieces? Yeah, he really should have left while he had the chance, and now he was thinking that maybe he should be regretting that decision he had made to stay.

I mean, it would be kind of bad, to have your name passed down in history as the kid that was killed the day he was made second-in-command to the Great Sephiroth. It would be like a horror story, and the position wouldn't be filled until the next person that was as arrogant and ambitious as him came along and ignored the rumors.

If he did survive this, though, it would make a hell of a good story. Though, with all the enemies he was making, he was beginning to contemplate just who he would be telling these stories to. He made a note to possibly start keeping a diary or something. But none of these thoughts were proper ones to have when he was staring down the tips of six well-sharpened swords.

Before he knew it, one of them was attacking, and pure instinct was what pulled him out of the way. That one drew back to his place in the circle and just as quickly another, directly behind him, tried his luck, though he managed to sidestep him just in time. However, they quickly got sick of this attacking one at a time thing, and decided to play even more unfairly than they had been already, meaning that all six then jumped at him at once.

He distinctly felt steel biting into flesh, near his midsection, and after everything just seemed to go sort of…

Black.

A/N: I bet most of you thought this was a lost cause. Believe me, so did I. But then Jen and Sephiroth (ahem) forced me to write more, and I managed to get this thing done in two days. Yeah, I'm starting to think that I write in spurts.

While I do love them, I'm not the best at action scenes. Forgive me.

Cliffhanger, cliffhanger! I torture you, I know. And I'm also horribly sadistic towards poor Zack. oO; I wasn't planning for all of this to happen, I swear.

I realize how suggestive Sephiroth inviting him to his room is. xx; ::cough.::