Disclaimer: I still don't own these characters. And sadly, I never will.
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Sephiroth sat up on the examination table, his head reeling and his stomach clamped with intense nausea. Hojo had increased his Mako dose again today, and he could almost feel his emerald eyes burning in his skull from the fifteen thousand hyper-concentrated grams that now coursed through his veins .
"Come on, Sephiroth, get over it," Hojo commanded, grabbing his son's forearm and yanking him from the table, not caring a whit that the teenager, who was still woozy and scarcely able to be upright, nearly fell flat on his face when he did so. "You need to report to SOLDIER immediately. As in…" He paused, glancing up at the wall clock. "…Ten minutes."
"I don't even get any time to…" Sephiroth started to protest, gripping the edge of the table with a quivering, white-knuckled hand to help him rise.
"No. Now get going! And stop carrying on like you're hurt. You're fine."
"Fine…sure," he mumbled, steadying himself as best he could against the table before wobbling forward a few steps. (I get loaded with enough Mako to kill a Behemoth and then ordered off to the military before I'm even sure of where I'm at…fine, indeed.)
"Twenty thousand."
Sephiroth stopped at the sound of Hojo's voice, and carefully turned around. "What?"
"It takes twenty thousand hyper-concentrated grams of Mako to kill a full-grown Behemoth, Sephiroth. The amount I just gave you would only do away with an infant Behemoth."
Without another word, Sephiroth turned again and continued on his way, his pace lethargic and his gait lurching. A stream of choice words for his father screamed through his aching head, and he didn't even give a good damn if he picked up on them, as he always seemed to do.
The recruitment office was thankfully only two floors and a brief elevator ride down, giving the weary, and decidedly angry, teenager a moment to gather his muddled wits. The world around him still blurred and doubled, and aside from pain and incensed curses for Hojo, his mind seemed unable to focus on anything else. He had to come into some state of reality before he walked into the SOLDIER office; not for Hojo, but for himself. If he was going to make a powerful first impression on these people, it wasn't going to be by stumbling in like a sleepy slum drunk.
The elevator glided to a halt, the doors slid open, and Sephiroth stepped out, forcing every ounce of his willpower into walking tall and appearing coherent. His glowing green eyes scanned the room, taking in the line of fresh-faced, eager youths waiting eagerly at the recruitment desk as nearly two dozen crimson-clad SOLDIERs stood at rigid attention on the far wall, waiting to escort the new recruits to the barracks. A pair of officers of some important rank sat behind the desk, taking down names and such, handing the young men uniforms and barking at them to be on their way.
No one paid him any mind as he joined the line, moving up behind a short, wiry brunette with a gunny sack slung over his shoulder. It was strange really; he'd always stood out like an evergreen in Gold Saucer's desert, what with his platinum locks, pale skin, and Mako-lit emerald eyes, yet everyone had seemed to either look through him or not at all.
But that was fine. He hadn't gotten any attention elsewhere, so he hadn't really expected any here. Not yet, anyway.
The line moved quite quickly. Sephiroth, despite his acute hearing, hadn't heard any of the other recruits' names. Even if he'd cared, it was a task in itself to remain steady on his feet.
He soon found himself in front of one of the officers, a hawk-nosed, middle-aged man with flint-gray eyes who looked as if his face would crack if he smiled. "You're a freaky-looking one," he scoffed. "Are you sure you're in the right place? You look awful scrawny to be joining SOLDIER." He squinted up at Sephiroth, scrutinizing his face. "And from the looks of it, you're Mako poisoned, too. Look, son, we don't want sickly Mako junkies here. You need to get yourself out of here and into a hospital."
"No…I don't," the teenager insisted, willing himself to his full height and putting on a feigned air of confidence. "I'm joining SOLDIER. I…have to."
"You have to?" The officer slowly shook his head before focusing his cold eyes on the green glow that looked down at him. "Listen, young man, you've had too much Mako. Way more than any SOLDIER'd ever get. You're not even thinking straight. You need to go get help."
A sudden spark of unexpected rage snapped to life somewhere within Sephiroth's body, and his eyes narrowed into verdant slips of flame. "No, Sir," he asserted, "I need to join SOLDIER. I haven't been given a choice. My life…hasn't given me a choice. I…need…to…join…SOLDIER."
The reaction he got was something you'd see on the face of a bystander watching a raving religious fanatic spouting his 'truths' on a street corner. A moment of awkward silence ensued before the officer shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Okay, okay," he said. "Whatever you want, kid. You don't need to lay that kinda shit on me." He picked up a ball-point pen and a piece of paper. "You got a name, then?" he asked. "Or has all that Mako screwed with your head and you don't remember it?"
"My name is…Sephiroth," he replied, the odd fury he'd felt instantly squelched by a brutal stab of nausea. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the officer to say something.
"Sephiroth?" he said. "That's it? No last name?"
"…No."
"C'mon, everyone's got a last name."
Sephiroth opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the man. "My father's Doctor Hojo, if that helps," he added, albeit reluctantly.
"That crazy bastard?! His son?" He snorted and printed Sephiroth's name on the paper. "Sure, right. You're certainly strange enough to be, but I can't see anybody loving that asshole enough to have a kid with him. Anyway…all right, how old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Height?"
"Six foot one."
"Blood type?"
(I should just say Mako. My blood probably doesn't have a type anymore.) "Type O."
"And your dad's Hojo?"
"Yes." (Unfortunately.)
The officer wrote everything down and motioned him toward the other man sitting beside him. "Go ahead, then. Grab a uniform and get outta here."
The younger officer handed him a neatly folded blue uniform and a pair of hard black boots. "Follow one of them," he said, pointing to the red SOLDIERs waiting behind him. "They'll take you to the barracks. Report back here tomorrow at five hundred hours. You can do what you want until then."
(Do what I want. I love the sound of that.) Sephiroth did as he was directed, clutching the military gear tightly against his chest, his arms quivering not just with pain this time, but with a tiny flicker of restrained…
(…Joy? Is that what that feels like…? It's warm…that must be what makes other people smile. Yes. I need to become important so I can make more of that warmth for myself.)
(Myself. Did you hear that, Hojo? Don't think I'm doing this for you. You told me I was joining SOLDIER, and I did. But you didn't tell me to be the most powerful one ever. That…I'm doing for…myself.)
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A/N: Ack! Sorry this one took so long. It's amazing what life piles on you all at once. Anyway, there you go. I hope I'm keeping things on track. I'm always open to suggestions and ideas! And again, thanks for the great reviews! They motivate me like you wouldn't believe, not to mention giving me the warm fuzzies! It's really nice to know people appreciate my work!! ^___^
This is getting to be a long note (for me, anyway) so I'll shut up. I'll keep trying as hard as I can to keep updating every week!
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Sephiroth sat up on the examination table, his head reeling and his stomach clamped with intense nausea. Hojo had increased his Mako dose again today, and he could almost feel his emerald eyes burning in his skull from the fifteen thousand hyper-concentrated grams that now coursed through his veins .
"Come on, Sephiroth, get over it," Hojo commanded, grabbing his son's forearm and yanking him from the table, not caring a whit that the teenager, who was still woozy and scarcely able to be upright, nearly fell flat on his face when he did so. "You need to report to SOLDIER immediately. As in…" He paused, glancing up at the wall clock. "…Ten minutes."
"I don't even get any time to…" Sephiroth started to protest, gripping the edge of the table with a quivering, white-knuckled hand to help him rise.
"No. Now get going! And stop carrying on like you're hurt. You're fine."
"Fine…sure," he mumbled, steadying himself as best he could against the table before wobbling forward a few steps. (I get loaded with enough Mako to kill a Behemoth and then ordered off to the military before I'm even sure of where I'm at…fine, indeed.)
"Twenty thousand."
Sephiroth stopped at the sound of Hojo's voice, and carefully turned around. "What?"
"It takes twenty thousand hyper-concentrated grams of Mako to kill a full-grown Behemoth, Sephiroth. The amount I just gave you would only do away with an infant Behemoth."
Without another word, Sephiroth turned again and continued on his way, his pace lethargic and his gait lurching. A stream of choice words for his father screamed through his aching head, and he didn't even give a good damn if he picked up on them, as he always seemed to do.
The recruitment office was thankfully only two floors and a brief elevator ride down, giving the weary, and decidedly angry, teenager a moment to gather his muddled wits. The world around him still blurred and doubled, and aside from pain and incensed curses for Hojo, his mind seemed unable to focus on anything else. He had to come into some state of reality before he walked into the SOLDIER office; not for Hojo, but for himself. If he was going to make a powerful first impression on these people, it wasn't going to be by stumbling in like a sleepy slum drunk.
The elevator glided to a halt, the doors slid open, and Sephiroth stepped out, forcing every ounce of his willpower into walking tall and appearing coherent. His glowing green eyes scanned the room, taking in the line of fresh-faced, eager youths waiting eagerly at the recruitment desk as nearly two dozen crimson-clad SOLDIERs stood at rigid attention on the far wall, waiting to escort the new recruits to the barracks. A pair of officers of some important rank sat behind the desk, taking down names and such, handing the young men uniforms and barking at them to be on their way.
No one paid him any mind as he joined the line, moving up behind a short, wiry brunette with a gunny sack slung over his shoulder. It was strange really; he'd always stood out like an evergreen in Gold Saucer's desert, what with his platinum locks, pale skin, and Mako-lit emerald eyes, yet everyone had seemed to either look through him or not at all.
But that was fine. He hadn't gotten any attention elsewhere, so he hadn't really expected any here. Not yet, anyway.
The line moved quite quickly. Sephiroth, despite his acute hearing, hadn't heard any of the other recruits' names. Even if he'd cared, it was a task in itself to remain steady on his feet.
He soon found himself in front of one of the officers, a hawk-nosed, middle-aged man with flint-gray eyes who looked as if his face would crack if he smiled. "You're a freaky-looking one," he scoffed. "Are you sure you're in the right place? You look awful scrawny to be joining SOLDIER." He squinted up at Sephiroth, scrutinizing his face. "And from the looks of it, you're Mako poisoned, too. Look, son, we don't want sickly Mako junkies here. You need to get yourself out of here and into a hospital."
"No…I don't," the teenager insisted, willing himself to his full height and putting on a feigned air of confidence. "I'm joining SOLDIER. I…have to."
"You have to?" The officer slowly shook his head before focusing his cold eyes on the green glow that looked down at him. "Listen, young man, you've had too much Mako. Way more than any SOLDIER'd ever get. You're not even thinking straight. You need to go get help."
A sudden spark of unexpected rage snapped to life somewhere within Sephiroth's body, and his eyes narrowed into verdant slips of flame. "No, Sir," he asserted, "I need to join SOLDIER. I haven't been given a choice. My life…hasn't given me a choice. I…need…to…join…SOLDIER."
The reaction he got was something you'd see on the face of a bystander watching a raving religious fanatic spouting his 'truths' on a street corner. A moment of awkward silence ensued before the officer shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Okay, okay," he said. "Whatever you want, kid. You don't need to lay that kinda shit on me." He picked up a ball-point pen and a piece of paper. "You got a name, then?" he asked. "Or has all that Mako screwed with your head and you don't remember it?"
"My name is…Sephiroth," he replied, the odd fury he'd felt instantly squelched by a brutal stab of nausea. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the officer to say something.
"Sephiroth?" he said. "That's it? No last name?"
"…No."
"C'mon, everyone's got a last name."
Sephiroth opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the man. "My father's Doctor Hojo, if that helps," he added, albeit reluctantly.
"That crazy bastard?! His son?" He snorted and printed Sephiroth's name on the paper. "Sure, right. You're certainly strange enough to be, but I can't see anybody loving that asshole enough to have a kid with him. Anyway…all right, how old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Height?"
"Six foot one."
"Blood type?"
(I should just say Mako. My blood probably doesn't have a type anymore.) "Type O."
"And your dad's Hojo?"
"Yes." (Unfortunately.)
The officer wrote everything down and motioned him toward the other man sitting beside him. "Go ahead, then. Grab a uniform and get outta here."
The younger officer handed him a neatly folded blue uniform and a pair of hard black boots. "Follow one of them," he said, pointing to the red SOLDIERs waiting behind him. "They'll take you to the barracks. Report back here tomorrow at five hundred hours. You can do what you want until then."
(Do what I want. I love the sound of that.) Sephiroth did as he was directed, clutching the military gear tightly against his chest, his arms quivering not just with pain this time, but with a tiny flicker of restrained…
(…Joy? Is that what that feels like…? It's warm…that must be what makes other people smile. Yes. I need to become important so I can make more of that warmth for myself.)
(Myself. Did you hear that, Hojo? Don't think I'm doing this for you. You told me I was joining SOLDIER, and I did. But you didn't tell me to be the most powerful one ever. That…I'm doing for…myself.)
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A/N: Ack! Sorry this one took so long. It's amazing what life piles on you all at once. Anyway, there you go. I hope I'm keeping things on track. I'm always open to suggestions and ideas! And again, thanks for the great reviews! They motivate me like you wouldn't believe, not to mention giving me the warm fuzzies! It's really nice to know people appreciate my work!! ^___^
This is getting to be a long note (for me, anyway) so I'll shut up. I'll keep trying as hard as I can to keep updating every week!