Disclaimer: Guess what? These characters still belong to Squaresoft! Isn't that a shocker?
A/N: *bonks head against wall* I never did clarify if this was an AU, did I? Well, yes, it is in fact an AU. Yep. So that takes care of that.
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Sephiroth didn't sleep that night. He didn't even try. Long after lights-out, he lay awake on the stiff upper mattress of the bunk he shared with an older redhead who snored like a sputtering diesel engine. That, combined with his restrained excitement and the dull Mako ache that perpetually clung to his body, neatly squelched any chance he would have had to satisfy his fatigue.
But that was fine. He'd gone without sleep many times before. It was just nice to know he wouldn't have to hear Hojo screaming for him in the morning, regardless of if he'd slept or not. Even a SOLDIER officer barking at him at the crack of dawn would be better than that.
He kept his glowing eyes shut, still angry at them for reminding him of the Mako torture his father put him through. (Maybe now they won't be so bright.) he thought. (SOLDIERs still get Mako treatments, but nothing like what Hojo was giving me, so maybe my eyes will look a little more…human…after awhile.) Drawing the light cotton blanket tight around his shoulders, he rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. (C'mon…be morning already! I've been laying here forever!)
As if in answer to his urging, the lights snapped on, startling several of the light sleepers into nearly rolling off their bunk. "Get up!" the responsible officer hollered. "You have five minutes to be in uniform and at the recruitment desk! Move it, all of you!!"
As the officer left, the recruits all scrambled out of bed in a half-stupor, fumbling into their blue uniforms and black boots, trying to make themselves presentable and their uniforms straight-lined in their limited time.
Sephiroth had no difficulties getting dressed in five minutes. Whenever Hojo had been in a bad mood, which was quite often, that was the time he gave his son in the morning to be ready for the lab.
So, after carefully lacing the polished leather boots and straightening the silver buckle on his belt, he headed for the recruiting desk well ahead of all the others, most of whom were just struggling into their boots.
The same man that had taken his name yesterday was waiting near the entrance, his steel eyes eager to scrutinize anybody that passed him. When he saw Sephiroth walk past, the teenager could have sworn he saw those shrewd orbs widen a bit in shock. He paid the officer no mind and continued by, stopping in front of the desk, fixing his gaze on the wall ahead of him.
"That was quick, boy," he heard the man comment.
"Sephiroth, Sir."
"What?"
"My name isn't 'boy,' Sir. It's Sephiroth." His green eyes slowly shifted to meet the officer's affronted snarl.
"Are you being smart with me?!"
"No, Sir." He looked away again. "I'm just refreshing your memory, Sir." (Officer or not, he needs to remember my name. They all need to remember it. One way or another, I'll make sure they do.) "And thank you, Sir. I appreciate your compliment."
The rest of the recruits filtered in, some appearing as if they were still sound asleep. The snoring redhead didn't even look alive.
A SOLDIER Second Class followed the last man in. "All right, you lazy asses! Fall in!!" he ordered. "Look sharp!"
The young men, tired as most were, scurried into a line before the desk, snapping to strict attention. A heavy silence settled onto the Spartan room as the red-garbed SOLDIER saluted the steely-eyed recruitment officer before turning smartly on his heel and exiting.
The officer strode away from his post, stopping abruptly when he reached the center of the line. His intense gray eyes slid from face to face, moving steadily until they fell to Sephiroth's countenance, where his focus halted. Then he spoke, his voice a loud, authoritative baritone.
"I am SOLDIER Sergeant Thomas Bailey," he announced, his tone flattening slightly when he noticed that the silver-haired youth placidly returned his stare, the fierce Mako orbs unwavering and unblinking. "I will be your commanding officer for the next two months," he continued, "unless any of you spineless children decide you can't handle real work…and pain…and go back home to cry to your worthless mothers!" At that, he bore down on Sephiroth, bringing his face less than an inch from the pale teenager's. "Do you understand that, you sickly excuse for a human being? Do you?! Will you run crying back to hide behind your mother's skirts when you find out you're too weak to make it?"
(He said when…not 'if.' He doesn't think I'll last. But I'm not weak. If I was, Hojo's cruelty would have killed me a long time ago…and I wouldn't have minded…then. Now, I'm glad it didn't. I have my chance now. And I will make it. I will have happiness.) "No, Sir!" he responded firmly. (And I couldn't do that anyway. I don't have a mother. Only a father who couldn't care any less about me as a son if he tried.)
"We'll see about that, young man!" Sergeant Bailey snapped. "The same goes for the rest of you snot-nosed brats!" He resumed his position at the center of the line. "We'll see who's broken before this is over." Again, he looked to Sephiroth, satisfied when the teenager didn't turn those hauntingly bright eyes his way.
(Well, I can guarantee you it won't be me.) Sephiroth mentally assured the Sergeant. (I'll not be defeated by you…or anybody. I'm not even going to be bent.) His jaw clenched at that thought, and a brief image of Hojo's horrid, leering face flashed in his mind. (I hope you heard that, you bastard. Heard and understood.)
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A/N: GAH!! I apologize for this one being so short, especially when it took me about two weeks to post. Good grief. College and work and pretty much everything else just decided to park their fat butts in my life and take away most of my free time. .
Anyway, I hope this chapter's still decent. I personally don't like it, but…eh, it's late, and I'm not in a good mood. I do have the next chapter thought out, though, and hopefully I can get that up within a reasonable amount of time.