Disclaimer: FFVII is not mine. *sigh* There, are you happy now?
A/N: Whee! A longer chapter! (Pointless, yes…I just thought I'd mention it. ^^;)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(He treated me like a damn lab rat my entire childhood…ordered me to join SOLDIER…and now he mocks me after I've made it so far in it? That…)
"…Son of a bitch!" Sephiroth hollered, stopping mid-stride to slam the flat of his hand hard against the wall. He was too far from the auditorium yet to be heard over the unceasing din of chatter and rousing band music, but no doubt -- and hopefully -- close enough to his abandoned dressing room for the subject of his outburst to hear him.
"Tsk tsk. Language like that's too crude for such a pretty young man, Sephiroth."
At the sound of the chiding female voice, Sephiroth looked up to see a gaudily made-up woman, her bronzy blonde hair tied up in a fashionably unkempt chignon and her low-cut, skintight crimson dress leaving little to the imagination, approaching him from the direction of the auditorium. The stiletto heels of her shoes clicked a hollow, steady rhythm in the otherwise vacant hallway. She looked a bit familiar, but he couldn't quite put a name with the face.
"Excuse me?" He lowered his hand and stepped away from the wall to face her. Judging from her air, she had to be an executive or someone else of importance, so he knew his brusqueness probably fell way beyond the bounds of politesse, but irritation toward Hojo dissolved any chance of him really caring.
"I said you're too cute to be trying to cuss like an old sailor," she reiterated. She halted an arm's length away, planting a finely-manicured hand on her hip and arching a golden brow at him when she noticed his cross expression soften with a hint of incredulity. "What, no one's ever complimented your looks before? Are you kidding?"
Unsure of how to respond to that, Sephiroth said nothing, but he allowed the anger to melt from his face. He replaced it with the stoic mask he'd fabricated as a small child…the mask he'd donned so often whenever Hojo's, or anyone else's, ridicule or unconcern got to be too much.
"Ah, whatever." The woman waggled her other hand in the air dismissively. "The President just sent me back here to make sure you were ready and all that. So, Sephiroth…" The name brought an extra curl to her vermilion lips. "Are you ready?"
"I don't see why not," he replied. "An unexpected visitor delayed me a bit, but I'm not unprepared…for any of this."
She laughed -- a harsh, brassy laugh that no man the least bit sober would find tolerable. "Your commendation ceremony, and you already have the right attitude about this crap," she remarked. "No preparation necessary…just sit there looking interested and important, and when they call your name, stand up and give a spiel about gratitude, glory, power, whatever…wait out the applause, thank everybody again, and leave."
(I'll be looking forward to the 'leave' part the whole time.)
"Well, I can tell you don't need any more pointers." The woman straightened and turned partially away, clearly meaning to return to the auditorium. "I'll show you to your place, then," she offered. "It sounds like the crowd's starting to die down." Indeed, the cacophony seemed to be very slowly quieting, a single, stentorian voice attempting to quell it.
As she started back, Sephiroth followed, ignoring the third set of footfalls he heard pick up a good distance behind his.
"You recognize me," he said, matching the surprisingly brisk pace she held despite those atrocious shoes.
"Well sure," she scoffed. "There aren't exactly a lot of people who fit your description, you know."
(No, I wouldn't suppose…you, on the other hand…I could go to any street corner or slum brothel…)
"I'm Scarlet, Head of Weapons Development. And I can tell you don't really give a shit about that." She belted out that awful laugh again. "Ah, whatever. I don't deal with SOLDIER directly anyway, so you probably won't see a whole lot of me."
Stopping in front of the nondescript door that led to the now rapidly calming auditorium, Scarlet casually swiped a drifted strand of gold behind her ear. "Just go all the way past the executive seats to the other side of the podium, and sit next to…oh, what the hell was his name…? Oh…Merser. Yes, the lieutenant general. And like I said, just try and look interested until the president announces you. Believe me, it's a struggle sometimes," she groaned, rolling her azure eyes.
She walked inside, but Sephiroth paused a split second to look back at Hojo, who was approaching the auditorium to take his place as well. He had nothing to say to the man, but as the scientist brushed by him through the door, which Scarlet had left ajar, he sneered, "I love you too, Sephiroth."
----------------------------------------
"Colleagues…honorable SOLDIERs and members of the armed forces…I thank you, and welcome you, to this impromptu commencement…"
Not five minutes into President Shinra's opening speech, and already Sephiroth felt ready to doze off. He maintained what composure he could, restraining his expression from toppling over the fine line it tread between blank consciousness and catatonic slavering.
(Seriously…)
His paled green eyes drifted over the gathered assembly, idly taking in the conglomerate of spectators. The quintuplet of Turks, Shinra's glorified enforcers, sat in the front row, and would have easily been taken for a group of stone-faced lawyers in tailored navy suits had it not been for the faint bulge of gun holsters beneath their coats. Behind them, occupying a good three-fourths of the seats on both sides, was a sea of blue- and red-uniformed SOLDIERs and troopers, as well as a sprinkling of security guards, most of whom looked no more thrilled about being here than Sephiroth felt…and the ceremony wasn't even for them. Beyond them still were a couple dozen expensively-dressed men and women, no doubt business partners and other petty executives within Shinra's hierarchy.
Above it all, he noticed a distinct lack of security staff aside from those in the crowd. A lone guard stood at either end of the stage, near the one door on each side that led to the halls and staging rooms. The main entrance, straight back from where President Shinra was speaking, was unwatched.
While few people would have the idiocy to be distracted by the lack of security presence and try and cause a disruption, only to find nearly two hundred amassed military personnel -- even at that, a small fraction of the Company's entire force -- waiting for them…he just found it a little odd, especially since he had this vague, gnawing intuition at the back of his mind that something would come of it.
Stifling a tremendous sigh, Sephiroth glanced to the side, past Merser, past…what was his name?…Heidegger, to catch Hojo throwing a subtle smirk his way. The scientist's ink-black orbs betrayed no emotion behind the glower.
"…And so, ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to present to you the brilliant young man who will lead us to victory over Wutai, SOLDIER's first ever commended general…"
Hojo looked away, his stare having been discovered. Sephiroth's jade eyes burned.
"Sephiroth!"
All eyes snapped up, all heads turned…for the name did not come from Shinra.
It took the silver-haired young man but a second to locate the speaker, snapping his intense gaze from Hojo to the rear of the auditorium. Storm-dark anger tightened his handsome features as he realized his intuition had come true…and emerald pierced hard, unforgiving flint.
"Good to see you're so happy to see me again. Maybe I can freeze that look on your fine little face…eh, boy?" Clad in an ill-fitting dress uniform and armed with a short sword and standard-issue pistol -- which was aimed not at the president but at Sephiroth -- was none other than Bailey.
"How in the damn bloody hell did he get in here?" Shinra bellowed, his lit gray eyes darting from doorway to doorway.
"I trained half the damn guard, Shinra! Don't think I don't know how to deal with 'em!" Bailey, without lowering the pistol, slid the short sword from its simple sheath and held it forward enough for all to get a clear view of the crimson gore that heavily tarnished it. Several in the audience screamed in horror and the whole of the SOLDIERs and troopers present shot to their feet, those that were armed snapping pistols from their holsters, meaning to shoot the disgraced officer where he stood for murdering their comrades. The lone pair of true guards actually inside the auditorium rushed from their positions hear the two side exits and moved halfway down the central aisle toward the sergeant, raising their ebon rifles and taking aim in unison.
Sergeant Bailey dropped both of them in a heartbeat with two well-aimed head shots, the faintly smoking pistol aimed again at Sephiroth even before the second shell casing clinked to the floor.
A young woman sitting near the slain guards fainted, and a handful of others in the vicinity looked ready to. SOLDIERs were in an uproar, the younger troopers were at a loss of what to do, the Turks were looking for orders, and the lot of Shinra management was livid.
"Turks! What are you waiting for? A bloody invitation?" President Shinra snapped, his heavy voice barely audible over the din.
"Can it, fat-ass!" Bailey barked in reply, briefly jerking the pistol in the president's direction. "Your blue-suited bootlickers better stay put, or else I'll make this a presidential assassination, too!"
"What is the meaning of this?" Now Scarlet got involved, her rouged cheeks flushing as crimson as her dress. She rose and joined the president at the podium.
"Just taking care of some unfinished business." The twisted furl of bloodthirsty amusement on the sergeant's lips instantly turned sour. "I'll be damned to all the hells twice before this arrogant little silver-haired bastard takes over SOLDIER!"
Sephiroth rose deliberately, impervious to the gun barrel trained on him, his glare held fast to Bailey's. "You don't quit, do you…Sergeant?" His words, low and even, were greatly quieter than Shinra's last outburst, yet somehow held some unknown authority that caused the raucous confusion and outrage to subside. Most of the people fell silent, once again averting their attention to the unorthodox young man, yet not putting Bailey out of view entirely.
"You got me suspended from SOLDIER, you damn freak!" A strange pallor settled over the officer's weathered features, a fever of insanity illuminating his hard flint orbs. "SOLDIER was my life, dammit! It's all I had! Hell no! Don't think I'll let you get away with that!"
"Suspension isn't permanent, Sergeant," Sephiroth answered evenly.
"It could just as well be!"
"Because your reputation is tarnished now?" the young man sharply retorted. "Is that it?"
Bailey's slate eyes narrowed.
"Has-beens don't have reputations."
"Shut up!"
Without a second's hesitation, Bailey pulled the trigger…
(Fool.)
…and the bullet deflected harmlessly off Masamune's gleaming silver flat.
Sephiroth's emerald eyes flashed, his limited patience with his irate ex-superior lost. He lowered the great katana with an unconscious flourish. "That temper got you suspended, Sergeant, not me. And it's about to get you killed."
Bailey threw his head back in a bitter laugh. "Try it then!"
"As you wish."
"This is absurd! What in the hell is your problem?" Shinra bellowed, thrusting a thick finger at Bailey. "You slaughter a handful of security guards to barge into a room filled with SOLDIERs just to go after him?" He angrily motioned at Sephiroth. "Armed with nothing but a damn sword and pistol, no less?"
"I thought I told you to can it, Shinra!" The sergeant fired another round for emphasis. The bullet punctured the wall scant inches above the president's head.
"You must have a death wish, Sergeant, because you will hang for that!" Scarlet shrieked.
Sephiroth strode to the fore of the stage, in front of both her and the president, who showed more seething indignation than fear at nearly getting a bullet between the eyes. "He won't live long enough to be hanged," he calmly declared, speaking more to Bailey than to the blonde.
The officer just belted out another weird peal of laughter and raised the pistol again. "See you in hell, White-Hair!"
He pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession.
Scarlet, the president, three Turks, two executives, and most of the SOLDIERs swore.
Another woman in the back fainted.
Hojo smiled.
There were three sharp clangs…and Sephiroth was gone.
Maniacal laughter seized Bailey as he re-holstered the pistol and whipped the bloody short sword in a wide arc behind him, narrowly intercepting a rush of silver and shadow.
Sephiroth bounced back from the interception, plunging his katana forward beneath the short sword in the split second it took his feet to touch ground again. The officer bobbed his head to the side a hairsbreadth short of losing it and slammed his blade down in an attempt to pin the Masamune, but the young man clearly saw it coming and with a snap of his wrist turned its cutting edge up and powered the smaller sword away.
"Not so easy, eh, Sephiroth?" Bailey taunted. "I ain't even using a gun yet!"
His acknowledgement came in the form of a series of rushing, silver-swift katas that rocked him back on his heels, earned him a biting gash to the hand, and nearly cost him a finger. Uttering a familiar string of profanities, he angled his blade low to catch the Masamune as Sephiroth withdrew it…and succeeded, pushing the huge katana wide at an angle not easily recovered from.
As Sephiroth followed the momentum of his deflected blade and lunged closer, Bailey, in a spur of foolish, delighted madness, thought that at last, with such a simple ploy, he had opened his window of vengeance. His adversary was in no position to defend himself, his entire front made a clear target by his dive.
Meaning to put his last bullet to good use, the officer snapped his pistol out with his free hand, curling a finger taut around the trigger, aiming the barrel square at the young man's heart…and firing.
Back on the stage, Hojo's smile widened.
Sephiroth spun a half-turn and landed hard on his back.
Bailey chuckled…
…and dropped face-first to the floor.
The katana was impaled clear to the hilt through his chest. With the impact of his fall, the protruding length in the front was driven back through his body with a hollow scrape of metal and the wet, sickening sound of tearing innards. Masamune, slick with fresh, glistening blood, towered proudly, rooted in the flesh of its first victim…its first trophy. The blade's slender shadow fell across the fair face of its supine wielder, as if trying to make him aware of his gruesome feat.
The room was plunged into a breathless, uneasy hush. No one so much as twitched. Even President Shinra's stern face tightened a little with anticipation.
After what seemed a suffocating eternity, Sephiroth sluggishly pulled himself first into a sitting position, then, reaching up to clasp the bound handle of the Masamune for leverage, staggered to his feet. Only now could the congregated mass clearly see the growing crimson blossom garishly tainting his bullet-pierced belly.
Hugging one lean arm tight against his middle, the platinum-haired young man yanked the Masamune free none too delicately, and paying no heed to what he'd yanked it free of, started up the central aisle toward the stage, his steps unsteady but never once faltering. The great katana trailed a vivid ripple of blood behind him as he went.
Bated gasps of awe and fear wavered throughout the crowd. President Shinra moved from behind the podium, as did Scarlet, and whoever else was sitting back there. Merser stepped down from the stage and jogged the short distance to intercept Sephiroth, wordlessly sidestepping the pair of murdered guards.
"Holy shit!" he hissed, halting the young man with a loose grip to his sword arm. "You're…what the hell…?"
Suppressing a sharp intake of breath as a hot burst of fire ripped every nerve in his body apart, Sephiroth looked sidelong at the lieutenant general, replying in a voice thinning with pain, "The Masamune…is curved, isn't it?"
Merser glanced up at Shinra, his face a mask of confusion. So obvious was the statement that he thought the boy delirious. "Yes…"
"So…why do you think…I fell that…way?" Without waiting for a reply, Sephiroth straightened to his full height and looked up at President Shinra, the quiet, insistent ferocity in his glowing jade eyes belying the numbness that was beginning to sap his strength.
"I'll be damned," Shinra muttered.
(This pain…like what Hojo…put me through….)
His head jerked to meet the scientist's black gaze. The instant their eyes locked, Hojo's smile heightened into a low furl of laughter.
(Agh…dammit….)
The whisperings in the crowd escalated to a dull roar. At his side, Merser said something, perhaps a delayed response to the vague question he'd posed. The soft, pleased chuckle rumbling from that bastard scientist's throat was all that Sephiroth heard, however, before he wordlessly slumped to the floor.
---------------------------------------
"Sephiroth used the katana's arc to curve it around the sergeant as he fell. Fairly elementary, really."
Having finally deduced and declared what exactly the young man had done in the instant of basically saving himself from a life-ending gunshot, Merser took both the president's and the scientist's nonverbal cues to leave the lab. He hadn't expected…hell, didn't even want to hang around in it for any length of time anyway, regardless of whether or not he was welcome.
While the Shinra executives and senior SOLDIERs calmed and vacated the audience, the reedy Head of Science had more or less commanded him to carry the unconscious young man to the laboratory floor, for reasons he thankfully wasn't told. Had he held more seniority than the department head, he would have told him to can it, that the boy needed the infirmary, not this freak den…but since Shinra expectedly didn't object, he wasn't in a position to, either.
Offering the president…and only the president…proper acknowledgement with a perfunctory salute, the lieutenant general took his leave, heading quietly down the stairs with a rueful shake of his head.
----------------------------------
"So this is what you wanted all that extra funding for, hmm?" The president mused, staring placidly down at Sephiroth, who'd been placed on a high stainless steel examination table.
The young man's heavy black coat had not been loosened or removed, the ebon leather now thoroughly ruined by his own blood. His skin, already the pallor of milk-white marble, had faded to near-translucency, lighter still than the ethereal hoar-frost hue his platinum mane had taken on in the intentionally dim lighting. His gloved hands, one of them caked with dried crimson, were curled into loose fists at his sides.
"Yes." Hojo turned from the nearby supply counter, scrutinizing a large syringe of coldly glowing Mako. "And I do believe you've seen the merit proven now, have you not, President?" He stole a quick look at the preoccupied leader, the verdant sheen of the liquid he held reflecting bizarrely off the black depths of his eyes.
Shinra grunted a reply and stepped back from the table. "The wound he took…"
"…With the encouragement of some concentrated Mako, will be of no consequence." He arched a thin dark brow. "Concern?"
"Concerned that he won't get to Wutai and show those Shinobi bastards Shinra Inc. is not to be screwed with."
"Of course. Nothing to worry about. I…engineered…him to withstand greater punishment than a simple bullet."
Now it was Shinra's turn to quirk a russet brow.
Hojo harshly jabbed the needle into the taut flesh near the base of Sephiroth's neck. "It will take far more than a bullet to kill him," he explained, passively watching a slight tremor quiver the length of the young man's frame. "This bout of unconsciousness was just shock-induced, and even had he been left alone, he would have promptly recovered on his own. Under most circumstances, the Jenova cells would sustain him and repair injuries of even the severest extremity within a fraction of the time in which normal humans could recover…if they even could at all."
The scientist paused and made a small sound of annoyance when Sephiroth's head lolled. He hastily forced it straight again so the injection would not be disrupted before he continued. "I was hoping something like this would happen before he was sent to conflict. The trauma's stimulated the Jenova cells…so now he should have no problem against the Wutaians. Proving Shinra's superiority is inevitable." He tugged the needle out and moved back to the counter to discard it, adding under his breath, "And mine."
Hojo could almost hear the president's wolfish grin. "Perfect. Our…general…will be deployed at dawn. And I expect nothing short of perfect victory from this project of yours, Hojo."
"It's a project of mine…of course it'll be perfect." Though Shinra was already on his way out, it was not the rotund leader he was addressing. He swung around to face his 'project,' a possessed gleam lighting his hollow orbs. "Hear that…Gast? Mine!"
Sephiroth's fists clenched, the renewed dose of Mako taking hold. Hojo walked back to him, his head tilting sideways as if curiously observing a doped-up lab rat shuddering back from the throes of narcosis.
"That's right," he cackled. "Rise and shine…General…"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: …Damn, that got rushed at the end.
Oops. Sorry, this one was a couple days later than I meant it to be. I even had it pretty much ready, too. I just somehow got inspired to write some AeriSeph mush while listening to some sappy tracks on the Escaflowne movie soundtrack, so I got (quite) a bit sidetracked with that. Really, I have no idea what came over me. ^^;
As always, thank you for the great reviews! Cookies for all! ^_^