Author's Note:
Reno: WOO HOO!
Reeve: Finally! We're back to doing the disclaimers on Final Fantasy 7 stuff! Where we belong!
Reno: HOO RAI!
Reeve: Tyramir doesn't own the rights to Final Fantasy or any of its characters. Now enjoy, folks!
Reno: You forgot something.
Reeve: What?
Reno: You forgot to remind the reader that this is a sequel.
Reeve: Oh, right. Right right. To any new readers, please check out Search For the Promised One first. We strongly recommend it. This fic will try to make the transition as painless as possible, but for back story purposes, you really should read it first.
Promised Empire
Chapter One
Haunting Dreams
Stars. How wonderously beautiful these pinpricks of light in a curtain of black can be. So simple, so small, so elegant, with the power to create galaxies and planets and lives, and just as easily smash those lives to pieces.
Rufus Shinra let out a disgruntled sound as the words came to his mind. He stood in his Junon office, staring out the window at the night sky musing to himself. This was completely unprofessional. He had decisions to make, meetings to plan, an Empire to consolidate.
Because that was what Shinra was now -- an Empire. Under his father's rule, it had been a mere corporation. A company that had supplied Midgar with the power and weapons it needed, that gave the city the ability to destroy the threat of Wutai. It had stepped into a war and ended it. Shinra had power, but it had been improperly used. Used to gather money. Foolishness. Money was but a means to an end, the end being more power.
But what to do with such power? Rufus mused.
The question had never really occured to him before. Power was to be had for power's sake. Or, at least, that's what he had thought before. But now, that power was needed. Needed desperately. A revolution was coming, and the President of Shinra could feel it in his blood. In his newly Mako-enhanced, Cetra-touched blood.
A revolution to change the world was coming. The Planet demanded it.
Rufus closed his eyes, and placed a hand over his face. Demanded? No one demanded anything of Rufus Shinra, not even the Planet. And yet... he could feel it calling to him. He let out a growl and whirled away from the window, tearing his thoughts from stars and planets and revolutions. He would have none of it.
Turning, he looked to his desk and frowned. On it sat a broken red Materia orb, cracked along its surface. It looked familiar, but he wasn't sure from where...
Beside it sat a pitcher filled with brightly glowing green liquid. Just looking at it made him thirsty, want to consume it, take it all and drink. But to do that was death, he knew. Somewhere in his mind, something cried out, telling him not to drink from it. But another part of him craved it just as much.
He would be forced to make a decision soon, he knew.
But for now, just as with the window and its stars, he tore his gaze from it and looked up, to the people surrounding his desk. Sycophants and followers all. The three who stood there belonged, but at the same time, didn't. Something felt oddly wrong. To one side was Heidegger, a large man dressed all in green, a scar across his bearded face. To the other was beautiful Scarlet, a woman nearly as mad as she was ambitious. And in the middle was the fat fool Palmer, a greedy man with an appetite larger than his stomach, if such a thing were possible.
All three smiled at him, and asked him what was the matter, if anything was wrong. He shook his head no, feeling very tired. He was surrounded by people who would seek to take his position at any moment, but something felt... wrong. He couldn't place it. He glanced at Palmer, who was beginning to move closer to him, and saw something that made him take a step backward.
For a second, barely there, was a gaping bullet wound in the middle of Palmer's forehead. In a brief flicker it was gone again, replaced by unmarred skin. Rufus frowned.
"What--?"
He looked over to Heidegger, who was also approaching him. The large man held out a hand to Rufus, as if offering assistance. For a small moment, the hand was charred black. Not even for a second was the sight there, and then it, too, disappeared, replaced with a normal hand.
Palmer was gesturing at the door leading outside the room, and Scarlet was holding it open. Something outside that door spoke of power. Of great power, a force unlike any other that would be given to him if he just went with them. Rufus squinted at Scarlet, and then, at least, she too, took on the appearance of someone horribly burned, maimed from some unspeakable fire.
Something was wrong. He knew that already, but the feeling filled him with dread. This wasn't right. Something about these three... something not right. He tried to remember. What had happened?
And then it occured to him. All three of these people were dead.
Why hadn't it come to him before?
Instinctively, he hurled himself away from them, taking a leap backwards, towards the window. In a moment, all three were rushing at him, arms outstretched, reaching for him, trying to tear at him with dead hands. They wanted him for something, but what, he didn't know. He would not let the dead have him!
He turned to face the window, and saw Reeve standing there, face calm. He held open a window for him, and was hurriedly gesturing for him to dive through it. Outside was the blackness of night, and somewhere below, the forever tides of the ocean. To leap out that window was death for certain. Rufus spared a glance backward, and saw the maddened faces of Scarlet, Heidegger and Palmer, all three still moving forward, rushing to stop him.
I am not for the dead! he thought.
Trusting to Reeve's gesturing, the only man loyal to him, Rufus leaped through the window.
And found himself standing on a black platform in sunlight, overlooked a great plaza filled with people. All below him were masses of people, so many people. And they were all calling his name in exultation. Beside him stood Reeve. The window was gone, as was his office, and Junon. This was somewhere new... a place he did not recognize.
Buildings were all around him, made of crystal and ivory. It was a small city, and parts of it were in ruins. But it would be rebuilt, he knew. He would rebuild it himself. This was to be his. This was his destiny.
But something was missing. Something vital that he needed. Below were his followers, to his side was his faithful servant... no, partner... all around him was his city, but something still was missing. He looked down at the black platform, and saw it for what it truly was.
A hand. A giant, black hand. Rufus started, and followed it to its source. A giant black arm, attached to a giant black body, all sleek and beautiful. And green eyes. Obsidian Weapon.
It held him aloft for all to see, presenting him to the people as a savoir. But Obsidian, like Heidegger and Scarlet and Palmer was dead. Or at least, its shell was...
He knew what it all meant. What he must have before all of this could be accomplished. This was a dream. That was now a certainty he knew, but this was a prophetic dream, one that explained so much. When he awoke, all he had to do was remember....
--
Rufus awoke, sleep fading quickly from him and alertness taking over his body. Every part of him screamed and adrenaline filled him system. A dream indeed. But hazy, fog-filled. Not entirely there. But he remembered parts, the important ones.
He was in his chair back in his office. Somehow he had fallen asleep in this uncomfortable throne-like seat.
His intercom buzzed, and annoyed by the rude noise, he mashed the button.
"Yes?"
His secretary's voice erupted from the offending machine. "Mister Reeve is here to see you, sir. Shall I send him in?"
Reeve. In the wake of the dream, Rufus had forgotten that he still needed to tell Reeve the truth of his past. The right thing. The responsible thing. Part of him swallowed a feeling of disgust, but shrugged it off. This had to be done.
"Send him in," he said.
First Reeve... and then Rufus would have his Promised Empire.