Chapter two of Absolution is up and running much sooner than anticipated. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, violence, darkness creepy-ness

Important notes: Anything in regular italics is thoughts, and anything in "quotation marks and italics" is someone talking in another person's mind. You will understand later.

The dawn air was more than welcomed against Leon's flushed cheeks, a sigh of relaxation and slight frustration slipping quietly from his chest. This was a normal habit for him; something that he had taken pride in doing every morning since he had moved into this apartment. Wake up, as early as he possibly could – which was normally around five or six in the morning – get dressed, and head outside for a daily round of patrols. The pattern never really changed, which was the way that he enjoyed it. It had become a regular part of his life over the past two or three years, and Leon was more than ready to allow himself to become lost in the fluid motions and consuming dance of a good fight.

Patrolling had become a necessity in the town when new creatures had begun to make themselves present during the hours of the Darkness's rule. Chaos had instantly sprung up when the first sightings of the monsters had been reported, the shouts of worry and fear dying in a simple announcement from the military ensuring their safety and that it would be best for the citizens to merely forget about it and move on with their daily lives. A promise of "stronger troops" and SOLDIERs sitting on every street corner had been made, the people had cheered, and then life had fallen back into that monotone rhythm that it had carried for as long as the brunette could remember. Leon was still amazed at how well they had obeyed the orders, simply dropping the subject as if it didn't mean life or death for them, before going back to their lives of shopping, entertainment, and only Hyne knew what else.

Then again, that was how it always worked, wasn't it? If the military told you something, then you obeyed without asking questions or passing judgement, regardless of your own personal views on what the matter may be. Arguing with the military or the corporation normally resulted in your 'mysterious' disappearance one day. It was simply a commonly known fact that the military was always right, and that if they said to let something fade into the background, then it sure as hell better fade, or else there would be consequences and the military "couldn't ensure the safety" of anyone in the town anymore.

Leon knew the system all too well, had been part of it for almost his entire life, the brunette running a slender, leather wrapped hand through his hair and giving off a small sigh. The thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind as he moved to shift Revolver – he had never really gotten used to the idea of exchanging it for a different gunblade; this one had worked fine for him since he was a child, why change it? – onto his right shoulder, his free hand slipping casually into his pocket. Stormy, blue-grey eyes swept over the emptied street for a brief instance before he turned from his doorway and toward the alleys that snaked through the town to his side. The alleys would definitely be a good place to begin his patrols for the night; the Darkness seemed to gather there more than anywhere else, as if the deeds that normally occurred back there – the murders, rapes, and whatever else the thugs of the slums could think of – drew in the Darkness and gave it a perfect feeding ground.

It was probably true, after all. Hadn't he heard a long time ago that the deeds a person performed during their lives affected the Darkness in their hearts and the attraction of the Darkness to that person? He wasn't sure, but it had to have been something like that. Which would explain why countless rumors had been seeping throughout the city that there were sudden disappearances happening late at night, normally with those brave enough, or stupid enough, to enter into the alleyways without some form of protection. Surprisingly, however, no one really traveled by the main streets at night anymore. Be it the thrill of seeing the Darkness, or just the fact that most of the alleys wound into a complex knot to about anywhere in the town a person may want to go, taking twice as fast to get there than going via the main streets, Leon wasn't all that sure.

Whatever it was, it kept his job interesting.

Leon let off a groan as he turned another corner, wandering deeper into the dark passages without really paying much attention to where he was going. He had memorized every single path in this damned town, after all, and could more than likely get from one point to another with his eyes closed. The only obstacle that may get in his way would be any passed out drunkards that he may trip over in the process; something that happened more often than one would think, in such a "high-class town" as Twilight Town.

The idea actually made a rare chuckle, more of a snicker, slip from his throat, the brunette shaking his head briefly. "High-class?" Nothing in the town was really "high-class," apart from the theaters and other entertainment businesses that had perfect funding for the soul purpose of sucking in money for the military. It was almost a vicious cycle. On the outside, Twilight Town actually seemed like a nice place to stay for those rich enough; there were enough places to spend one's money that it seemed to be more of a playground for the wealthy than an actual town for people to live in. Which it very well could be – the funding that went into the actual housing of the town was lower than normal, and most of the places to live were half-crumbling apartments with rent that was twice as much as the actual building itself was worth. However, on the inside, poverty and oppression ran supreme, and a strong sense of despair amongst the common people hung thick in the air like a plague.

Being an ex-Commander couldn't even change that little flaw.

Leon frowned as he found his thoughts wandering down that path, the gunblade expert shoving them away quickly before they could distract him from his task at hand, flipping his gunblade off of his shoulder and into his grip to do just that. Even if he couldn't find anything to fight, he could at least train until the morning completely came and awoke the town, bringing in the life that he strove to avoid in a desire to alienate himself. Being social never really was his forte, after all. It was simply in his nature to avoid people, namely a city's worth of people; he had been doing it since he was a child, if he could remember correctly. Ever since sis left home, he'd–

"What?" The word escaped his lips as more of an impulse rather than an actual question, Leon's train of thought being interrupted as he felt his boot kick something plush on the ground, a grunt coming from said object and filling the dark alleyway. Surprised, and a little confused as to what a person was doing in the middle of an alleyway, he moved around the form, taking a step back so as not to stand on the form and giving himself a clear view of the person passed out on the ground. They didn't really look like a drunkard, in his opinion, but they definitely looked worse for ware.

It was obvious that the person had been through somewhat of a living hell in the past few days, simply by their appearance. Tattered and bloodied clothing clung to pallid skin in almost a desperate attempt to continue doing the job of protecting the person's – the man's, Leon noted – body from harm, which they had failed in doing quite miserably. A shredded purplish-blue turtleneck sweeter was hanging lifelessly from his torso, tears and unraveling threads hanging from nearly every inch of the garment, the dark fabric stained even darker sporadically with what Leon could only assume to be blood. Matching pants made an equally pathetic attempt at calling themselves clothing on the man's legs, the amethyst garment torn to reveal pale flesh marred with blemishes almost everywhere. Thick combat boots adorned his feet, and the armor that had once been on his shoulder in an effort to protect him in whatever way was so badly scuffed and cracked that Leon highly doubted it could protect him against anything at all.

It's a military issued uniform.

Leon let his eyes wander the remainder of the man's body, gaze hovering over his hair and face for a fleeting moment. A mass of almost impossibly spiky hair was placed on his head, wayward golden strands falling down before his tanned face as if they refused to join their companions on the man's head. It would have been comical, were it not for the poor condition of the hair's owner.

He looks a lot like him . . . The thought flittered into his mind uselessly as he knelt down beside the man, gunblade quietly coming to rest at his side to free his hands for inspection of the youth. Tentatively, more in concern for hurting the man rather than anything else, he reached over toward him, hand resting on his chest for just a brief moment.The blonde's breathing moved in a rough up and down rhythm against his palm, as if he were having trouble doing just that – forget him regaining consciousness any time soon – Leon running his fingertips gently across his torso and over his ribs. A frown creased his features as his fingertips brushed over a set of ribs that were obviously out of place and roughly broken, the brunette lifting his hand and shaking his head. This man had to have been through more than just hell, from the looks of things.

Leon paused for a moment, rolling back on his heels to give himself space away from the blonde in order to cast a long glance at his entire form. The man was, in all actuality, a rather attractive – maybe even beautiful – person, even when he looked as broken and dejected as that. The blonde was a vision of what happened in the town almost on a daily basis; someone became lost, in one way or another – mentally or physically. Absently Leon found himself wondering just how old the man was; he really didn't look any older than eighteen, at the most. He brushed that back, a gentle sigh breaking from his lips as he ran a slender hand through his messy auburn hair, fingers tugging at the strands in his typical habit when he was lost in thought.

He couldn't very well leave the man here. Someone – or something – else would more than likely find him and cause him more harm than he had already sustained, or he could die of the injuries that he had already received. A groan worked its way from his lips as he leaned forward, kneeling on the cold concrete ground of the alley and moving to gently pull the man into his arms, for fear of further causing him injury. It was dangerous to move a person when injured, Leon knew, but something told him that such trivial matters as a little further damage to the person was not his main concern at the time being.

Swiftly he climbed to his feet, a pointed glare shooting down toward his gunblade as he shifted in a pathetic attempt at holding both the man and his weapon. Satisfied with looping the trigger of the blade over his fingers and clutching the man tightly to his chest he turned, moving in a steady pace back to his apartment. An absentminded glance was shot down toward the blonde one last time, Leon running a quick inspection of his body to make sure that nothing had been further knocked out of place by–

His thoughts stopped in a mimicry of his feet, the ex-Commander's eyes widening just slightly as he noticed the man's left hand for the first time. Sharp, pointed golden claws that seemed to almost be made of some kind of metal covered the majority of his fingers, leading down to deadly tips that were more than likely sharp enough to do heavy damage, if used properly. A dark, blackened surface lay beneath the talons, be it the man's actual skin or a glove of some sort, Leon wasn't really sure. Whatever it was, it was covering almost his entire hand and slowly creeping up his arm, stopping just above his wrist as if it had run out of the will to move any more than that.

It reminded him of one of the Darkness creatures that had been invading the alleyways as of recent, and Leon had to repress a shiver at the thought. The temptation to just leave the man where he had found him crawled into his mind but he crushed it back almost instantly, Leon shaking his head in frustration at himself. He had decided to bring the man hope, regardless of what he really was, and that was what he was going to do. Questions could be asked later. Leon picked up his pace once again, hurrying to make a retreated back into his apartment before the hustle and bustle of the day could catch up with him and expose the man in his arms to further damage.

Sora is not going to be happy about this.

The corporation's main building was just as busy as ever, even at the absurd hour of the morning. Shin-Ra never really seemed to sleep; there was always something bustling amongst the employees and the executives, be it a new weapon production or a new terrorist raid to deal with, both of which had grown more frequent in the past few days. An increase in opposition, a need for new weapons, and the people pulling the strings of the puppet workers in that town that no one had ever seen filing an increase in demand for energy and weaponry had all come flying at Shin-Ra Inc. in one night.

Which had only increased the number of panicking workers, of screaming employers, and had successfully resulted in one very frustrated president.

Whatever it was driving the people, it kept the hallways flushed with scurrying workers afraid that even a second of tardiness could result in their expulsion from Shin-Ra Company for good (and being fired from Shin-Ra normally meant that you wouldn't be going back to any other job any time soon – or back to your house, for that matter).

The traffic in the hallway all poured in a simple direction; toward the offices. The corridor that was composed of the offices consisted of a uniform line of rooms upon rooms, each one exactly the same as the last; stark white and sterile in a manner that reflected the rest of the glittering, bleached white interior. The scuffing of dress shoes along the tile filled the air as each person hurried, hunched over reports or papers or weapons to test, toward their assigned room for a day filled with name signing and reporting to the executives. The day had just begun, really, and the morning rush to get to your position was still in the midst of occurring.

Which was exactly why Reno was so frustrated with walking in the opposite direction, his hands crammed into his suit's pockets with an irritated look plastered onto his pale face, messy red hair falling across his eyes as he stormed his way elsewhere, his companion easily taking large strides to keep up with the man's flustered pace. The other seemed a little annoyed to be there, his towering form clad in the same navy blue uniform that Reno bore, only in a more professional manner. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes from view, a tanned face and bald head giving the beast of a man the look of a trained body guard, or murderer.

Both of which were written into their job description, if Reno could remember the small print right (no one really reads those things, anyway).

"Yo, who the hell does he think he is, giving me orders like that! It was one fuckin' mix up, Rude, just one, and he's gotta go all 'oh Reno, you failed again, I want you to work twice as hard now and find him before tomorrow or I'll take your position away,' blah blah blah, on me." Bright eyes turned toward the stoic man at his side, Reno casting him a look that clearly said 'you agree with me, right?' Without really giving the tall man a chance to respond he had turned his head back to face the crowed, swiftly ducking around a few running secretaries and past a group of third class SOLDIERs awaiting their turn for the training facilities. "Yeah, if you were there, man, you would have run away, too! There was definitely something fucked up in that kid's head, yo," at this he jabbed a slender finger toward his own head, as if to illustrate his point, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that he had Rude's full attention. Satisfied, he turned back to facing where he was walking, his lips pulling into a grimace of annoyance, "There was no way I was gonna stick around and find out what the hell it was!"

A cluster of huddling lab assistants ducked out of the way as the redhead stormed up to the elevator he had been heading toward, his forefinger jamming into the 'down' arrow with a little more force than necessary. "He just wasn't normal, yo." Seconds passed, Reno tapping his foot anxiously at his side before a soft ding alerted the duo that the elevator had finally arrived, both men stepping inside the emptied semi-circle and turning to face the glass windows of the sides.

"... I should have been there, then." An enthusiastic nod was given to that, despite the fact that both men were facing opposite directions (he trusted Rude to see the motion through the glass's reflection, anyway). Instead, Reno's face was pressed against the glass of the elevator, like a small child looking at something that he wanted greatly but could not reach, his lips pulling into a frown at the sight of the massive city. It was impressive, yes, but the migraine that was going to be caused by that place was already starting to form in a soft tingle at the base of his skull.

Towering buildings littered the view outside of the window, each one silhouetted against the rising sun in the background and showing off their massive forms. Logos and various other posters were plastered onto the sides of the buildings, advertising various plays or technological advancements, each and every one bearing the square, scarlet logo of Shin-Ra Inc. The buildings themselves spanned for as far as Reno could see, the man squinting in an effort to make out where Midgar ended and Twilight Town began, the long row of borders and roads streaking through the buildings giving him a rough idea as to where to look.

Midgar, the center station for most of the energy, weaponry, and the base for the Shin-Ra building, was a dirty collection of slums and the plate that the executive building and housing was perched upon. The metal disc, or "pizza," as the people trapped in the slums referred to it, was the cause for most of the pollution that hung over the air and spread an eternal night across the cities, reaching even to the edges of Twilight Town. Shin-Ra had caused it, but that didn't really mean that they cared; Midgar was big enough that they didn't really have to worry about the pollution reaching their housings.

And Reno had to make it through that and into Twilight Town, where the real fun was going to begin. Midgar may be large, but Twilight Town had more places to hide.

Add to that the fact that he had to explore that entire town, look in every single nook and cranny, for one young, albeit mentally unstable and genetically enhanced, ex-trooper (the kid couldn't even be a SOLDIER, which would have at least made the job interesting, in Reno's eyes). With just himself and Rude on the mission. All because the biological department had poor security and had let the kid escape.

It was enough to make him slam his head against the glass surface, a curse slipping from his lips around a heavy sigh. This was turning into another one of those jobs, wasn't it?

Well, he could make the best of his free time for now.

"Wanna go get a drink before we have to go out there, yo?" The tall man let what could be considered a grin – more of a sneer, actually – cross his lips as the elevator reached the ground level, the two men turning and walking out of the door casually and in sync with one another, as if they were next to each other so much that they had learned to memorize their companion's motions and movements.

"I was waiting for that."

For some strange reason, he was warm.

The warmth was a stark contrast to the biting cold of loneliness and sterility that he normally felt as he awoke, even after his escape from that horrid place, and he relished it, fighting against the pinpoints of light at the corners of the darkness that were trying to eat away at it and take peaceful oblivion from him. The warmth itself seemed to be in intertwined between the light and the dark, and he struggled to keep the balance between the two, floating on the edge of consciousness but not yet allowing himself to awaken. This was just too good to lose. A spider-web network of strands made out of a bluish-white illuminance were creeping along his torso and arms and legs, spiraling around his body like a comforting cocoon and successfully washing away the pain and fear that lingered in his chest.

It was a comforting feeling, that warmth, the heat spreading gradually, almost lazily, along his body and into his arms, pulling at bones and muscles that were out of place, snapping them back to their original positions with little more than a gentle pop. Surprisingly, he wasn't as worried as he probably should have been by the whole situation. That warmth caused him to simply lie wherever he was and focus solely on that feeling, forgetting what was happening on the outside world as the wounds over his chest and various other parts of his body pulled taut, forming new flesh in the mockery of fresh scars to join old ones.

For once, the darkness wasn't frightening to him. It really was a surprise, to learn that the darkness could hold anything else apart from pain and loneliness, even if that darkness was only a semi-darkness. He had never felt anything quit as comforting as this before, and for a brief moment he wondered if maybe he had actually died last night, regardless of the fact that he couldn't quit remember what had happened. But that didn't matter.

He was content, for the moment, and warm; two things that he hadn't felt in a long, long time . . .

"Not since that time, huh? It was pretty hot that day."

. . . Yeah, it was.

That sensation was seeping along his body now, crawling off down his left arm, mending out-of-place bones and scratches and pulled muscles as it went. There was a sickeningly loud snap as he felt the bones in his arm mend themselves entirely, and he cringed absentmindedly for a moment, even if it was just at the sound. For some reason, it felt good to have that heat flush his arm; the chill that had been lingering in said arm for however long slowly being torn apart by the light and tossed away made him sigh in contentment.

"I'm surprised you even made it there on time. I was worried you were gonna be late."

She was waiting for me. Mom was always like that.

Everything was so warm . . .

Until the warmth reached his hand, that is. A stinging, lingering icy feeling refused to yield to the gentle cox of the bluish light, and he frowned in his half-conscious state. There was something about that hand, something important that had happened not all that long ago . . .

Why couldn't he remember what it was?

"Why don't you look and find out? Lying here isn't going to help any."

But . . . I don't want to look. I don't want to remember, I just want to stay here. It's warm. It reminds me of home and mom.

"Hey, that won't work! Staying in memories will just make it worse, kid. Come on, wake up."

"Un . . ."He was struggling with unconsciousness, fighting against the light of day that was breaking into his vision and the harsh shaking that was racking his body. Someone was trying to wake him up, but whoever that someone was, he didn't really care. All that mattered was that he didn't lose this peace, as artificial as it probably was.

"Wake up!"

I–

"Wake up."

Cloud gasped as he was snapped out of his reverie of darkness, a firm hand on his shoulder shaking him gently and scattering the oblivion like shattered glass to the corners of his mind. Disoriented, he lurched forward, eyes widening as he tried to take in his surroundings, his face contorting into a mixture of pain and confusion. A blinding ray of light dug hard into his vision like needles and he closed his eyes against it, trying desperately to find that darkness and warmth again. It was cold and bright out there, and he didn't want to lose sight of the warmth that had filled him only moments before.

Why did this person have to wake him up?

"I need to make sure the wounds healed properly. Get up."

Better question: Who was this person? He couldn't recognize the voice as one he had heard before and he frowned, a groan slipping from his lips. That was either very good, or very bad. Good, because it meant that he wasn't back with the military just yet; bad, because this person may know about the charges against him. He would just have to hope that said person hadn't been keeping up with the television broadcasts over the past three days.

"Yeah, that's wistful thinking there, Strife."

"Un," he rose his right hand to his face, thin fingers pressing to his eyes in an attempt to chase away the burning that lingered in them, Cloud frowning and moaning under his breath. It feels like I've been hit with a fucking brick . . . Finding his efforts successful after much muttered cursing and mental screaming, he blurrily cast a glance around the room.

The first thing he could see was the hazy silhouette of a man leaning over him, his hands fanned out, fingers spread over his chest, that bluish light that had invaded his mind in his unconscious state lighting the person's fingertips and raining down on his chest and arm. So it was a form of curing magic? Cloud shook his head against his uncooperative vision, the blonde struggling to make out the figure kneeling at his side. But why was it blue? Most healing magic now was the sickening bright green color of Mako and Lifestream, induced by the usage of materia that had been installed over five years ago, when materia usage had become mainstream. The forbidden magic, the pure magic, had been forgotten long ago . . .

How did this person know how to use it?

"How did I end up here?" His voice was rough from hours, possibly even days – he wasn't too sure how long he had been unconscious for, really – and he frowned at that, his words sounding weaker than he had wanted. Well, at least he had managed to speak this time and not grunt out inaudible words like he had anticipated would happen.

"You were badly injured. I found you passed out in the alleyway this morning and took you to my apartment for rest." Cloud gave a nod at that, his brain registering that a strong hand had come to rest over his chest, the fingertips running over his ribs and down along his arm for inspection. The blonde squirmed, shifting uncomfortably under this unknown man's touch, and he glanced over at the person, struggling to make out the man's form, if only for something to keep him occupied.

Choppy auburn hair framed tanned skin and icy blue-grey eyes, the man's gaze cold and emotionless, even as he tended to the blonde's wounds. An angry red scar ran down the top of his forehead, across the bridge of his nose and beneath his eye, Cloud wondering absently how the man had gotten that injury in the first place. The man had rather handsome features – a well-shaped, narrow face, strong build and muscle tone – and Cloud couldn't help but grin. There was something about this man, about his posture and the atmosphere around him, that strikingly reminded him of an overgrown cat – preferably a lion. The silver lion pendant that hung from his neck and the matching ring that was placed over the leather of the man's glove only added to the image and Cloud found himself absently wondering if everything about the man were lion like, including his movements and name.

"Well then, thanks for saving me." He groaned as he shifted in his spot, the blonde grumbling under his breath at the pain that still rang in a numb feeling across the majority of his body. Well, moving to get a better look at his surroundings was definitely out of the question for the time being. He'd just have to trust this man to not stab him in the back while he was resting and turn him in for that reward. "So, what's your name?"

". . . Leon." Ah. Just like a lion's. He could have expected that much, and he smiled at the man, a curious look filling his face.

"Leon, huh?" He didn't receive a response, but then again, he wasn't really expecting one, and he continued anyway, "Well, the name's Cloud." The only answer to that was a nod of the man's head and a brief glance away from whatever it was that the man had been fiddling with to look up in his general direction, stormy grey eyes locking with azure the briefest of moments. Cloud shuddered at that eye contact, breaking it swiftly; there was something about the look in Leon's eyes, something about the cold apathy that was obviously masking so much more that was almost unnerving.

He had seen eyes like that, a long time ago. Cold, calculating eyes, always watching with precision and a feline like amusement, as if the entire world were his toy. The shudder that had racked his spine seconds before increased in intensity, and he didn't even realize it. They were so similar.

Cloud's thoughts were scattered as his expression twisted into a grimace when he tried to turn to take a better glance at the rest of the brunette's form – all he could see was his head and shoulders, after all – a searing burning racking through his body and sending white-hot jabs of pain across his chest. Leon seemed to catch this and he held him back, shaking his head slowly.

"It hasn't healed entirely yet. Curing magic can only take some of the pain away and rearrange the muscle tissue." The brunette paused, a slender hand running through his hair to brush the messy strands away from his face, "Your injuries were bad; it'll take time for them to completely heal. . . You had three broken ribs and a poorly mended broken arm."

A broken arm . . . ?

Hadn't he broken something else, too?

"Your hand, remember?"

Hand . . .

A wave of memories hit him at that statement, as if the words had broken a block that his own mind had set up in an effort to protect him from some unknown truth. Twilight Town. They had just made it to Twilight Town, and . . . he had been running, alone, for whatever reason, trying to escape the men at his heels, and had turned down an alleyway for safety.

He had been attacked then, hadn't he? A man from the retrieval squad had found him, and had broken his arm and hand in the assault . . .

And then what? Something else had happened, something that had chased the man away. The source of the chill in his arm and fingers had come from that, he knew it, but for some odd reason he just couldn't picture it.

It was incredibly confusing and frustrating all at once.

". . . You should try to sit up." Mindlessly Cloud did as instructed, his mind too ensnared in thought to really do otherwise, the blonde pushing his hands against the plush surface of the couch beneath him. Carefully he propped himself up into a sitting position, a hiss of breath escaping from his lips as the dull ache throbbed in his body. It hurt, but that wasn't what was important at the moment. What was important was finding out what in the world had–

There was a soft tearing noise as he shifted, the dead fingers of his left hand snagging on the cloth of the cushioning and ripping it in a scream of snapping threads that successfully caught his attention. He almost leaped off of the couch as the sound filled the air, Cloud gasping in surprise and casting a brief glance around the area.

That's what it was: his hand. There was something wrong with his hand, something that had caused him to faint in the first place. Something that hadn't been there before . . .

But what was it? Curious, despite the slight twangs of fear that he could feel shaking his body, he glanced down to his side, ignoring the gentle touch of question that had fallen on his knee at his sudden enthrallment with his arm.

Cloud cried out without really realizing it. His hand had changed, over the time that he had been unconscious, had shifted shape into something dark and inhuman.

The hand itself seemed to have morphed into that he had never seen the likes of before, something that sent an icy fear trickling through his veins. The back of his hand had become thin, almost skeletal, the bones and tendons sticking out painfully obvious against the coal black flesh that was now his skin (blacked from what, he wasn't all that sure). Sharp, pointed talons were now where his fingertips had been, the razor claws curving in an elegantly grotesque manner to give him the appearance of some form of demon from a child's nightmare. A demon from one of his own nightmares, now that he thought about it.

Panicked and unsure of what to do he turned to Leon, eyes wide, face filled with pleading as if the brunette could hold some answer as to what had happened to him. Unfortunately, however, the sudden movement sent a crashing wave of vertigo into him, his muddled mind closing in on itself and causing his vision to be wiped away in darkness, the last thing that he could register being the startled cry of "Hey!" coming from Leon at his side and strong arms wrapping around his collapsing form.

I should probably make this clear to everyone before this fanfiction continues – I have been completely and utterly seduced by the Darkness. I swear it. This said, be expecting an immense quantity of said Darkness, and an even greater quantity of Sephiroth-esque insanity. Also, for those of you that have not caught on yet, this is intended to be more of a Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy VII and Final Fantasy VIII crossover rather than the original Kingdom Hearts story. Therefore, Shin-Ra and the like will be a normal occurrence. As for any confusion that this chapter may have caused, I promise that it will become clear as the storyline progresses. So many plot points all opened in one chapter . . . ((Hint: Cloud has two separate voices in his mind. I leave it to you to guess the owners of said voices.))

Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.