Disclaimer:I don't own Final Fantasy or Squaresoft even though I wished I did, almost as much as I wished that I owned 51 percent of Microsoft or invented post-it notes…….oh well if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Summary: Set 1 year after FFVII:AC. The world is encompassed in battle as Wutai proclaims war using an army ten years in the making, now the only thing that truly stands in their way is Avalanche, but its not enough, and with the planet ready to come apart at the seams, the only man who can help is the greatest general the world has ever known...

Dreams Of Existence

Chapter 2: Give 'em HELL!

To say that Sephiroth was a little annoyed would be pushing the word 'understatement' to its theoretical limits. Irritation and anger seared their way through his veins like molten lava until he was sure that if he had one more unhappy thought, he would spontaneously combust. His face however, seemed to be carved from solid stone for all the emotion that he let show on it, not a single muscle in his face twitched or moved slightly, not even to blink. His eyes, which were like two shards of green ice embedded in his face, regarded everything with a cool indifference that belied the unbridled rage that coursed in white-hot bursts just below his skin.

He was dressed in his ever-present battle suit, which, unlike what most people thought, was not made of leather. He looked down at his hands, which were bound by what appeared to be two glowing manacles connected by a cord of magic, and flexed them. He felt the material of his gloves yield like silk under his fingers and smiled grimly to himself. Shinra's best kept secret aside from the Jenova project, one of the secrets behind Soldier's seeming invulnerability and one of the main reasons why Soldier's budget had been over 30 billion gil every year.

Highly Adaptable Environmental Anamorphic Material or HAEAM for short was the name of the revolutionary material that every soldier from third to first class wore into battle and the more important you were, the more of it you got to wear. It was ingenious actually; the material was actually the product of the weapons research division who had accidentally stumbled upon it while trying to find new types of materials to make bullets out of. The original concept had been to make bullets that could be compressed so that hundreds could easily fit into a single clip, but upon firing, would expand to normal its size. The material used was a Teflon type material that initially is very soft, pliable and easy to compress, but when it is put under extreme pressure or velocity, it becomes as hard as steel. The concept never left the drawing board, but the material worked just fine.

Soldier immediately took control over the material and with a few tweaks had turned it into the most versatile body armor on the planet. It felt like silk on the skin until something hit it with enough force to cause it to harden, then it could stop bullets, knives, shurikens and even turn a Soldiers sword. It was also fireproof and sensitive to changes in temperature so in cold temperatures, the material contracted and hugged the body like a second skin becoming a decent insulator against the cold. All in all, it was a great piece of work and every piece of material on his body except for his shoulder armor was made of it, even his boots.

Sephiroth felt a sharp stab of guilt in his gut as the memory of flames licking futilely at his clothes as he stood uncaring in their midst, flashed through his head. His emotionless mask cracked for a few seconds, long enough for someone to realize the expression on his face had he or she looked, and was slammed back into place almost immediately.

Cursing himself for his carelessness, he cast a searching glare around his 'escorts' to see if anyone had seen his blunder. Seeing the rigid postures and the white knuckles of the men accompanying him, he wagered that they were trying their best to ignore the fact that he existed. Smiling to himself, he proceeded to retreat into the world of thoughts again.

Many people felt that he was incapable of feeling emotions or pain, and that perception paired with his prowess and reputation in battle had earned him many 'wonderful' nicknames such as 'Heartless Bastard', 'Silver Nightmare' and his personal favorite, 'Angel of Death'. It wasn't that he didn't have feelings; it was just that he had made the ability to conceal and ignore them into a fine art. During his 'formative years', that ability had been paramount when it came to avoiding prolonged sessions with his 'father', who had derived some sort of sick pleasure from his pain and tears. It was these sessions that had forged the cage around his heart, but it was the callousness and enmity of his caretakers that had frozen it.

It was with all these thoughts floating around inside of his head that he was escorted through the winding streets of Ral'Tashul, the capital of the Promised Land. The city itself was simply breathtaking, no city on the planet even came close to matching the splendor of Ral'Tashul in all its glory. Tall, multicolored crystal spires that sparkled in the light reached for the sky, vying to see which would be the tallest while people bustled around them like ants, flowers and trees stood metres apart and lined all the streets of the city, yet they never shed a single leaf or petal until autumn and winter stole them away. Small buildings made of a hard substance similar to stone served as houses and shops while the larger buildings were usually museums, theatres or auditoriums. The roads themselves were paved with square, hand-cut crystal stones that glittered like jewels in the dark, and when sunlight hit them from the appropriate angles, swirls of colours reminiscent of rainbows chasing one another around the sky, rippled across the road.

People were dressed in bright clothes whose colours never seemed to match and yet when taken as a whole, looked oddly stylish. The main mode of transportation was a floating disk called a 'Pletha' whose surface that adhered to any part of the body when used and carried people around much like cars or helicopters did back in Midgar.

The people were not bustling around this day however, nooooo, they were lining the streets trying to get a look at the man that had nearly destroyed the planet. Taunts and jeers were as forthcoming from the crowd as were gasps of shock and awe. Shouts of 'Tainted One' and 'Abomination' rang out and spread through the crowds like wildfire.

Sephiroth pointedly ignored the people and smiled to himself.

"So the kind and gentle Cetra show their true nature." he thought.

His destination was a large seashell shaped building that took up a large portion of the city center and was known as the Sarash Dul'Daemaar or roughly translated, Chamber/Hall of the Ancient/Old ones.

There was a large crowd of people around the entrance of the building and their reception was no less welcoming than the one he had received in the streets. Men and women formed a barricade around the large archway that led into the heart of the building and did not look particularly receptive to the idea of moving out of the way.

A man with slightly graying hair and an odd downward quirk of his eyebrow, giving the impression that he was always frowning, stepped forward and frowned darkly (not helped at all by the quirk).

"That son of a bitch ain't passin' through here without a fight!" the man shouted angrily which shouts of approval from the crowd.

Clearly there were fools everywhere, even among the Cetra.

A flash of anger swept through his body leaving his skin tingling before being meticulously reigned in and stuffed back into the depths of his mind.

"Technically," Sephiroth responded coldly, "I'm the son of the bitch…. that killed you all."

A thick silence descended upon the crowd and the apparent spokesman sputtered dumbly as the crown behind him seemed to withdraw into itself and roil angrily.

A wave of satisfaction crashed into Sephiroth and a small smirk found its way onto his face. It was quickly becoming obvious that the only difference between the Cetra and humans was their magical abilities.

It suddenly occurred to Sephiroth that the situation felt odd. The other times he had been brought before the council, he had not been led through the city like a dog on show, the people of the city had not even known of his presence, so how was it that they turned out in droves to see the fabled 'Son of Darkness'?

The answer hit him like a bolt from the blue. This entire thing was orchestrated, the procession and the people. The Cetran council must be pulling out all the stops to try and disturb him as much as possible before the meeting.

Sephiroth was shaken from his thoughts by a large hand roughly grabbing his shoulder and jerking him forward violently. He stumbled forward slightly and bumped into the guard ahead of him who shoved him back with equal force causing him fall backward into the previous guard.

The crowd burst into laughter and began to taunt and mock him, clearly confident in the power of the manacles on his wrist to suppress his powers. The only problem was that they forgot to take into consideration him monstrous physical abilities that were in no way linked with his ability to use magic.

Now Sephiroth was a reasonable fellow, and was not prone to bouts of anger or random acts of violence, unless under the influence of evil space aliens who claim to be close relatives of his, but under the circumstances and with the months of repressed anger at the council building up inside of him, this was the straw that broke the chocobo's back.

The guard behind him had really chosen the worst time to ignore reason and succumb to his now elevated levels of testosterone.

With the practiced ease of a seasoned warrior, Sephiroth entered battle mode. his eyes narrowed down to slits, fire seemed to ignite in his veins and colours became so sharp that they could make your eyes bleed. His brain mapped out the position of the eight guards automatically and he exploded into action.

Time seemed to slow down as he spun around to the guard behind him. The guard didn't even have time to consider moving before Sephiroth grabbed his right arm and with a gut wrenching 'snap', shattered the man's elbow. The scream had not even built up in the guard's throat when there was another crack as he spun to his left and backhanded the second guard with enough force to make him fly into the wall at the far end of the landing. Using the momentum of the sudden spin, he delivered a brutal roundhouse to the to the third guard on his right, breaking his jaw in the process and landed lightly in a half crouch. By this time the scream had finally emerged from the bowels of the first guards throat and the crowd had begun to realize to what was going on. Before the other guards had regained their wits, he streaked forward and sank both of his fists into the stomachs of the two guards at the front of the procession. As they crumpled bonelessly to the ground, he attacked the closest guard to him, simultaneously factoring in the problem that with the manacles on he could not spread his arms as far as possible, and gave him a magnificent two handed uppercut. While the man slowly rose into the air, he did a one-eighty and smashed his heel into the chest guard who was immediately behind him and almost laughed as he heard at least seven of the man's ribs give way.

The final guard was the only one who got the chance to move and he wasted it by not moving in the opposite direction.

Sephiroth lazily reached over his shoulder with both hands, grabbed the ankle of the now airborne guard behind him and threw him like a stone at the last guard. They collided with a dull thud and met the floor together.

Time sped up again as Sephiroth dropped out of his battle ready mode (as he liked to call it) and was met with looks of shock and horror by the now stunned crowd.

Stepping on the bodies of two guards, he approached the now paralyzed crowd 'speaker' and looked him dead in the eye.

"Now what were you saying before about sons and bitches?" he asked mockingly.

The man wet himself in response

"That's what I thought"

He looked around himself disdainfully and sneered when he laid his eyes upon the guards.

"It only took four seconds" he scoffed, "weak bastards, to think I took it easy on them."

He turned to face the archway as the crowd scurried out of his path like frightened mice. The emotionless mask was not in place and he realized that he didn't feel like using it. The fight had relieved most of the tension he had been building up over the months, almost as if he had experienced an orgasm and was basking in the afterglow.

He laughed and shook his head, only he would hold fighting and having orgasm in the same light…. Well, maybe Zack too, but he definitely had too much of both.

Shoving back down the memories of better times he approached the archway and rested his hand on Mr. 'Speaker's' shoulder as he passed, who promptly fainted. He stopped and considered the fainted man and broke into a huge grin that made at least four women in crowd start weeping in fear.

He walked through the archway and left the crowd with a few words to ponder.

"This has been the most entertainment I've had in years," he said, "I think I'll give the council what they need this time. This time, I'll give 'em HELL!"

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Well another chapter done, sorry for the wait, work is a BITCH, would a had it out sooner, but i'm also lazy. Please read and reveiw, constructive criticism is welcome as I am very rusty at this writing thing. I know that hell does not really have too much of a reputation in this world, its all about the lifestream and stuff, but work with me here people, I say that people do believe in heaven and hell but have no idea that instead they are cleansed and recycled...(pictures big washing machine beside a recycle bin)

Thanks to Lin-Hikaru-7 and Hyuuga Byakugan for their reviews, I really hope to see more as the story progresses, please, they are like food for the writers soul! (and water, but lets not get into the minor details)