Wonderful World
An AU parody inspired by "As Good As It Gets"; beta-read, reviewed and edited by Howling WereWolf.

Web logs (blogs, as they call 'em) have to be the strangest things I've encountered on the internet by far... Who writes about a sausage buried and bored in hay anymore?

It was an hour after before the door to the apartment swung open a second time and Leon stepped in.
With a happy bark, the little dog ran toward him and started jumping around for his attention.

"Who is it, Angelo? Is your Daddy home, snookums?"
Cloud jogged in as well, a big overly cheerful grin on his face. "Yes, he is! Your Daddy is home!"

Leon frowned, but squatted and allowed the little thing to hop into his free arm, the other laden with his brown bag of supplies. "...I resent that..."

"Sorry, I just love messing with you." Cloud grinned even further as he said this, and waved him hurriedly to the couch. "Come on, sit down; I gotta show you something."

Leon raised his brow, but humored his blond housemate as he sat and released the puppy back to the floor. Cloud reached forward for the coffee table and picked up a canvas that was just drawn recently - the lead and charcoal had not completely set in with the special fixer yet - which he held out for Leon's viewing.

It looked like a wingless dragon, climbing a cliff of darkness with a shining peak.

"...interesting," Leon concluded, still staring thoughtfully at the canvas.

"Yeah, isn't it great? I'm thinking maybe a long sword, or a rapier, or even a rifle or something of the like! We can get ourselves another halberd! Trident! Bi-staff! Spear!"

"Cloud! Slow down!"

"What do you think of that?"

"Take a deep breath and hear me out."

Cloud stopped and looked down at himself, realizing he had gotten so caught up in the moment, he had jumped to his feet and was waving around like a three-year-old about to see his first zoo. Sitting down again, he inhaled carefully, then exhaled. Sheepish, he nodded for Leon to go ahead.
"I'm listening, now."

Leon sat forward and nudged the puppy toward Cloud for the third time since he first sat down. "I need to meet him, first; I've not even seen him yet, so how can I get the carving right?"

"No problem; look there, through the studio window."

Leon obliged, and immediately caught sight of the blond figure in the room. A little shorter than the one next to him, wearing strangely-matched clothes, dancing back and forth while punching the air. Lost in his own little world with just the studio's radio for background ambience. The tattoo was bold and outright on the side of his face, stooping ever so slightly from the crease in his brow and the small frown on his face as he focused deeply and swung back and forth, still hopping from foot to foot.
If Cloud was into martial arts instead of design work, they could have been almost identical brothers.

Cloud stared at his non-changing, deeply thoughtful expression that probably no one else could read, and waited. "...so, now what do you think?"

"...no."

Cloud's face fell. "...no?"

"...no long sword or rapier; too flimsy. No gun, either; it's insulting..." Leon trailed off as he rose and disappeared into the back. Finally, he came back out with an object wrapped in cloth, so big and cumbersome he had to use both hands just to bring it in.

The look on Cloud's face changed to one of great surprise. "...you never used the buster sword before; you kept saying it wasn't its time yet..."

"Now it is; I'm finally going to mark it," Leon answered, carefully unwrapping the weapon, yet keeping it in the cloth to prevent accidental injury. He stopped and looked carefully back at Cloud. "...do you think I'm being impulsive?"

Cloud's surprise faded, and he smiled. "I think you couldn't have made a better choice."

Leon stared back, then a ghost of a smile flickered unsteadily on his face before he hefted the item into his own studio in the room adjacent to Cloud's.
"...keep him moving, and I'll get to work."

"Here I am with you lunch as usual, great one."

"Money's in the drawer."

"I know."

After working with the engine, Cid had moved up to start work on the damaged roof. This was one sad, broken car; almost like it had been beaten, kicked, abused, rammed into, gnawed at, spat at, thrown rocks at, and generally attacked by every person it met on the street.

"So once again: double bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon, sausage in cheese sauce, fries and extra ketchup, coffee with cream and sweetener," Aeris informed as she laid food out on the table. "Sorry I can't stay and chat, but I promised to go home early, give Tifa a break. So, your change is in the drawer as usual, and I'll take the box with me on my way out."

"What's wrong with your kid?" Cid asked gruffly from the top of the car, between the nails he held with his teeth.

Aeris shook her head as she folded up the box. "Why would you care?"

Cid did not answer verbally, but stared quietly at her, waiting. Aeris finally folded the box neatly, straightening up to leave. It was then she caught Cid's eye, and somewhere deep down - that same spot that caused her to continuously deliver the old grouch lunch no matter how much of a wisecrack he was - she made a choice.

"...not my adoptee, directly; he's the closest I have to a nephew. His immune system is a wreck, sometimes he's too tired to even go outside and play, and in his worse times, he is covered in black pus, and - does this disturb you?"

Cid blinked and shook his head quickly. "Go on."

"...and there are the worst times, when it hits him so bad, Tifa has to rush him to the medical center in the dead of night, leaving Marlene and Yuffie home alone until I can manage to get away from the cafe and grab a cab home. Then, he'll be in the emergency room for a couple of hours, attended to by any five-year-old who just pulled a doctor's license from a cereal box."

"So what is it?"

"Geostigma's our top suspect, but since we can hardly afford such treatment..." Aeris trailed off, then nodded and started to leave. "Nice talking to you."

"What's his name?"

Aeris turned back and looked straight into the older man's eyes. Then her expression relaxed into the familiar friendliness that was her unofficial trademark. "Denzel. Denzel Lockhart."

Cid nodded. "Okay. You'd better go home, now."

"Alright; see you next call."

The door swung shut as Aeris walked down the street and turned the corner. Cid watched her go thoughtfully, then smirked at himself before resuming his work.

"So you guys are almost done, huh?"

"Yeah; there's still one more stage to go."

Zell nodded offhandedly as he continued throwing punches at an imagined opponent, an evil nemesis that required the greatest of martial arts to overcome. "It's been a whole week of nothing but work...time for some fun! Hey, Cloud, watch this one: BOOYA!"

"Whoa! Be careful with my flooring!" Cloud yelped, jumping up in an instant.

"Only kidding!" Zell sang out cheerily as he hopped back without smashing his raised foot down into the wood. "Man, you two are so uptight!"

"That was not necessary!" Cloud protested, sitting down again. Finally, he went back to watching Zell show off. Much like the one in the adjacent studio was doing through the panel.

Leon shook his head in resignation as he wiped down the markings he had lined the buster sword with. It was going down the entire length of the blade on both sides, and all that was left was to fill it in with the right color.

Selecting different vials one at a time, he held them up to his eye, watching Zell for a comparison. Each time, he set it back down to pick another.

Finally, he picked one of the last vials, and held it up. It was then he stopped looking at Zell, and looked instead at Cloud. He had not heard the conversation, but the man was smirking slightly - one of those looks that betrayed the beholder's true intentions. Trying so hard to be curt, but wanting so much to laugh out loud.

His hand promptly went down and selected another vial.

...Perfect.

...this one is for you.

Popping the cap, Leon started to give the engravings color.

The next day, the time of unraveling had finally come.

Zell would enter that house for the last time in matter of business, and - unless they made the effort to keep in touch - they might never meet again. After all, this was all just between a designer and a model; all just business.

As Cloud admitted Zell in accustomed manner, he noticed the shorter blond reach down and scoop up the puppy on his way to the studio.
"What's up with that?"

"Nothing, just...ah...wanted to warm up to the little guy some more before I'm outta here."

Cloud did not seem to buy it, then shrugged and let it go as he followed the other into his studio. "So, you're all set to see our hard work's reward?"

Zell let Angelo loose on the floor and hit the radio. "Nah, it can wait; this is the end of all that restlessness; it's time to party!"

"Hey! Whoa! Easy on that! Too loud, man! Too loud! Watch out for Angelo!"
Cloud started to bolt after the excited Zell, trying to keep him from knocking anything over. For some reason, it was like dealing with a nine-year-old all over again.

After nearly tripping over either Angelo or Cloud for the tenth time, Zell finally stopped bouncing around and calmed down. Somewhat.

Cloud reached over and lowered the volume on the radio. "...so, you done with the party, yet?"

Zell ran his hand through his hair sheepishly. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, I'm okay now."

Cloud nodded, keeping one wary eye on him as he backed up toward the wall. There, lying in the corner, was a large object wrapped in cloth. Cloud turned around and hefted it up. As he moved it toward a small table in the center of the room, he motioned for Zell to come as well.

"... Well, this is it."

The cloth fell away to reveal the buster sword in all its glory. Engraved along an invisible center line was a large black, wingless dragon mounting a silver-peaked cliff. Some of the edges of the dragon's clawed feet and tail had been tipped with highly modest amounts of gold and silver, and the blade's silver held that sharp contrast against the black.

"...Advent Prodigy - No matter what must come your way, know you are strong, and know you will overcome...know you are not alone."

"...wow..." Zell managed to utter, not even daring to touch the massive blade. "...wow, I...I don't know what to say... I had a part in making this?"

Cloud nodded. "That's right, you did. Thank you, Zell."

Zell seemed to be frozen as he continued to stand there without moving. Finally, his hand came up - the same gloved hand that now was portrayed as a silver-peaked cliff - and touched the blade, almost caressing the smooth surface. Then he looked up, and there was a strange gleam in his eye.
"...Cloud, I have to tell you something."

"What about?"

"...Cloud, I-"

The moment was interrupted as the puppy started to bark shrilly. Both turned to look as the little guy bolted for the closed door, scratching at it with both feet in a desperate attempt to get out. All the while, it continued to bark.

"Angelo! Buddy, you want some chocolate?"

"No; he's not allowed!"

Zell's hand dropped from his pocket as Cloud crossed over to the door.

"Hey, snookums, what is it? You want to go out?"

"Cloud, wait!"

Cloud looked back at Zell, waiting.

"I...ah...I gotta go soon, and...um..."

"...yes?"

"I gotta look at this a little bit longer, is that okay?"
This said, Zell turned back to the buster sword and carefully reached out toward it again.

Cloud watched his actions, then swung open the door and let Angelo out. The puppy continued to bark as it bolted straight for the living room. Cloud immediately followed.

"What is it, boy? You thirsty? Is that it? Hey, slow down!"

Suddenly, the dog screeched to a halt, nails scratching against the wood flooring, as it shrunk away. As Cloud caught up, he found himself looking straight at a lady with silver hair, an eye-patch and blue clothing...stuffing their engraved weapons and their protective coverings into a large bag.
There was a clutter from the next room, and a large barrel-chested man bolted out with their collection of engraved rifles.
Both stopped and stared back, caught red-handed in their actions.

"Cloud!"

Angelo flattened instinctively as Zell jumped over it and behind Cloud. The latter turned and looked the shorter one straight in the eye. It was a look that knew.

"...why, Zell...?"

"I can explain..."

"Why are you doing this?"

Zell quailed slightly under the suddenly cold, brittle eyes, but continued to plead his case. "Cloud, I'm sorry; I didn't want you to get hurt; then I saw the engraving, and I-"

"What are you doing, Chicken Wuss? Cruising him?"

Cloud turned one second too late as a strong fist struck him in the back of his head. As he fell, the tall sandy-blond one with a dirty trench coat grabbed a pole arm and threw himself upon him.
"D.C., go to plan B! PLAN B!"

The lady and man blinked out of their stupor, and within seconds, joined in the fray.

"ZELL, HELP ME!"

Backed into the corner, Zell watched - like a deer in headlights - as Seifer and his posse started to beat the living crap out of Cloud with blunt weapons. Those same weapons that Cloud had put so much effort into designing engravings for.

Then there was the sound of glass breaking that stopped all of them in their tracks.

The three assaulters turned to see Leon there in the doorway of his studio, the bag of vials dropped on the floor and soaking into brown paper bag. The man suddenly looked more towering, more menacing, more predatory than Zell remembered.

With a swift kick, Leon shoved Angelo into the studio and closed the door behind him, effectively shutting the shocked puppy in. Then he pulled out one of the many weapons - a gunblade with a gold and red lion engraving. His own eyes burned with an intense fire as he swung forward.

The posse hastily scrambled out of the way as Seifer reached for a second gunblade to parry. One continued to lunge, and the other continued to back up and defend himself. All the while, Cloud remained unmoving on the floor, a crumpled form like the rejected design sketches that often made up the daily trash.

With every strike, Leon became more and more aggressive, and Seifer more and more wary. Leon knew his business, had picked a gunblade that was easily interchangeable between one-handed and two-handed. Seifer was a kid off the street, and had grabbed a one-handed sort, putting himself a little more at the disadvantage in weapon's weight issues.
Two strikes was all Leon needed to knock the blade out of the other's hand and into the couch cushions.

Seifer swallowed nervously and retreated as the intensely infuriated man stepped toward him.
"Look, can't we talk about this like civilized people?"

"...I'll kill you."
That was all Leon uttered before swinging the blade back.

There was a sudden flash of silver, and a loud cry of pain echoed through the apartment, followed by the sound of the first gunblade hitting the ground.

At the entrance was the figure of a tall man with long silver hair, his eyes unreadable as he held an incredibly long katana, the blade slowly coloring crimson with blood.

Seifer yelped and fell on his butt, scrambling backward. "Mr. Sephiroth! We-!"

"You were taking too long."

The katana ripped its way back out of Leon's shoulder as the man drew back. As he staggered, Leon did not see Sephiroth draw back and raise his leg. The boot struck him right at the lower back, sending him flying all the way across the living room.

Seifer, his posse and Zell stared dumbstruck before Seifer recovered and scrambled to his feet. "Let's get out of here!"

"I'm not finished yet."

Sephiroth - an eerily dangerous presence in himself - almost glided across the room as he moved toward the slowly stirring figure of Leon. He paused only once, and his other hand found another weapon: a silver revolver with black engravings of a winged, horned humanoid lion lining the barrel.

Leon groaned as he forced his eyes open. Then they widened further as the dark hole of the barrel pointed down at him.

Eyes of the oppressor bore into the eyes of the oppressed. Both held that gaze for a long time, almost like an eternity to the onlookers that made up Sephiroth's little troupe of henchmen.

Then Sephiroth's still expression broke into a smirk. His eyes flashed with a strange gleam, and everyone conscious immediately knew what was coming next.

"Mr. Sephiroth!"

"Boss, NO!"

BANG!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Behind the protective barrier that was Leon's studio door, Angelo whimpered as it shrunk down and flattened itself once again.
The strangers and Zell left the apartment, taking everything in the living room with them.

All except for the two broken, bleeding bodies lying on the floor.

Only then did Angelo dare to make a sound.

The puppy threw his head back and howled.

Special thanks goes to Howling WereWolf and her friend Jade for the design ideas (and thank you, HW, for keeping the events of this chapter as much under covers as you could; I know how badly you wanted to blurt it out to Jade, and I understand. Your pain has now ended).
Credit as well to Howling WereWolf for the "D.C." idea, taken out of FF8's Disciplinary Committee.

Silent Scope: So did I, but I couldn't find anything. That's why I decided to write one myself; this is my second attempt.

shadows and sonic's girl: And you have. I love your enthusiastic show of support.

Sorceress Fantasia: Ah...can I keep that part about relationships to myself for now (actually, I haven't really gone into that bit yet...)? And Andre's a character I made up simply for the purpose of taking the role of the incredibly lousy agent. Couldn't have any of the cameos do it, could I?

Niana Kuonji: That's good to hear.