Disclaimer: I do not own any of the names or places mentioned below, save for any OCs and Coruthary.

A Word from the Author: Sorry for the slight delay. FF.net KEEPS crashing on my computer and I couldn't post this for ages. Anyway, lights, camera, ACTION!

Chapter Two: Meet the Bad Guys

"So, you want to be a SeeD."

Sephiroth folded his arms across his chest and stared coolly into the almond-shaped, chocolate-hued eyes of a woman who sat opposite him behind a massive mahogany desk, stained a dark, reddish brown. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and there was an air of quiet, assertive confidence clinging to her that Sephiroth instantly recognized and respected.

Whether that respect would grow into genuine admiration remained to be seen, but there was a strong possibility this would be so. She was so unlike old man Shinra, with his aggressive ruthlessness, and his son, Rufus, with his stuck-up, arrogant attitude. The only thing common they shared was guts: Rufus had that much, Sephiroth allowed.

He glanced around the richly decorated office, with the banners of the various SeeD Gardens hanging from the ceiling, and tapestries depicting some famous moment in the Gardens' history. He looked back at the headmistress, saw the restlessness in her eyes, the irritable fidgeting of her callused hands.

Here was a woman of action, someone who was not content to sit behind a desk safely away from the battlefield giving orders and growing fat, like a certain ginger-haired leader who was now dead. Sephiroth decided that it wouldn't be too bad to work under her. She knew what she was doing, at any rate.

He dipped his head in a slow nod, sending his silver bangs cascading into his eyes and swept them away with an irritable hand. Xu watched him closely, brown eyes giving nothing away. Unexpectedly she waved a hand, saying in a rich, commanding voice, "Well, have a seat."

He blinked, surprised at the gesture, then awkwardly did so. The headmistress of Balamb Garden began to interrogate him, asking him several questions about his background and the like.

"What is your name?" she asked, busily typing something into her laptop.

"Sephiroth."

"Sephiroth who?"

"Nothing. I'm an orphan." The silver-haired ex-general scowled, bracing himself for the inevitable "I'm sorry."

"Tough." Xu poked at a few keys, and the computer emitted a self-satisfied beep. "Don't worry about it. Loads of the cadets and officers here mostly come from broken families too. Not many parents are too eager to send their kids here, unless they're former SeeDs or something. Can't blame them, considering the death rate." Xu sighed. "Do you know that only approximately 67% of the students here get to see their first quarter century? And only 41% can live long enough to enjoy their fortieth birthday. Are you resolved?" she suddenly shot at him.

"Of course," he said calmly. (Well, that was definitely a new reaction. If all SeeDs are like that, I think I'll like it here.) "I came here to become a SeeD, not just to learn how to play with swords."

"Oh, you're the determined type," Xu said, a faint smile quirking her lips. "Good. Hyne knows we've so little of those nowadays..."

She gave an especially loud sigh and stared at her laptop screen for a handful of seconds while Sephiroth wondered just what had that been about.

Xu abruptly shook herself from her broody mood and silently appraised the latest candidate for the SeeD program. She hoped that he could stand up to her expectations. The enrolment rate had fallen by half and the latest idiots who had signed up for more concerned about personal glory than SeeD's mission to be the defender of the peace rather than just a mercenary organization.

She considered him in her mind—tall for his age, sixteen, he'd said—lean, with catlike, graceful movements, though a little pale, as though he had not seen the sun for some time. Despite his youthful features, he had long, platinum hair that fell in shining loops across his shoulders. His eyes were his most striking feature—emerald green, filled with wisdom beyond his years, and something else, darker, she couldn't quite grasp. If she looked more closely, she could almost—almost—swear that they were ...glowing...

She shook her head, clearing it of fanciful thoughts. A trick of the light, nothing more. Well, he certainly possessed the physical requirements, and he definitely had strength in abundance.

Terry, a fellow SeeD, had told her in hushed tones about how the teenager had strode confidently to the gate, carrying a massive six-foot sword across his shoulders as though it was nothing more than a bag of feathers rather than a hunk of steel that weighed a few tons at least with ONE hand. The depth she had seen in his green eyes also told her that he had much experience with just how cruel the world could be.

She decided to give him a chance. In the morning her instructors would see how good he truly was with his weapon. But first...she leaned across her desk, brown eyes locked intently with emerald ones. "Why do you want to join SeeD?" she asked seriously.

Most always got tripped up over that question, either because they were unable to express their inner feelings, or just because they didn't care. She wanted to hear his answer and gauge his character from his reaction.

There was a flash of brief pain in his eyes. Sephiroth looked away, considering his answer for a long moment.

(I was a murderer in a previous life. I'm joining SeeD so I can help save your world to make up for the fact I almost destroyed my own planet in my egoistical quest to become a god .)

Somehow, he doubted that answer would work in this case. His fingers flattened on the desktop. "I hurt someone once," he said honestly. "I wasn't such a good person last time, but now I'm willing to try, since I was given a chance."

Xu smiled. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a flat, rectangular metal card. Without warning, her hand curled back and the object was racing towards his head. Years of rigorous training caused his hand to leap up automatically. The card zoomed into his hand a mere inch away from his forehead.

"Good reflexes," the headmistress complimented him with obvious approval. "That's a keycard. Your room number is engraved on it. You'll be sharing with Daniel Roheiz, another cadet, temporarily until you are officially a cadet in training. Just ask anyone for directions. And you can just check out the map in front of the command center."

"Thanks," Sephiroth began, when an urgent pounding on the door rudely cut across his words. Xu pressed a button on her desk, expression bearing supreme annoyance. "If I'd wanted you to knock my door down I would have asked," she said tersely. "Come in!"

The door flew open, admitting a young man with longish black hair streaked with dark brown. His hawkish, handsome features bore an expression of irritation that rivaled Xu's. Stormy gray eyes glowered, fuming, at the headmistress.

"What is it, Captain Leonheart?" Xu demanded.

The captain rolled his eyes. "Hyne, Xu! It's time for the meeting! The meeting you organized," he added pointedly.

(So this is the Leonhearts' son.) Sephiroth mused.

Xu cursed and sprang to her feet. "Oh, crap! Go ahead and tell them I'll be coming in a moment or two," she snarled. Arne saluted and departed, while she grabbed a folder from her cabinet and rifled through it. No ordinary human eyes could have seen the contents, but Sephiroth's Mako-enhanced sight could and did. His eyes caught the words 'Avine Swifter' and 'The Inner Circle' before Xu glanced up and caught him looking.

"Dismissed!" she barked. "The instructors will see to you in the morning." She then proceeded to ignore him as he saluted and left her office.

After taking the elevator down, he examined the floor plan. Garden's inner structure was shaped like a big wheel, with eight spokes stretching out, namely paths that led to Garden's various facilities: the entrance, the dormitories, the quad, the library, infirmary, car park, training center and canteen. In the center of Garden was a fountain sporting a single statue shaped like a fish spurting water out of its opened mouth. In front of the fountain was the command center, which he had just come out from, housing the officers, departments and the controls that flew the huge airship.

"Hey, howtcha doin'?"

Sephiroth started and turned to see a blond, flaxen-haired guy, presumably addressing him. The youth was about sixteen or seventeen, of average height and muscular, stocky build. Hazel eyes stared at him with inquisitiveness and forthrightness.

"You're the newbie, aren't you?" he asked, with genuine curiosity. "Pleased to meet you, and welcome to Garden."

Stiffly, the silver-haired teen nodded. "Yes, but I don't see how it would matter to you."

"Terry—that's the guy who escorted you to the Head's office—told me. You're the only person around here with a giant sword and silver hair. Thought I would personally welcome you to Garden, and all."

"That is touching, but I do not believe I require your assistance," Sephiroth declared flatly, trying in vain to brush his annoying companion off.

"Why not?" the guy insisted. "I mean, you ARE new. Don't you want to get to acquainted with Garden?"

The ex-general sighed in exasperated vexation. "That is my own business. And you happen to be interfering in it. Now, if you will excuse me—" He tried to shove past the youth, but he stubbornly held his position.

"I'm trying to be nice, and this is what I get?" he sputtered indignantly. He raised an eyebrow at Sephiroth. "Listen, will ya? A moment ago the headmistress sent Terry down to tell me that the new guy would be sharing my dorm. I'm Daniel Roheiz, your roommate, okay?"

"Roommates. Terrific," the silver-haired youth muttered with mock enthusiasm.

Daniel was either oblivious to his roommate's sarcasm or he had heard and was ignoring the comment. "Anyway, Xu told me to be polite and not to act rude or anything. Couldn't you at least return the favor?"

"My idea of a person being nice is when he shuts up and minds his own business," Sephiroth informed him coldly. "You, my friend, are doing neither of these two things. Therefore, in my book, that does not classify you as a person being worth friendly to."

"Man, you're one cold bastard!" Daniel complained. Still, when Sephiroth began striding away, the blond youth followed. "Hey, do you even know the way?"

"Unlike some, I am not an imbecile. However, if you wish to help, the effort will be appreciated," was the cool reply.

Sephiroth soon regretted it. The ten-minute walk turned into an excruciating eternity of prolonged agony. Daniel kept up an endless stream of talk about everything under the sun, including his parents, dog, home, and more than what Sephiroth had needed to know about his love life, his weapon, his profession...not seeming to notice that his sole audience of one looked nothing more like a walking zombie, staring straight ahead vacantly and walking like a corpse. He also didn't seem to mind that his words and queries were met by nothing more than chilly silences, but just went on prattling happily.

"...And have I told you that I want to be the best martial artist in the world when I grow up? The next Zell Dincht! Who happens to my teacher, incidentally. You know, THE Zell Dincht. The hero. He says I've got absolute potential, but I could improve more if I punched as much as I talked...people keep bugging me about that, for some reason..."

"...My girlfriend's totally wonderful. She has the world's bluest eyes, like the sea. Her hair is like black silk and it has this hot scent that could drive a guy crazy..."

"...Wow, cool sword. How did you get it? Swords are so like the Middle Ages stuff now. Hey, I asked you a question!" Pause. "Forget it. Jeez, you're no fun..."

"...Erin—that's my sister—is getting married next week to the conductor at the train station though Ma threatened to disown her if she did. Erin was always so damn stubborn like a bear. Come to think of it, all us Roheizes are. Must be a family trait..."

"...Weird name, Sephiroth. Balambians usually get sensible names, like Peter, Dick, whatever. You foreign? You have a funny accent. Galbadia? Trabia? Centra? Esthar?" Longer pause. "Never mind."

After stoically enduring Daniel's steady stream of conversation, Sephiroth was ready to collapse in relief when they finally got to their room. Daniel slid his own keycard into the slot next to the door and pressed his thumb to the reader, falling silent for the first time in a while. The metal door opened to reveal a perfectly ordinary room, with whitewashed walls, a table, and a couple of tiny rooms squeezed in behind.

It was certainly no five star hotel or luxury rooms, but Sephiroth, after the war in Wutai, certainly didn't care where he slept, as long as it wasn't too lice-infested. Sephiroth suddenly realized how tired he was. He hadn't slept in a real bed for months (attempting to destroy the world and become a god was hard work) and suddenly the sheets were looking like heaven.

Without a word to Daniel, he took off into the unoccupied room and slammed the door shut, though not before the other cadet had managed to utter a "Good evening." He unlaced his boots and tossed them into a random corner. The scarf took a longer time to come off, because his fingers were fumbling so much, but he finally got it off. Last of all, he carefully leaned the Masamune against the wall facing his bed, then fell gratefully on the bunk. He curled up, closed his eyes, and was promptly out like a light.

***

In another city, far far away...

Four men filed into the meeting hall, eyes downcast, though the room was elaborately beautiful, its walls and pillars made of gleaming black marble in which chips of sparkling gold were embedded. A thick down carpet covered the entire length of the room, so large that a small house and a half could have fitted inside easily. But these men's minds were distant, focusing on one sole event.

They seated themselves at a long, oval polished table made of black, polished oak of the finest quality. Mythical beasts, carved with breathtaking realism, prowled fiercely up and down the table legs. Much gil had gone into its purchase, but what was that to a city that owned millions?

Two already awaited them at the head of the table: one man and one woman. The man was seated; the woman hovered behind him protectively, turning a fierce, penetrating gaze on any who walked by. No one missed the silvery flash of her throwing knives tucked into her belt, a scant hair's length from her ready hand. It was said that she never missed a target.

This was Tierna Telemont, the President's personal bodyguard. Some whispered that she was his lover. And no wonder. She was beautiful, impetuous as the fiery temptresses of legend, those who lured lovesick men to their doom. She was wild and feral as the Ruby Dragons that stalked the Island Closest to Hell, and only the President could tame her, for her loyalty to him was absolute. She had been trained from young, for one purpose only—to kill for the ruler of Galbadia, to die for him, if need be, to protect him with the whole of her being.

But the man seated before her was far more dangerous. His colleagues, powerful as they were, knew with certainty that even their own ruthless ambition, their own formidable power could hardly measure up to the young man that was the power behind Galbadia, the sole reason everyone hadn't started killing rivals in senseless, bloody efforts to improve their own station.

President Edigier Deling smiled at his fellows as they sat down, eyes locked onto his face expectantly, but it was a cold, wintry smile, totally devoid of warmth, for this was a man incapable of feeling. He was somewhat short, being only five feet tall, but his distinguished bearing and striking features helped ensure that his height—or lack of, rather—didn't remain a disadvantage. He was in his early twenties, in fact, the youngest man in the room, but the others knew it would be highly unwise to underestimate him. Edigier had killed men cold-bloodedly before, without regret or hesitation.

Once, a party member had dared call the young president a 'green-eared babe in arms' and faster than the eye could blink, Edigier had stood up, drawn his gun, and fired off three rounds. The body of the Galbadian had been hurled clear out of the window, and since the meeting hall was on the top floor, everyone in the building had seen the corpse hurtling past the windows, a clear and macabre example of what the president would do to those who didn't take him seriously. Edigier liked to do this from time to time. Pull off the unexpected and keep his workers on their toes. It worked wonders for ensuring one's loyalty and silencing a rebellious Galbadian's thoughts.

The four men shifted uneasily, as their President's steely gaze rested on them for a few seconds longer than necessary. Edigier's eyes were a pale, vivid shade of blue—if they had been had a couple of shades lighter he'd have looked like a madman. Instead they were mesmerizing, seemingly seeing through the most cunning of lies, the most convincing of facades. Of course, they would also have their own personal projects to hide. He made a mental note to contact the spies he had placed in their households later.

The five of them formed the Inner Circle, which few people knew existed. The other four, too, were members of the Galbadian Central Party. Edigier had chosen them because they were more intelligent, more cunning than most. It was such a pity that intelligence was what bred ambition, and inevitably one of the smart ones would try to usurp him.

The Inner Circle's main aim was to achieve world domination. Oh, not in those terms. The true mission statement was 'To bring about world peace by establishing a single government—' namely Galbadia. But that was what it meant, albeit cloaked in pretty phrases.

By tradition, each of the four men at the sides of the table rose, naming themselves. Angus Feder, the Head of Military Affairs and the one currently highest in the President's favor, was the first. His shock prod (somewhat like Reno's nightstick I guess) hung from his belt, as dangerous as the man who wielded it.

Second was Tycho Assanio, Head of Weaponry and Arms. He ran all the weapon- making industries in Galbadia, and supplied the massive Galbadian army with their wants—not an easy task. His deadly mythril spear, Peregion, was cradled close to him as a mother might have held a favorite child.

Next was Krien Istarl, whom Tycho sometimes worked hand in hand with to produce new, devastating weapons. He was the Head of the Science Department, but he looked nothing like a scientist, or a person's usual mental image of a scientist anyway. He wore a somber outfit of black, a felt hat pulled low over his brooding, mysterious eyes, shadowing his features. Always he kept a gloved hand resting easily on his beam rifle, Frost.

The last was Kenji Miaren, Head of Internal and External Defense. He was a tall, sallow-skinned man with unruly black hair and a sardonic grin he wore often. Despite his annoying habit to crack jokes at inappropriate moments, he was a trusted and valued member of the Circle, and also the best marksman in the whole of Deling City, as he always boasted to anyone who would listen. His shotgun, Assassin, hung at its usual place in a holster at his right hip.

Five of them—the most powerful men in the GCP, the city, the whole of Galbadia, and they knew it. The most feared. The Inner Circle was not publicly known, but its members were feared by the public. They didn't mind. Fear was a tool, and they were not adverse to handling it to suit their ends.

Edigier addressed Feder first, his rich and mellifluous voice filling the room, the kind of voice that got people's attention. "I have received word of your infiltrator's success. Congratulations. Also, commendations to your ability to find us a spy despite SeeD's tight security, enabling us to capture the sorceress easily."

Angus shrugged, his confident smile never wavering. "Thank you, sir. As easy as taking candy from a baby, really."

Edigier smiled, too, as he turned his attention to Istarl. The man's eyes shone redly as the fluorescent lights struck them. It was said that he had tested an unknown substance on himself and the experiment had gone awry. No one could be sure though, for if it had ever happened, the situation had been very effectively hushed up.

"How goes Phase 013?" Edigier asked.

Krien glanced briefly at the President before huddling into his trench coat again. "Fine."

"Elaborate," Edigier commanded sternly.

"The subject is able to follow simple commands. Magic levels are as highly as ever, even more potent after we fed it Hypers. If we weaken control slightly, the subject will be able to act on its own will—or at least it thinks so. In truth, it will still be under our control. A puppet, pulled by invisible strings, if you will."

"I am glad to see there has been progress. There should be room for improvement, however. We want the plan to be perfect." Edigier smiled, a crooked smile filled with eager anticipation. He faced Tycho, who saluted as he felt the President's gaze fall on him. "Production is too slow. I want those weapons, Assanio. By next week, no later."

Tycho nodded, inwardly seething, but of course he had no wish to face the same fate as the unlucky guy who'd gotten blasted out of the window. He merely gritted his teeth and kept silent.

"Istarl, Assanio. I want the reports on the Manta Flare on my desk as soon as possible. What is the estimated time of completion?"

"One month, sir." Tycho replied.

"One month. It'll have to do. But bring in more men if possible." Edigier ran a hair through his mane of dark hair, an unnerving smile curving his lips. "She is getting impatient."

The four glanced at one another. All of them had met...her...once before, and the feeling of smothering darkness and indescribable evil surrounding...her...had sickened even the hardened men. But power was power, and they were willing to work with...her... if she kept her promise and gave them their deepest desires. But Edigier seemed to adore that aura of pure malevolence, reveling in it, even. No one could understand how the President could stand spending so much time around...her.

There was a moment of crystalline silence. Then Kenji let loose a loud, rude belch, shattering it. The President glared at him, clearly annoyed. Miaren waved a hand, grinning. "Beans for lunch. Sorry, Prez."

"I wonder," the President responded coldly. "Miaren, I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now but you appear to have been avoiding me for the past week. Was it really necessary to pull back all those troops from the front to guard the city?"

"Why not?" Kenji countered.

"I'll tell you why the hell not," Edigier growled. "Coruthary MUST fall! Need I stress to you the importance of that? The faster, the better. Damnit, if we fail to take Coruthary, the whole plan fails! And she will get angry..."

He got up abruptly, pacing like a stalking cat. Edigier's unexpected bark of anger caused the whole Circle to stir. Kenji was unfazed, however, as he stared unafraid right into the President's icy eyes.

"Excuse me, Prez," he said coolly. "But it seems to me you're forgetting something. What about Trabia and Esthar? We WANT Balamb to join the war. But who's to say our friendly neighbors won't take advantage of the fact that the bulk of out troops will be at Coruthary fighting like Diablo's cursed minions? What, then? The city will be undefended—"

"You worry too much," the President said coldly. "Rest assured, Trabia and Esthar will not interfere."

"How will you know?" Kenji demanded.

"Shame on you, Miaren. Have a little more faith in your President." He resumed his seat, leaning forward. "I have already sent countering orders. In an hour's time, three-quarters of the troops will be marching out of Deling City to Coruthary to join the others."

"What?!" Kenji was out of his seat at once. "You can't be serious! Laguna—he'll come to Balamb's aid for sure! And the headmaster of Trabia Garden is on good terms with Xu—he'll help too! Three nations against one—Prez, can't you see?!"

"I told you, I have already taken care of the matter," Edigier repeated in barely restrained irritation. "I am not an idiot, as you seem to think I am. I do look before I leap. Now, Miaren, sit down before I charge you with insubordination."

Breathing heavily after his outburst, Kenji slumped down, eyes filled with anger as he glared at the President. Edigier did not miss the look. Here was another dangerous man to watch out for.

"Meeting adjourned," he announced. The members of the Inner Circle began shuffling notes and putting them neatly into folders. They stood and bowed formally to the President, except for Kenji, who merely gave a curt nod and was the first to hurry out.

"Feder, Istarl, I wish to see you in my suite privately," Edigier called. The two men nodded and flanked the dark-haired President, with Tierna trailing watchfully behind. Tycho cast a curious glance at them before going about his own business.

At the door of his study, the President paused and handed a miniscule Farspeaker comm device to Tierna, who accepted it and waited for his orders. "Contact our spy," he told her, pale eyes glittering with malice. "Tell him we require information about...this." He produced an envelope out of his breast pocket and tossed it to Tierna, who pivoted on her heel and seized it in her hand. "If he refuses to cooperate...well, their screams should give him some incentive, don't you think?"

Tierna caught on and grinned fiercely, obviously relishing her latest assignment. She bowed and departed at a smooth, fluid lope, an eager skip in her step. The President gazed fondly at the retreating back of his bodyguard before turning back to his two underlings, who stood waiting patiently behind him. Edigier favored them with a smile as he ushered them in.

"Be seated, gentlemen. We have much business to discuss..."

Yay! My longest chapter yet! So here come in the bad guys. I hope you don't feel that I've mixed in too much of the subplot with the main plot. In case you want to know, Angus and Kenji are two guys in my class I have reason to get revenge on. Expect major bashing! HAHAHAHA! Okay, I know I'm mad. If there're any major typo errors here that you can't stand, feel free to tell me about it. Thank you for bearing with me right down to the very bottom of this page.

Till next time, bye!

Thanks to:

Jack of all Spades- for wonderful advice, and yes, I might go back to the FF7 world sometime during this fic, but that's not definite yet.

hawke

G. Zan-for actually bothering to review a second time.

And before you leave—

R&R!!!!!!!!!!!!