General Hewley didn't linger after completing his speech, instead passing the podium over to the Third-class SOLDIER that was in charge and leaving the hall through what Cloud assumed was a door behind one of the hangings.

"Well, now you've heard from one of our foremost SOLDIERs, please could you all follow me into the next room to be divided into your squads," he announced.

Everyone in the hall rose and rustled about with any bags they had brought with them, slowly making their way behind him as he left the hall and led them to the room opposite.

"General Hewley was my reason for coming," Marcel admitted as they waited for enough people to move forward for them to join the flow of traffic, his eyes shining with admiration. "He's my hero - I want to be as strong and confident as him some day."

"Eh, not really into the hero worship myself, but I guess there are worse reasons for signing up," Thom said easily. "Cloud, what about you?"

"The same as you, but if I was going to pick a hero I could do a lot worse than Angeal," Cloud answered as they slowly stepped forward.

"I guess that's true. Hey, are you going to join his fanclub?" Thom asked Marcel excitedly. "I heard they're pretty obsessed."

"No, I probably won't. It would be weird, wouldn't it? Getting newsletters about one of your bosses, I mean," Marcel replied. "But I know Sephiroth's fans are obsessive. I heard one of them stole his underwear from the laundry."

"Seriously?!"

Cloud rolled his eyes as they chatted about the apparent creepiness of Sephiroth's fanclubs, conveniently ignoring that once he'd been a card carrying member of all three.

There's something that won't happen again.

The other room was empty of chairs, with four new faces from the infantry. The Third waited a moment for the majority of the group to get in before continuing with his instructions.

"As I said earlier, the letter on the back of your name card determines your squad. If you could check again and go to the person holding up your letter on the sign, please!"

"We're over there," Cloud said, spotting their letter and pointing for the others' benefit.

The man holding up a large lollipop sign with "D" printed on it wasn't tall as much as he was long, as if he'd been stretched out like toffee while he was growing. Dressed in an infantry uniform that had been pressed and polished to perfection, he held his helmet tucked under one arm to show off his vibrantly ginger hair and severe expression.

As people gravitated towards him, he counted out loud until he was satisfied with the number he had, then began to speak.

"I'm your squad leader, Corporal Walter Stengar. To you, I'm Corporal Stengar or sir, and I'm responsible for you while you're here. If you have a problem, you take it up with me. You had better hope I never have a problem with you," he said slowly and matter-of-factly.

"There are four squads, each with twenty four people - Behemoth, Zolom, Sahagin and Guard Hound. You are in Guard Hound. You will not embarrass yourselves or your fellow recruits in Guard Hound. You will not fight with each other, you will not fanboy over the Generals, and you will never do less than your best."

"Guess you really won't be in Angeal's fanclub," Thom whispered, and was elbowed into silence by Cloud.

"Today is an introduction to your new life. You will pay attention and you will note down where I am taking you, and where you are supposed to be and when you are supposed to be there. You will ask questions if you need to, because getting lost will not be an excuse later on. Do you understand?"

A mixture of yeses, yeahs, and a single "cool" answered him.

"Do you understand?" he repeated, a little louder. "The answer is either 'Yes, sir' or 'No, sir', and it had better be 'Yes, sir'."

"Yes, sir," the group - squad - chorused.

"Pathetic, but you'll learn," Corporal Stengar dismissed, putting the lollipop sign down. "Come on, then."

The first stop was apparently to get their uniforms and gear from the stores; by allowing others to pass in front of him, Cloud was able to see that each candidate was measured around their shoulders and down their leg, and given a medium, large, or extra large uniform.

The quartermaster looked at Cloud and didn't bother measuring his shoulders.

"Small!"

Didn't have to shout it, Cloud thought, a little petulantly as his leg measurement was read.

Shuffling along to the guy handing out the uniform, he was given a bundle of sealed plastic packages that flopped and slipped about as he tried to hold on to them and at the same time listen to the rote instructions being reeled off without pause.

"One uniform consisting of two trousers four shirts one jacket one fleece one scarf one set of gloves if you lose or damage anything the replacement comes out of your pay if you need a different size bring back what doesn't fit and it will be replaced go to the next station to get armour and boots NEXT."

"Thanks," he mumbled, before moving to the next station and giving his shoe size.

"One pair boots, one pair knee guards, one pair pauldrons - have you got that? - and one harness. We replace damaged ones, you pay for lost ones."

"Got it," Cloud said a lot more gratefully before going to the helmet rack and grabbing one that looked like it would fit.

Balancing everything plus his backpack was challenging, but he soon realised that if he kept absolutely still then the packages would only slowly escape his grasp, instead of dropping out from under his arm at high speed. At least by staying near the back, he was one of the last to get his uniform and therefore only had to wait a few more minutes for the group to be ready to go.

The remaining facilities for the SOLDIER candidates were separate from the ones that were purely for the Public Security troops, even though technically they were all part of the same division until candidates were accepted into the SOLDIER program fully, so the elevator rose up to the 51st floor, bypassing the Public Security floor. Cloud, who had weathered the first trip from the lobby to the sixth floor fairly well, was reintroducing himself to the sensation of motion sickness, much to the dismay of the squad members crammed into the same elevator.

I did not - hurk - I did not miss this.

To his immense relief, and that of the people stuck in the lift with him, Cloud was able to limit his reaction to just a couple of dry heaves and an unsteady exit.

"Motion sickness, or did you eat something dodgy?" came Thom's voice from over his shoulder.

"Motion sickness," he groaned. "I forgot."

"You forgot you get motion sickness?" Thom repeated incredulously.

"Yes," Cloud bit out. "I'll be fine in a moment."

He had recovered by the time the rest of the squad came up the elevators, and fell in with the rest as the tour continued.

The Guard Hounds could see signs pointing towards the canteen, the practice areas and the classrooms as they were led towards the stairs and over to the far left side of the floor. As they walked further and further away from the amenities Cloud realised that it would take the Guard Hounds longer than any other squad to get to where they needed to be.

Perfect, he thought sarcastically. Of course I'd be in the reject squad.

Fortunately that appeared to be the full extent of any favouritism, at least as far as location went. The whole place was decorated simply and without frills or fanfare, with the same streamlined and modern look as the rest of the tower. Nevertheless, as this was not a place the elite would bother to visit, it had a worn, functional air that wouldn't have been acceptable in any of the more public areas. The walls were painted a pale grey with a thick darker grey line skirting the bottom, and a bland square-patterned carpet that was clean but that had clearly seen a lot of use. With no visible windows, strips of lighting illuminated the corridors with a harsh glare that didn't make up for the lack of natural light.

Each squad had a corridor of six bedrooms, each holding two bunk beds and four lockers with roommates pre-selected by some unknown ShinRa algorithm; Cloud found himself in a room with Thom and two others he'd not spoken to yet, while Marcel was shuffled off to a room two doors down.

"You've got half an hour, then assemble in the corridor and I'll take you to the canteen," Corporal Stengar advised them. "My room may be a corridor over, but do not think I will not know what happens here."

On the beds were the remainder of the things they'd need, plus a checklist of what they should have ticking off things like bedding and armour maintenance kits. Looking at the bare, boring room, Cloud swung his new helmet onto one of the top bunks.

"I'll take this one," he announced while the other three stood looking. "And I'll have the locker at the base of the bed, if there's no objections?"

"Nothing from me," Thom replied. "I'll take the one under you and the locker at the head."

The other two quickly conferred and arranged themselves on the other bunk bed, and while they unpacked Cloud learned that their names were Stefan and Hendrik, who both hailed from Corel.

"North Corel?" Cloud asked distractedly as he fought with the sticky seal on one of the bags.

"Um - Corel's not really big enough to split in two, y'know?" Hendrik replied, sounding confused.

"Of course, sorry," Cloud tried to recover, "I was thinking of ... Cosmo Canyon."

"Huh. Okay," Hendrik shrugged it off and returned to his unpacking.

Cloud, on the other hand, rested his head against the cool metal of his new locker.

How could I have forgotten? North Corel only existed because Corel's reactor blew up. Barret lost his home and the love of his life, Marlene lost her parents - and that hasn't happened yet.

I'm not even sure if Marlene is alive yet.

Yet again the implications of his existence here, in this time, hit him. Every single person who had journeyed with him to defeat Sephiroth and Jenova had had their own tragedy; some were long since carried out, like Vincent's, but the others hadn't happened yet. If the Corel reactor explosion was prevented, Barret could live a normal life with his wife, as Marlene's beloved uncle instead of her adopted father.

"You good, Cloud?" murmured Thom.

"Yeah," Cloud replied, raising his head, "I'm fine. Just hungry, I guess."

I should do something. But - what? I don't even know when it happened.

When he saw Marcel in the canteen, Cloud waved him over to join them. He felt a little sorry for him, if he was honest. Although he had strength and an eye for observation, he was clearly socially awkward. Cloud wasn't ready to admit he may have been projecting a little, but he at least had learned how to feel the embarrassment and push on through anyway.

The remainder of the tour would have been easier if they had just been given a map, but failing that Cloud's past experiences on this floor meant that as the tour progressed he remembered more and more about the basic layout. While he wouldn't be completely confident without the signs, he appreciated the flashes of insight telling him that the next classroom was just around the corner or that the gym was straight ahead and a little to the right. The floor was maze-like due to the uniform nature of the corridors and lack of windows, so every little bit of assistance helped.

That night, as he lay in his bunk bed listening to the snores of his bunkmates, Cloud ran a list through his mind.

Nibelheim, Corel, Kalm, Gongaga.

Zack. Angeal. Aerith. Sephiroth. Nanaki.

Deepground?

ShinRa had a filthy hand in so many different acts of sabotage, murder, manipulation and experimentation, and he had spent enough time with Reeve and the World Restoration Order for him to be aware of a horrific amount. Maybe some of the dates were fuzzy, but there was so much suffering left in the wake of ShinRa plots and schemes that he couldn't just ignore them all.

But what can I do as a nobody? I'm a stranger to them now.

He didn't come up with any answers, but the thoughts in his head spiralled him into restless sleep and confusing dreams.