Chapter 12: Reality Turns Pear-Shaped

With a frown he peers from his high vantage at the construction of the Shinra Tower. It's a huge project, with an enormous amount of workers. He sees them file towards it every morning. But less then half seem to appear on the site throughout the day.

He's been a Turk for a few years and knows the ropes of his job by now. One day he'll be asked to eliminate runaway construction workers. He knows his employers well enough at this point.

His partner, Ropes, nudges him and murmurs quietly. "Look Cane, it's the future head of the science department."

He glances away in time to see a black pony tail hang limply on the back of unremarkable office garb. As the door to the conference room shuts, he turns to his partner. "He's not the head yet. Hollander still has a chance.

Ropes scoffs. "The only ones who don't know are Hojo and Hollander. Haven't you heard from Scissors? She was assigned with Gast in Nibelheim."

"You mean about Sephiroth?" he enquires. The forerunner and future of the mysterious SOLDIER project. He'd heard talk about the boy, but not from Scissors.

"Yeah, apparently he's a weird kid. Got a lot of promise though." His partner settles his back against the window. Ropes' blue suit obscuring the view of the skeleton tower.

"Weird in what way?" It would be troublesome if the kid had mental problems.

Ropes shrugs. "I guess we'll find out sooner or later now that he's here."

Sending a quick glance his way, Ropes adds quietly. "She didn't seem to like him at all." There's a wary gleam in his eyes.

…

The Conference room door opens and Professor Hojo comes hustling out. Ropes murmur comes from his side. "Look, it's him."

Silver hair catches the light as it hides the toddler's profile by the professor's side.

"That is Sephiroth?" He asks without thinking.

The boy turns to glance at the two Turks. For a brief instant, his eyes meet with apathetic green. But behind that veil of boredom a foreign intelligence simmers.

The moment is cut short as the toddler turns to stride after the professor.

A dreadful unease fills his gut as the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Instead of the teetering steps of a three-year old it is confident, powerful and graceful. That is not a toddler's gait.

A premonition slithers down his spine. One day; this will be the start of his nightmares.

./.

A glimmer of silver.

Heart beating, he swiftly takes his distance as his eyes fall on the only child in the Shinra building.

It had come up from behind him. He hadn't sensed it at all.

Green meet his, the eyes dull with disinterest. Something tells him there is more to those eyes than the rumoured Mako.

Steps unfaltering, it continues to haunt the corridors like a wraith, inadvertently scaring any employees who have the misfortune of encountering it.

./.

Silver. That dreaded colour.

He comes across the strange child more than he would like. It is never startled, never unruffled. The boy wanders aimlessly along the corridors, a blank look on his face.

If only his eerie eyes were just as blank.

There is something terribly wrong with them. It's not only the glow or that misplaced intelligence. There was something else.

./.

Silver by the window.

The child is sometimes found staring at the sky. Sometimes until Twilight falls.

In the sombre darkness green would reflect off the glass. The others say the freaks eyes glow more than usual in those moments. He never cared to get close enough.

He understands why Ropes said Sephiroth had promise. The boy is the perfect tool: completing its task dutifully and idling around like a forgotten puppet when not needed. He just wishes this particular puppet would stop walking the corridors like the cursed existence it must be.

./.

One look at Fists' haunted eyes and he instantly knows something is wrong. Scissors grim expression confirms it.

"Is there trouble I should know about?" he asks tactfully.

The two exchange glances. In a nervous gesture, Fists rubs his knuckles. "We met the freak in the corridor." Fists begins, studiously indulging his revealing but practical tick. "He grabbed hold of my leg from behind."

He understands. Most of the experienced Turks are on edge around that child. It was just a matter of time.

He smirks. "Did you give him a good one?"

The two partners glance at each other again. "He reacted rather quickly." Mutters Fists, returning to rubbing his knuckles.

"He dodged?" Improbable for a child with no combat experience. But then again, it was that freak. "What did he want?

"He was looking for his supervising Turk." Answers Scissors, her usual brusque self.

He raises a questioning eyebrow at the two. He certainly isn't envious of that task but glad someone is doing it.

Fists shrugs to his silent question. "We sent him down to the rookies."

"Well, I guess they're less likely to instinctively hit him." A disturbing fact that the rookies are less uneasy around the freak than they.

Scissor scoffs. "They're also more likely to die."

Fists and he glance at her uneasily. She'd been trying to stay out of Midgar as much as possible since the freak came. She'd known it before then. But information about Nibelheim is classified. It hadn't stopped him from hearing about deaths and disappearances, though. He knows his employer, he can put two and two together. He isn't surprised and merely hopes that when his time comes it will be at the hands of enemies.

But Scissors' implication is another matter. It has nothing to do with his employer. It hints at that freak's true nature.

Fists purses his lips pensively, now rubbing his other wrist. "I don't think it cares about small fry."

Neither Scissors nor he commented their comrades slip.

./.

Silver on the Turk floor.

He freezes. It was like seeing a Bandersnatch in his home. A dangerous monster which should never have had reason to be there in the first place.

He'd heard the others talk about it, but it couldn't prepare him for when he actually saw it.

This is his home, the Turk haven. The sanctuary of blue suits.

Silver does not belong.

Ignoring him, the freak continued to stalk the corridor. Disinterested green eyes the only thing that meets his reprimand.

Its presence lingers, tainting the halls of his home with paranoia.

./.

Silver darting past.

Unease, anger and guilt stir within him. He'd inadvertently let the wraith slip onto the Turk floor while shutting the door behind him.

Once again it wanders where it should not be. And this time he was the one who'd let it in.

./.

"You are to start training Sephiroth in your respective disciplines" A smooth dark voice uttered that dreaded name. A voice they must obey.

Fists starts to rub his knuckles besides him. Rifle sinks her head in her hands and Ken simply closes her eyes. He himself cannot suppress the trepidation that fills him.

Malkhaz, their dear boss, softens his voice sympathetically. "I know how you feel about him and I believe that you are right in being wary. You will not engage him in combat but work on developing his conditioning, strength, coordination and teach him basic techniques. Professor Hojo has an interest in this development too, so you will collaborate with him and send reports on Sephiroth's progress."

His superior's sympathy doesn't help, he just wished he had chosen a more unconventional speciality, like Ropes or Scissors.

./.

Seeking out silver.

Green watches him as he leads the way. His instinct scream at him not to let it walk behind him as it seems inclined to do. His ears strain to hear the freak's quiet steps behind him.

…

Warm ups and conditioning.

The boy does everything he tells it with surprising ease. If this had been a normal child, he would have proposed different kinds of games instead. But this is the freak so he makes it do mind numbingly dull, but effective exercises.

He can only hope the child will be bored enough to lose interest.

…

As the child grasps its staff for the first time he could swear that green glowed.

He would disappoint the child, however, they would only focus on the proper grip and dexterity this time.

But the freak does not seem disappointed.

./.

"It's a monster!" Are the first words out of Rifle's mouth as they assemble for the instructors meeting.

"Ditto you on that." Mutters Fists as he sinks into a chair next to Ken whom is resting her chin on her hand.

"Strong as hell - and quick." He agrees to the others.

"Not just that. Smart too. I had the kid disassemble and reassemble a few guns. A week later and the freak seems capable of doing it in its sleep!" exclaims Rifle.

A disturbing claim, considering the amount of time spent with her. Though it's hard to judge the credibility with Rifle's tendency to over exaggerate.

Fists snorts at Rifle. "Yeah, so the kid's a genius, that's not unheard of. I told it to jump as high as it could on one of those strength test with Hojo." The man whistles while illustrating the trajectory with his finger.

"Yeah, I know. I saw the footage." He adds in response to Fists gesticulation. The boy jumped higher than he could have, which was several times its own body length.

"It's the Mako enhancements." Inputs Ken suddenly. The others look at her questioningly and she obliges. "I've been training the new SOLDIERs. Some of them can jump an entire story without any problem. They're also very fast with great explosive power. Their reaction times seems a lot better too, I saw one of them dodging bullets fairly successfully."

Silence falls between them as the unreal reality sinks in.

"It's not just the Mako, though." He finally interjects. "I sometimes get the impression that it's listening to something. Sometimes it changes the Kata along with the grip on the staff.

Ken straightens slowly in her chair. "I've also seen him do that. He does it with two handed swords." She raises her arms as if holding a long hilt above her shoulder, then waves them around as if with an imaginary sword.

A shiver of unease runs up his spine in recognition. "I thought it might be a sword. You didn't teach him?" he asks her in vain hope.

But she shakes her head. "He shows an affinity for the sword, but when he does that strange kata, he's always off balance. I stop him every time he loses himself in it."

He frowns. "That's strange, he doesn't seem off balance when he does it with the staff."

Ken looks at him strangely then put's her thumb to her lips in thought. "An odatchi, perhaps?"

Besides him, Fists rubs his knuckles. "Guy's we're getting off topic."

Rifle stretches in her chair. "Boy, I'm glad I just have to deal with its bored looks."

All eyes turn in her direction and she shrugs at them with a smug grin. "He doesn't seem to much like firearms."

His gaze turns envious all of a sudden. Why hadn't he been gifted with guns?

Besides him Fists rubs his wrists in his nervous tick. "I dread the time when we'll start actual fighting." A familiar haunted look passes through his eyes. "I never want to see those eyes again." Fists comments quietly to himself. And he hopes he will never learn the meaning behind those words.

./.

When he sees the haunted look on Veld's face, he thinks the man has finally seen that creature for what it is.

But no. He'd just witnessed one of the experiments on the boy.

Perhaps long ago, before he'd laid eyes on it, he would have wondered what his employers were doing experimenting on a child.

But he cares not what they do to that boy now. So what if it was the experiments that turned it into a freak? If there ever had been a real child, it was long gone.

Silver catches the light.

In his ignorance he utters its dreaded name. "…Sephiroth?"

Heeding his call, straight and immaculate hair, shifts to hint at its inconceivable secrets.

Ropes's voice drifts over from his side. "Yeah… he's a weird kid." There's a worried gleam in his partner's eyes.

Beneath a silver cascade lies the dull gaze of a weapon. Its disinterest is an eerie blessing.

Fists's haunted eyes. "…the freak in the corridor…."

With spectral grace the child wanders down a desolate hall. It stops and turns to stare with glassy eyes set in a doll's face. It fades away as the walls turn to glass. Skeleton towers loom in the distance.

Fists pensive face. "…sent… to the rookies."

Something shifts in the window. Glowing eyes watch from the reflection, aflame with a secret intelligence.

Scissors scoffs. "…more likely to die."

An empty hall until it appearance before him. Silver wanders aimlessly past, green merely glancing with disinterest. He hadn't even sensed it.

Fists rubs his knuckles. "…don't think it cares about small fry."

With careless negligence he let's the door shut itself behind him. On swift and silent steps, silver darts through the unguarded gap. He let the monster into his home.

Disinterested green answers its name as a tainted darkness spreads from it to engulf everyone he loves.

Rifle holds her head in her hands. "It's a monster!"

The child stands before him. It smiles with a face of an angel. It's teeth sharp and pristine.

Ken wields an imaginary sword. "It's the Mako…."

Eerie green ablaze. It watches him with a hidden hunger.

He hears himself speak. "…he's listening to something."

Silver lines the child. The swirling sky its stage as it watches the heavens with alien eyes.

Ken presses a thumb against her lips. "…seen him do that… An odatchi perhaps?"

The staff thrust forward, it's eyes aglow, and everything changes. With haunting grace it wields the familiar weapon in ways it never was intended.

Fists sinks down tiredly into a chair. "…never want to see those eyes again.".

With a serene expression and a hint of a smile, it watches unblinkingly. The pupils turn to slits. It speaks to him.

"What do you fear?"

With a start he jerks awake. With clammy sweat on his face and skin still crawling he takes in the semi-familiar surroundings.

He is on the couch in his superior's office. Malkhaz sits by his desk reading through a stack of reports lit by the yellow light of a desk lamp.

"Awake from your nightmare, Cane? The familiar deep voice sooths him.

Nightmares were not uncommon among Turks, however, only idiots would try to wake one from it, for the only thanks they could possibly expect was blood and broken bones.

"A moment." he mumbles back, his eyes darting to the shadows with paranoia.

In the meantime, the middle-aged-man leans over his desk to turn on a water kettle. In the minute it takes for the water to boil, the older man collects two cups and some jars from a cupboard.

The noise put him on edge. His gaze roves the room again and again, searching for tell tale silver or green. His eyes land on the door and an irrational apprehension sinks its teeth into him. "Is the door locked?"

His boss's tanned face looks up for a moment. Slowly Makhaz moves around his desk and across the floor, reaching for the handle.

A horrible premonition rears its head in his gut. "Don't open it!" He blurts out in desperation. Fortunately, the elder man smoothly diverts the trajectory to press his palm against the door, the other brings out a ring of keys to lock it.

He cannot help but give a sigh of relief and slouch back into the couch. He knows he is being irrational, but he can't help himself in this moment. He has ignored his instincts for too long.

Leaving the keys in the door his superior collects their cups. Camomile for him, coffee for the boss.

As he grasps the warm cup the other man sinks down beside him, slinging an arm over the back of the couch. He cannot help but take comfort from the calm presence of his respected superior.

A few minutes pass in silence as they nurse their beverages. He knows, however, what the purpose of this meeting is.

"Have you looked at the footage?" He finally asks. Better to get this over with.

"Yes I have, Cane. Several times. But there was no audio so I will have to ask you about your side." His boss swirls the remaining contents of his cup but doesn't look at him.

"You came just in time." The thought had struck him when he'd calmed down enough to think rationally. He does not believe in coincidences. He knows his employers too well for that.

Malkhaz gives him a side long look. "I like to keep an eye on Sephiroth when Veld is busy. Especially in certain circumstances. I saw when things started to change and came over as soon as I could."

Relief floods him at the knowledge that his superior does not trust the freak either. Veld is a good Turk, but he does not like that the man holds a soft spot for the kid.

"I don't know what came over me… I…" He starts to explain but Malkhaz arm slinks down from behind to rest reassuringly on his shoulder.

"One step at a time, Cane. One thing before the other." The middle-aged man stands, exchanging his cup for the laptop and returns to sit besides him, flipping open and waking the computer.

The screen brightens to a window showing several angles of the training room. All of them stamped with a date and time. He sees himself standing calmly with a staff looking down at the pale-haired child. It too grasps a staff which is as tall as it.

"As far as I can tell, this is when it started." Comments Malkhaz.

Looking at the time stamp he thinks back to that moment. "He wanted to start sparring. I told him it was too soon."

Malkhaz presses the space bar and the footage starts to play. He sees the kid swiftly move through the kata in demonstration.

The child turns to him and he sees himself answer calmly. The boy stands silently for a moment. He spots the slightest shift in his counterpart. Malkhaz pauses the video. "What happened here?"

He purses his lips ever so slightly in remembrance. "He asked me if I really believed that it was too soon."

"And what did you make of that?" Dark eyes gaze at him, urging him to confide in them.

"Until then, the freak always did as it…" He catches himself. "As he, was told. He was always… strange - but obedient." Dark eyes continue to question him and he fumbles to elaborate. "I didn't think he could question."

Satisfied, Malkhaz starts the tape again. His part isn't over, however, and he continues to explain his counterpart's response. "I told him I was under orders not to have him engage in combat."

Then, all of a sudden, he sees it again. That terrible smile. So innocent and pretty. The grainy image does no justice to the true horror of it – unable to capture the latent hunger in those dreadful eyes.

"The first time it smiled." He comments offhandedly as the creature starts to circle him. He sees his body shift, the knew position screamed of wariness. A civilian would not have noticed but it would be clear to any trained fighter, not to mention himself.

He sees himself shift to follow the boy, the camera barely catching the movements of it's lips from an awkward angle. Suddenly his counterpart stiffens and the video pauses. Malkhaz turns to him once again with an enquiring look in his dark eyes.

"He said I was wary of him." He takes another breath but Malkhaz speaks before him.

"Observing the opponent's reactions out loud is an effective method of unsettling and demoralizing the target." One that Turks learn to both use and counter if they did not already know to.

"I know, but I didn't expect it from the kid with no training." He confesses honestly. "It didn't speak to me much before."

"Why did you freeze?" Dark eyes gaze into his and he feels a hand against his knee. "It couldn't have been because of what Sephiroth said, could it?"

His gaze moves back to the pale haired boy. "It's eyes changed." He made a slicing gesture with his hand. "The pupils narrowed." He falls silent. He can't believe such a monster is allowed to roam freely. Even, without those eyes, the child is barely human.

"Yes, I've seen them too, Cane. And the higher ups also know about it." Malkhaz leans back in the couch.

"I hadn't noticed… before." He mutters. Sure he'd had the feeling there was something off about the eyes, but he'd never been able to place his finger on it.

The video start's playing and he watches the child circling him. It's eyes never leaving his counterpart. Not to look at the ground or the staff in its hand. Only at him. The child is taunting him now and he watches himself be riled up. Disconnectedly he notes that it's a bit like watching a bully on a playground, only this bully is a third of the size of its target.

He sees himself start to shake and that is when Malkhaz pauses. "I had already left to intervene at this point." The elder man starts. "What could he have said that would anger you to this extent?" Malkhaz's face doesn't turn to him and instead watches the screen, the slightest hint of a frown on the elders face.

"I don't know, really. He asked me about what I was afraid of. If it was pain or humiliation. Nothing that would have normally…" Now that he thinks about it, why had those words cut so deep? "I admit; I wasn't calm to start with. He unnerved me. Always has. But when the anger came it didn't go away." He can't even properly remember what happened after that. "I felt helpless." He ends lamely but honestly.

Dark unreadable eyes look at him coolly. "When I arrived, you weren't yourself." The deep voice reassures gently. "You were still beyond reason when I left you in my office. I suspect you were exhausted after that." And he moves to press the play button again. "I understand that these circumstances were special."

They watch silently as the child lunges, only to withdraw. He glances at his superior catching sight of a dark expression on Malkhaz's face as the man watches the footage intently.

He turns back to see himself stomp out, followed shortly after by his boss's counterpart.

The pale-haired child on the camera stands quietly looking at the closed door for a moment before gripping the staff in that improper manner of his, lifting it over his shoulder into a strange stance.

"It's that kata again." He mutters to himself.

The elder man shoots him a quick look. "Tell me about the kata." He says softly after a few seconds.

Obliging his superior he begins. "Sometimes, when he's in the midst of a kata he changes it. At first I thought he'd forgotten the movements or was just fooling around. But they became more recognisable. Ken has seen it too." He frowns as he watches the boy swing the staff - one handed now. "None of us know what stile it is but I think Ken is looking into it."

Malkhaz expression remains severe but unreadable as he watches the freak on the screen.

Eventually, the boy seems satisfied, putting aside the staff and leaving. They sit besides one another, quietly contemplating their own thoughts

In hind sight he is glad Veld had been busy during this event. He doubted the other man would have been as quick to intervene. "When the time comes, I don't want to be the one to face it." He concludes

His boss directs his full attention to him. "And why is that?"

Bitterly, he is reminded of the last words in his nightmare as he scrambles to word his answer. "I... don't think he's stable."

Malkhaz lifts his dark brows inquiringly, though dark eyes seem to gleam knowingly.

He sighs in frustration as he tries to collect and make sense of what his instincts have been telling him all along. "Sometimes, it's like its not at home. Like its body moves on it's own. At first I thought it was…" He throws a quick glance at his superior. "…What he was made for. But during the… incident, he was the same way. It's the same with that kata…" He knows he is twisting himself into a knot. He had never claimed to be good with words.

In the end Malkhaz interrupts his pathetic rambling. "Cane, why wouldn't you want to fight him?"

He pauses to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts. "I think it will show it's true self." Pursing his lips, he looks back at the empty room on the screen. "Just like it did today."

Quiet fills the room once again.

Abruptly Malkhaz stands and moves to turn the keys in the door. "That will be all, Cane. If nothing more comes up, then you may have a day off. I believe your partner is free too."

He stands quickly, relieved to be done with the talking. "You are dismissed." Comes the amused deep voice of his respected superior from behind him as he strides down the corridor on the Turk floor.

His boss's suggestion is a good one. He'll go find Ropes for a drink.

Or ten.

Author's notes:

Reviews: Thank you NatNicole and Samantha Vi Tenebris for leaving a comment and showing your support and to Lordibau for sharing your thoughts, without you this chapter may well not have made it's appearance.

This is the random OC Turk codenamed Cane point of view starting from Sephiroth's first arrival to Midgar till the present point in the story. This chapter strikes me as a lot more sinister and disturbing than the others I've written so I'm interested in hearing what you think.

It's funny how a few of the random OC Turks (all of which I created for decoration purposes) make get a name and therefore identity in this chapter. It was fun writing it because they made themselves, it was a bit of a pain editing it though. I've discovered dreams are hard to write.

I actually had two more scenes in this chapter; one during the incident with Sephiroth and one right after in Veld's office before he crashes in the couch. I felt it would be kind of repetitive though, and they somehow didn't fit with the rest. But if anyone is interested in reading it I may consider posting it as a one-shot with all of the scenes at some point.

Next Chapter: Sephiroth plays a prank