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6. Cloud – Expert

"Yo, Cloud. Wake up."

Cloud blinked, only then realising his chin had dropped onto his chest. He scrambled to his feet, snapping off an instinctive salute. "Sorry, sir!"

"Cut that out. It's just me." Zack grinned at him. "Or would you prefer me to say 'at ease'?"

Cloud tried hard not to colour up. Tried, and failed. Thankfully Zack laughing at him wasn't as bad as it had been in the beginning, when they first met, before Cloud realised that Zack laughed at everybody.

Cloud narrowed his eyes. There was an odd, knowing timbre to Zack's laugh. Was he smirking? Oh boy. Not good. Few people could tell the difference between Zack's smiles, but Cloud had learned to read into exact quirk of his friend's eyebrows – usually because it promised some hare-brained scheme or other that would further cement Cloud's conviction that the vital components of First Classes were strength, courage and mild insanity.

"What's so funny?"

"You."

"What?"

No doubt about it; Zack really was smirking. "Three, two, one …"

Cloud's feet nearly went out from under him. What the hell? He stumbled, realised he was standing on undulating metal, heard the thunder of tyre tread on rough ground, and remembered. Almost instantly his gorge rose. Maybe his motion sickness really was psychosomatic, but all in his head or not, it was a bitch and tasted worse. His only consolation was that General Sephiroth wasn't sharing this truck.

Zack shook his head. "Time-delayed puking. Classic. Don't ever change, Cloud. You're too damn funny as you are."

Cloud wiped at his mouth and winced as he stood. They'd been travelling for a while, so there wasn't much to come up anymore, and dry retching made his ribcage hurt. Zack, of course, looked in the peak of health, despite the fact they were in the middle of nowhere, headed into the mountains, climbing dangerous slopes in trucks probably designed by someone who'd never actually experienced a Nibelheim snowstorm. Unless they were equipped with snow-chains as tough as dragon guts, the team would be walking the last part. The valley beyond the peaks would be warmer, but you had to cross rough country first, and that was the bit that finished off the unwary.

Winter in the north wasn't like winter anywhere else. Cloud had tried to explain to the guys who'd shared his dorm during training, and been met with disbelieving looks – especially when he got to the part about using upstairs windows as both entrance and exit for several months of each year while the lower half of your house was buried in snow. A southerner like Zack had no real comprehension of how to cope in those conditions, although the mako and SOLDIER training maybe provided an edge regular southerners lacked. Southern Softies, locals called them – notwithstanding the fact 'south' was anywhere beyond the base of Mount Nibel. Cloud had grown up thinking real toughness required frostbite, and been surprised to learn all the First Class SOLDIERs were from warmer climates.

It wasn't the first time he'd been wrong about the extent of his own abilities. The rejection by the SOLDIER programme still stung. A regular grunt wasn't what he'd planned on becoming when he left Nibelheim. It was better than being tossed out of Shinra altogether, but the idea of going back to his home town in the wrong uniform made him even more nauseous than the stupid motion sickness. He'd been picked for this mission because of his knowledge of the terrain and how to survive it. It was his chance to prove his worth to the higher-ups, but given half a chance Cloud would have high-tailed it back to Midgar. Only the presence of Zack and the General made it bearable – his childhood hero and the best friend he never could have anticipated making were a salve to his wounded pride, and to the sense of failure that increased with every mile.

He hadn't even told his mother he was coming. How pathetic was that?

His thoughts were abruptly curtailed along with the truck's forward momentum. Cloud pitched forward and nearly ended up on his face. Even Zack had to brace himself.

"What the hell?"

The window-slat between them and the driver slid back. "Uh, sorry Commander. Slight, uh, roadblock."

Zack frowned, "I repeat: what the hell?"

A high-pitched screech pierced the air. It sounded like a cross between a power saw cutting through metal and a cat being stretched between two dogs. Cloud's already sore gut sank. He recognised that cry. It was etched into his childhood memories.

"Acid Dragon!" he hissed, half-to himself.

Of course, with his superior SOLDIER hearing, Zack caught the words. He stared at Cloud. "Seriously?"

"Have you ever faced one before?"

"Nope, but there's a first time for everything." Zack reached up and around to grip the Buster Sword, even as he spun around and burst out the back of the truck without waiting for it to be unlocked first. The doors slammed outwards, crashing against the sides of the truck and making the whole thing reverberate like they were in the middle of an earthquake.

Cloud scrambled to his feet and dashed after him. It was stupid, but instinctive. "Wait! You don't know how to -" His words died in his throat. He froze, staring upwards. An extremely bad word skittered across his mind like a stone skimming across a lake, but nothing made it as far as his mouth.

That was … a big one.

The entire truck would have fitted into the dragon's mouth with room to spare. Its grotesquely disproportionate head swung from side to side, and the huge neck muscles it had evolved to compensate for the weight bulged. Lidless red eyes took in the trucks, but it didn't make any move towards them. It didn't look hungry, as Cloud had feared. It didn't even look all that interested in them. Actually, the creature looked rather bored, as evidenced by the gigantic yawn and the fact it wasn't attacking already.

This was what had made that terrible noise?

No, of course not. That would be too easy.

The terrible screeching came again. The dragon lifted its head and sniffed the air. Everything and everyone seemed to hold a collective breath. When a third screech came, this time accompanied by another overlarge head pushing through the trees at the side of the road, Cloud knew they were in trouble.

"Tupping season!" he hissed, as the first dragon finally stirred itself and spat like an angry tomcat at the newcomer.

"What?"

Cloud nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd thought Zack had gone charging off elsewhere, but suddenly there he was beside him. You'd think someone carrying a sword bigger than a man would at least crunch the snow, but no.

Zack watched the two dragons with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Cloud had to admit, there were few things as impressive in nature as a bull Acid Dragon in full display. The northern lands were home to a great many rare dragon breeds, which had made it understandable that a place like Nibelheim once relied on them as a source of income and survival. Even the toughest hunting party thought twice about Acid Dragons, though.

Of all the species, Acid Dragons were probably the most bizarre. Some anthropologists had even argued they weren't true dragons at all, since they couldn't fly and had an internal biology more like salamanders. Cloud had only ever seen one before, lumbering across the landscape like the product of an experiment by a god who knew what limbs were but not necessarily how to put them together. His father had been killed while hunting an Acid Dragon cow. Though it had been a blizzard that ultimately took his life, the risk he'd run by hunting the beast was enormous. Bulls were even worse.

And this was freaking tupping season. Cloud had officially been away from the mountains too long if he'd forgotten that. He should have said something, he should have warned Zack or another commander of what they were risking by travelling at this time of year.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

When displaying, an Acid Dragon's ugly head became almost regal as it unfurled the leathery fan around its neck and inflated the pouches of loose skin on its head. Though the rest of its scales were black as pitch, the fan was a riot of colour and shifting, eddying patterns. Thanks to some complicated internal workings, the colours actually changed and moved around; giving a good indication of how old and experienced the bull was depending on how many colours it could produce. The ridges of extending purple and blue spikes along each dragon's spine only added to the effect – at least unless, like Cloud, you knew that each spike was the size of an average man and contained venom so powerful it could dissolve a human body inside two minutes. Acid Dragons, in addition to their impressive displays, were also famous for the fact that there was no part of their bodies that wasn't poisonous.

"We need to get out of here," Cloud said breathlessly.

"Shinra's people don't just turn tail and run," retorted one of the other grunts. He'd been in a different truck, but from the disgusted look he gave Cloud, he might as well have stepped in a pile of motion-sickness vomit.

"They've already seen each other," Cloud insisted. "And we do not want to get between them when they start fighting."

"The General will not let any harm befall us," said one of the drivers in an accent Cloud couldn't place.

The faith was admirable. If it hadn't been here, now, like this, Cloud might have shared it. General Sephiroth epitomised everything Cloud had ever wanted to be. However, these were bull Acid Dragons, and it was tupping season. When they fought for mates and territory these creatures were damn near unstoppable.

Cloud turned an imploring gaze on Zack, who nodded. "I say we retreat. Find another way through. Our objective isn't to fight local wildlife. This is strictly recon, people. No unnecessary risks; are we clear?"

"Crystal."

Zack spun around. Cloud didn't dare. He recognised the cadence and timbre of that voice from Shinra-endorsed interviews and press releases. He clenched his fists against the injustice of finally going on a mission with his hero, but as a nonentity grunt – nothing more than a glorified packhorse sent along to lift and carry things. And now to be overheard sounding like a coward when it was just common sense to flee this kind of situation?

Cloud hadn't seen the General since mission-briefing, when he discovered they were all being sent to Nibelheim. Cloud and the others had already boarded their transports by the time the First Classes arrived, and Sephiroth had ridden in one while Zack took the other. Cloud had appreciated Zack being his travelling buddy, since throwing up in front of the General would have been just too much, but just the knowledge of Sephiroth being so close by had been enough to make Cloud burn with shame at his own shortcomings.

A SOLDIER reject. What a disappointment – as usual. Cloud Strife, the eternal failure.

Shut up brain. You're really not helping.

General Sephiroth stepped forward to stand on Cloud's other side. "I've not come across these creatures before. You're familiar with their behaviour patterns?"

Cloud realised he was the one being asked. "Um, yes sir."

"Strife here is from this area," Zack supplied.

Sephiroth nodded. "A useful resource. What are they doing now?"

"Displaying, sir. Intimidation tactics. They each try to make the other one back down like this, and if that doesn't work, they fight." Cloud swallowed. "They can wipe out entire villages when they do that. It's always a fight to the death, and they get quite violent."

'Quite violent'? Now there was an understatement. Describing an Acid Dragon fight as 'quite violent' was like saying Shinra was a little bit powerful.

Part of Cloud couldn't understand why they were all still there. This was insane. And he was most insane of all, because he knew the dangers and was still standing there like a gormless moron.

"And presumably their famous poison causes as much damage as the actual fighting, after they've injured each other and sprayed it across the landscape."

"Yes, sir." The General was just as perceptive as everyone said. Or maybe that was the hero worship at work. Either way, Cloud only stopped being impressed when one of the dragons bellowed and lowered its head like a battering ram. Panic dumped a load of adrenaline into his system. "They're about to engage, sir. We should … we should leave. I mean, it would be advisable to retreat. Now."

"I understand." Sephiroth walked forward.

"General," said Zack in a distinctly warning tone.

"Commander," Sephiroth replied evenly, as if they were just greeting each other as they passed in the corridor. Then he leaped. Didn't even take a running start; just leapt into the air, impossibly high, like it was nothing.

Afterwards, Cloud wasn't able to remember much more than a flash of metal (or was that silver hair?) and a streak of dark leather against the blue sky. Neither dragon acknowledged the puny human. Perhaps they didn't even see him. Then, abruptly, each one stopped roaring and slumped forward, shaking the ground on impact. They didn't get up again. Clouds of steam rose from the precise cuts in the tops of their heads, where General Sephiroth had skewered straight through their massive skulls, slicing through the hard bone to get at the brains beneath. The blood flow was minimal – a Very Good Thing, as Zack would say, since what little there was melted whatever it touched. The battle – no, it was an execution – was over in seconds. It probably took longer for the dragons to fall over than it took for the General to kill them.

Sephiroth appeared back in his spot at Cloud's side as silently and quickly as Zack had earlier. Had that really only been a few minutes ago? It felt like a lifetime.

Cloud stared at the two dangerous creatures, reduced to piles of semi-hazardous meat in ostensibly less time that it had taken to blink. He could barely believe it. He'd thought he knew how impressive Sephiroth could be, but it was only now that he realised the true scale of the General's skills. No wonder the war in Wutai was over. This man was more powerful than the entire opposing force put together. If he'd wanted, or if Shinra had directed it, Sephiroth could have laid waste to the entire country.

Cloud gulped. Thank Ifrit the General was on their side.

Zack folded his arms. "Show-off."

Sephiroth wiped Masamune on a patch of snow, dissolving it with the residue. The metal of the blade remained undamaged. Well, of course it would. Such an extraordinary man could have nothing less than an extraordinary sword. "The way is clear now. They were far enough apart that the trucks can pass between them safely. I'll send word for someone to deal with clean-up. Creatures like this shouldn't be left to be hacked up and used for disreputable purposes. This is the shortest route to Nibelheim, is it not?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Then it's imperative we use it. Time is of the essence. Or had you forgotten our mission objective?"

The usually cheerful line of Zack's mouth hardened. Cloud wondered at that. "I haven't forgotten."

Sephiroth nodded.

Zack raised a hand and yelled, "Everybody move out. Back to the trucks before more of these big guys turn up."

Slightly puzzled by the exchange, but wanting to get out of there in case more did follow the tupping calls, Cloud scrambled for the truck along with the rest.