Episode 1: Memory of Despair

Death. Pain. Vengeance. This was all that was left of him now.

Flames consumed everything he had ever loved. His life, his childhood, his true self were being erased from existence as he watched from a distance with horror.

Zack raced out of the darkened mansion into the searing light. Fear and desperation continually festered inside his chest with every step he took towards such destruction. Once outside, the heat caused him to stop. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the blinding light as he covered them with his left arm, but his eyes were not needed to know the truth.
Zack stoically peered into the flames engulfing his friend's home; his sword instinctively drawn. His silhouette -the only thing standing that wasn't burning in the immediate view.

"How could he do this, how could he Betray us!"

No answers came.

Zack had been trained to be fearless and a pillar of confidence in the face of death, and so he retained a professional and defiant composure despite his feelings as he sheathed his sword and descended the stairs into the town.
Zack came upon a slaughtered man laying face up in the middle of the town center. A gaping slash nearly severed this young man's body in two. Blood poured from his wounds as his innards seeped along the flow. As he knelt beside the youth, Zack placed his hand upon the man's forehead, and looked gently into those barely conscious and fearful eyes.

"You're going home." The only comforting words that seemed fitting.

A young soldier, head to toe in full battle armor, came blustering in from the entrance side of town. Zack faced down towards his comrade, rose up from the fallen man, and wiped the blood off from his glove. Zack was now in charge of this operation and needed to look as professional and cool as ever.

As he ran towards Zack, his hands trembled so violently that his rifle seemed to be vibrating. Yet, he was determined to be the best soldier he could, and kept his composure just like Zack would. Damn his emotions.

"Where's Tifa," the young soldier spurted out the moment he came upon Zack.

"I don't know." Zack turned his head from side to side, desperately yet calmly looking for what action to take next. -How can I beat Him- the thought overwhelmed most of his cognitive abilities and combat training instinct.

"First, we'll need to check the res…"
A momentary shock rendered Zack motionless as he came once again to look upon the soldier's face. The glare on the soldier's eyepiece revealed the reflected town's massacrer, standing not 30 feet behind Zack, standing out against the blaze. Zack's eyes widened to the full pits of his skull.

Hesitation Moment over.

Sword drawn, Zack instinctively turned his body to face him, both hands tightly gripping his Buster Sword's Hilt.

"Why did you kill all these people. ANSWER ME CLOUD!"

[Close up screen shot of Cloud's head, his blue Mako eyes displaying all the hatred they can muster. A small smirk adorns his mouth. Camera fades to a full bodied Cloud, wearing Sephiroth's black cloak. Masamune in hand. Without words, he turns into the flames, and walks thru them]

-Cloud jolts up from bed.- [A close up of Cloud's right eye now becomes the only thing visible] Fear and desperation cloud everything.

[Screen cuts to black]
[Enter Music opening scene ]
Episode 1: Memory of Despair.

Cloud arose from sleep in a cold sweat. He breathed so quickly and erratically like the fear in his dreams had transcended into the real world. Calming himself felt nothing short of a miracle.
The room smelled of a stagnant air. Nothing moved in this place. Picturesque embodied the monotony of his room. His cloak hung upon the back of an age old chair, draped over the seat and settling itself upon the ridges embedded into the floor. Several small swords held fast to a makeshift weapon hilt resting above the chair, stained with blood. A small window to the right held the only view to the mystical body of water that resides right outside the home. And in front of him, a full bodied splintered mirror leaned against the opposing wall of Cloud's bed. A cold, broken monster peered into Cloud each waking morning.

He went to face it.

As he mindlessly strode out of bed, his foot treaded upon a puss oozing fleshy dark matter. A haphazard piling of wings lay compiled in a corner near the bed, encrusted with dried blood carcassed from their old master. One wing had toppled off the pile during the night and came to rest at the foot of his bed. It didn't matter though, THAT one was no longer him, and he didn't really care for its safety. He kept them only as a reminder to how many times he's done this before.

Shirtless, Cloud went to stand parallel in front of the mirror. His un-waxed hair laid in individual strands, covering most of his face. From the front, his body had never been so toned. None of this, though, was through any fault of his own.

Cloud reached out and touched one of the crack lines in the mirror
[ Scene instantly cuts to a momentary memory of Cloud standing in front of the mirror with a large black wing sprouting from his back and a wrathful look on his face as he smashes the mirror with his hand]

[Scene returns to the present with a depressed look on Cloud's face]
Brushing the hair away from his eyes, Cloud turned his back to the mirror and looked over his left shoulder. His back, no where near as healthy. A crevice appeared over his left shoulder-blade, and a perturbing black feather set began emerging from the opening, slowly but surely. Blood engorged veins spiderred all from his back towards the crevice, as if trying desperately to fight off a vile infection.

"Damn…" sighed Cloud.

A sound coming from outside instantly caught his attention. A small pebble rolling off a larger boulder broke the ambient silence in the air, and managed to disturbed the water, rippling its surface, and falling to a rest forever under its depths.

(Vibrating water, Vibrating hands.. hu,.. THE DREAM) The images of horror reentered into his head.

Cloud had no need to dwell upon his dream. It recurred every night. It's meaning unquestionable. Soon, He feared he would turn into the thing he hated most, the creature that killed her.

No matter what, he could not let that happen.

Cloud fiddled with the hair-wax container on the shelf next to the cracked mirror. He dipped his hand into the goo and for the next 20 minutes spent the time fixing his hair, like she remembered.

Wrestling carefully as to not mess it up, Cloud put on his SOLDIER shirt. He fastened his metallic, supportive glove over his left mangled hand, grabbed his red cloak, draped it around his neck, pulled out one of his worn, dull swords, and descended the stairs to the outside.

Cloud exited his home. Immediately he was at the lakeside of her watery grave.

[Camera shows the edge of the lake where the water meets the rock. Cloud's foot steps into camera view. Camera switches to an undershot positioned as if the camera were located under the water, slowly zooming in onto Clouds face]

Aeris laid at the bottom of the lake, adorned with hundreds of red flowers. Over the centuries, the close proximity to the lifestream had granted the pool sustaining powers. Anything entombed within its waters stayed that way forever, a still picture in a moment of time. Though she was murdered more than two years ago, her body was as intact, peaceful, and beautiful as the day she died.

Everyday Cloud went out into the world to find a flower for his flower girl. Everyday he would return home with one in hand.

Sometimes he would walk for hours before he would find the perfect one for her.

Everyday, he would kneel by the lakeside, gently place the freshly cut red flower into the lake, and as it began to slowly descend to lie next to her, he managed to mutter

"I'm sorry…"

There he would sit in prayer and contemplation, considering and imagining the future memories they could have had together. He envisioned them; settling into a home on the outskirts of Costal Del Sol. There, Aeris and Cloud would set up a home just as they would want it. A training field set up in the backyard so that he could regularly improve himself. A large garden planted in the front that she could lovingly tend to. Their would be a wondrous living room where all their friends could come over, enjoy in small gatherings together, and see how happy Aeris and him would have been. He imagined what their children would have looked like: 1 boy and 2 girls. He even gave them names….

But eventually reality would set in with the setting sun dimming the light upon her lake. None of those dreams really mattered. They would never be. He was alone, and would always be.

If he couldn't be with her, then he would just be content to be her guardian, now until the end.

Yet today, this monotonous routine was no longer enough. He had to end this.

A sudden surge of pain emanated from his left shoulder-blade. Cloud wincingly reached his right hand around to feel an all too easily remembered feeling. The wing had grown large enough and protruded far enough from his back that it tore through his several times patched shirt. With each fresh cutting, the wing grew back quicker and reached its full length faster. He had only cut the previous one off the night before.

With a sigh, Cloud lowered his hand to rest at his side, and slowly shook his head.

"I won't become him," Cloud softly but defiantly said as his peered over the lake. His eyes dropped down to look at Aeris lying peacefully at the bottom.

[Screen flashes to a picture of Cloud's dream home with Aeris. There she stands in the doorway, holding one of the flowers he has picked for her. Her haired blowing gently in the wind]
[Scene returns to present Cloud]
"Aeris, I'm coming home…."

Cloud left the City of the Ancients on his typical journey to find a flower.

Outside, the wind blew fiercely to the east. It violently shook and swayed Cloud's cloak, like a bath of blood spewing form his back every new instant. Each gust held hundreds of tiny daggers that cut into Cloud's face, leaving their frost hilts behind on his cheeks. His cold metallic glove felt like a cage of ice, piercing needles into his already destroyed flesh. Yet the harshness of nature could not infiltrate his mind, it could not break his will. He trudged on thru the blizzard

And there, within Shiva's hatred, became known a rock awning, barely 2 feet high. Under it lie a blanket of white, undisturbed by the the relentless frost, free of zealous and tormentful wind, and beneath it, Cloud found a new bud perking out from the fresh fallen snow. He carefully plucked the red rose from its brush, stood up, gave one passing look to the south, and returned back to her grave.

Once next to the lake, Cloud got onto his knees, like so many times before. He unsheathed his small sword from the hilt on his belt, and looked calmly onto her. He fastened the flower to his shirt over his heart.
Some weight seemed to be pushing against Clouds chest, and for a moment it made him reconsider what he was about to do.
Yet, he was determined to kill himself. Cloud never really existed, and this shell would soon become the next great evil.

With one fell, precise swoop, Cloud sliced the new wing off from his back. The pain was so excruciating that it literally rendered Cloud motionless. His body fell limp and he rolled down into the lakebed. There, he came to a rest next to Aeris, his head fell to his side, eyes wide open, looking kindly onto her precious face.

"Soon…."

[Scene changes to the last time Cloud had been in Midgar]

Cloud walked along one of the street ways in the Sector 3 topside. Rain trenched the city-side as small rivulets formed on the edges of sidewalks and streets. Cloud dressed himself in a trench-coat, hood up, so that no rain would fall upon him nor would anyone recognize him. A blood stained pocket was the only other color to adorn the blackened slick fabric.

Lights combated with shadows over Cloud's person as he walked down the street. Nothing seemed worthy of his attention. He was only passing through here till he could find a good reconstructive mechanic.

Nothing caught his attention, until all light seemed to fade from the street-side. Puzzled, Cloud looked up to see several bright lights valiantly shining at a large, luxurious billboard.

THE GREAT SOLDIER - CLOUD STRIFE -THE HERO OF OUR WORLD

A large iconic picture of Cloud, holding his old Buster Sword, stood proudly in the night, overlooking Midgar.

Everything paled in brightness to this sign, as cloud stood, beneath it, in the shadows.

Rain rivuleted across his heaven stared face.

He was never that man. He was just a boy that got experimented on and fucked with. It wasn't his persona; he never was a great solider. Hell, he couldn't even make it into SOLDIER. He was just some lucky fucked up kid. He couldn't live up to the hype people wanted him to be. That Cloud was never real. He lived in the shadow of his own self.

No more

[Scene returns to him lying at the bottom of the lake. A large but undetermined amount of time has passed]

The end was coming. Cloud began to feel outside of himself as small purple and black dots filled up his eyesight. He began drifting away. The final remnants of his sight fixated upon her smile.

...

...

Menacing teeth thrust themselves onto Clouds shirt, violently hauling him up out of the water.

[Episode 1 End]

[Scene cuts to clippings from the next episode, with Cloud sitting around, laughing with his friends and having one hell of a party after the end events of Final Fantasy VII. Music begins playing. In Cloud's voice, he narrates and says]

"Nothing feels as good as finding out that all of your Sacrifices meant something. To be with friends at the end of all things is the most important thing in life."