A/N: It's been over a year. Things happened. Here's a new chapter. Please leave a review. I want to know what you think.
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Clouds hung low in the sky, blotting out the sun and threatening rain with their darkened underbellies. The wind whipped around Strife as he stepped from the helicopter. He paused to sniff the air, nose immediately wrinkled in disgust at the acrid scent of metal, fuel, and man. A sidelong glance caste towards the two PFCs that accompanied him to Fort Mckee bitterly reminded him why he hated the fetor of mankind. The short, staunch PFC to his right smirked in response, causing Strife to hastily avert his gaze.
"We'll miss you," Ballard admitted in a low town. The other PFC chortled, licking his lips lewdly. "But not as much as the hounds will. I do hope you'll give them some thought in your long, lonely nights out here."
Bennett gave a few imitating barks and laughed. "Aye, I'm not so sure they'll ever have a bitch as good as you."
"Fuck you," Strife growled through grit teeth, raising his chin in defiance. Ballard and Bennett exchanged knowing glances and laughed. These two would never make it beyond enlisted ranks, if they were even promoted beyond private. Strife considered them expendable, but Shinra regarded their sadism crucial when assigning guard to a death spawn specimen that could potentially become a threat to humanity. Their conduct was less than desirable by any human standard, however they were human and still held more rights to live than Strife in the eyes of all but investors and the team of scientists responsible for creating him. I am worth less than the sweat and piss sodden ground which we trod on, Strife thought bitterly. While Ballard and Bennett personally ensured his misery for the past year since his awakening, the rest of Shinra staff had remained unsympathetic. I am not human, therefor I should not be treated as such.
The two PFCs abruptly ceased their bawdy ridicule and snapped to attention when a military troop carrier pulled up beside them and two officers stepped out. With a wave of one of the officer's hands, the driver of the troop carrier pulled away with a small spray of dust. The officer approached, two stars adorning his uniform.
"I'm major general Lukas Altamonte," the officer introduced, hands clasped behind his back. A quick nod to his right and he introduced the officer standing beside him. "This is SOLDIER Third Class and Second Lieutenant Steep, who oversees the platoon in which you will be a part of." Altamont scrutinized him with a dead panned expression which gave no indication of how he felt towards a death spawn working within his ranks. Strife felt relieved. Under the major general's command, perhaps he could find relief from the ridicule and harassment he usually faced.
"Odin, he's young," Steep declared.
"It doesn't matter. I assume he's well trained and prepared for combat," Altamont dismissed. Ballard gave an affirmative. "Good. I was assured there were measures in place to keep him from retaliating against Shin-ra command. Are they effective?"
"That they are." Bennett answered. "We extensively tested them." Altamont held his hand up, barring the PFC from further explanation for which Strife was thankful, because he had no doubt that Bennett wouldn't hesitate to clarify the procedures taken to assess the effectiveness of the chip implanted in his head.
"I'm sure that you did." Perhaps it was his imagination, but Strife thought he detected a sour note of disgust in Altamont's voice. The major general was well practiced in shielding his inner thoughts behind an impassive demeanor. It was the same appearance of any soldier who had fought against the death spawn after several tours. The same gladness that Strife perceived earlier was rapidly replaced with ambiguity. A man of Altamont's stature was not like to direct any sympathy towards him. The indifference could mean either more cruelty or a reprieve from it. Strife could only hope for the latter.
"Privates, you are dismissed," Altamont ordered. Bennett and Ballard affirmed and turned to leave, murmuring promises under their breaths that only Strife was able to hear. As they walked back to the helicopter, he silently sighed in relief. More than likely, they would be assigned to a different task back in Midgar and he would never have to see them again. Nothing could eliminate the memory of the year spent under their supervision, but he remained optimistic that not all humans were as cruel as they. When the major general dismissed Steep and motioned for Strife to follow, he was all too happy to comply. "You'll have your own room in the barracks for now," Altamont explained. "But don't get too cozy. General Sephiroth will arrive tomorrow and we'll be organizing an attack on death spawn infected territory north of here."
"We're initiating the combat?" Strife inquired incredulously. "Previous attempts to push back the death spawn have proven to be ineffective, what's different this time?"
"Shin-ra has spent years and an insurmountable budget trying to develop a weapon to effectively combat the death spawn that would provide minimal risk of human casualty," Altamont responded. "And now you're here."
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Brightness burned through his eyelids as he woke. The hum of electricity, purr of motors waiting in idle, and clomping of boots against the concrete floor were unusually absent however. If the florescent lights were on, then there was either an emergency or morning drills had already begun. The lack of sound however…
Strife snapped his eyes open only to be greeted with an immense stabbing pain assaulting his head. Hissing, he laid back down and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to abate to a dull throb before he attempted to rouse again. The light was nearly blinding as he rolled onto his side, hand pushing against the warm soil beneath him in attempt to stand. Strife paused, bewildered. When he had fallen asleep, it was in a small room within the barracks on his cot and not outside. Immediately he assumed the soldiers had played a prank and moved him outside while he slept. However, he dismissed that theory when he surveyed his surroundings. He was nowhere near Fort Mckee.
The sky was as bright as it would be with a noonday sun, but there was neither sun nor any visible source of where the light was coming from. The ground was phenomenally flat and without any discernable gradients. As far as he could see, the only vegetation he could see were pure white lilies clustered so closely together that the blackened soil beneath him was barely visible. He reached out to one, running a claw along the petal, delicately scratching the surface.
"Hello," a timid voice greeted from behind him. Strife startled, reaching for the dagger strapped to his thigh, but his hand grasped at nothing. He whirled and attempted to rise to his feet, only to stumble dizzily and fall on his rear, crushing the flowers beneath him. It was incomprehensible how this woman was able to elude his senses and approach without being noticed. She smiled hesitantly at him, clutching the pink fabric of her dress nervously. "Sorry if I scared you," she mumbled apologetically. When Strife didn't respond, she explained, "I don't see very many people here. They pass through so quickly, none linger for long. But you…" She trailed off for a moment, pondering her next words. "You shouldn't exist," she said, her sweet smile fading from her lips. She bent over, long brown hair slipping over her shoulder as she reached out to cup his cheek in her palm. Strife jerked away and snarled in warning. "I'm sorry," she apologized with a sigh, dropping her hand. She sat down across from him, observing him in silence. The cloying scent of flowers was dizzyingly overwhelming and Strife found it becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate. "You shouldn't exist," the woman repeated.
"Like I had a choice," Strife responded agitated. The woman in pink didn't seem to possess a weapon, the fabric of her dress so thin and soft that it would be impossible to cloak any holster. Still, he righted himself into a crouch in preparation for an attack. If she noticed, she didn't give any evidence that she had. Instead she placed her hands over her thighs and smoothed the folds of her dress out, fiddling with the hem.
"I know," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
Strife waited for her to elaborate, for an indication as to where the conversation was headed. "Then what do you want from me?" he asked, when she said nothing more. The inquiry was only met with more silence and the woman in pink continued to pay with her dress, eyes cast to the side. Her mouth moved minutely as if she wanted to speak, but her voice was not heard. Briefly the thought that he might have lost his sense of hearing flickered through his thoughts, but he could still hear the sound of her fingers moving across her dress and the soft smacking of her tongue in her mouth as it moved to form words. He shifted, leather creaking. His hearing wasn't lost, she was merely speaking to herself. He was thinking of leaving, finding a way out of the endless field of flowers when she finally spoke again.
"They say you may be useful."
"Who?" When she didn't answer again, Strife let out an exasperated sigh and angrily slapped the ground before him. "Did you not hear me?!" He demanded. Expression saddening, she plucked a nearby lily and held it out to him. He ignored it and waited for her to answer.
"You're only a child." When she scooted forward and thrust the flower into his hands, he was unable to move away, rooted in his crouched position. She closed her hand over his and forced him to grasp the stem, moving the flower to be held against his chest. The field of flowers began to blur and spin and for a moment, Strife thought he was going to fall. He struggled to remain upright, but to no avail. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry," he heard her say, the feeling of her soft hands fading as quickly as his vision.
When Strife awoke in his room in the barracks, the scent of flowers still lingered in the air.
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A/N: Who's the lady in pink? OMG, I don't know! Some things you may have noticed: I write so sporadically that my writing style may have changed. I take forever to update. You can encourage me to update more frequently by writing a review. Do you like it? Love it? Hate it? Whatever you want to say, say it. I appreciate all reviews. I don't write fluff, so be prepared when I finally add more chapters for some heavy dark tones. Also, my knowledge on the structure of the military is very limited, so if you see that I've written something that is wrong, please feel free to correct me. If you have an Xbox One, feel free to add my account and we can do some online nerdenings. My live account is the same name as my penname.