Tobi: Hey guys! Omg, thank you! Gussie and Anonymouse #270 were reviewers 450 and 500! (and thanks to SephFan. She knows why. :3)
CM: IT'S THE TIME YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! NYAHAHA! REVENGE OF THE CLOUD! (THANKS for the chapter title terracannon876!) omg guys this is gonna be fun. Tobi and I had so much fun writing it! You all have no idea. And remember the next chapter is dedicated to ALL the reviewers. It's that awesome! Just out of curiosity how many people actually read my coauthor note? XD Til next Friday all! much love.
What the hell was going on up there?
For days, there had been nothing but noise. That was weird, because before it had been silent. He blinked slowly, straining his ears.
Two of them were plotting in whispers. He heard light snoring. Someone was reading a book—he could hear the flipping of pages every so often. This was odd—it must've been a break of sorts.
Sure enough, before long there was more screaming, crying, thumps and bangs. Weird.
But it wasn't any of his business.
He stared placidly ahead, and then noticed a thin stream of sunlight in the corner. He turned his head the best he could, seeing a minuscule hole. It irritated him. He deserved complete darkness. …Besides, how was it getting in? He was pretty sure that there wasn't a window. That would have been too easy.
It didn't really matter, did it? Even if he was offered a means of escape, he wouldn't take it.
He had sinned, and this was his punishment.
Three days left to live.
Cloud reclined in bed, intensely studying Mako. He was suspicious; he'd say it. Things weren't adding up. Still, he felt a little silly trying to decipher a book that was written for people obviously smarter than he.
After a while he gave up, stuffing it under his bed and leaning back. He exhaled, letting his sore muscles sink into the comfort of the mattress.
After that old lady had been carried out of the house the previous night, Cloud had fled to his bedroom. He had read more of Mako and had fallen asleep curious and not a little bit disturbed.
Luckily, he didn't remember his nightmares… much. Cloud shivered a little, rubbing his arms across the goosebumps on his arms. He knew they had something to do with laboratories, but that was it.
He felt like taking a nap. He stretched, spreading out on the huge bed. You could've easily fit five or six people in there.
He closed his eyes, and not three seconds later, the door slammed open. Cloud sat up, breath catching.
Nothing.
Cloud didn't dare relax, though. He scooted back on the bed, pushing Sebastian behind his back in an unconscious protective gesture.
His ankle was tightly gripped, and Cloud was dragged out of bed and onto the floor. Cloud screamed, thrashing, but was pulled into the hallway and into the direction of the steps.
"Let go of me!" Cloud howled, kicking and grabbing onto the door frame. His fingers were almost gently pried off by something that was definitely another hand. There were fingers, warm ones.
Cloud froze, and he was forcibly taken down the hallway again. He wailed, sobbing. It was touching him—
Was this it? Was he going to die here, right now? At the mercy of something he couldn't even see?
No!
Cloud lashed out viciously, trying to stand and attack, bash, kill. He planted his right arm and meant to push himself up with it, but it was chopped out from underneath him. He crumpled and screamed at the top of his lungs when he was unwillingly dragged down the steps.
"He needs to stop," Angeal growled, keeping a firm grip on Cloud's ankle. The blond was thrashing and yelling like a wild animal.
Zack removed the boy's fingers from the banister railing for the sixth time and grunted, "Relax! We're not gonna fuckin' kill you." Cloud couldn't have heard, but it was the thought that counted.
Cloud was smart and flipped onto his back when he made it to the bottom of the steps. His tummy had some serious rug burn.
"Fuck yoouuuu!" He yelled, fingers scrabbling on the marble floor. "Let the fuck go of me! I didn't do anything to you!"
Zack snorted at that statement. "It's about what you could do, kid."
Cloud was roughly pushed out of his house, and the front door slammed shut in his face. He heard the distinct click of a lock.
Locked out. The thing in his house had taken him out of his bedroom and had locked him out.
…Shouldn't he have been more afraid? He should have been screaming and freaking out still, right? Cloud thought about that for a moment, staring blankly at the door.
…Nah, he wasn't afraid. Not really. Cloud knew he wasn't the –ahem– smartest person around, but he could get the job done. So why was he still here? Surely taking his chances with Tseng's scary acquaintances and the man himself would have been preferable to this?
But it was personal, now. He refused to leave.
Cloud tried the doorknob, wiggling it and even knocking politely. It didn't work. He frowned, looking around for another entrance. He didn't think there was one, as far as he knew. His gaze landed on one of the windows, and he smiled.
Where the hell is the shed? There isn't a garage…
Cloud had wandered all over one side of the grounds for fifteen minutes, unsuccessfully locating anything. Surely there was a storage… something somewhere, right? He was surprised that there wasn't a garage, actually. Maybe he was just stupid and missed it?
…Nah.
It was behind the mansion where he finally found it. Nestled next to a bunch of tall, shady trees was a tiny wooden building. He grinned and trotted to it, taking note of the hammock stretched between two of the trees. Near the pool, in the shade, nice view of the mountains… seemed like a good place to nap.
The door was unlocked; it didn't even have a lock, actually. Hojo must've been pretty confident that no one would try to steal his stuff.
Cloud walked inside, coughing at the dusty, musty smell. There wasn't that much inside—only paint cans, a little step ladder, a riding lawn mower—Thank Gaia!—and various things packed onto a table in the back that he didn't bother with.
He needed something that could break glass.
A golf club was found on the floor, and he scooped it up. Perfect. Cloud turned to leave, but spotted an odd shape in a darkened corner. He crouched, noticed a paint can that was over twenty years old and picked it up.
Cloud held it and whispered, "A paintball gun?"
Maybe some kid had left it there once, for whatever reason. He tried not to think about Hojo paintballing with his other old-fart friends. …Actually, that was pretty funny.
He looked, but couldn't find any ammo for it. Bummer.
Cloud clenched his hand around the golf club's handle and darted back to the house, trying to be quiet. He crept to a window on the back side of the house, peered inside even though he wouldn't see anyone in there anyway, and aimed it at a panel of glass. These were big windows—he could probably squeeze through part of one if he broke it.
He jabbed it forward harshly, and the glass broke. It wasn't that loud, but to Cloud, who had been tense and listening closely, it was almost deafening.
Quickly, he broke the glass around the edges that hadn't broken off and tried to hoist himself inside. He bit back a scream as his palms were cut by a few little shards, but kept going.
He was halfway inside when something pressed against the top of his head. Cloud froze, quaking a little when he felt invisible fingers delve into his spikes.
"He's so damn stubborn," Genesis sighed miserably. He tilted his head, "But I wonder what kind of conditioner and gel he uses to get those spikes? His hair's marvelously soft!"
"Now is not the time, Genesis," came Angeal's voice from the next room over.
Gently but firmly, with a strength that he couldn't even compete with, Cloud was pushed out of the window. The grip in his hair tightened and pulled a little before letting go. A warning.
Cloud stood stupefied in the late summer air for a full minute before coming to his senses. He panicked a little—feeling actual fucking fingers was so, so wrong. His ghost… what the hell was it, really?
Cloud scowled. Fuck his ghost! No one did this to him!
He grabbed the golf club, backed up about ten feet and hurled the thing as hard as he could at the window.
He ran as soon as it hit, scrambling inside quickly during the confusion. His hands, knees and shins were dripping blood at this point, but he still managed to get inside. He stumbled out of the room, beelining for the first-aid kit. He left it out in the open in the parlor; he kept needing to use it, sadly.
There was a noise from behind him, and Cloud bolted. He sprinted to the room, grabbed it and kept running, looking frantically for a place to hide. He'd never make it up the stairs—it'd probably get him and drag him outside again.
He sprinted past a few rooms, passed the home theater and doubled back. Across the hall from the home theater's doors was a very unimpressive door.
He threw it open and squeezed inside, closing the door softly behind him. He didn't hear anything, so he assumed he had safely gotten away with it. He waited a full minute, breath erratic, then calmed down a bit.
Expecting a closet, he jumped a little when he turned around. Pitch-black… but he could faintly see steps.
"…It's not worth it," Angeal reasoned. Zack had his hand almost on the doorknob to the basement. They wanted to chase after the idiotic blond and scare him so bad he'd finally leave, but they could use the precious time alone.
And besides, even though one of the entrances to the labs was down there, there was an alarm on the door. If he got up to anything, they'd know.
Angeal pulled Zack away to go eat lunch, and they left Cloud alone…for now.
Cloud found a light switch and flicked it up—a surprisingly long carpeted staircase was revealed. He frowned and descended, staring at what he found.
He should've guessed that the basement would've been cool, too. There was one of these enormous workout jungle-gym looking things in the center of the room, a TV on the wall with some outdated game system plugged into it, and bean bag chairs on the ground. There was a couch along the wall, too.
Cloud glanced down at himself. He was pretty muscular—toned from carrying heavy packages and riding Fenrir all the time. He and Denzel, an orphan Aerith knew, used to go jogging around Midgar together. He missed that kid.
He ran his hands down his flat, tight tummy and frowned. He knew his body wasn't unattractive, but he wished he showed more muscle. He wanted to be ripped!
Cloud glared at the equipment and stepped more fully into the room. He could probably stay here for a while… he wasn't too keen on going back upstairs.
He remembered his newest batch of wounds and set about cleaning them. He had gotten glass in his hands and knees—it felt strangely like the time he had gotten hurt after he had broken the shower door. He was so damn sick of picking glass out of his body. The bean bag he had plopped down onto was heavenly, and he debated taking a nap in it when he was done. …Nah—what if his ghost came down while he was asleep? Not good.
He stood, rotating his now-bound hands and wrists. His knees were littered in bandages, as were his shins.
What a beautiful sight he made.
Cloud peeked around a little more, then blinked. In a back corner was a door. It was plain, but there was an electronic lock on it.
Frowning, Cloud examined it. He'd need a special I.D. card to get in. What the hell was back there?
Hojo's secret lab!
He quickly got away from the door. He was about to just work out to pass the time, but something caught his eye.
Against one wall was a bookcase that stretched all the way up to the ceiling. But what Cloud was staring at was a copy of Mako sitting innocently between other thick books.
Cloud curiously reached up and pulled it off the shelf. Or he tried to—it came out about two inches, then stopped. Cloud tugged again; suddenly there was a flurry of movement, and then there was darkness.
Fighting off a wave of nausea, Cloud panted shallowly and clenched his eyes shut. He opened them after a moment, but he couldn't see anything.
Wherever he was now, it was cold, damp and smelled like asscrack. Cloud let out a gust of air and stood still until his eyes adjusted. He could still feel the bookcase next to him, and it hit him like a slap to the face.
OH MY GODS!
He had tried to pull a book out of a bookcase, and the bookcase had turned!
A secret room! This is so cool!
As Cloud's eyes adjusted more, he decided that it was definitely not cool.
On the floor were at least ten coffins. Cloud jolted and he scrambled for a light switch. He found one, but the light bulb must've been burnt out.
His breathing was loud and erratic now, and Cloud willed it to quiet. He nervously crept forward, inspecting the first one. It was empty. Creepy, but empty. Thank Gaia.
A horrible thought hit him. What if… his ghost… this coffin…
He recoiled, almost tripping over another one. He peered down at it, seeing it was extravagant and flashy. Confused, he crouched and squinted, inspecting.
It seemed to be white… or a light blue. He ran his fingers over the top; there were pictures and really detailed things carved into it, but he couldn't tell what they were. One seemed to be a word.
His fingers touched the letters, and he located the first one, tracing it with the pad of his pointer finger.
'C.' He kept going, finding an 'L' beside the first letter.
Cloud paused.
Then he found an 'O.'
Cloud started sweating.
'U.'
Cloud trembled.
'D.'
Cloud yelped and scrambled away from the—his—coffin, backing up against a wall.
What the hell!
Panicked thoughts flitted around in his head before a thick dread settled over him like a blanket. Three days left to live. T-The ghost… it… His coffin was already made!
Cloud stumbled, looking for the bookcase. His hand landed on a doorknob, and he opened the door. The coffin room was dark, but the tunnel that the door opened to was even darker and scarier.
…Was this another entrance to Hojo's laboratory? A secret one? An escape route or something, perhaps?
He gently closed the door and shakily walked away, arms straight in front of him. His foot brushed a thick metal chain, and he glanced down.
The coffin in the center of the room was covered in chains. Padlocked. Bolted shut. He got the very distinct feeling that he shouldn't be in this little room, staring at it.
He turned and ran like hellfire was behind him to one of the walls, which turned out to be the right one. He grabbed for Mako, clutched onto the bookcase and scrambled back upstairs once he was back in the normal basement.
He'd rather take his chances with his ghost over whatever was in that coffin.
An hour later Cloud sat on his bed, Mako off to the side.
Three days left to live.
What was going to happen on the last day? Would he really… die? Cloud decided that he had to do something about it. Something big. He was fighting for his life here! He pictured the paintball gun sitting in the shed.
He could do this.
After much thinking, and once it was dark out, he painstakingly made one of those neat sheet-ladders. He had learned in Chocobo Scouts, back when he was a kid. He worked quietly, using blankets he had nicked from a storage closet in the hall. It looked sturdy enough, and he was only on the second floor, so it was alright.
He looped one end around one of the bottom legs of his bed. It was freakishly heavy—he doubted his weight would make anything bad happen to it.
He rolled the other end out the window, took a deep breath and crawled outside. The night air was a bit chilly, a sign that fall was coming, but he was okay in his sweatpants and t-shirt. He carefully scaled the outside wall, dropping about five feet into a garden. As far as he knew, he hadn't made any noise, so he was alright.
Cloud ducked low and ran around the house, managing not to trip himself up and scream and be found out and ultimately killed. He did, however, walk straight into one of the trees surrounding the shed. He swore in his head, rubbed his sore noise and entered the tiny structure, wincing when the door squeaked. He reached in and fished around for the paintball gun, then pulled it out.
He tucked his find under his arm, and decided to grab a bunch of pieces of long rope hanging on the wall. He hurried back to the side of the house where his window was, then began the perilous climb back up. It was hard going, since he was now carrying stuff, but he managed. He crawled back in the window, rolled up his ladder and hid it under his bed. He'd need it for tomorrow.
Cloud curled up in bed (which was missing a few sheets) and tried to calm down. Tomorrow… he'd make a stand. If he was going to die, then he was going to bring the ghost down with him, whether it was already dead or not.
Two days left to live.
Cloud crouched under the kitchen table, terrified. He was inches away from death, he knew, but it was exciting!
He rolled out from under the table and eyed the knife waving around the room. There was not a doubt in his mind that it was his ghost. There was a long, shallow cut up his arm, almost all the way from his wrist to elbow. It was bleeding, but he paid it no mind. He knew what it was—a warning.
It was too bad that he would not leave, though. He'd make this ghost kiss his ass; there was no way he'd submit to it. This was his mansion!
Cloud, fueled by adrenaline and not really knowing what he was doing anymore, picked up one of the chairs and hurled it at the flying, faintly bloody knife.
"Holy shit!" Zack squeaked, dodging and watching as it dented the refrigerator and broke into three pieces.
Cloud barely glanced at the damage. He dove for one of the drawers, pulling out a rolling pin and seizing a pot's lid off of the stove.
He held out the rolling pin threateningly. The knife took him up on the offer. It slashed; Cloud blocked it with the pot lid and jabbed out with the rolling pin. He had no experience with swords, but he was determined.
He fenced with the floating knife for a good three minutes, practically dancing all over the kitchen with his clumsy footwork. Zack was openly guffawing at him, but he obviously didn't hear.
When the rolling pin was knocked out of his grip and the same happened to the pot lid, He seized an apple from a bowl of fruit on the counter and threw that. It splattered onto the wall and fell down into the sink.
The blond didn't know it, but he was grinning like a madman as he sparred with kitchen utensils and threw fruit. Who knew? Maybe he had finally been driven insane.
The smiling stopped when the knife deftly pierced an incoming orange right down the center. Both Cloud and the knife paused, and then the sharp utensil was jabbed at him. It was useless to continue to fight; he'd get more than a little slice next.
Cloud fled the kitchen, pausing to chuck the empty fruit bowl. It exploded upon impact with the wall, and Zack's back was pelted with pottery shards.
This kid was fuckin' nuts!
Rushing upstairs, Cloud giggled to himself.
That morning, he had gotten a rude wake up call.
("Genesis, would you please take care of that snoring?")
("On it.")
He had jolted awake, already flailing and twisting. A pillow had harshly been pressing over his face; he hadn't been able to breathe. A minute's vicious struggle had the pillow off of him, but then it smacked him upside the head, stunning him and knocking him over off the bed and onto the floor. Cloud could appreciate your average pillow fight, but he didn't think he liked the ghostly, super-strong version of the game.
This thing really wanted him to leave.
No can do, bastard!
He had been waging war in his own home since seven that morning.
Skidding into the nursery, he rummaged through the room until he found an ancient bottle of baby powder. It was unopened, but he didn't spend any time thinking about it. If he got lucky, he could puff it onto his ghost. That way, he'd be able to see it and chase it down. He could finally kill it!
Giddy, Cloud bounced downstairs, now armed. He listened closely for any sounds of movement, turning his head this way and that.
His brilliant plan must have been discovered, though, because the baby powder was suddenly knocked out of his hand. Cloud shouted and launched himself to the side, trying to tackle it. He didn't connect though and fell to the floor. He had bruises from doing that all morning.
The front door opened, and the bottle went flying out into the woods. It was like someone had catapulted it—it must've gone half a mile! How strong was this ghost!
Cloud choked. He hadn't been paying attention, but now he could see that Fenrir—
"That was close," Zack sighed. Angeal rubbed his upper arm, staring outside where he had thrown the baby powder. He neatly stepped to the side as Cloud dashed outside, hollering. Sephiroth and Genesis skirted around the blond, lips and tongues stained different colors. Zack stared at them. Genesis chuckled and jabbed a finger over his shoulder, licking his red and purple lips. Sephiroth's were mostly blue and green.
Cloud wailed at the sight of his precious motorcycle. He sank to his knees beside it, eyes wide.
Fenrir was covered in candy.
Jolly ranchers, to be exact.
"W-W-What the…?" Cloud stuttered. Little colorful fun-sized hard candies were stuck all over the bike. There was an empty gallon-sized bag lying crunched up near his baby's front tire.
It looked like Candyland had thrown up and shat all over it.
He remembered this bag of candy! He had found it in one of the cabinets when he had first moved in.
A few shaking fingers tugged on one of the sticky candies, and it came off with a noise that made Cloud flinch as if he had been slapped. He peered at the spot—Fenrir's shiny, beautiful, envy-of-everyone paint had peeled off, stuck to the jolly rancher.
He dropped it in disbelief. Zack was outright giggling at the odd sight the motorcycle made.
Cloud's back arched, and he stared unseeingly up at the sky and screamed. It was loud, anguished and filled any listeners with immeasurable sadness. …Sort-of.
The Invisibles stared at the boy outside as he fisted his hands in his hair and wailed like his best friend had died taking on an army to save him while he was in a coma.
There was a heartbeat of silence after the screaming stopped, and then Cloud was yelling at them, still staring at his bike.
"What the hell did I ever do to you! I did nothing to hurt you!"
The four men inside tuned him out and began walking to the kitchen.
"I've put up with all your crap! You've made my life hell! I was willing to live peacefully with you, but there's a line, and you just crossed it!"
"How'd you get them to stick?" Zack asked curiously.
Genesis licked his colorful lips again. "Easy. You suck on it for a few seconds or lick one side and press it on there. It hardens and sticks. So."
Angeal smiled. "Clever."
There was a roar from behind them, and they turned to see Cloud riding his vandalized motorcycle right up the front steps of house and straight into the house. His face was eerily blank, but fury was pouring out of him in waves.
They froze, mouths hanging open. Cloud twisted his hand and shot straight at Zack.
"Holy shit!" Zack exclaimed, much like he had earlier in the kitchen. He dove to the side, as did the others.
Cloud almost hit the wall, but went back in an impossibly high wheelie, swung the bike around on his back tire and barreled forward like that again.
Zack screeched, furiously dodging as Cloud kept charging him. The marble floor was covered in skid marks, but no one was paying any attention to that.
"Drop the knife!" Angeal yelled at Zack. He spoke so Cloud wouldn't be able to hear him and go for him next.
Glancing down, Zack realized he was still holding the knife he had teased Cloud with earlier. He turned, stood his ground and waved it tauntingly.
Cloud's blue eyes narrowed into slits. He did another impressive maneuver and darted towards Zack. Genesis looked like he was going to piss himself, and Sephiroth stood still with his jaw loose and flapping, bewildered.
Pulling up, Cloud went into a wheelie, obviously preparing to crush the 'ghost.' The room, although big, was not very large at all when you were on a motorcycle like Fenrir. Each time Cloud crossed the room it took about three seconds.
Zack waited until Cloud was almost on top of him before dropping the knife and shooting out of the way. Only his enhancements saved him.
Cloud, expecting an impact of some sort, blinked when nothing happened. He was now too far back on his rear wheel and fell backwards, Fenrir on top of him.
The blond rolled to the side, not getting crushed, luckily. Fenrir slid into a wall with a crash.
For a minute, Cloud didn't move. Then he struggled to his feet, still angry and unafraid.
All four felt a grudging respect for him. He was weird and probably just as insane as Hojo had been, but he could be pretty cool, if he was angry enough. SOLDIER could've used someone with motorcycle skills like that, once upon a time.
"Fuck you!" Cloud spat, trembling all over. He had figured out that the 'ghost' had dropped the knife, and now he didn't know where it was.
The Invisibles were silent, still a little dumbfounded. …Had this boy really just driven his motorcycle inside his own mansion so he could kill them?
Cloud glowered, picked up Fenrir and brought it back outside. The Invisibles looked at each other, and Genesis gave a little huff of disbelief.
"Damn," Angeal said softly, voicing what the other three were thinking.