Disclaimer: Again.... I don't own anything.

Chapter 2: War Dogs

Genesis woke to the sun shining in her eyes. Grumbling she tried to push her face farther into the cushions of the couch she had slept on. Trying desperately to prolong the arrival of another day she didn't want anything to do with. But the sun kept peeking through the wrong places through the curtains. Allowing its light to shine just were it wasn't wanted. Sighing Genesis finally let up. Rolling onto her back, one leg hanging off the side of the couch letting her foot rest on the floor. She stared at the ceiling, she realized in the past couple of months she began to do a lot more of that recently. Staring blankly at nothing on the ceiling, trying to figure out the jumbled thoughts she had.

Her heart was slowly turning to what felt like ice, its touch stinging her to the core. The last mission she had been on, made her realize what kind of monster she was born to be. And all that she would ever seem to be was a monster. It was all she was good for.

It had been a simple search and destroy mission in Wutai. Get in, kill anyone in your way, and get out. She walked out of that mission covered and soaked through from head to toe in blood. None of it was her own. On her way to exit the compound she found a little girl wedged behind a barrel and a wall. The girl was shaking and had screamed, she sounded like she was being strangled to death. Yet she had not yet laid a finger on her. She scrambled away from her screaming 'monster'. She was shocked to say the least. She was just doing her job as one of Shinra's war dogs. She had promptly knocked the girl out. Leaving her at the foot of a different compound a few miles away from the one she had just left in ruin.

Upon coming home, with a job well done, as so put by Shinra. She realized the girl had made a loud and crystal clear point... She was a monster. Born from chemicals and alterations. Enchantments and Mako injections. Being able to take down a man four times her own height and weight before she even turned six years old. She was a born killing machine. She may have grown up in Banora. But she was often subjected to tests and experiments. Almost as frequently as Sephiroth.

Even though she was flawed, a failure in the making. The Professor kept trying to improve his creation. Not willing to start over from scratch for it would take to long. Hojo had gotten his perfect warrior on his first try and Hollander would be damned if he didn't get the same results, if not better from his own creation. In Hollanders mad quest to make Genesis improved, he often overdosed on mako injections. Or the experiments were so far fetchingly cruel that it would leave Genesis bed ridden for weeks, if not in a coma all together.

Genesis hated this. Her friends tried to help, but after the years she slowly closed herself off. Refusing their help all together. She would have loved to stay in the coma's. Every time she entered one she would silently pray she would never open her eyes. But... she always did. She'd always wake up in her room with various machines hitched up all over the room, with various IV's and sensor's attached to herself. With her friends nearby asleep in chairs along the wall or next to her bed. She appreciated it at first, that her friends cared so much. But as it happened more and more often. She felt more like a burden. Dragging her friends away from their training and their duty when they could have just left her by herself. And pretend she didn't exist. They had insisted it wasn't a problem when she had brought it up after the sixth time it had happen. Yet still with the reassurance she still felt guilty and had promptly had them removed from her room last month when it had happened all over again.

Sighing Genesis rolled off the couch, getting to her feet. She walked right past the couch that her cell phone was on, its cover light blinking of missed calls and messages. She walked straight to the kitchen. Starting the coffee pot, she leaned against the counter thinking about what today would bring for her. She would never be able to guess and she didn't want to think to hard on it.

Sighing she looked around her kitchen, eyes drifting from her coffee pot, to the toaster, and to the knife holder... As much as she tried she couldn't pry her eyes off of the knife holder. It just seemed to be the most alluring thing in the world to her and she had no idea why. Pushing herself slightly off of the counter she was leaning on, she slowly walked up to the blades. She admired their sharpness. No were near as sharp as her beloved blade, but sharp enough... enough for what...? She asked herself.

Reaching a hand out she picked up one of the blades. Turning it over in her hands repeatedly. Watching as the kitchen lights shined on it, casting beautiful rivets of light on the walls around her and on the ceiling as it glinted.

'Would it be easier to just give up...?' She silently wondered.

Closing her eyes she took a deep breath. Slowly opening her eyes with realization glowing in her eyes. If she was to be free from the tests she would either have to be killed on a mission. Or take her own life. She would never be able to just fake her death and leave. It never worked that way and so that only left those options for her. Sometimes she really hated the Turks. Heck she hated the whole company.

She shifted the blade to were the knife was pointing towards her. Lightly she pressed the tip of the blade to her chest. She didn't know if it would be fast or slow. At this point she just really didn't care. She'd had enough. She knew that others would think of her as pathetic, but it didn't matter. She was so lost in her thoughts she didn't hear her phone begin to vibrate again, or the coffee maker beeping at her to tell her the coffee was ready. Closing her eyes she put her hand on the back of the handle. Wrapping her hand tightly around it she clenched her eyes and quickly plunged the blade home. The pain was unimaginable and the next thing she knew she was on the floor. A knife protruding from her chest, and red slowly sweeping out in front of her eyes onto the floor, pooling around her. Her vision began to blur, and she could faintly hear someone knocking on her door, and Zack's voice arguing with Angeal on the other side. She thought she felt ice like tendrils slowly working up from her fingertips and toes, making its way to her body. Her eyes began to droop. As soon as the coldness left her limbs, numbness began taking its place.

She was so close to the freedom she craved. Silently as her eyes finally closed, she prayed. "Please... Let them be to late."

This was a very short chapter! Sorry folks!