Sephiroth sat at his desk, trying to think of ways to cut his hair. Not that he didn't like his hair, hi did, very much so, but it was the fact that he couldn't cut it that bothered him. Hojo had had someone try when he was little, but all the scissors had broken, unable to slice through his silver strands. He had even tried with the Masamune more recently; he had actually had to sharpen his blade after that.

So that's where he was when Genesis entered his office in his usual theatrical way, Angeal following quietly. He automatically tuned out whatever the red-haired SOLDIER was saying and returned to his ling, silver problem. Sephiroth could do everything besides a small number of mostly unimportant tasks.

He couldn't get Hojo fired

He couldn't cut his hair.

He couldn't whistle.

He couldn't snap.

Not that he tried all that often, but again, it frustrated him that there were some things he couldn't do. Returning to his earlier thoughts, Sephiroth searched his mind for other options. Genesis's Rapier has an ability that uses fire, doesn't it? Maybe if the sword was hot enough it would be able to cut through…. "Genesis, may I see your sword for a moment?"

Genesis glared at him. No doubt Sephiroth had interrupted one of his Loveless readings. "What are you going to use if for?"

"I'm going to cut my hair."

Genesis paled and backed away. "No! Did you even see what happened to the Masamune when you tried cutting it with that? It dulled the blade, and nothing had ever made that six foot monstrosity lose its edge."

A gloved hand grabbed the horrified man's shoulder and jerked him back. "What our dear friend here means to say is that we have a puzzle for you.

Sephiroth's attention focused on Angeal. "What kind of puzzle?"

His friend tossed something to him and he caught it reflexively. "That is a cadet's PHS. The same cadet that you found in the hall. After he woke up he started going on about being dead and AVALANCHE. No doubt it's on the security tapes. A Turk found him picking the locks of his bunkmate's lockers. There were also clippings and posters of you in the trash.

One of the General's silver eyebrows rose. "You want me to watch a cadet?"

Angeal nodded while his red haired friend shrugged. "You've been looking for something to do, haven't you?"

Sephiroth nods and they turn to leave before Angeal looks back over his shoulder. "He claims to have amnesia. Make sure to look at the contact list." The other SOLDIER First Classes file out of his office, carefully closing the door behind them.

Sephiroth flipped open the PHS. He did not consider himself technologically inept, but this… he had never seen anything like this before. He fumbled through the menus and eventually stumbled upon the contact list, but not before finding some interesting features, like a calendar. However amazing the PHS was, it was not the phone itself but what was on the contact list that shocked him. The president's son's number was on there, as well as the second in command of the Turks. There was also a Cid H., who he believed was heading the actual research of the space department. What would a cadet have to do with the Space Exploration and Urban Development Departments? He quickly dialed one of the numbers in his own phone, and was answered on the first ring.

"Who's this?" a curt voice answered.

"This is Sephiroth."

There was a pause, and some shuffling on the other end, probably because he had interrupted the person in the middle of something. The voice returned much more politely. "Sephiroth, it's nice to talk to you, but if I may ask, what is your reason for calling me?"

"Are you Rufus Shinra?"

There was another pause. The child was probably trying to figure out why he would call a number when he didn't know who it belonged to. "Yes, that's me."

"Do you know a Cadet Strife?

A longer pause that time. "Sir, I really don't think I'm the person to ask. I don't know any cadets, but I'm sure Heidegger has their files."

Very interesting. "Let me rephrase my question. Do you know why a Cadet Strife would have your personal PHS number?"

Sephiroth could almost hear the president's son's confusion. "A cadet has my number? No, I don't think I've given it out to any cadets. Is it important?"

Sephiroth hesitated momentarily. Was it safe to involve Shinra's heir in this? He had his suspicions about Rufus, but he couldn't care less about the president himself, as long as the company still existed. "I had to knock out the same cadet yesterday and he woke up raving about AVALANCHE."

"Isn't that that terrorist group?"

"Correct."

"I don't know much about them, sorry."

"That is fine." Sephiroth hung up, engrossed in his thoughts. This cadet had the president's son's PHS number, yet Rufus does no know him. Rufus most likely lied about knowing much about the terrorist organization that the cadet was talking about when he woke up, so he might have also lied when he said he did not know the cadet, but the boy had seemed genuinely confused.. Sephiroth supposed he might have given the recruit a concussion that made him unable to think clearly, but the AVALANCHE group would still have to be significant to him for him to talk about it. Could the cadet be a spy? Sephiroth dialed a new number, this time one not on the cadet's contact list.

"Hello?"

"This is Sephiroth, may I speak with Tseng?"

"Of course, one moment." To Sephiroth's knowledge, Tseng did not have a PHS, but he did not make a habit of conversing with the Turk. That was the reason he called Veld, and another was that he might inform the Department of Administrative Research about the cadet's suspicious behavior if Tseng did not already know of the boy.

"Tseng here."

"This is Sephiroth. I need to know if you have a PHS."

"I do not have one." When Tseng answered, there was no hesitation or traces of confusion. Turks did not ask questions or question motives, and Sephiroth sometimes wished he was the head of their department instead of SOLDIER.

Another reason he liked them was that they, with some exception, did not partake in pointless discussion. Unless they were dancing around classified information, they were blunt and to the point. "Do you know of Cadet Strife?"

Surprisingly, there was a long pause. "Does he have red hair?"

"I would not know."

"I am terribly sorry if he has been causing you trouble, sir. He is one of ours and is undercover to investigate a situation."

"Thank you for your time." Sephiroth hit the 'end' button feeling somewhat disappointed. The cadet was a Turk; his puzzle solved. It really was too bad, Sephiroth thought as he reached for the Masamune's polishing cloth. Angeal did say something about Turks, didn't he? 'A Turk caught him picking locks', he said. Sephiroth realized what he had thought and froze with his hand on the desk drawer. If he was caught by a Turk, that would mean he wasn't a Turk. Sephiroth searched his memories for a the short encounter with Cadet Strife. It was when he was burdened with Zachary, wasn't it? Yes, he was that cadet in the hallway, the one who most definitely did not have red hair. He withdrew his hand from his desk and sheathed the Masamune; polishing his weapon could wait.

His fingers flew over the keyboard, and soon there was a picture of a fearful-looking, blond-haired cadet staring back at him. It definitely was the person Zachary had discovered on the way to the training room, and Sephiroth could see where the panic the cadet when seeing him came from, if this was how he looked normally. What he did wonder, however, was how such a small, timid cadet could cause so much trouble. He could not see the person in the picture in front of him as an enemy operative; he was too noticeable. Even if he was a spy, what could one find out as a cadet? Even janitors have a larger access area.

Sephiroth stared at the picture a little longer, studying the cadet's features. The boy was pale, and had probably lived most of his life indoors or under cloud cover. Fair hair and blue eyes suggested northern origins. Sephiroth scrolled down on the cadet's file. His full name was Cloud Strife, he was twelve, and came from a town called Nibelheim. That name triggered something in his mind, and he looked down at a pile of completed paperwork. There was a form he recently signed requesting a SOLDIER in Nibelheim, something about a dragon. He had assigned a new Second Class to do the job, but he went crossed the name out and put down Zachary Fair's. It would give the boy a reason to go to Nibelheim and while there he could investigate Cadet Strife. He would probably do it anyway, as he was the cadet's friend, but if he could get Angeal to hint about it and give him what the puppy would undoubtedly blurt out while endlessly chattering as he usually did, he would be able to tell if Cadet Strife was who he said he was.

Sephiroth closed out of the cadet's file and went back to cleaning his weapon, but his mind was still on the boy. Who are you supposed to be, Cloud Strife?

When Reno got back to his room he was glad to see Strife out of his bunk and in his own. Too bad everyone else was back, so he couldn't discreetly 'question' the kid. Maybe at dinner then. He took out his notebook, coded in numbers so it would look like it was class work at a glance, and added Strife to the list.

Ben Davis- looks built, too strong, hangs w/Bullid, hard to appr.

Andrew Bullid- smokes something, prob. has connections under, hangs w/Davis, hard to appr.

Jason Hittlin- meets w/dif. people daily, shifty look, hard to appr.

? Strife- suspicious activity, picks, amnesia? changed aura, contacts

Looking at his list, Reno could see that Strife probably wasn't the main person he was looking for, but something definitely was up with him. Maybe he was threatened? But that wouldn't explain the amnesia, or knowing how to pick locks. Hittlin was who he would have money on, but until he had proof, he had to stay here, so might as well try and figure Strife out. If he did have anything to do with it, Reno would get bonus points for cleaning up the whole group.

The noise level was starting to go down, and Reno saw that people were leaving. He smiled widely. The best parts in his day (though not by much) were the mealtimes. Even if the food was horrible mush that was probably scraped off the floor, it was food, and Reno loved food. He turned his notebook back to the cover and stuffed it in his locker, only pausing when he saw the Strife kid still gazing blankly at the ceiling. "Yo, Amnesia Boy," he shouted, grinning when the cadet turned to look at him. "You coming?"

The blond blinked. "Coming where? And don't call me Amnesia Boy."

Reno slammed his locker and started for the door. "It's too late Amnesiac, you responded to it, yo." Reno stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. "I don't know about you, yo, but I'm kind'a hungry, and the next time we'll be able to eat is in twelve hours."

The red-head watched in amusement as the cadet scurried down from the top bunk and over to where he was standing. "Lead the way, yo," he said, gesturing to the open hallway.

Strife shook his head. "I am an amnesiac, as you so kindly reminded me."

Reno scowled. He had hoped to trick the kid into showing he was faking, then he wouldn't have that lousy excuse to hide behind. Not looking to see if the kid was following him, he marched down the hall, swinging the doors to the cafeteria open loudly and stomped to the back of the line.

Strife reached him and he turned around, smirking amusedly. His sudden turn around in mood seemed to throw the kid for a loop.

"Uh, Reno? Are you… alright?"

Reno's smile broadened. It seemed like the kid was just as socially awkward as he was before, considering his tentative question and the fact that he had ignored all the other cadets when they had come to put their stuff in their lockers before going to eat. "Yeah, yo. Perfectly fine."

Strife was shifting uncomfortably now, and Reno just loved making people uncomfortable. "You sure?"

"Yep."

A long pause. "Weren't you mad at me before?"

"Uh-huh. I thought you were faking, yo."

The cadet blinked. "So… why aren't you angry at me any more?"

Reno moved forwards in line, tossing over his shoulder, "Should you really be asking that, yo?"

The kid glowered at him. "Just answer the question," he growled, obviously fed up with his dancing around.

"I'm too lazy," Reno said finally, rolling his eyes when the cadet gave him a clueless look. "It takes energy to be mad, yo, with all that stomping around and slamming doors and nonsense like that. Being my normal sarcastic self is just so much easier, yo."

Strife just stared at him, probably thinking something along the lines of 'did he just make sense?' They moved farther in the line and after lots of hesitating and uncomfortably shuffling, the kid asked, "But isn't it work to be sarcastic?"

Reno just shook his head. "Naw, yo. I was born spoutin' sarcasm. It takes more work for me not be sarcastic than it does to talk the way I do." He smirked, then his grin fell off his face. "How d'you know I'm sarcastic, yo? I've said like, two words to ya."

Strife gnawed at his lower lip while Reno inwardly cheered. Yes! I've got him trapped! Now he has to tell me -, but then the cadet shrugged, murmuring, "You just seem like a person that would be sarcastic," and Reno's mind-cheerleaders dropped to the ground, sulking. The score was Strife 3 and Reno 0, but one of these times the Turk would catch him cheating.

It was finally their turn and Reno hurried through the table, dumping hulking globs of mush on his tray. He looked over his shoulder to see Strife still hesitating at the first one, and he decided to take over. He set his own tray on the nearest empty table and marched to the beginning again, stealing the giant spoon from the kid and putting another humongous serving on his tray with a wink. "That's the best part of being last, yo, you get everything that's left." He made a face at the next spot, cheese and potatoes, which was scraped clean. "But then again," he added, "All the good stuff's gone."

He set the cadet's tray across from his and started shoveling food into his mouth, ignoring the person across from him who was only picking at the mush. He finished in record time, even for him, and leant backwards against the wall. "Yo kid, you got a name?"

Strife looked up at him cautiously, probably wondering why Reno was obsessed with him. Not that he was, of course, he just wanted to figure him out. "Cloud Strife."

Reno stared wide eyed at him, trying to control his laughter. Cloud? Cloud? What kind of a name was Cloud? He finally gave in and snickered loudly behind his hand. Who names their kid after a fluffy thing in the sky, not to mention his last name basically meant problems. No wonder the kid was picked on so much!

Cloud just stared at him stonily as he laughed, which was kind of weird since he usually got upset when people teased him. Like those people who were just coming up behind him now….

"It's too bad you're here Strife. When you didn't show up this morning, we were all hoping you'd finally gone crying back home."

Cloud turned around slowly and looked up at the three in front of him. "Do you want something?" His expression didn't change, and Reno could see no sign of recognition in his face. Huh. Maybe the kid really did have amnesia.
"Watch your back, Strife Next time you won't just get a bump on the head."

Malcolm and his lackeys walked away, and Reno studied the cadet in front of him. Maybe he did have amnesia, but it seemed like something else had happened. Strife continued picking at his food, finally looking up at the red head after about seven minutes of Reno staring at the kid. "Do you need something?" Cloud asked stonily.

"You've really changed, yo," Reno remarked casually, trying to get the conversation on the right track.

Cloud stared at him. "What do you want, Reno."

The red head grimaced. "I don't want nothin', just curious, yo. Ain't every day you meet an amnesiac." Not to mention he was acting very suspicious and Reno was an undercover Turk.

"You don't want anything."

Reno grinned. "Nope, not a thing, yo. But if you hear anything about where I could get some stuff, I would love ya' forever."

Cloud seemed to ignore him and continued eating, but after a little bit of pouting and looking extremely sad, the cadet looked up and sighed. "What stuff, Reno."

Yes! "Yo, you know, just stuff."

Cloud closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, giving up on his lunch. "What do you want? Alcohol? Weapons? Information? Money? Food?" the cadet then looked scornfully down at his tray, "I can see why you would want that."

The red head's smile turned smug. I've got him now, he just backed himself into a corner with barbed wire topping the fence. "Drugs."

Strife's head snapped up and a calculating gaze met his. "That's not a good thing to get into Reno," he spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a wild dog.

The red head's expression grew serious. "It seems like I'm not the only one into bad things, yo. Forgetting your past is a symptom of some Mako laced performance enhancers, and your eyes, while not glowing, are way too blue to be natural, yo."

The cadet stared at him incredulously. "You think I'm into Mako." He shook his head slowly and ran his hands through his hair before looking up sharply again. "Just how are my eyes unnatural while you're walking around with hair like that?"
The young Turk's eyes flashed. "I don't die my hair, yo, and you'd better remember that, 'cause I'm not tellin' you twice."
"Did I ever say you die your hair?"
Reno blinked. Now that he thought about it, all the kid had said was that he should't go shooting down his eyes while walking around with his colored hair. He had just heard hair and unnatural and made an assumption. The red head made a face. "I guess your eyes aren't that crazy, yo."

Cloud ignored him, threw his leftover food away, and left the mess hall, presumably going back to the room. Reno watched him leave then turned to observe the other cadets, thinking that it seemed like Strife wasn't who he was looking for, but he definitely was something else.

It wasn't until later that night he realized that Strife had almost completely sidestepped his question.

Dreams of the Morrow, Chapter Three: Red Hair. Updated May 1st. Sorry about the wait, I think my middle name should have been procrastination. The reason it was shorter was because it took three weeks to write the last 500 words or so.