The Warrior

By Faerlyte


Chapter 2

It was 4:30 in the morning when Tifa sprang off the bunk and scrambled for her uniform. She was an early riser by a month of ingrained habit, but it was even more important that she be the first up from now on. The padded under armor suit she wore to conceal and flatten her more noticeable physical attributes was not the easiest thing to get into and on any given day might be a severe struggle, so it was imperative that she had plenty of time to spare.

Her hands slipped and fumbled with tight fabric, wrenching it over her skin. She'd nearly worked herself into a sweat by the time she'd zipped herself up. The blue SOLDIER uniform went on easily, followed by her helm, and she was out the door in a flash, tucking her planner in the back pocket of her pants.

The halls were empty and quiet, the lights dim. There was a curfew in effect at 12 midnight that lasted until 5, which it was just past now, but the lights were not turned back to full for another hour. Training didn't begin until 7, but SOLDIERs were expected to be at the mess hall no later than six.

Tifa found herself standing in front of the elevators with a sense of foreboding. It was really quite unusual for a grunt SOLDIER such as herself to even set eyes on the General, let alone bump into him twice in one day, but she supposed that he was bound to be out and about when he was not away on assignment. She'd really rather avoid any further confrontations though.

Her eyes scanned the hall momentarily and, casting one last lingering glance at the elevators, turned and marched off in the opposite direction. There was a detailed map of the floor somewhere around there. When she found it, she located the stairs and set off again.

It was a good exercise for getting the blood going early in the morning, and she doubted that anyone took the stairs. Judging by the crude concrete flooring and the miscellaneous stains spotting the surface, it was also sorely neglected. No one was going to climb seventy stairs to get some place after all. It was fortunate then that she didn't have business on any floor above 65.

When she got to the cafeteria it was already nearly 5:30 and there was a guard standing outside the closed doors. She hesitated, eyes flickering towards the electronic sign posted on the wall to the right.

It read:

Officer's Breakfast: 5:00 a.m. to 5:45 a.m.

SOLDIER 3rd and 2nd class: 6:00 a.m. to 6:45a.m.

Tifa frowned slightly. This complicated matters. She stood back, rolling on the balls of her feet as she considered what to do. In the end there was nothing but to stand and wait.

The rest of the early birds were already arriving too. They were mostly 2nd class and would recognize on sight that she was a green blood – how she couldn't fathom, but they always knew. She tried to keep her distance, which only succeeded in drawing their attention. Maybe that's how they knew?

"You one of the new recruits?" Someone asked from her left.

Her head tilted slightly to the side, "Yeah." She said, taking a furtive count of the opposition. There were five of them.

This seemed to amuse them, as only a simple mind could be amused by something so trivial. The SOLDIER that had spoken to her was grinning wolfishly.

"Fresh blood." He crooned in her ear and without warning his hand came crashing down on the top of the helmet with a loud "thwack!"

Tifa hunched forward at the blow, her ears ringing both inside and out as laughter pervaded her dazed senses. There was a dull ache on top of her skull in the area where he had hit her and she tasted blood where she had bitten her tongue.

It wasn't bad as injuries went, but she should have been paying better attention.

In a place like this, hazing was a substantial threat, especially for a green blood that was on the small side and had distinct feminine qualities. Bullies couldn't resist a target like that. The only thing she had going for her was that she was always armed and felt confident that she could defend herself when the time came.

The SOLDIERS wandered off and left her alone for the time being.

By the time 6 o'clock came around, a substantial line had gathered with Tifa standing reluctantly at the front. The hall was filled with groggy conversation and sleep drunken laughter. When the doors finally opened and they were permitted inside, she was immediately shoved out of the way.

The mess was empty to her surprise. She made a cursory glance around the room and spotted two doors leading elsewhere; they must be for the officers, so as not to force upon them the presence of the common soldier during transition.

After a moment's musing, Tifa examined the line and found a suitable spot to elbow her way back in. She had learned early on that sheer doggedness and a willingness to fight for it was the best way of getting what you wanted. It was part of the estranged hierarchy that ruled SOLDIERs and she had established her place somewhere in the middle; someone who kept to herself, but could hold her own if necessary.

The general mood of the procession was less than enthusiastic and once Tifa caught a glimpse of the breakfast bar, she concluded why. She had to marvel at what these people were attempting to pass off as food. The gray, sludgy mass certainly didn't resemble anything edible.

At least there was no food warden ensuring that everyone ate a full serving.

There was, to her infinite relief, an ample fruit basket, and the apples looked appetizing enough. She nabbed the largest one and made a hasty retreat from the curious eyes of her peers. Then she left the cafeteria, biting into her breakfast idly as she walked.

Juice trickled down her chin and she idly flicked it away with the back of her hand.

Tifa kept to the right of the hall to avoid the late arrivals as they fled past in varying degrees of panic. They must take breakfast seriously here for them to be harried by a mere few minutes past 6, but then…this was the military. She was glad to have escaped the rush early, though it would be better if she found a way in during the officer's hour in the future.

The gymnasium was empty when she arrived. It was well furnished and despite its reputation, rather clean. They must clean it every night, she mused, for it to smell as fresh and gleam so bright.

Weapons of various kinds lined the far walls and there was not a single surface left that wasn't padded. Though most SOLDIERs were rarely efficient at anything beyond the assault rifle and grenade, they were expected to train in all aspects of warfare. Those who excelled at it were elevated in rank, those who weren't toiled away as infantry for the rest of their lives.

Tifa already had a leg up on many of them from her training with Zangan.

She sighed despondently and stepped over to the mats to stretch. The memory of her former master cut a sore spot in her heart. He had saved her life that night years ago, and he had vehemently opposed her doing this now. But he didn't try to stop her either and had been invaluable in helping her to pass the physical.

Knowing people was always an advantage and no matter where you were, there were always moles to be found. Zangan knew people.

It was better this way in the end, though he never would have said so to her. He had done the best he could, but he was no father of children and he had never wanted to be. If not for her natural talent for martial arts, he may not have taken her under his wing at all, but he had and he had been good to her.

Somewhere the mechanical swish of a hydraulic door sounded. Tifa lifted her head sharply and straightened to attention. It was Angeal. She gave him a brisk salute and went back to her morning ritual.

Every fiber of her being seemed to be aware of his presence as he paced several feet away from her and proceeded to perform a variety of martial arts maneuvers. Most of them she was familiar with. She watched him from the corners of her eyes, all vestiges of concentration in her own task gone. It was a good thing she had the helm if she was going to make a habit of staring at people like this.

She had the grace to feel mildly embarrassed about it and forced her attention back to the mat. When she took her battle stance and executed a couple rudimentary offenses, she had all but forgotten that Angeal was even there. Martial Arts soothed and relaxed her mind, imbuing her with a sense of raw power that nothing else could.

Perhaps that's why she'd taken to it so well.

Having already had one run in this morning, Tifa's senses were especially sensitive. So when she felt the weight of someone's hand come down on her shoulder, the reaction was immediate. She never recalled having moved so fast in her entire life. It was clear by the expression on Angeal's face as she found herself suddenly straddling his chest with one hand on his throat and the other poised for a finishing blow, that he was rather surprised too.

Tifa let out a tiny gasp and scrambled off him. "I…forgive me, sir!" She stammered, grimaced, and clamped her mouth shut.

"Angeal." He corrected with a wheeze as he sat up and massaged the back of his neck.

"A-angeal." She tried and offered him a tentative hand.

He accepted graciously and she helped him to his feet. "No apology necessary." He said and smiled faintly. "I seemed to have grossly underestimated your reflexes."

Tifa hesitated, caught between beaming with pride and maintaining some manner of a manly front. She doubted that a man beamed when complimented. In the end she had to settle for blank uncertainty.

Angeal stood back then and squared his shoulders to her, arms crossed formidably over his chest. He arched a single brow, "Spar?"

She bit her lip, stopped when she realized what she was doing, and clenched her teeth. Really, what had come over her? She'd thought all her silly girly habits broken by now.

Without a word, Tifa settled back into her battle stance and waited for him to make the first move.

In hindsight, she really should've seen this coming. To give herself credit though, sparingly as it were, she did last a good fifteen seconds and even successfully blocked, attacked, blocked. He was fast – faster than her by a good margin– but it wasn't that which caught her off guard so much as his strength and reaction time, which were phenomenal.

She hit the mat with a head cracking thud and saw stars floating above her. It took several long, concentrated breaths before she could focus on the figure standing over her. At that moment she wanted to bury her face in shame and expulsed a despondent gust of air.

"That was good." Angeal said and practically launched her to her feet with hardly so much as a tug on her wrist.

Tifa scowled under the helm, "Good?" She echoed somewhat incredulously. She'd never been beaten so soundly in her life, and he was only the third best fighter in First Class. She shuddered to think of what Sephiroth might do to her.

I'd be on the ground before I realized we'd even started.

"Most green bloods would've gone down in the first five." Angeal replied and took position in front of her again. "Another go?"

Tifa bent her knees and set her lips grimly as she lifted her fists. She knew she couldn't beat him, but she would put up more of a fight this time.

He went for a power strike, which was a lot quicker than any power oriented blow ought to be, but she still managed to dodge to the side. She landed a swift jab to his side. It was not a substantial hit, but she could at least say that she'd landed one on him.

She'd never engaged in a battle so riveting. Her senses, which before had seemed to acute and quick, were sluggish against him. Angeal always seemed to be a step ahead of her, no matter how hard she tried to catch up, but he wasn't holding back either.

His hand clamped down on her wrists suddenly and tried to jerk her into a throw. Tifa writhed and twisted in his grip, caught him in the knee with the steel toe of her boot, and swung a wild shot at his head that he easily evaded. Her breath was starting to gome more haggardly, her hands still moving at speeds she thought previously impossible; it was all she could do to keep up with him.

He grappled her again and she was suddenly sailing over his head. She switched their grip, twisted around, and planted her feet as she landed. Using her momentum and the strength of her legs, she threw him up and over her.

Angeal hit with a grunt and executed a quick roll. He was on his feet immediately, advancing. Tifa sprang back from a crouch, caught a glancing blow to the shoulder and nearly went sprawling, but managed to maintain balance long enough to block the follow up attack.

She lunged to counter, but he was ready. All of a sudden there was a jerk on her arm and she was stumbling forward into him. He busted her lip with an elbow to the face that came perilously close to knocking her helmet off, and slammed his fist into her stomach. She crumbled to the floor at his feet, breathless and in pain, and wondered what on earth had possessed her to do this.

It felt like he'd broken her ribs with that last shot.

The first attempt at sitting up proved beyond doubt that he had broken some of her ribs. She bit her lip from crying out in a very unmanly fashion. A cool breeze fluttered against her skin and sank into the core of her body with the restive relief of a standard cure spell. The pain eased, though the bones would likely be bruised for some time. She stood slowly, glancing shyly in his direction as she wiped the blood from her lip on the back of her gloves, and murmured a quiet, "Thanks."

"No need to begin your first day of real training with a handicap." Angeal said. "You'll have more than enough bruises at the end of the day."

Tifa nodded faintly and, not knowing what else to do, turned away. The first arrivals for the morning were filing in from the hall. She wandered to the furthest corner in the room and resumed her practice, doing her best to ignore the buzz of activity around her.

Angeal went around testing a few of the other new recruits that arrived early. Tifa couldn't help peeking over her shoulder to see how their performances compared to hers. She felt a swelling of pride when none appeared to come close to holding up to her time.

Most of them were stronger than she was though. She had to rely heavily on agility and her knack for squirming out of choke holds. That was probably her greatest asset, small though it was, but effective when a stronger opponent thought to overpower her with grappling.

The following three hours were both intense and uncomfortable. There were two hundred men spread out across the floor and while space was ample, Tifa felt crowded and suffocated. She preferred training alone, without the distractions and the constant noise, and certainly without being the only woman who was not supposed to be present in the first place. It was hard to shake the feeling that someone was going to suddenly call her out.

When she hobbled out of the training room at five past ten she felt like she could barely stand. Mornings were designated to muscle building exercises and running. She struggled with the push-ups, though by her standards she'd far exceeded expectations, but those around her seemed to excel at it.

She was not the worst and that was the most important thing. If she could maintain average performance in the exercise categories and slightly above average in weapon skills, she should be alright. That would make her happy.

Evenings were reserved for weapons practice, sparring, and competitions – depending on a SOLDIERs rank, they might have a specialized routine that differed from others. There were always competitions of a sort going on though, from standard hand to hand fighting and weaponry, to materia mastering. She was mildly curious about the hand to hand challenge, but not brave enough to consider it.

For now she would have the afternoon to compose herself and settle in. Official schedules wouldn't be given until after placement testing. They were to initiate those tonight in much the same way a fighting tournament was carried out. Only they would not be facing each other, but passing challenges in the simulator. Whoever passed moved on and whoever didn't toiled away at the bottom rung of the ladder until they could beat the challenge.

What to do between now and then…

Tifa snuck away from the crowd of departing SOLDIERs as they filed into the locker room. She would wait until it was empty to check hers. She was supposed to receive a phone for quick contacts, but she was in no hurry to pick it up.

So instead of following the others where men changed and took their showers, she broke off from the entourage and kept going down the main hall to do some exploring. She didn't see the Angeal standing by the entrance to the gym, watching her. She rounded the corner and disappeared from his view.

The floor was a lot bigger than she thought. She got lost twice, tripped over one of the auto-bot cleaners going around one of many corners, and couldn't find the stairs. What she really wanted to find was the Training Room.

It was supposed to be the most extensive training facility ever built, capable of simulating any number of events, places and enemies. She would prefer that to fighting in a room full of men. The loneliness seemed to magnify itself in correlation to the vast number of strangers surrounding her.

When it was clear that she was getting nowhere, Tifa pulled out her planner and brought up a map. There was one for every floor, including the restricted sections, which surprised her. That would come in handy later.

The Training Room, however, was on the 65th floor – the highest floor on her clearance. Tifa, of course, took the stairs, which may have been a mistake after three hours of intense muscle workouts. Her legs were throbbing when she stumbled onto the 65th floor.

There were numerous SOLDIERs hanging out in the lobby watching some sporting event on the TV. She bypassed them and entered the Training Room's observing area. It was already firmly packed. A number of 2nd class SOLDIERs were fighting a malboro in the simulator.

Tifa watched in silent admiration. The simulation was flawless – a perfect rendering of woodlands and earth. She hadn't quite believed it possible until now.

One of the SOLDIERs went down on the battlefield and the gathered crowd gave a collective gasp of alarm.

"Zander's leg is broken." Someone announced grimly. A muttered oath emerged from one of the other SOLDIERs and the room seemed to fall eerily still, as if every breath was held.

"Should we bail them out?"

"Not yet."

"Let 'em fight it."

Tifa was starting to feel a little tense herself as she watched the scene unfold. There were four men left standing, their wounded comrade dragged to the back. Two of them were heavily laden with status effects – one of which was attacking his allies – the other two sporting moderate injuries and labored from exhaustion.

The battle ensued for some time and the tide seemed to shift back and forth, with no certainty of who would be the victor. When the Malboro suddenly fell, the tension in the air subsided and conversation slowly returned to the observatory.

"Five against one Malboro and they still barely won," Someone said and shook their head, "rookies."

A stretcher was brought in for the injured SOLDIER and the remaining squad staggered out bedraggled and beaten, but victorious. The next group went in and a new simulation began – this one with winding halls of steel and pale blue lights. Most of the enemies were robotic.

Tifa didn't stay to watch. She would not set foot into the simulator, except for the placement challenges (which was required), so long as there was an audience. She would have to wait until night when most of the others were asleep to test her skills, and she would start out with something easy. No need to get carried away.

She skipped lunch altogether, opting to lie in her bunk and read a book instead. When dinner time came around, Tifa hauled herself up and out. She dreaded this moment more than any other because there was no way of avoiding interaction with other SOLDIERs at dinner.

The mess hall was already half full when she arrived and the line was all the way out into the hall. The sweet and salty aroma of spiced foods drifted to her nose and her stomach grumbled hungrily. She didn't hold much hope for the quality, but at this point she would eat almost anything.

Clinking silverware, raucous laughter, and general conversation thrummed in Tifa's ears as she entered the cafeteria, the line approaching ever closer to the food bar. Once she got there and had a tray in hand the line moved a lot quicker. There was an array of vegetables, both fresh and steamed, mashed potatoes, biscuits, beef steaks, and pork. There was even a dessert bar.

It was a lot better than she was expecting after her experience with breakfast that morning, but she got the impression that the best was saved for the higher ranks. She took her tray ladled with vegetables and meat, and sought out the emptiest table she could find, which was at the very back of the hall in a shadowed corner where one of the ceiling lights had burned out. There she sat with her back to the wall so that she could see anyone who might approach.

She ate her meal in silence, studying those around her with disinterest. There were five other people sitting at her table, variously spaced from one another. Two of them sat across from each other at the opposite end and appeared to be friends, or at least they exchanged words frequently – they were both 3rd class like herself.

The other three were 2nd class and seemed to keep to themselves, though they did occasionally exchange words. Tifa got the impression that this had become somewhat of a ritual with all of them occupying the same table every day. They knew each other by habit.

At some point, one of them turned to look at her and continued to do so for the better part of a minute before scooting over to sit straight across from her. Only the bottom half of his face was visible, sporting a goatee on his chin. He tipped up his visor, revealing glowing brown eyes – something Tifa had never seen before – set against dark, velvet brown skin.

"What's ya name, small fry?" He asked.

Tifa swallowed the bite of meat she had been chewing with some effort before answering, "Eric Lockheart."

The SOLDIER bobbed his head twice, a mane of tiny black braids rippling down his back from under his helm. He seemed to come to a decision of sorts and twisted around to face her squarely, leaning on his elbow. "Might want to watch ya back around here. The young and the small always get it first – not good odds for being young and small, ay?"

She paused, her fork suspended above her tray as she considered him. Of course he would think her young. Her voice might be disguised, but as men went it would easily be misinterpreted as simply underdeveloped. That she was relatively sleight served only to back up that theory.

"I'll manage." She answered.

He arched a dubious brow, "It's a whole new ball game here you know." He cautioned and flashed a set of perfectly white teeth, "Picked a good table though."

Tifa gazed skeptically from the SOLDIER down to her half empty tray and then to the garbage can not far away. She'd had enough to eat. Maybe she could get away…

"Hey," The SOLDIER's voice interrupted her thoughts and he was all the sudden on his feet, taking her tray and nodding towards the door. "Come on, we'll get in first, before the little packs of hyenas."

She almost cracked a smile, but found herself craning her neck further and further to look up into his face. He was taller than she first guessed. A lot taller.

When she didn't at first move, he walked over beside her, grabbed her by the back of the collar and jerked her off the seat. It didn't hurt, but it startled her enough that she grabbed for his wrist without thinking and gave it a sharp twist.

The SOLDIER let go with a hiss of pain and a wince. He grinned cheekily, "Fair enough." He said, "Angeal said you were good with the fists. I'm pretty good myself."

Tifa eyed him warily, "What do you want?"

He rolled his eyes in return, "Sparring partner, Fry, sparring partner."

Her throat convulsed, "I don't know…"

"It's good practice." The SOLDIER offered. "And you don't walk the halls alone, ay? Purely symbiotic relationship."

Now it was her turn to arch an inquisitive brow, "Why?"

"Because I'm Angeal's favorite under-achiever and I have nothing better to do." He answered cryptically, "So, you coming or what?"

A large portion of her brain was screaming a vehement "NO!", but the socially deprived part of her was tempted by the lure of a potential friend. She had spent the better part of a month talking to no one and lurking in shadows as often as she could. It was starting to drive her mad.

And if he was honest, which she couldn't say he wasn't yet, he did make a fair point, especially when one considered his size. Tifa was going to guess that, while he clearly didn't socialize with his fellow SOLDIERs, no one was overly eager to make an example of him. That could be of help, if he wasn't out for something else himself.

"Alright." She relented and followed him out of the cafeteria.

When they were in the hall, Tifa hastened her stride to walk beside him. His legs were as spidery long as his arms, but he wasn't skinny. Wiry would be a more accurate term.

"Name's Chaka by the way." The SOLDIER mentioned and absently flicked down his visor. "You got a phone yet?"

"Oh!" Tifa started and came to a halt, "I forgot. I haven't checked my locker."

She was glad his visor was down because she was sure he was giving her a strange look behind it. Everyone frequented the locker room. It's just what "the guys" did. She'd have a hard time explaining why she would not under any circumstances come near it as long as it was occupied.

"We can pick it up on the way to the Simulator." Chaka suggested.

Tifa gave a nod and they continued on in silence for a time. The halls were a lot busier than she expected with activity flowing both ways. Many SOLDIERs were leaving on assignment or returning, as would become her routine very soon.

A thought struck her, but she bit her tongue from voicing it out loud. She cast a sidelong glance at her companion and considered how to approach the subject without sounding too suspicious.

"How long have you been 2nd class?" She asked first, opting to start small.

Chaka shrugged his wide shoulders, "Longer than anyone else can boast." He answered.

Her brow furrowed and she wondered if maybe she shouldn't ask what she was thinking. She recalled his comment from earlier, "Angeal's favorite under-achiever?" She echoed, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He laughed. "Ay, that's right, yes indeed."

Tifa noticed that Chaka did not adhere to military protocols for walking either. His head slumped slightly forward from the neck and he walked with a light-hearted swagger from the waist. It was almost like he was moving in time to a beat.

"Why did you join if you weren't interested in making First Class?" She ventured.

Chaka glanced sideways at her and at first said nothing. Then he stopped altogether. Tifa did too, confused, but curious.

He lifted his visor, his eyes dark and grave as he looked down at her. Tifa felt a pang of guilt that she could not demonstrate the same trust, but there was nothing for it.

"You know what happens when you're the loser and they're the winner?" Chaka asked.

Tifa shook her head.

"Well, " He began, "They give you what they fancy callin' a "choice", which ain't a choice at all really, because no one's takin' the executioner over a chance to live, even if it is for the enemy."

With that he abruptly started back down the hall, his stride so long and swift that Tifa had to run to catch up. It took some time to mentally digest his words. They left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it gave her a new perspective on the men in blue.

It had never occurred to her that some of them might not be there voluntarily. Perhaps she should have. They were living in a prison that allowed them to live, but have no real life.

She almost blurted out "I'm sorry", but thought better of it. Maybe from a woman, but if she wanted to maintain a manly persona she'd have to be a little rougher around the edges. She settled for something less saccharine.

"That sucks." She had to wonder at what bizarre mental process had lead her to that answer. It was almost as bad as saying "I'm sorry".

Chaka gave a noncommittal grunt. "That's the way the earth crumbles, ay?"

The unique choice of words sent a shiver down Tifa's spine. The state of the world remained a constant in the back of her mind, but she tried not to think about. She'd heard rumors of terrorist organizations on the rise because of the planet's noticeable deterioration in recent years. It had even crossed her mind to join one a few times, but a more immediate concern kept her from taking that last step.

She wondered what Chaka would say if he knew how she felt about Shin-Ra. A person can get used to the most dismal circumstances. Pretty soon it becomes your home, whether you like it or not. He could just as well turn her in as anyone else.

They came to a stop to wait for the elevators. Chaka crossed his arms, yawned, and leaned casually against the wall.

Tifa stood stiffly to the other side, brooding. After a while her lips parted to speak, running ahead of her thoughts before she could catch up, "Do you know Sephiroth?"

Chaka gave her a puzzled look, "Know him?" He repeated, "Shit, as well as the next flunky I guess. Why?"

Her shoulders shrugged, "Just wondering. You know, everyone calls him a hero and all, but he seems kind of…odd."

"That's one way of putting it." He snorted. His expression turned solemn, "Can't say I don't blame him though."

She lifted her head a fraction towards him, "What do you mean?"

Chaka shifted around so that his back was flat against the wall, "The guy has spent his entire life in the military, from the time he was a wee thing to now. Doesn't have a lick of socialization, no concept of a good time, and probably couldn't navigate a woman if she drew him a map."

Tifa choked on her own saliva, which induced a small coughing fit at the end of which she was a deep shade of crimson. That was way more information than she cared to know concerning Sephiroth's private life. It was also the first time that the mention of him had inspired anything besides hatred.

One set of elevator doors suddenly opened and two SOLDIERs stepped out. They walked by without a word and Tifa and Chaka entered. Once the elevator was in motion, Chaka resumed where he had left off.

"Can't say I'd want to know what they did to him before that either. That Hojo man…scary dude, scaaary dude."

Tifa shivered, but voiced her curiosity despite it, "Who is Hojo?"

"Raving mad scientist. Don't cha love it?" He supplied. "Rumor has it he's Sephiroth's father, though I can't see a resemblance. The guy looks like a hobgoblin."

Her brow knitted together, "I see."

"But yeah, anyway," Chaka tapped the toe of his right boot with the heel of his left. "Sephiroth's not so bad. He just doesn't spend much time around…anyone really."

Tifa bit back the urge to utter something unkind. They didn't even know the monster they kept – what he was capable of. She felt trapped with the knowledge, unable to confide to someone and afraid of being found out.

Sephiroth had seen her before. She had made certain he got a good look after she'd driven the masamune through his back all the way to the hilt. There had been no doubting his madness then, raving like a lunatic to "Mother", the megalomaniac alien. Tifa had given her a nice stabbing too, just for good measure.

If he saw her face now, just her eyes even…would he recognize her? Would he remember that day? She wondered if he remembered anything at all.

And if he didn't…what then?

Tifa didn't want to think about it.

Author's Notes: Ok, so we have the introduction of an original character. I'd much rather stick to characters from the game, but in order for this to work realistically the way I want it to, I had to put him in there. But don't worry, everyone is going to make an appearance at some point.

Also, I can't remember the correct arrangement of the floors in the Shin-Ra building, so there may be some discrepancy there. My knowledge of military conducts, training, and so forth is limited, so I'm taking creative liberties again and molding the world to serve the purpose of the story. Basically, I'm making it up as I go and hoping that it passes off as believable. Ahhh, the joys of fanfiction writing.

Anyhow, showsome love if you're reading. I appreciate the input and it keeps me upbeat and writing.