Chapter 30: Who Let the Dogs Out?
A few days later, bright and early at six a.m., Sephiroth walked with a bare torso into the holoimaging prep area. He toted with him a couple bags holding his long coat, harness, and armor. He knew what was expected of him, having had plenty of PR experience since he was thirteen years old. The specialists would only make him strip down for makeup application anyway, so he always did his best to arrive already half naked. It wasn't a big deal. There wasn't much difference between a naked torso and the way his leather uniform exposed his chest. Besides, people admired it and, to be honest, it gave him a little thrill of power, danger, and superiority over the run-of-the-mill herd that gawked and swallowed the tripe published about him.
He paused, glanced around, and after getting his bearings headed straight for the hair and makeup stations. He made a beeline toward the two chairs surrounded by walls of smocked specialists. Angeal's Buster Sword and Genesis's Rapier both leaned against their respective vanity counters along with two piles of armor and a red leather coat hanging from a rack.
He caught a flash of distinctive auburn hair through a break in the crowd on the right, marking Genesis's location.
"Hey, Seph!" Genesis called gaily. "You're late!" He craned his head around to peer through two hairdressers, disturbing the nylon cape covering his clothes and earning a scolding, while leaving one hand in the clutches of a manicurist who valiantly refused to let go. From his cheerful smile, he was enjoying the professional attention immensely.
Genesis had always loved PR work and reveled in all the grooming and fussing. He treated it like a spa day. Sephiroth rather wished the company would recognize that pleasure and let Genesis do most of the publicity shoots, but that desire had never been fulfilled.
At the next station, Angeal looked tired, resigned, and utterly miserable. He made no effort to move or even speak a greeting, probably because any attempt to turn his head resulted in an unyielding pair of latex-clad hands gripping each side of his skull and facing it forward again. His hair had already been done—fluffy and glittery again, Sephiroth noted—and the makeup artist was applying a layer of moisturizer to his skin. Next, Sephiroth knew from experience, would come primer and color corrector, then foundation and concealer to hide the dark circles under Angeal's eyes. Then probably more foundation before they got to painting in earnest.
One of the stylists pulled out her PHS and made a call: "Hey, Otto, Sephiroth's finally here. Your team can get started." She did not bother to lower her voice. Sephiroth suspected she made sure he heard her out of sheer annoyance with his tardiness.
Everyone had been told to show up at five in the morning. That allowed for two hours to prepare and a short break. Shooting was scheduled to start at seven thirty. Having been through hair and makeup too many times to count, Sephiroth knew the stylists could complete the short form of their routine on him in under an hour and so he had chosen to get a little extra nap time. He didn't have patience for the long form, and it shouldn't be necessary.
He wasn't the star of this particular production, a fact that filled him with a great deal of happiness. He was just here as a prop, an accessory for the professional shoot. Brooke had insisted, but hadn't explained why beyond telling him that he was part of the backdrop and that his cooperation fell under the category of the moral support role he and Genesis claimed to have taken on. He had shrugged at the time, assuming that PR just wanted some new shots of the three of them. Since Angeal was supposed to be the focus of these photoshoots, the stylists probably wouldn't give Sephiroth more than the standard treatment, just making him photogenic enough to look good as a supporting character.
At least, that was his guess based on what he'd been told. He didn't always get the full story in advance, though.
He set down his bags and gingerly seated himself at the empty makeup station to Angeal's left. A horde of stylists immediately descended. A nylon cape identical to the ones worn by his friends enfolded him and was secured around his neck to catch any messy detritus from the coming procedures. One stylist squirted some pleasantly scented lavender glop into her palm, then combed her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp. He was honest enough to admit that he always enjoyed this part, though he liked to think he wasn't quite as hedonistic as Genesis. He'd never speak of it to anyone, though.
"Tilt your head back now, okay?" a woman at the next station said. Sephiroth slanted his eyes to the right just in time to see one of the stylists put her fingers on Angeal's forehead to enforce her command.
Angeal sighed deeply and complied. Sephiroth twitched an eyebrow at his friend's passive attitude. One might think he was getting an intrusive exam in the Science Department from the gloomy way he was behaving. Sephiroth's own hairdresser spritzed his hair with something that smelled flowery. He had been correct that he wasn't getting the full-blown, top-to-bottom treatment. No one had insisted on washing his hair. Considering the time, that might have been a strategic decision on his hairdresser's part. A full wet-down would take too long to dry and style.
A suspicious person might wonder if he'd planned it that way. Sephiroth gloated silently and kept his expression impassive.
His hairdresser somehow managed to simultaneously use the blow-dryer, more spray, a comb, and a special brush to tease and fluff the entire mass of hair, creating the usual dramatic volume Shinra PR demanded. The grooming felt soothing, and he relaxed into it even as he kept watch on the activities around Angeal.
"Eyes open, don't blink," Angeal's stylist ordered. She held a small, white bottle over Angeal's right eye, very close, and squeezed out a drop. Of course, he immediately clenched both eyes shut in reaction to the little splash on his cornea.
She waited a few seconds for him to recover, said, "Okay, other eye," and performed the same operation again. "Great, take a minute, and then we'll get started on the rest of your makeup."
Those must be the eye drops Angeal had complained about the other night, Sephiroth realized. "Are we all getting those drops?" he asked without thinking.
His own makeup artist said, "Of course."
"Good," Angeal added, quite heartlessly. Sephiroth scowled at him, but his eyes were still shut. A tiny bit of excess moisture leaked out from under his closed lids. His makeup artist carefully blotted it away with tissue then started arranging a rather large selection of brushes, sponges, and makeup containers on the counter.
"It'll make your eyes look even better than normal," Sephiroth's own makeup artist added, giving him a pat on one shoulder. "Nice and shiny, and it dilates the pupils a bit, too. That looks great on camera."
"Does it sting?" Sephiroth asked, not thrilled that he'd be getting the same eye drop treatment.
"No," Angeal replied, eyes still shut. "It's just annoying. It'll make your vision blurry for a little while, though."
"Ah."
Genesis decided to contribute his own opinion. "It's really not that bad. Angeal's just grouchy."
"Of course I'm grouchy," the star victim complained. "I've been getting these damned drops every day since this nonsense started."
"It's only your fourth day, Angeal."
"Fifth, if you count the first day with the test shoot."
"Whatever." Genesis rolled his eyes. "C'mon, just relax. You're making it sound like you've been at this for a month."
Angeal opened his eyes and tried to aim a rather watery frown at Genesis, but his makeup artist repositioned his head again. He settled for glowering at his own reflection in the brightly lit mirror. His makeup artist again blotted under his eyes.
Sephiroth glanced at him and then at Genesis, noticing that, in contrast to Angeal, the redhead's hair and makeup looked almost complete. A makeup artist was waving a mascara wand at him, and he leaned back and let the poor man apply it.
"Where are my earrings?" Genesis asked.
"On the counter. You can put them on when we're finished," said the makeup artist.
"Just making sure they didn't fall on the floor or get lost or anything."
During the entire process, Genesis kept up a stream of small talk and banter with his stylists. Angeal, on the other hand, remained silent aside from the occasional monosyllabic grunt when one of his stylists asked him a question, requested that he turn his head, or told him to sit up straighter. Silence suited Sephiroth just fine. His hairdresser handled his hair gently, and he leaned into the pleasant sensations. Besides, Genesis was carrying on enough conversations for the three of them.
Sooner or later, though, all good things ended.
"Okay, tilt your head back for me, please," a stylist told him. She held that ominous white bottle, ready to deploy its contents.
"Time for the eye drops?" Sephiroth asked, inspecting the bottle with suspicion. He reluctantly leaned his head back and opened both eyes wide.
"That's perfect."
She was quick; a white blur appeared over his right eye, and then he felt the splash of liquid in the inner corner. He blinked rapidly.
"Ready for the next one?" she asked.
After a few final blinks, he said, "Yes," and held his eyes open again.
Another white blur and splash. This time he clenched both eyes shut to squeeze out the extra moisture, then opened them for more rapid blinking. Angeal had been right; the drops did make things a little blurry. Every light source had a fuzzy halo. He blinked a few more times, and the swimming effect in his vision began to settle down.
"Perfect, take a minute while I get your makeup ready to go." She blotted a tissue under his eyes then turned away, presumably to prep her supplies.
Angeal's stylist had said something similar to him. Sephiroth assumed the stylists had memorized the same script. They all probably earned a professional certificate in Advanced Techniques in Manhandling Semi-Cooperative First Class SOLDIERs into Proper Obedient Behavior, Level III.
He amused himself with working out the curriculum for such an absurd educational program while his makeup artist worked on him. The special training included coursework in Practical Hair Design For Combat Situations; Hand-To-Hand Cosmetology; Customer Relations: Psychological Manipulation For Helping A Stressed Subject To Relax; Useful Scissors for Hair, Nails, and Self-Defense; Electric Hair Styling Tools and Other Types of Cattle Prods; Esthetics I: Battle-Ready Skin Care; Esthetics II: Plucking Maneuvers for the Removal of Unwanted Facial Hair...
This passed the time agreeably and distracted him from the sponges, brushes, paints, and powders being applied to his face, neck, and ears. In the background he heard some clattering, and tilted his head to peer around his makeup artist. Someone had removed all the armor and even his coat. He frowned, but his makeup artist—what was the woman's name? No one had bothered to introduce them—adjusted his head with one gloved hand while brushing something onto his chin and nose with the other.
She removed the plastic cape and got to work on his chest. He always hated that part, especially the way they always rouged his nipples! Fortunately, the makeup application was impersonal, even brusque. His harness and coat always hid the results, anyway, so why in Shiva's name did the makeup artists feel it necessary in the first place?
He had a feeling he didn't want to know. It was another of those things he kept silent about. He supposed it fell into the same category as Angeal's pedicure: completing a professional job but useless since it was destined to be unseen. Unwillingly, he recalled what Angeal had said about the completeness of the makeup application he'd endured for his centerfold shoot all those years ago. Sephiroth supposed that, in comparison, he got off easy.
The makeup artist finished by spritzing all his bare skin with some astringent smelling substance. It dried on contact and made him feel a little "crinkly" when he moved. Ah. Makeup setting spray, industrial strength. Yes, he'd experienced that uncomfortable stuff before, though the brand they used this time smelled different than usual. His makeup wasn't going anywhere now, no matter how hot and sweaty he got under the studio lights.
"All right, SOLDIERs, let's go get some pictures taken!" Brooke Hampton's cheerful voice called out behind him. "Chop, chop," she added with a clap of her hands. "Time's a wastin.' Two of you have to go back to your real jobs in a few hours."
"I thought this was our real job for at least two weeks," Angeal grumbled as he got out of his chair.
"Only for you, Sunshine," Brooke told him cheekily. "You're special. Your friends are theoretically only here for the morning, but maybe if you're extra nice and behave yourself, we'll let them stay longer. Now come along." She turned and headed to the studio, muttering under her breath, "'The nice one,' Veld said. Hah!"
"Have you been giving these fine professionals a hard time?" Genesis teased as he picked up his Rapier.
"Brooke's been twitchy around me ever since the first day," Angeal replied glumly.
"Brooke? You're kidding. She gets along with everyone. What did you do to her?"
Angeal threw up his hands in exasperation. "I don't know! I've been trying to figure it out, but nothing comes to mind!"
"Why don't you just ask her?"
"I tried once. She clammed up and made an excuse to be elsewhere."
"I'll talk to her later and find out what's up," Genesis promised as he took Angeal by the arm and dragged him along.
Sephiroth said, "I don't think you've been behaving like a proper photographic model." His lips quirked with amusement, recalling Angeal's rants about his first day. "That's probably a problem for everyone here, not just you."
"I'm trying. I do everything they say, but it's never right," Angeal vented, looking back at him even as Genesis insistently tugged him forward. "This is above my pay grade!"
Genesis chortled. "You and I are at the same pay grade, you idiot. I do fine."
He received a particularly jaundiced glare for that remark.
"That's not nearly as effective as usual, my friend," Genesis said playfully. "Your sparkly, fluffy new look clashes with those forbidding expressions. I bet no one's going to take your lectures seriously for a while."
"Genesis, I swear—"
"Just relax and go along with everything, Angeal," Sephiroth advised from his own long and painful experiences. "It's not forever. It'll be over soon enough."
Genesis barked out a laugh. "You've got those phrases wrong. You should have told him to relax and enjoy it!" He hooted at his own offensive joke. "And then you say that he should just go along with it because it'll be over soon!"
"You are a sick asshole," Angeal told him in a tone that promised future violence.
"But you love me for it!"
"Let's just get this over with," Sephiroth said, realizing an instant later from the way Genesis cackled that he'd inadvertently uttered another risqué double entendre. In fairness to himself, nude centerfolds invited risqué commentary, though his had been accidental. Insulting Angeal wasn't his intent. He needed to be more careful. Ignoring Genesis, he said to Angeal, "You're right, he is an asshole."
"A sick asshole," Angeal corrected him.
"A sick asshole," Sephiroth agreed.
Genesis only laughed harder.
"A sick, giddy asshole," Sephiroth added.
"He does love PR work. Gets a high off it," Angeal said with an expressive roll of his eyes.
They found Brooke waiting for them just outside the door. She gave them an arch look and led the way to the photography studio. As soon as they entered, new hordes surrounded them and assisted them back into their freshly cleaned and polished armor. Sephiroth noted his coat felt nice and supple, and smelled nice, too. Someone had done a good, thorough job with the leather soap and lining cleaner. Genesis looked equally pleased as he donned his own coat. The red color seemed even more vivid than usual.
With an impassive expression, Angeal buckled on his harness and stomach guard, then let a man help him with his pauldrons. As he swung the Buster Sword over his back to attach it to his harness, Genesis teased him again, "You're not going to an execution, you know. Lighten up."
"I know you think this is fun, but I don't. It's...uncomfortable for me."
"And here I thought you liked photography."
"As a hobby, not as the subject."
"You should enjoy today's session, at least," Brooke Hampton's voice spoke loudly behind them.
All three SOLDIERs turned toward her. Since Angeal kept quiet, Sephiroth said, "Oh?"
"It's a surprise. We've got to do the group shoot first."
Sephiroth nodded. Brooke had just confirmed his theory that PR wanted some new group shots of the three of them.
She came over and took Angeal by the arm. "Let's take a walk," she said calmly, and led him away.
Sephiroth and Genesis strained their ears. Brook might be keeping her voice down, but low tones were no match for enhanced hearing. Sephiroth heard her say, "I'm sorry, but I waited outside the door for you guys to catch up with me and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I know we didn't get off to a good start—" And then they went out of the studio. The door closing behind them cut off whatever else might have been said.
"Huh. She pulled that same maneuver on us." Genesis cocked his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Guess I won't need to talk to her, after all."
Sephiroth thought back to his fantasy "SOLDIER Wrangling" certificate program and all the times Brooke had wrangled him and Genesis. It seemed she had graduated with honors long ago. "Fortunately, she is a consummate professional with many years of experience," he said. "Let us hope Angeal remembers that he is one, as well."
Genesis flashed a grin at him. "I'm not worried. You know Angeal's not usually such a drama king, it's just that his world's been flipped upside down lately and he's still finding his footing."
"By then, this will all be over for him."
"You think so?" Genesis returned. "I don't. He can't duck it anymore, now that Shinra's PR machine has finally gotten its claws into him."
Sephiroth pondered that, and acknowledged that Genesis was probably right. Angeal's secret techniques for avoiding PR duty likely would no longer work. A shame. Sephiroth had hoped to try those valuable secrets out for himself. "He'll need to get back on their good side."
Genesis said, "You talking about whatever it was that happened with Brooke the other day? Nah, they're probably apologizing to each other right now so they can get on with business."
"That would be good."
Before either could discuss things further, they were interrupted by a distempered howl of "Whaaat? What do you mean, he's not here?" The oldest of three photographers whirled around, scattering assistants like half-grown chocobos running from a Coeurl. "Where in the eight Wutain hells did he go? And where's Hampton? She's supposed to be running this circus!"
"Temperamental diva," muttered Genesis, oblivious to the irony. Sephiroth smirked, wondering if the volatile photographer could out-diva Genesis.
The photographer caught sight of them. "You two!" he shouted, waving a handheld motion controller at them. "You SOLDIERs! Where's your friend hiding? We've got a schedule to meet!"
Genesis and Sephiroth looked at each other.
"Oh, never mind!" the man yelled. "Get over here. We'll get your individual shots done while we wait for the runaway to return. C'mon, now! Move it!"
"I begin to understand Angeal's discomfort with this process," Sephiroth murmured. Genesis snorted.
The holoimaging studio was set up for both conventional digital photography and 3D imaging equipment. Rails for cameras and at least twenty different types of lights surrounded the raised disk stage, waiting to be deployed. The ceiling overhead, shaped like a dome, contained innumerable sensors, lasers, imagers, and specialty lights. A few wind machines rested off to one side. The stage and walls were rather boring, blank canvases. The resulting images would be edited later with appropriate backgrounds and settings.
There were three photographers working the shoot, and, as Angeal had claimed, they all had different ideas about what they wanted. The head photographer—the one who had screamed at them—was a man in his late forties who apparently was unaccustomed to working with actual human beings and expected them to read his mind.
Sephiroth found that he couldn't do anything right for this particular photographer, despite his many years as the star of Shinra's SOLDIER PR efforts and his willingness to pose in every way ordered. Angeal had been right about that, too. No wonder he was always upset lately.
Where had Shinra found this...person? First chance he got, Sephiroth was going to complain and get the wretched prima donna fired.
And then another photographer told Sephiroth to pose in a way completely different from what the chief had instructed, and the two started bickering. The third took that opportunity to change the lighting, sneak the controller, and run the holoimaging equipment to get a series of her own shots. The rolling cameras and lights had made three rotations about the stage before the other two photographers settled down and got back to work.
When they weren't quarreling, the photographers probably took at least a thousand pictures of him. Sephiroth knew from experience that most from the run would be deleted. Probably they'd keep a hundred to start, then winnow even those down to a handful that best fit the narrative PR wanted to push.
Genesis took his turn, posing like a professional model. He seemed to know exactly how to move, where the best light fell, which way to direct his gaze, when to hold still and look like a dramatic hero and when to change positions. He took instruction from the photographers and chatted them up as easily as breathing, and all three loved him for it—even the prima donna chief fawned over him like a star-struck fan.
Genesis, Sephiroth mused sulkily, could probably charm a raging Behemoth into rolling over to have its belly scratched, should he bother to make the effort rather than slaying the beast outright. Sephiroth's public image had been carefully crafted by paid experts, but Genesis had had a say in his own and those same experts always lapped it up.
Keeping his grumblings to himself, Sephiroth moved to the catering table and sampled a few of the offerings as he observed the shoot. He always felt a bit envious of his friend's comfort on that stage. Despite having less experience, Genesis made it look easy and genuine, whereas Sephiroth always felt artificial and unnatural. The trio of arguing photographers—who at this moment were all in perfect harmony as they worked with Genesis—made it even worse.
Angeal wandered back in and came over to stand by Sephiroth. They both watched Genesis preen and posture for a little while, and Sephiroth ventured, "You get everything straightened out with Brooke?"
"Yeah, we're good. Just a misunderstanding." He didn't offer any details.
"Oh?" In Sephiroth's experience, Brooke Hampton never misunderstood anything. Genesis swore she could read minds, though that was ridiculous. She was very good at reading people. She constantly analyzed and interpreted the emotions and body language of her clients, which seemed excellent qualifications in her chosen career. He probably shouldn't pry further, but couldn't help himself. Angeal seemed reasonably calm, so it should be all right.
Angeal shrugged. "I guess I got mad near the end of the initial interview, and it scared her. I didn't remember it until she reminded me, and I don't disbelieve her. I know I must have done something to make her twitchy. She didn't start out that way." He looked a little regretful.
This sounded baffling to Sephiroth. Almost everyone liked Angeal, or at least they weren't paranoid of him. Even chronically suspicious people like Veld. To many people, Angeal was "the nice one" or "the reasonable one," the First they consulted long before they'd go anywhere near Sephiroth or Genesis.
Then again, Sephiroth supposed all that really meant was that they believed Angeal wouldn't stab them for looking at him wrong. Normal people tended to find all SOLDIERs a bit unnerving, even the most even-tempered ones, and Sephiroth knew very well what that said about Genesis and himself. They all had public reputations, deserved or not. Angeal really wasn't as perfect and nice as commonly believed.
"Did she say what caused it?" Sephiroth asked.
"I guess it was about Zack."
Recognizing the name, Sephiroth raised his brows in question. "Your new student? You've hardly worked with him at all yet. What has he to do with this?"
Angeal scowled. "Brooke wanted to drag him into the whole PR mess to, as she put it, humanize me." His expression grew dark, like gathering thunderclouds. "For Minerva's sake, Sephiroth, Zack's only fifteen!"
He was still angry about it, even so long after the main event. Sephiroth understood why Brooke had been terrified, if Angeal had reacted like this or worse. It was no small thing to be in an enclosed space with an angry, six foot five giant made of muscle, mako, and magic. Most normal people went out of their way to avoid such circumstances, and most SOLDIERs learned to control their tempers and present a calm mien when in what might be termed "mixed company."
"He's a Third Class SOLDIER," Sephiroth said mildly.
"He's a nice kid. Too idealistic and naïve for his own good. He wants to be a hero like you!"
"He's a legal, independent adult. Just like you were at fifteen," Sephiroth pointed out.
"Yeah, and look how that turned out," Angeal grumbled.
Sephiroth snorted. Indeed, now Angeal's secret chocobos had finally come home to roost, as the ancient saying went. "So you got angry about it and accidentally terrified your image consultant. Not your brightest move."
Angeal clenched his hands together so hard the knuckles showed white. "I do remember that she agreed to keep Zack out of the PR plan and then we went to the holoimaging studio." Angeal sighed deeply. "I guess I made a really bad impression and never even knew it."
Sephiroth nodded. He had accidentally frightened people like that before. A short outburst of honest anger might cause all the regular civilians in the vicinity to run for the exits. "It's something to do with the mako, I think. It rises with one's temper and sometimes other people can sense it. It happens to me sometimes, too, and I think Genesis does it deliberately. Don't worry about it."
Angeal looked annoyed to be compared to Genesis. "It doesn't happen to me."
Sephiroth let out a short laugh at that naïve statement. Did Angeal really buy into his own "nice guy" reputation? "Maybe you've just never noticed before. How often are you around civilians, anyway? I mean ordinary people, not the civilians we normally work with."
"Whenever I go grocery shopping," Angeal stated wryly. "And shopping for plant supplies. Clothes. Miscellaneous things. So once or twice a week when I'm in Midgar."
Okay, so Angeal was around civilians more often than Sephiroth. "But do you get angry about grocery shopping or any of those other things?" Sephiroth didn't wait for the obvious reply. "Of course not."
"It's easy to get irritated at a pushy salesperson."
"Irritation is not anger. I doubt you've ever gotten angry at some hapless sales clerk, or even at lurking photographers."
"I don't worry about photographers lurking around the produce section in the supermarket," Angeal said, rolling his eyes.
"You mean you've never bothered to look for the photographers in the supermarket."
Angeal didn't deny it. "Who cares about a picture of me shopping?" he said instead.
"Isn't that what you said about the centerfold, too?" Sephiroth said slyly.
"It's not the same thing."
In response, Sephiroth pulled out his PHS and quickly browsed to the Keepers of Honor site, clicked on the photo albums, and scrolled through the pictures until he found one of Angeal reading the label on a can of green beans. It was slightly out of focus. "Here," he said, holding the phone out so his friend-in-denial could see the image.
Angeal grimaced and pronounced judgement: "Well, that's dumb. Besides, that was taken by one of the fans, not by a professional."
"So you admit it happens? Do you get angry when you see a fan with a phone?"
"Of course not."
Entertained, Sephiroth gave him a knowing smile, and Angeal scowled again, saying, "You wanted to know the deal with Brooke, so now you know. Happy?"
At that moment, the head photographer broke in, pointed at Angeal, and said with heavy accusation, "You're back! Don't vanish again!"
Angeal blinked, but before he could say anything in response, the photographer ordered, "Okay, I want all three of you SOLDIERs on the stage so we can get the group shots finished. Come on, you two, don't dawdle!"
Sephiroth glanced at Angeal and said, "I understand all your complaints now. They are perfectly reasonable."
Angeal chuckled, and they both took their places on the stage with Genesis.
"Swords out! You've all done this before, so you know the drill!" said the head photographer.
Keeping his expression neutral despite his irritation at the man, Sephiroth magically called Masamune to his left hand, knowing that the cameras were rolling through the whole process. Everyone loved to see the sword materialize into his grip from seeming thin air. There were hours of footage in PR's servers of him summoning Masamune. No one except Genesis, Angeal, and the leaders of the Science Department knew how many years it had taken for him to learn that trick, or about the special materia he always kept equipped that made it possible.
The trio did know the usual drill, and for a while that satisfied their photographers. They ran through all the usual poses, got their hair and makeup adjusted, and performed even more variations on what seemed to Sephiroth to be the same, standard positions that PR always wanted. Swords out, swords held in guard positions, swords held by the hilts and pointed downwards, swords set aside with just the three of them looking serious or stern or heroically gazing into the distance. Run through the cycle again, this time with a wind machine on to make their hair billow. And again, with the wind machine at a different angle. And again, with two wind machines and a change of lighting, and again, and again, and again.
Then Brooke came in and had them reposition themselves with Angeal in the middle for a change. This made sense to Sephiroth, as the entire session was supposed to be about him. That's what he'd been told, at any rate—that he and Genesis were just living props. The cameras ran the entire time, capturing a whole new set of shots. Again, and again, and again.
And then, when Sephiroth thought they'd exhausted all possibilities and sincerely hoped they were pretty much done, Brooke spoke some terrifying words:
"Let's try something different now."
In Sephiroth's experience, that particular phrase never presaged anything good.
The photographers and various assistants appeared to know what was coming next and started making preparations. The hair and makeup artists again descended to repair the damage wrought by the wind machines and to perfect their artistry on their human canvases. Brooke's personal assistant grinned widely and strode out of the room.
"Don't look so worried, guys," Brooke told her SOLDIER victims. "You'll love this. Really, I promise. Oh, you can set the swords aside for now. You won't be needing them."
"This better not be horrible, Brooke," Genesis warned her, wrinkling his nose like he wanted to sneeze as a makeup artist dusted fresh powder on his face. "Last time someone said they wanted to try something different, they really meant weird, and it took all afternoon to get the sticks and feathers and—and poop out of my hair. What idiot thought it was a good idea to work with live birds? Nature belongs outside of Midgar!"
Angeal guffawed, and Sephiroth counted his lucky stars that he had missed that particular photoshoot, while at the same time he wished he'd seen it. The thought of Genesis, resplendent in his red leather coat and with Rapier at the ready, covered in live birds, twigs, and bird poop made him utter a short laugh, which earned him a dark look from his redheaded friend. Since no pictures had ever been published—not even leaked to the fan clubs—obviously the results of that session had been unsatisfactory. Assuming Genesis hadn't burned all the evidence himself, something that struck Sephiroth as entirely possible.
"Oh, dear," Brooke said, but she smirked in amusement. "I'd forgotten about that one. Well, I promise there will be no birds this time."
"That's not reassuring," Genesis groused at her.
Sephiroth banished Masamune back to its mount in his bedroom. He absently watched some photographic assistants arrange soft, colorful blankets and pillows across the stage. The makeup artist switched victims from Genesis to Sephiroth and then to Angeal. Two hairstylists made yet another round with combs, brushes, and sprays.
A few minutes after the trio had been suitably re-beautified, Brooke's assistant returned along with a woman carrying a large, covered rectangular box. Some yips and whines escaped. The photographers positioned themselves around the group, taking pictures continuously even though no one was posing yet.
"Is there something alive in there?" Genesis asked with deep suspicion.
Angeal, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what it was. In a few long strides, he was at the box handler's side, pulling up the cover to reveal a portable dog crate. He peered inside with delight.
"It's puppies!" he exclaimed. He looked at Brooke. "You brought puppies to the photoshoot?"
"You needed a little pick-me-up," she replied, "but this was always part of the plan. All three of you get to pose with puppies. It'll be fun, and we'll get some happy, candid shots."
"Puppies," Genesis muttered, disgruntled. "I just knew it would be something weird."
Sephiroth said archly to Brooke, "Maybe not entirely happy shots."
She looked surprised. "Why not?"
"Genesis prefers to avoid nature," Sephiroth explained. Not that he disagreed with Genesis in this case. Posing with puppies? Him? Who had come up with that idea? Just when he thought PR shoots couldn't get any more peculiar.
But puppies were better than incontinent birds, he supposed.
"This isn't nature," she protested. "It's just puppies. Everyone likes puppies. The public will love it!"
In the meantime, Angeal plopped down on a pillow on the stage, sitting cross-legged, and accepted two plump, fuzzy little puppies from their handler. One pup was cream with large brown markings on its back, along with a black patch covering half its head and over one soulful eye; the other was white, black, and russet. The young dogs squirmed and crawled all over him, and he didn't mind in the least.
"What breeds are they?" he asked, stripping off his gloves and setting them aside. He stroked both soft, fuzzy pups with bare hands, pleased as a chocobo that had gotten into a feedbag stuffed with prime, fresh greens.
"Three of them are terriers. The two you've got are hounds like Stamp," the woman told him.
Sephiroth let out a small, cynical huff. Of course, they used the same breed as Shinra's war propaganda mascot. Stamp was known and beloved all over Midgar. PR never missed a trick, did they? At least the dogs weren't wearing military helmets!
"Be gentle with them, please," the handler requested. "They're only four months old and you guys are really strong."
"I won't hurt a hair on their cute little heads," Angeal told her, smiling as he played with his new friends.
"Come on, you two." Brooke beckoned to Sephiroth and Genesis. "There are more puppies for you, as well."
With trepidation, the two SOLDIERs approached the stage and sat down, flanking Angeal and his wriggling little buddies. Each grudgingly accepted a puppy of his own: Genesis was handed a terrier puppy with a mottled coat in gray and brown. Sephiroth found himself the recipient of a fuzzy terrier, as well. His was a coal black pup that squirmed and squealed in his hands. He handled it as he might a Griffon cub—with extreme caution and a strong desire to put it back in the carrier where it belonged.
Angeal received another puppy, a scruffy little terrier in brown with a tan chest and tail. It had a black spot on its back, black ears, and two more black spots above the eyes. It was cute and wiggly and happily tussled with the other two puppies in Angeal's lap. Somehow, he easily managed all three dogs.
"It's not a big deal, you guys," he advised his friends. "Just play with them or pet them. They won't maul you."
The animal handler scattered some toys around them: rings, fuzzy little balls, rawhide chews. Angeal picked up a rubber ring and got two of his puppies to play tug with him.
Painfully conscious of his own strength and the relative fragility of his puppy dog, Sephiroth gingerly petted the creature. It mewled, rolling over in his lap and encouraging him to scratch its belly. He relaxed a little, but this was a mistake, as the little animal took advantage of his inexperience to abruptly jump up at him in play. He grabbed it before it could tumble down and fall onto the floor. It licked his face enthusiastically, and he couldn't help making a disgusted sound and turning away.
Angeal laughed at him.
"I guess it could be worse." Genesis shrugged and picked up a chew toy. He waggled it at his puppy; it bounced to bite at it. "But these things better not poop or piss on me like those damned birds did or there'll be hell to pay."
Notes:
Honestly, this chapter has been written since before the holidays but needed refinement. I apologize for taking so long to edit, but to be honest, I've gotten obsessed with a videogame called Slime Rancher. LOL. It's been eating my life!
Images of Stamp the War Mascot show up in the FFVII Remake. He wasn't in any of the other games, but I thought it would be cute to include mention of him.
Next time: More fun with the Turks