"Seph…iroth."
Cloud's not sure if it's the poor lighting in the maintenance facility or if he's just imagining things (which, with how the rest of his day has gone so far, was entirely possible), but he swears Sephiroth's shoulders tense further at the sound of his name. Swears his fingers curl tighter around that standard issue broadsword he's carrying, though he makes no move to answer Cloud, much less glance in his direction. And that inattention might have bothered Cloud, might have rankled his nerves a bit, if he wasn't already so captivated by the sight of Sephiroth striding – tall… and almost regal? – across the floor, the rhythmic and entirely intimidating click-click-click of his boots very much distinct from the dull rustling of the headless trooper he drags along behind him.
Damn.
He barely even notices Stevens pawing at his phone (probably texting 'base' like he had been told – "Hmm… Ryland says, 'Txt only. Don't wanna give things away by talking out loud.' …Wow, why didn't I think of that?"). Barely even notices his roommates still huddled in the middle of the floor. Not when he's far too busy swaying (unintentionally) against his restraints, his knees protesting the ease in which Sephiroth passes, the sea of troopers and thugs parting almost biblically before him. This was the Sephiroth he knew. The one he had left home for. And the one he would have worshipped like the god he once claimed to be if not for the fire, the pain… the everything.
"You forgot something." Sephiroth drawls and tosses the body of the headless trooper into the crowd before him, his face betraying no emotion whatsoever. And, really, the sight of it all – the thugs shrinking back, thoroughly intimidated; the power still rolling off Sephiroth in waves; even the blue 3rd Class SOLDIER uniform that's just a little too small for the man – all of it just sends a shiver down Cloud's spine.
This was the man Cloud had once called his hero.
KA-BOOM!
Another ball of Firaga erupts in the room, and the thugs and troopers are sent sprawling. "…Genesis?" Sephiroth asks hesitantly.
"Honestly, Sephiroth?" Rhapsodos scoffs, as if he doesn't quite share in Cloud's enthrallment, his bracer still glowing by his side. "I just incinerated a man right before their eyes and you still get all of the attention? All you've done is dragged an oozing corpse in here!"
Sephiroth pauses to glance, unconcerned, at the pile of ash that used to be one of Corneo's thugs before turning his attention back to Rhapsodos. "My apologies. I'll make it up to you later."
"You better. I expect a five-page article in the Midgar Times tomorrow telling the world exactly who it was that saved our precious student."
"…Only five?"
Rhapsodos sniffs his agreement. "You're right, that is uninspired. Ten pages then. And for the love of the Goddess, do try to be poetic. I don't want to expect to be guided to bliss, her gift everlasting, only to realize that I'm actually reading another one of your dreary mission reports."
"Deal."
Cloud's not entirely sure what he's witnessing – two of the strongest men in all of Midgar bartering over heroics with the same triviality as if deciding which one of them was going to pick up the milk? Honestly, he's half-tempted to write it all off as another side effect of the thrashing he had just received, but he doesn't get the chance. Not when Sephiroth's eyes (finally?) land on his own and everything else is forgotten.
"Cloud…"
There are so many things Cloud wants to say in return – 'H-Hi…', 'You came…', 'I missed you…' (and wasn't that a strange realization in and of itself, that he missed Sephiroth). But all of that hangs back on his tongue when the only thing he can think of is, "You're wearing a shirt…"
He's vaguely aware of Reno's heckling ("I miss his pecs too, Blondie!") and his squabbling ("Put that hand over my mouth again, Rude, and imma lick it!), but neither of them pay the red-head any attention. Instead, they remain ensconced in their own little world, Sephiroth glancing awkwardly at the blue sweater he has on, before returning his attention to Cloud, the embarrassment there so out of place on his face. "I was told nobody would recognize me like this."
'I almost didn't,' he means to say. But what he breathes instead is, "You… You look good…"
The look of pure shock he receives in return is entirely worth it. "…Thank you, Cloud."
It's the eye of the Zolom, it's the thrill of the flight
Cloud startles so bad, that he's half-convinced that the pain from his jostled wounds will never go away, the music ringing throughout the otherwise horror-induced silence in the building only seeming to mock him now. But then his eyes land on Logan and Colin still kneeling there, staring in stunned silence at him; Garrett still unresponsive on the floor, his face almost as red as his hair; and suddenly his own injuries don't matter anymore. "I'm s-sorry… I'm so sor—"
"What the fuck, Ryland!" Stevens interrupts, screeching into the microphone of his PHS. "You said Sephiroth was still—" But he chokes on his words there, all of the color draining (quite dramatically) from his once too-red face. "Y-You… You're not Ryland…" He pauses, red starting to splotch its way back the longer he listens to the person on the other end of the line. "You think this is a joke?!" he snarls. "Yeah, well, you won't be sitting on that throne of yours for much longer! Just you wait! Once we're done here, we're coming for you and then we'll see who gets the last laugh!" And then he makes a series of asinine noises that can only be described as a childish imitation of whoever's on the other end of the line (something Cloud thinks Denzel would have referred to as 'herp de derp' or whatever the hell it was). "You should be shakin' in your boots! Your days are numbered!"
"What the hell's going on?" Kotch yells once Stevens ends the call (and throws his PHS across the room), his anger cutting through the nervous undercurrent in the room.
"It was all a trick! We've been playing into that fuckin' usurper's hands this entire time!"
An angry grumbling makes its way through the crowd, but Rude beats them to it. "That's what happens…" he says, tugging experimentally on the glove on his right hand.
"…when ya mess with the Turks, yo!" Reno finishes for him. "You lot didn't honestly think you'd out-Turk the Turks, did ya? We eat chumps like you for breakfast! Innit that right, Vincent?" And he goes to slap Vincent on the shoulder, only to cringe once he sees the golden eyes and grey-tinted skin. "Ugh, Chaos is that you? I didn't recognize you without the—" he gestures wildly at his own head – "spikes for hair, y'know?"
Chaos-Vincent (Chincent? Chaosent?) arches a single, black eyebrow (something that Cloud is still amazed by – actually being able to see his eyebrows) and responds dryly, "Vincent will suffice. Though, I must leave the chump-chomping to you. Vincent was not pleased the last time I consumed human flesh."
A shiver goes through the crowd, and even Reno looks a little green around the gills. "Whoa buddy, TMI! We're not really gonna eat nobody! It's just an expression!"
"Oh… Probably for the best. These men don't look particularly appetizing."
"Well, that's absolutely revolting," Rhapsodos declares and turns back to Sephiroth with a slight roll of his eyes. "Come on, Sephiroth. Our little bird hath endured torment long enough as it is. Let's finish up here and find the end of the journey before these idiots get any more bright ideas about flirting with cannibalism."
"Oi! I told him no!"
"Of course you did, short stuff."
"Who ya callin' short, heels?"
"Woof!"
"See? The mutt agrees with me."
But Cloud doesn't devote any energy to their fight… and neither does Sephiroth. "Cloud, I'll get you down in a minute, alright?"
"O-Ok… I'll just hang out here then."
Rhapsodos groans. "They must not have hit him that hard if he's still able to tell jokes."
"That's where you're wrong, 'Gift of the Goddess'. They must've hit him really hard if he's being this docile."
Sephiroth still ignores them. He just nods once – "Good" – and lets his eyes linger on Cloud's own for a moment more. When he finally turns back to Cloud's assailants, a layer of anxiety slips away, leaving only a fury brighter and hotter than anything Cloud has ever seen before. And he's not really sure how Sephiroth's done it, but the man, who had seemed so small, so inviting only a moment ago, now towers over the room, his voice sharper than Masamune itself. "Surrender now, and I might go easy on you."
One of the thugs scoffs. "Like you would let us live after we touched yer pet!"
"Who said anything about letting you live?"
Shinra Tower, A Few Hours Earlier
"Oi, speakin' of star-crossed lovers, where's Blondie?"
Sephiroth could spend 5 days, 12 hours, and 32 minutes (he had counted) in intense negotiations with the shrewdest dignitaries Wutai had to offer without letting his mask slip. But apparently 2.5 milliseconds was his limit whenever Cloud was involved.
He flinches.
It's a small, short-lived thing, but despite Reno's carefully measured nonchalance, Sephiroth knows that the red-head is too sharp not to have noticed. "…Cloud will not be joining us today."
"Oof… I'm sure he'll come around eventually, Legolas…"
Sephiroth doesn't offer him a response. He knows Hojo would have called it rude – "Answer me when I'm talking to you, boy!" – but he doesn't care anymore.
Was this what Genesis meant by him 'moping'?
"I trust this won't jeopardize our plans for Jenova?"
Sephiroth flinches again, something red and hot surging through him at Rufus's callous question. "Cloud's wellbeing comes first," he bites back, silently daring the President to challenge him.
But challenge him, Rufus does.
"Cloud's wellbeing will be the least of our concerns if he's unable to face you in battle," Rufus explains dismissively, and Sephiroth opens his mouth to argue further. He doesn't get the chance. Not when Rufus raises a hand to silence him, his apathy clear in a simple flick of his wrist. "Please recall, General, that you were the one who insisted that Cloud was the only person capable of stopping you. Now, I recognize that things are… uncomfortable between the two of you currently, but I need some sort of guarantee that you will be able to gauge Cloud's progress moving forward. I'm not the type of man to bet all of my money on a single Chocobo without being certain of its victory."
"I'd advise against making Chocobo comparisons directly to Cloud's face… sir," Vincent notes from his corner, his deference sounding a little more forced than usual.
"Never stopped me before, yo!" Reno cuts in.
But Sephiroth reminds them of what's truly important. "Cloud has never failed before! He's always stopped me, no matter what I threw at him! What more of a guarantee do you need?"
"He was enhanced then."
Somebody growls, and Sephiroth is genuinely surprised to realize it's not him. It's Reeve. "Cloud's not just some tool for us to sharpen, Mr. President!"
Rufus sighs and rests his chin on his fist, weary. "I understand your desire to coddle the boy, Reeve, I do. But we have neither the time nor the luxury. We cannot afford to be caught unprepared for the horror that is the Calamity from the Skies." The red already churning inside Sephiroth spreads until it's as bright and as hot as Nibelheim. "If we want to avoid catastrophic loss of life this time around, we cannot just sit idly by, twiddling our thumbs, until Jenova awakens. Cloud needs to be ready."
"Oh, don't pretend like you're suddenly an altruist, Mr. Prez," somebody mocks. Sephiroth thinks it's Genesis, but he can't truly register anything with the red creeping across his vision, curling tight around his chest.
"No, but Cloud is. And we all know that he would throw his life away before he allowed harm to befall any person on this planet, stranger or not."
"That's why I'm training him."
"It's not enough, Commander. We need to know that Cloud can defeat Sephiroth when the time comes. We cannot guarantee that if he only trains with you and Angeal."
"You'll find, Mr. President, that I am just as strong as anybody here!"
"While I encourage your… healthy rivalry, Commander—"
Slam!
"I will not traumatize the boy any further!" Sephiroth yells. He knows he does. But everything else is painted in the shades of his fury.
A rose-colored hand wrapped around his shoulder.
A crimson-toned barrel aimed at his face.
"Sephiroth."
He snarls. "I will not budge on this, Genesis!"
"That's fine, dear." And it's the lulling edge to Genesis's voice, as if Sephiroth were some raging Malboro that needed to be tamed, as if he were about to spew rancid breath all over Genesis's 'worth more than your ridiculous hair' wardrobe, that finally convinces Sephiroth to relent. That finally has him blinking himself back to his senses and to the chaos unfolding around him. Because of him.
Reno and Rude, halfway out of their chairs, 3 of Reno's EM mines already active between Sephiroth and the President.
Tseng, always quick on his feet, shielding Rufus, his gun trained on Sephiroth's face.
Reeve, still sprawled in his chair, 5 feet away from the table now, surprise sewn through every wrinkle on his face.
Genesis, concerned, one hand on Sephiroth's shoulder in case he needed to hold him back.
And Rufus, usually the picture of immaculate control, now cautious, unsure, as if he had only just realized the kind of threat Sephiroth could be.
The only one who hasn't moved is Vincent, the man watching the room with a practiced indifference, but Sephiroth's not sure whether that's because he trusts Sephiroth not to do anything reckless (like kill the President) or if it's just payback for what Rufus had said about Cloud earlier.
He doesn't ask.
"If you're feeling better now," Genesis continues in that same soft, soothing tone. And if the reactions of everybody in the room (save Vincent) weren't sign enough that something was terribly wrong, then Genesis foregoing the opportunity to roast Sephiroth for his general lack of social skills was as bright and as glaring as Loveless Avenue that Genesis was so found of. "Would you mind letting go of the table?"
"Huh?" Sephiroth mumbles in return, his intelligence failing him. He can't say he understands how the conference room table could be the most concerning thing right now. At least not until he allows his gaze to follow Genesis's own and finds the cracked mahogany right beneath his fingertips. "Oh… I…" he stammers, the last vestiges of his unplanned mania slipping away, leaving behind nothing but shame. Shame at his actions. Shame at his failure – he had sworn the only thing they had to fear was Jenova, but obviously that was wrong. And shame at the two hand-shaped gouges left behind in the wood when he pulls his hands away. "You have my sincerest apologies, Mr. President. It won't happen again."
Nobody moves, least of all Sephiroth. Every muscle, every tendon in his body stills, his face schooling itself back into one of indifference as Rufus studies him. It feels so much like Hojo's weekly inspections, so much like those wretched days down in the labs, that Sephiroth will admit (to himself only) that he is a little surprised to not feel the usual prodding, to not hear the perpetual criticism for whatever invisible bar he had fallen short of – "I don't care if he's one of our own! If you had just left that man to die, which he deserved for getting himself injured in the first place, then it wouldn't have taken you two full weeks to capture that fort! You're too soft, boy!"
"Is it Jenova?" Rufus asks suddenly, and Sephiroth has to fight the urge to flinch again, the disappointment he had felt back then, disappointment for failing the only father figure he had ever known, just as suffocating as it was then.
No, Sephiroth reminds himself. His disappointment might not truly be gone, but Hojo definitely was – his real father had seen to that. So what if his first victory in Wutai hadn't been the cause for celebration that former President Shinra had said it would be? So what if he had lost the right to expect people to trust him after he fell to Jenova?
He was free now.
Free to make his own choices, free to control his own life, free to think his own thoughts.
And when he finally answers Rufus like the General he's supposed to be, like the General he's expected to be, he tells himself that that's one hundred percent his choice. "No, sir," he says, his back ramrod straight. "She is still dormant."
"You're positive?" Rufus asks, the Turks still positioned protectively around him.
"Yes, sir. I would have felt her taint by now. I'm… intimately familiar with the sensation," he answers, trying not to let the returning disappointment creep into his voice. He had hoped to have earned their trust by now, but he realizes that that was just a foolish wish. They knew what he used to be. They knew what he could become again. No wonder Tseng always had to assess what sort of threat he would be on any given day, his eyes flitting from Sephiroth's face to Masamune by his side. No wonder Reno had gotten into the particularly onerous habit of reminding him "not to go Nibelheim, yo!" every single time he raised his voice, even if it was the red-head's way of welcoming him to the group like Rude said.
And no wonder Cloud could barely stand to be around him.
"Good." Rufus says, and the tension finally drains from the room. Reno collects his EM mines, Rude drops back into his seat, weary, and Sephiroth realizes that this must be another aspect of social interaction that he lacks. He had thought that he had gotten better, but he doesn't entirely understand how his being acquainted with Jenova's taint was quite so relieving. It certainly hadn't been a pleasurable experience for him, but he supposes he can appreciate the strategic merit of knowing when your enemy was about to launch their assault.
So, at a loss of what else to do, Sephiroth nods his head, like he's sure is expected of him, and tries to ease their minds. "It was not my intent to concern anybody. I am just loath to harm Cloud any more than I already have." And he grimaces down at the splintered wood. "But I recognize that I let my temper get the better of me today." Reno grumbles ("Yeah, no kiddin'…"), but Rufus doesn't so much as bat an eyelash, so Sephiroth finishes his apology. "You have my sincerest apologies, Mr. President. I promise I will pay for all of the necessary repairs."
"That won't be necessary," Rufus counters, waving Sephiroth's apologies away. "I was planning to have that table replaced anyway."
"But, sir," Sephiroth tries to argue, even though arguing was what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. He tries to argue because he's at least socially competent enough to understand what Rufus is actually saying – Genesis apologizes in the exact same way. But that doesn't make sense. Sephiroth knows the penalty for insubordination, for threatening your superior. Rufus shouldn't be letting him off the hook so easily, much less apologizing to him.
And Sephiroth plans to articulate all of this, plans to identify all of the appropriate punishments for his transgression, but he doesn't get that far in his rebuttal. Not when he finally hears it – a rustling so subtle it could easily be mistaken for the air conditioning. He's been deceived before, he knows (he keeps a small list by his bedside table so he never forgets), but he also knows that this is not one of those times.
And as such, he doesn't even stop to verify that Genesis has heard the sound too. He rescinds his rebuttal – "Nevermind, sir, it can wait" – and has leapt into the air, using the damaged table as a launching point, and slashed a large, gaping hole into the ventilation system before Reno can do more than yell, "Gah! Not again, Rapunzel!"
The trooper that falls crashing to the tabletop below is all the vindication Sephiroth needs.
The same trooper who takes one look at the men around him and tries to scramble backwards off table and metal grate alike, one hand clutching his undoubtedly bruised ribs. That is, until the glowing edge of Rapier presses up against the curve of his throat and the newest addition to the room finally realizes the depth of trouble he's quite literally landed himself in. "My friend, do you fly away now? We haven't had the chance to get properly acquainted yet."
"So, what you're telling me – Mr… Lee, is it?" Rufus drawls, a coldness to his voice and his eyes. "Is that you're of no further use to us."
"What? No! That's not—!" The trooper tries to shoot forward, probably to throw himself across the table and plead his case further, but Reno and Rude tighten their hold on him and yank him back into the chair they had gotten him 'comfortable' in in the first place.
"Don't move," Rude warns.
"You forgotten what we said we'd do to you if you did, yo?" Reno reminds.
And the trooper tenses in their hold, tears still rolling down his face. "Please, I'll tell you anything!"
"Oh?" Rufus raises an eyebrow. "But you just said you don't know who's behind all of this. What more could you possibly offer us?"
"I-I… I—"
"And let's not forget that you admitted to spying on a highly confidential meeting because… now, how did you put it?" Rufus pauses, purposefully drawing out the suspense in the room. Probably to watch the trooper squirm. "Oh, that's right. Because you let yourself be convinced that the deaths of my father and his advisors were somehow masterminded by me. Because you believed wholeheartedly that the work you were doing up in those ducts would somehow save Shinra."
"I-I-I…" The trooper looks around the room frantically, trying to find some measure of help, but even Reeve sits there, silent, no sympathy to be found on his face. "I d-didn't m-mean—"
"Now, tell me," Rufus interrupts, his cold, emotionless eyes never once straying from the man in front of him. Intimidation 101. When the Turk-honored tradition of using silence to convince the suspect to talk hadn't worked, Rufus must have decided to fluster the truth out of him instead. "Why would I ever have a need for somebody like you? Somebody who allows themselves to be so easily manipulated against me?"
The trooper is not the only one to react this time, Sephiroth curling a hand tighter around the hilt of his sword. Why would he, indeed? Why would anybody have a need for Sephiroth when Jenova could so easily sway him against them? It was irrational. He was just a temperamental time Bomb, liable to self-destruct at any second, regardless of the pretty little vows he made to be better this time. He wasn't strong. Not like Cloud.
But before he can get too lost in his head, before he can give away his deteriorating mood, an arm brushes up against his and drags him back to the present. Genesis, he figures – if the red leather in his periphery wasn't a dead giveaway, then the knuckles that graze their way over the back of his hand would definitely be familiar enough. Something he imagines must be a show of solidarity – he wasn't the only one who had turned against Shinra once upon a time – but he still chances a glance Genesis's way once he's sure there are no other eyes on him. What greets him in return is a pinched look of Genesis's own, though the slight nod Genesis offers him means so much more.
That's right.
He might feel just as worthless as the quivering trooper, but their situations were like night and day when compared to one another. Rufus wasn't talking about him, wasn't talking about Genesis. He had already trusted them to prove their worth. Had already offered them the revenge they so dearly craved.
But from the glint to Genesis's eyes, Sephiroth can only imagine that Rufus will be getting quite the earful for his choice of words later.
So Sephiroth offers his own nod in return. Though, whether he's thanking his friend for his help or giving him permission to chew the President out later… well, he'll let Genesis decide that one for himself.
"It wasn't my fault! I swear! Please, I'll—" the trooper begs, but Rufus cuts him off again.
"Well, it looks like we won't be getting anything more out of you. Reno, Rude, you know what to do with him."
"Please! Ryland made me do it!"
"Oh?" Rufus raises a hand to 'stop' the two Turks, as if this wasn't part of his plan all along. "And who exactly is this Ryland?"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
The trooper shrieks, Reno curses, Rufus twitches, but all eyes in the room turn as one to watch Sephiroth pull his PHS from his pocket. They all watch as one as a myriad of emotions – hope, confusion, concern – break through Sephiroth's mask once he gets a good look at the name on the screen. He's not a man to believe in coincidences. "It's Cloud…"
"I thought I told you to change that dumb ringtone," Genesis grumbles.
"You said, 'You do know you can chance your ringtone, right?'" Sephiroth recites from memory, though he can never quite get Genesis's particular brand of affectionate ridicule right. "I figured that meant it was optional, not a requirement."
Genesis groans. "Just answer the damn phone already."
And Sephiroth does exactly that.
"Cloud? Where are you?"
"Oh, u-uh…" And it's in that moment that Sephiroth realizes that even the way Cloud stutters is perfect. It's in that moment that he finally understands the phrase 'music to one's ears'. For even though the slight tremor of fear is still present in Cloud's voice – is always present whenever he talks to Sephiroth – he has never once backed down. He has always graced Sephiroth with that quiet, oftentimes livid, strength, even though Sephiroth has never deserved it. "H-Heya, Biggs. I know we were supposed to meet up, but I think I'm gonna have to take a raincheck this time."
Far too suddenly, far too unexpectedly, that red, hot feeling from earlier curls its way back around Sephiroth's chest and not even his earlier promises to be better are enough to keep the scowl off of his face. He knows he'll have to speak with Genesis later. Knows he should determine whether this constituted as a medical emergency or not. But right now, Cloud comes first. He always comes first.
Even if Sephiroth finds it quite hard to breathe around the tightness in his chest.
"Cloud… This is Sephiroth."
"Y-Yeah, I know. But I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Despair.
It's something Sephiroth had once offered Cloud. A 'gift', he had said. But now? Now that he's finally free of Jenova and can pinpoint that exact same emotion in Cloud's voice? Well, he never wants to hear it again.
But for all that Sephiroth is an expert tactician and far superior weapon, he knows he can't save Cloud alone. Not without hurting him more. So, he pauses long enough to switch his phone to speaker mode (like Genesis had had to show him all those years ago – apparently Sephiroth 'parroting' everything Angeal said was not an acceptable way to do things), before triaging the situation further. "Are you in trouble?"
"It would seem so, yes."
"Again, Blondie?" Reno yells, but Cloud doesn't seem to hear him.
"I thought I only had two errands to run—" Vincent is at Sephiroth's side in a second – "which would have been fine, but I just remembered there's more and I don't think I'll be able to get everything done in time."
Sephiroth had never been one of Cloud's comrades and not even Jenova's taint could change that (no matter how hard they tried to poke and prod and bend Cloud's will to their side). But Sephiroth recognizes a coded message when he hears one – I thought there were only two people after me, which I would have been able to handle fine by myself, but I just realized there are more and I don't think I'll be able to defeat them all.
And for the first time since Sephiroth found himself miraculously free of Jenova's suffocating presence, he wishes he had his wing back. If only so he could fly straight to Cloud's side. "Where are you now?" he settles for instead.
"I was going to buy some flowers, but it doesn't seem worth it now."
"Aerith," Vincent guesses, and Cloud seems to hum in agreement.
"I'll probably just head back to Seventh Heaven and call it a night."
"Cloud, wait." Wait for me. Don't do anything reckless. I'll be there as fast as I can. There are so many things he means to say. That he needs to say. But the words won't come out. Not when Cloud sucks in a harsh breath and Sephiroth finally understands that Cloud's fear is not entirely because of him.
And that, that wasn't right. Cloud shouldn't be afraid of anything else. Shouldn't have reason to be afraid of anything else. Only Sephiroth.
"H-Hey, Biggs…" Sephiroth's heart aches, but he listens all the same. "I just want you to know I'm really glad I got to know you better this time around."
"Cloud…?"
"…The real you."
"Cloud!"
"Director Verdell Gagnon, July 14th εγλ 0001," Verdell recites into the recording device in his hand, his father's voice playing itself in his head – Now remember, Verd. The only difference between screwing around and science is writing it down. A little bittersweet smile stretches across his face at the thought – Gaia, he misses the man. "Nouveau SOLDIER serum, take 36. Wererat trials." Because Verdell really doesn't want to deal with the aftermath of an enhanced Behemoth trampling its way through the labs if it somehow managed to break free.
"Compounds 1, 3, 7, 9…" Verdell taps the side of the last mako tank and frowns when there's no movement from within. "And 10 all killed the host." He turns and grimaces at the sight before him. "Compounds 2… and 6 all mutated the host beyond recognition. And Compounds 4, 5, and 8…" He pulls a small flashlight from his pocket and shines it at each Wererat in turn. The near lack of response that greets him, though, was something that was becoming a little too predictable. "All exhibit an inhibited ability to think and act, as well as a general ignorance of their surroundings." He sighs – typical. "Nouveau SOLDIER serum, take 36… is a failure, like all the rest."
He turns the recording device off with a little more force than absolutely necessary, and dumps it and the flashlight back into his pocket with a huff. When the President had first approached him about developing a new version of the SOLDIER serum without the use of J-cells, he had thought sure, no problem. But when it had been further stipulated that this new serum had to be just as effective as the original, while also being safer and degradation-free, well Verdell had had his doubts. He had chugged on, though, determined not to fall short of the unexpected faith the President had put in him. But failure after failure after failure was starting to gnaw away at his cautious optimism.
Well, he thinks as he drags a hand down his weary face and turns to leave the labs, there was always tomorrow. Today, he just needs a drink.
Crack!
Verdell whirls back around, only to find a hairline fracture running the length of the tank he had just been inspecting, and two beady eyes staring back at him from within. "What the…?" he breathes and takes a careful step forward.
The eyes move with him. Tracking him. Gauging him.
Had the monster been waiting for him to drop his guard?
Verdell's hands shake as he draws the recording device from his pocket and thumbs it back on. "Correction. Compound 5 is exhibiting an unanticipated ability to plot and scheme, waiting for its prey to turn their back before striking. And the crack along this tank here would suggest that the host is also benefitting from heightened physical abilities, as was the intention of this trial…"
Growl.
"Increased aggression response, which is to be expected from a monster of its kind… The question remains whether that correlates in turn with a diminished mental capacity…"
Growl.
"The stunt it pulled earlier, though, would suggest that that's not the case… Nouveau SOLDIER serum, take 36, Compound 5 will need to be monitored further for any signs of degradation, and—" he adds as an afterthought – "will need to be transferred to a stronger holding cell, but preliminary results are promising."
Growl.
Verdell turns the recording device off with a sense of relief this time and taps the side of Compound 5's mako tank, almost cheerfully. "You hang in there, ok, little guy? Don't worry, I'll bring you and your friends some nice fruits and veggies later. I won't forget about you," he promises, and only then does he realize that the growling he's hearing is not actually from the Wererat in front of him, but rather Darkstar behind him. "Darkstar… Everything ok, boy?" he asks tentatively, genuinely surprised to see the hound up and about, hackles raised, and still growling at something further in the labs, rather than slumped despondently in the corner (probably missing that blond cadet) like he had been for the past 30 minutes.
"Grrr…"
And for all that Verdell claims Darkstar's training isn't complete yet (and it isn't), he knows there can only be one reason for the guard dog to be acting like this.
Intruder in the labs.
So, he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, determined, and vows that he's not about to let some scoundrel ruin this discovery for him.
No, he wouldn't fail the President.
"Darkstar, sic."
"Woof!"
A/N:
- I know people were probably hoping for Cloud to be fully rescued this chapter, but I wanted to provide some more insight on what was happening back at the Tower along with the full phone call that Cloud made. There is more to this flashback, and I plan to post that in two weeks (I didn't want this chapter to be super long), and then I promise after that, we'll get back to Cloud and Sephiroth. Please bear with me.
- I'm not sure if it's still a popular phrase or if I'm just showing my age here, but 'herp derp' or 'herp de derp' is an expression used when somebody has done something really stupid.
- If anybody's reading Five Hearts too and noticed that the Malboro joke here is similar to the one there, that was intentional. I wanted to have a little bit of an easter egg :)
- I had considered making Verdell's last name 'Sauvage' as a sort of play on Adam Savage from MythBusters ("The only difference between screwing around and science..." went viral because of him, though I've read that ballistics expert Alex Jason was the one who actually said it first), but I liked 'Gagnon' better.
- For those who haven't seen the movie or just don't remember it, the scene with Verdell is based off of a similar scene in I Am Legend with Will Smith.
