Chapter 1: Awakening in a Strange Land
The clash of steel against steel had finally subsided. The battlefield, once roaring with the fiery wrath of gods, now lay in eerie silence. Cloud Strife, battered and bloodied, stood victorious over Sephiroth, the self-proclaimed harbinger of destruction. Every fiber of his being ached, but a grim satisfaction washed over him. He had done it. The planet was safe… for now.
Exhaustion took hold as he collapsed onto the charred ground. His eyes grew heavy, and the world around him faded to black.
When he awoke, the air was different. Gone was the sulfuric stench of Mako-reactive terrain and the oppressive weight of Shinra's machinations. Instead, he inhaled the scent of… refuse? Opening his eyes, Cloud found himself lying against a wall in a grimy alleyway, surrounded by overfilled dumpsters and piles of garbage. The sky above was brighter, clearer, yet tinged with smog from distant industrialization. It was not Midgar. Not any place he recognized.
He sat up slowly, every muscle in his body protesting. Reflexively, his hand moved to his back, reaching for the familiar heft of the Buster Sword. Nothing. His heart skipped a beat as he looked around frantically. The sword was nowhere to be seen. Panic threatened to bubble over, but he forced himself to breathe. Instead, his gaze fell to the large bike parked a few feet away.
"Fenrir," he muttered. Relief tempered his panic. At least something had followed him.
Cloud stood, brushing off his tattered clothing. As he moved, he felt the weight of something unfamiliar in his pockets. He reached in and pulled out several small, glowing orbs. Materia. He turned them over in his hand, recognizing the swirling energies within two of them instantly: Master Magic and Master Summon. Two of the most powerful Materia he had ever wielded. The others appeared to be minor supportive Materia, but they were all he had for now.
His mind raced. How did he get here? What was this place? And why did it feel so… advanced yet different? Cloud had seen technological marvels in Shinra's golden age, but this city's skyline, faintly visible beyond the alley, seemed almost… optimistic in its design.
He shook his head, resolving to find answers. Mounting Fenrir, he turned the key. The engine roared to life, echoing through the narrow alley. He twisted the throttle, and the massive motorcycle surged forward, carrying him out of the darkness and into the light of a bustling urban street.
A New World
The city was alive with activity. Cloud's eyes scanned the streets as he maneuvered Fenrir through traffic. People walked about with an air of casual normalcy. Skyscrapers loomed above, their facades gleaming with glass and metal. Large billboards displayed advertisements for everything from soft drinks to something called "Hero Insurance." It was all so… clean compared to the gritty dystopia of Midgar.
As he rode, Cloud noticed something peculiar: heroes. Or, at least, people dressed as such. On a distant rooftop, he saw a figure in bright red spandex leap from building to building, leaving a trail of smoke in their wake. Below, a large man with stone-like skin helped a civilian pull a car out of a ditch.
"Quirks," he heard someone say as they passed by on the sidewalk. "Even with heroes around, you never know when a villain might attack."
Cloud frowned. Quirks? Heroes? Villains? The words felt both familiar and alien. The concept of combatants with extraordinary powers wasn't foreign to him, but the idea of such people operating openly, as if it were part of daily life, was strange.
He stopped at a red light and glanced at a nearby newsstand. The front page of a newspaper caught his eye: "Endeavor Foils High-Profile Robbery in Musutafu." The headline was accompanied by a picture of a fiery man standing triumphantly in front of a burning building.
"Musutafu," Cloud muttered. So that was the name of this place.
The light turned green, and Cloud continued driving, letting the city's layout sink in. He didn't know where he was going, but his instincts told him to head for the outskirts. Crowded cities were never a good place to figure things out.
Encountering the Unfamiliar
As he rode, Cloud's mind wandered back to his Materia. He reached down to the slots embedded in his gloves and belt, confirming that the Master Magic and Master Summon Materia were equipped. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the Master Magic, letting its familiar energy flow through him. He could feel the spells at his disposal, a reassuring presence amidst the chaos of the unknown.
The Master Summon Materia felt heavier, its power almost overwhelming. He hadn't called upon the likes of Bahamut or Knights of the Round since his last battle. The thought of unleashing such devastation in this unfamiliar place made him uneasy.
A sudden commotion snapped him out of his thoughts. Ahead, a crowd had gathered near an intersection, their murmurs filled with excitement and fear. Cloud slowed Fenrir, pulling over to the curb to observe.
"What's going on?" he asked a bystander, his tone brusque.
The man, startled by Cloud's imposing presence, stammered, "I-It's a villain attack. Some guy with… metal tentacles. The heroes are handling it, though."
Cloud's gaze shifted to the scene. A towering man with mechanical appendages was wreaking havoc, tearing apart vehicles and hurling them at the approaching heroes. The heroes, a mix of flamboyant costumes and varied abilities, worked in tandem to subdue the villain. One created barriers of light, while another hurled fireballs to corral him.
Cloud's hand instinctively moved to his back, only to remember that the Buster Sword wasn't there. A pang of frustration shot through him. He could feel the urge to intervene, but something held him back. This wasn't his world, and he didn't fully understand its rules. Yet.
To the Edge of the City
The battle faded into the distance as Cloud resumed his ride. The city gradually gave way to quieter, less developed areas. The buildings grew shorter, the streets less crowded. Eventually, he found himself at the edge of what appeared to be a garbage dump—a sprawling wasteland of discarded appliances, rusted metal, and broken furniture. A sign nearby read: "Designated Trash Collection Area."
Cloud parked Fenrir and dismounted, his boots crunching against the gravel and debris. The air here was heavy with the smell of decay, but it reminded him of the Sector 7 slums. It was… familiar, in a way.
He walked through the dump, scanning the area. It was isolated, quiet—a good place to regroup and think. He found a relatively clean spot near a large, overturned refrigerator and sat down, resting his arms on his knees.
"Where the hell am I?" he muttered to himself, the question echoing in the empty expanse.
Cloud pulled out the Materia from his pocket, inspecting them one by one. Aside from the Master Magic and Master Summon, he had several lesser Materia—Restore, Barrier, and Haste among them. They would be enough to keep him alive, but without the Buster Sword, his combat style would have to adapt. He grimaced at the thought of engaging enemies barehanded.
As he sat there, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore reached his ears. The ocean was close. He looked out toward the horizon, where the city's skyline loomed in the distance. Somewhere out there were answers, but they would have to wait. For now, he needed rest.
Cloud leaned back against the refrigerator, closing his eyes. The unfamiliar world around him buzzed with distant activity, but here, in this desolate dump, he found a moment of peace. Tomorrow, he would figure out his next move. For now, he would gather his strength—for whatever lay ahead in this strange new land.
A/N: eat tacos