He'd been a member of the elite paramilitary unit for less than a year, and already he'd busted three carbon-fiber field swords, two laser-sighted assault rifles, one cellphone, and a partridge in a pear tree. No one could figure out how he did it. He had a natural talent for being a talentless wrecking ball.
They'd bumped him up from a 3rd—thank god—and assigned him to a senior member of SOLDIER for mentoring. Angeal Hewely was a hardened war veteran, a member of the famed trio known as the Silver Elite with a reputation that rumored him his own fan club.
The Silver Elite were the cream of the crop, special operators tasked with secret missions and high-profile assassinations, and Angeal was one of the best. Zack was ecstatic to be working with him—for about an hour. The man stepped up to fill a role Zack's father had apparently neglected, disciplinarian.
When Zack was late, he got the longest lectures of his life. Angeal harped on him about his honor, his sworn word that he gave when he signed up for SOLDIER to be the best he could be, a sacred oath that should extend to everything he did in life from protecting his friends in battle to tying his boot laces to being on time for work.
"How can being two minutes late be dishonorable!"
"Count 'em out." Angeal waved him off.
Zack sighed and started squatting. "1…2…3…"
Angeal came down hard on his new student, he was a man of stern principals and iron resolve. He held his word second to nothing, the kind of man who stood on ceremony and expected the same from those around him. As if being run into the ground on a daily basis wasn't enough for Zack, Angeal demoted him to his dog.
"This is my new puppy, Zack," he'd say as he introduced him to other higher-ups with hands on his shoulders. "I just picked him up from the pound. I'm training him to be a fighter, but I've barely got him off using puppy-pads."
Zack slumped. Even his humanity had to be earned.
That training was nothing short of hellish. Angeal would spar with him for hours in the Training Room until he literally couldn't lift his sword, and then they'd go rounds hand-to-hand since his weapon became too heavy. Zack rocked a two-hander longsword—because he was "tough" and could handle it. So Angeal never let him put it down. If Zack was going to carry it then he was going to carry it. After all, Angeal had to carry his sword.
His Sword.
His sword was a family heirloom, a tungsten carbide devil cleaver with a torso as big as Zack, a ball-bashing Buster Sword. Zack watched him cleaning the thing, thinking he'd never loved a woman the way he loved that sword. Weirdo.
There were days when it just got to be too much though, the enduring grind too hard and frustrating. Zack would throw his sword across the training room and sit on the floor fuming at himself, wondering if he would ever get the hang of things, wondering if he was even cut out for SOLDIER to begin with.
"Hey," Angeal would crouch down to his level, an even tone in his voice. "You followed your dreams. You made it here. You deserve to be here, and when I'm through with you you're going to make a lot of people proud."
Those anecdotes had been coming more and more frequent lately, and after being deprived of humanity for so long, he only needed one kind word to jolt him back to his feet with a mad energy to please. Small jokes had been being exchanged, little ribbing insults in good fun, and Zack felt himself pining to be in his mentor's good graces...which is why he'd made double certain to be on time for work this day.
Walking through the archologie of the Shinra Headquarters, he stopped surprised upon seeing a familiar silver-haired figure looming in a conference room. The frosted glass affected the translucency of the pane, but there was no mistaking the monolithic man's imposing form and Gunmetal-black non-standard-issue longcoat. Satellites would have trouble mistaking him from outer space.
Zack gaped. Who was he? He was one of the Silver Elite, that much was obvious. The appearance of him in the training room had been a simulation but he was even more terrifying in person. Tall and tapered, packed with raw muscle that showed shirtless underneath his Kevlar coat, he leaned against a table with his arms crossed and eyes turned down as if marking the world for death.
Someone else Zack didn't recognized entered to join him. A girl about his age strode over to the big man and clicked her heels together at attention.
…SOLDIER…?
Were there even any girls in SOLDIER? Zack hadn't seen any, yet she wore the same pauldrons and two military stripes indicating a 2nd Class. He cocked his head.
Well, guess so…
The big man put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her in for a quick hug, and Zack understood. That was his student! The way Zack was Angeal's student, this man had one also, and it was a cute girl! He HAD to meet her.
They resumed their serious air and Zack saw the man's lips moving, briefing her on her next mission. She phased to go-mode in a flash as her body went taut, and Zack's body went limp.
A salute, and she walked out of the conference room, toward Zack!
She strode with the grace of a panther, a lotus flower in human form. Shards of lilac sheered her brow—short on one side, long on the other—she didn't give two damns what anyone thought about her and wore it on the outside like a mark of pride. A blood-red side-pouch strapped to her thigh, and a blood-stained Gunblade strapped to her back, Zack was halfway to Heaven swooning on hormones and happy-thoughts.
He ran up to her wagging his tail.
"Hiya! I'm Zack, SOLDIER 2nd Cl—"
But she shot him the meanest glare he'd ever received in his life. It threw him back against the wall holding his hands up harmlessly, and she continued on down the hall minding her own business. That silver-haired monolith left the conference room soon after, following stead.
"H-hey!" Zack bounced up to him. The obvious who are you question lingered en cue on Zack's painfully short attention span, but a far more immediate one came out first. "That girl. Do you know her? Who is she?"
The man shot him another glare, and Zack knew where she'd learned it from.
"No one you need to worry about," he warned in a dark voice, and brushed past him on his way. His black coat flared after him like a train of feathers flowing in his wake.
Shot down. Twice. Rookie.
Zack sighed as he took the elevator up to SOLDIER wing and coursed down the plain white hallway with his hands in his pockets. An array of company posters lined the corridor, policy listings a mile long in print the size of ants. A minimum wage poster was tacked up with very small numbers in very large font.
"ARE YOU BEING BULLIED AT WORK?" showed a stick figure with a sword poking another crying stick figure.
"SEXUAL HARASSMENT IS NOT OKAY!" warned a poster depicting a lurking SOLDIER stick figure with a Buster Sword creeping up behind a girl stick figure holding flowers.
Another 2nd ran up to him around the corner. He was too distracted to recognize him immediately.
"Zack! What'up yo!"
"Hrrngg, hi Kunsel." Zack was so not in the mood to get ragged on, like he knew his old buddy from SOLDIER A-School was definitely going to do. Kunsel fell in step with him.
"I heard you broke a real sword in a simulation field! Whoa! What's it like to destroy company property with your mind?"
"Like being the chosen one, or the savior, or some other really big flashy tongue-lashing target."
"Hah! You seem on edge about it."
"I can't take it! I've been trying for months to make 1st Class. At this rate I'll make active duty by the time I hit retirement." He jumped up grabbing the hallway overhang and did ten pullups, as was the ritual when anyone walked under that thing. Jordie banged his out and they continued down the wing.
"Well at least you're not like those other deserters."
"Huh?"
"Haven't you heard? There's been a mutiny in SOLDIER." Zack stopped dead as Kunsel explained. "One of the 1sts—that crazy one—he took a whole battalion of 2nds and 3rds and jumped ship. Guess they got tired of waiting for a promotion."
"There's three crazy ones and I'm stuck with one of them. There's the big one, the bigger one and the flamboyant one, more specific will'ya?"
"The flamer, yeah. I dunno. Hey are you headed to Briefing?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Maybe they'll tell you there. In the meantime I got a new phone, take my number."
Zack whipped out his phone.
"HAH!" Kunsel nearly choked on his spit. "I'm lovin' the pink!"
"It's not pink! It's plumb!"
"You know I heard corporate assigns the PLUMB ones to knuckleheads who lost theirs on basic training missions."
Zack grimaced, smoke practically billowing by his ears. "Whatever."
Kunsel called him and Zack saved his number.
"Alrighty, I'll see you later Zack-Attack, email if something comes up."
Zack threw him a two-finger lazy salute and headed to the stairwell. He reached the Director of SOLDIER's office and let himself in.
Inside was a large conference room with a lacquered-rosewood business table equipped with holodecks for each chair. Angeal and another man sat in front of their decks looking over readouts on their screens. The man Zack didn't recognize rose to receive him.
He looked like the kind of guy that came out of a box imported from some exotic foreign country, assembled in a sweatshop by nimble-fingered villagers and displayed on a runway downtown during Fashion Week. His gold hair was freshly permed and smelled of a chemical residue, and his fitted suit suggested a religious preference revolving around a peculiar form of tailor-worship.
"Zack," he smiled, "I've heard a lot about you. Lazard, Director of SOLDIER."
THIS was their Director?
The man extended his hand in that guarded professionalism of business-casual. Zack regarded him, decided he wasn't going to bite, and shook it.
"Yo."
The overhead computer threw a projection onto the big OLED screen above the conference table. Zack saw a mugshot of a rust-haired SOLDIER complete with stats and background intel.
"SOLDIER 1st Class Genesis," said Lazard. "A month ago, he went missing on a mission to Wutai…"
Angeal sat running a hand over jet hair he'd slicked back like an oil spill, eyes fixed on the shot of this mystery man named Genesis.
Lazard pinched his chin. "SOLDIER 1st Class Sephiroth has been dispatched to hunt him down, and he's requested backup. We've decided to send you."
"Uh, who's Sephiroth?"
Angeal and Lazard both looked at Zack like he was crazy.
"…The hero of Shinra. The bloody harbinger himself. He's been in every major war since you've been born."
"…Oh," Zack replied.
Angeal sighed like he was debating with himself, and had come to a reluctant decision.
"Zack…I've recommended you for 1st Class."
WHAAAAAAA?!
Zack beamed, a mad laughter seizing him. He couldn't believe it!
"AHHHHHH! Angeal!" He tackled his mentor in a big bear hug, jumping and shaking with his tail wagging. "Aw I love you, man! Angeal—"
Angeal shoved him off with a huge paw.
"Don't make me change my mind."
Zack stood at attention, a huge stupid smile still on his face.
"Get your gear sorted. We'll leave at 1200 hours. I'm counting on you."
"SIR!" he stood up even straighter, with an even stupider sparkle of triumph in his eyes.
"Zack," Lazard interjected. "SOLDIER's are the best there is. Most only dream of standing where you are now, and as such, I will be ranking you on this next mission personally. If you don't mind me imploring, what is your dream, Zack? To become 1st Class?"
"No Sir," Zack struck a melodramatic pose. "To become a hero!"
Angeal face-palmed and Zack winced, cocking his head like a puppy.
"You've got two hours Zack. I'll see you at the helipad."
Zack nodded. He knew the real meaning behind Angeal's instructions was 'don't be late this time'. He clicked his heels together, did a full parade-dress turnabout and left the conference room.
Don't trip don't trip don't trip.
[Received Force Bangle]
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