"Come to Mako Reactor 5. Angeal has been sighted."
This guy was the definition of "blunt trauma."
Mako Reactor 5 looked like something out of this one comic book about ninja turtles, sewer pipes and green ooze and weird mutant things crawling around. Zack climbed down a service hatch ladder into the huge personnel chamber like a factory subdivision, looking around in awe and utter bewilderment.
From the shadows, a frost-sabertooth lunged at him, but a swift daikatana cut its life short. Sephiroth showed up to mock-steal Zack's kill again, utilizing that annoying habit of appearing out of nowhere like a phantom.
Zack crouched down by the body—this strange monster he'd never encountered or seen in a dex-manual—and saw that there was a face emblazoned on its elongated head.
"Is that Angeal's face?"
Sephiroth saw it too. "It appears Genesis isn't the only one who can be copied."
Zack looked up at him, but his surroundings caught his attention.
"Hey! I know this place! From the simulation room!"
"BLACK BELT," Sephiroth reminisced, remembering this place from the training sims. "We used to sneak in there for fun, when the 2nds were out…Genesis, Angeal, and I."
And a memory played before his eyes like projector reels, a vision of the past…
* * *
"When the War of the Beasts brings about world's end
The Goddess descends from the sky.
Wings of Light and Dark spread aloft
Foretelling his day to die."
He stood bathed in molten sunlight, the silhouette of a living star. His silver hair streaked metallic and luminous as crystals, the waking dream of quasars. But the light was fading fast now, wreathing him in a parhelion umbra like a halo, the last dying sigh of a serotonin sunset sweeping golden straylight rays across his heart. An aural remnant of hope and despair, he held fast against the dying day, turning to see his friends standing stoic against the Junon Cannon bulkhead.
"Loveless Act One," he smiled with his eyes.
Genesis grunted, shutting his first edition printing of the poem he'd just read. "You remembered."
"How can I forget…" Sephiroth tapped two fingers to his temple, "…when you've beaten it into my head."
And with a whip of his hand and an evil feline grin, he drew his daikatana. Come play, it hummed.
Genesis Rhapsodos, alluring and brocade, drew in turn his crimson Curtana—a sword he'd affectionately dubbed Invictus. It shown against his brow in the red flowlight of dusk, an iron guard like a sweeping amaranth wing.
By his side, Angeal drew a sword as well—but not his sword—a standard SOLDIER blade on loan from the armory.
"Don't take Sephiroth lightly," he warned, as eager to play as any of them.
"Humph, noted," Genesis flicked his hair.
Nothing happened at first, everyone stood frozen in place awaiting something no one was quite sure of, anticipation heavy in the air. The three friends didn't even look at each other, just stood adjusting their grips, until they did look up, and worlds collided.
They rushed akin to a planet exploding, orbital rings of sparking slash-crescents beaming hyperslash melee. Sephiroth's daikatana exploded into motion twirling in masterful crosses, weaving in defensive patterns of transcendental stratiphores. They crossed and overcrossed, underslashed and powerwhipped in cacaphonic meta-slashes flowing off their ambient shard-blades. Sephiroth held them both at bay, sheerslicing in fraylight synthesis, with his daikatana held in one hand he stood up straight against the fray.
Then they rushed him synchronously, and all three of their blades locked like a scatterheart cross—a symbol of might and brotherhood. Sephiroth smiled as if he approved, then sent them flying back.
Genesis launched himself flare-slashing in twirling wisps that Sephiroth bat away carelessly. He shot at him like a pit-viper, swiping and slitting in sharp whipslices. Sephiroth whirled his sword overhead to arc-slash on Genesis' crossed blade, crash-careening them both back in jet-harrowing synth-slashes.
Then Angeal leapt in over Genesis divespearing down at Sephiroth, who narrowly darted out of the way. Now he put both hands on his sword—for Angeal.
The dark gladiator flared his SOLDIER blade in superslashes, chromiotic semi-circles slicing in flashes too quick to see, leaving only a blur from where they were before; Axiomatic iron warfare streaking by them in ley-lines.
Sephiroth skidded to recover. "Ha. Is that the best you've got?" he taunted whilst downslashing.
Angeal upblocked, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Sephiroth's sardonic affection, the only way he knew how to show emotion, but in the heat of battle it was easy to forget that.
Sephiroth knocked him back to stand by Genesis, who waited. He was having so much fun with his two best friends, he hadn't had this much fun with them in a while. He flayed his sword at them against the fading light. In the heat of the moment, it was easy to get carried away.
Indeed, even Angeal seemed a bit annoyed. When Sephiroth's good mood got the best of him, it really got the best of him. Their fun sparring session had turned into an exposé of his supposedly superior skill, and the big man seemed to be forgetting that his friends were hitting for their blades—not for their flesh.
"All hail Sephiroth eh?" Angeal grunted. He sought to bring his friend down a few notches, but Sephiroth just smiled—the only time he ever smiled fully.
"Am I really as vain as some?" he gazed straight at Genesis, and Genesis froze.
THAT was uncalled for. He knew what Sephiroth was referring to—one lone time when they were young, that one pass he had ever made. Genesis had nearly paid for that one with his life, and the two never spoke of it again. Now, after all this time, why would he bring it up? So blatantly and unabated he crossed a sacred line, as if it were nothing to him! Then Genesis realized the nature of his betrayal, the game was simply not stimulating enough for him, he wanted to face him with everything he had.
"Angeal, stay back…" he halted his friend. This was personal. This was a challenge. "I'll take Sephiroth alone."
"Genesis!" Angeal now yelled at both his friends, seemingly unable to remind them that this was just a friendly sparring match.
"Besides," Genesis stepped forward, accepting the challenge. "The world needs a new hero."
Sephiroth smirked, his way of showing he was elated. "Come and try."
"So smug…" Genesis imbued his Curtana with Fire Materia that singed in threat. "But for how long?"
Time seemed to slow as they flared out their swords like wingspans, then beat the ground jettisoning them at each other, slipstream sheerwind beating off their blades. They streaked by, turned on a dime and collided head-on mid-strafe.
Genesis rushed, side-swipe flying across the ground in a crash-crescent flourish, while Sephiroth countered, a one-two slash follow-through into a sweeping Flying Arc Slash that uppercut him off the ground. A rip-slash flash-twirl scathed his blade off Genesis', batting him across the sky only to have him whip back slashing like a spitting cobra.
They flew at each other like warring hawks barely touching the ground, dashing like laser beams.
A moment of calm in the storm, and Sephiroth smiled to show his friend how much fun he was having, how much fun he thought Genesis was having—but Sephiroth had pushed too far. Genesis pushed back, wild fury flaring in a catalytic psychosis. He threw aerolites at him, Sephiroth bat them away like confetti. They flared like heat-seeking missiles engulfing him, enveloping him in ultimate fire. Genesis had him, he summoned a specter in his hand to finish the fight.
"Stop." The face of Angeal engulfed his vision. This fight had gotten too out of hand, and the simulation field was in danger of overheating. "You'll kill us all!"
Genesis just beam shot Angeal out of the way. Move Big Brother!
Sephiroth broke through the firewhirl throwing laser beams at Genesis like hot javelins, sheering the cannon into strips like apple slices. He seared in hyperphonic bullet slashes at Genesis, destroying the cannon all with only one hand—only Angeal was worthy of two. He threw Genesis back, and Genesis charged him, they both threw everything they had into letting their swords fall at each other.
"ENOUGH!" Angeal rushed in to quell the fight. He stopped Genesis with one sword, and Sephiroth with his sword.
"Angeal," Sephiroth was surprised. Genesis couldn't muster words.
"Out of my way!" he finally growled.
Genesis summoned a specter of light that made Angeal flinch, which in turn made Sephiroth flinch—which was dangerous. Sephiroth reacted, bash-slashing at Angeal's SOLDIER blade, shattering it in steel shards that flew like bullet rounds. One shard went sailing like a thrown dagger, slicing deep into Genesis' shoulder.
He recoiled, hurt.
"Genesis!" yelled Angeal.
Sephiroth stood stone. Startled. That had not just happened.
He let his sword down as the simulation field faded in garbled imagery. Genesis clutched his shoulder.
"Just a scrape," he grunted as he stood up. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."
But the limp he walked with begged to differ. He refused Angeal's hand when he tried to help, continuing on his own way out of the training room—past Sephiroth.
What had just happened? Sephiroth gazed at the ground trying to quell his inner storm, fighting to center himself. Why had Genesis snapped at him? Had he not known why Sephiroth had brought up that one dark curse on their character? Had he not seen? He brought it up because in spite of everything, he'd forgiven him, and in his own limited way of communicating, he wanted to apologize. But these dark things aren't talked about, rather, they are buried in the deepest bowels of memory en cue to be mercifully blacked out. He was faced with the fact that he only knew one way to express himself, through aggression, and it had possibly seriously hurt the two people he cared about most in life.
Had they not been friends long enough? Apparently not. Genesis limped from the tangerine lights of the training room, blood dripping a beading trail in his wake.
"Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return."
* * *
Back in the Reactor, Zack leaned on a railing taking this all in. He and Sephiroth both seemed to slump in that dark Mako chamber, illuminated only by the neon glow of the saleen liquid below.
Sephiroth walked over to the body of the monster that bore their friend's face, to distract himself. "So it's true…they're in league with Hollander."
Zack stood gripping the railing, looking down like a lost dog. "How could this happen?" He put his head down on the cold steel, attempting to shut out the absolute disaster he'd slammed head on into.
"Angeal…What is it you're up to?"
He heard a melody that reminded him of chocobos again, Sephiroth's alarm. Zack glanced up as he clicked it to silent.
"Excuse me," and the big man pulled from his pocket a small glass neon-blue vial. Lifting the lapel of his coat, he held the cap to his skin and injected the contents into his body.
Ohh, he's on medication…?
Zack tried to be discreet, watching Sephiroth dose out of his peripherals. The big man seemed to know he was watching, and after he was done, they continued on without a word.
A jammed bulkhead door barred their way forward, and Sephiroth examined the access panel. He unsheathed his daikatana and proceeded to wedge it delicately between the door and the rusted steel frame like an oversized lock-pick. Zack leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, gazing at the floor.
"You know," he spoke almost just to hear himself talk, "all this stuff I'm learning about Angeal, I'm starting to think that maybe I never knew him, and maybe he couldn't give a care in the world about me. I mean, he did treat me like a dog half the time."
At that, Sephiroth started snickering.
"What's so funny?" Zack asked, and the big man looked over at him with a grin.
"Angeal loved dogs. He ran a rescue for strays out in Banora."
Zack was taken aback. Sephiroth continued with the door, still chuckling, until it swung open on groaning metal hinges.
They entered an impromptu bunker that looked like the kind of place for cooking up Dancer. Complete with research equipment and a functioning cryotank, the entire reactor served as its nuclear-turbine generator.
Sephiroth went to the cryotank and peered inside. Another frost-sabertooth floated in the ooze, a face like Angeal's on its elongated neck. Zack leapt back.
"There's a monster inside!" So many horrific realizations threatened to implode on him. "Is this where they make the copies?"
Zack found a multitude of clipboards scattered about and picked one up.
_Project G – Summary_
Objective: Implant the cells of a Cetra into a human fetus to imbue said fetus with heightened abilities.
Zack coughed, remembering a "Project Gemini" where something similar was being done on a smaller scale, and didn't miss the moniker similarity. Now they were moving up to experimentation on humans? He wanted to throw up.
"It was Hollander's experiment," said Sephiroth with an air of foreboding. "The result was a normal child. Which meant he failed. However…"
His gaze fell over to another clipboard. Zack snatched it up rifling through the papers.
_Report on the SOLDIER Degradation Phenomenon_
The heightened abilities of SOLDIER members are maintained by a delicate balance of various genetic factors. The tendency to develop sporadic hemophilic arthropathy characterized by chronic proliferative cartilage destruction has been diagnosed in individuals belonging to the control group of SOLDIER Type G.
Zack couldn't believe what he was reading. What the hell was going on here? Experimentation on SOLDIER's?
Sephiroth approached. "It was before Genesis deserted…"
Zack peered up at him with looming uncertainty. "What happened?"
"…"
* * *
The wound was superficial, but for some reason, Genesis wasn't healing.
Angeal and Sephiroth stood solemn outside of the medical bay door, sick with worry and yet somehow managing to keep it all in. The two didn't speak, there wasn't much to say, yet so much floated around in the atmosphere that it could be sliced with a sword. Sephiroth stood with his arms crossed, Angeal with his arms behind his back. This was bad, they knew, they braced.
The man who treated him was…Hollander.
They approached a stout man with facial hair and answers, looking to him with a sense of urgency that betrayed their SOLDIER guise.
"Doctor Hollander, how is Genesis?" Angeal asked, and Sephiroth held his breath.
"The problem," said the man who would be their savior, "is the Mako energy that seeped in through the wound. The compounded complications from his hemophilia are preventing his blood from clotting."
Their hearts hit the floor. Angeal slumped his shoulders and sighed. "Is it treatable?"
The man spoke with the absolution of a prophet. "First, he'll need a transfusion."
With that announcement, Sephiroth started to step forward immediately, not needing any prompting. No more information was required in his eyes. But…
Angeal put his hand out, stopping him. He looked his friend in the eye with a solemn sincerity that said it was not for him, a kindly morbidity that put him down. Sephiroth returned his gaze only with confusion, worlds swirling in his irises, and the windows to his soul were laid bare. If Angeal wanted, he could have reached in and ripped out his heart right then and there. He would never get the opportunity again in life. He had only wanted to apologize…
Dr. Hollander turned to Sephiroth with a finality.
"You are not viable."
Then Hollander turned away, and the image of him faded to a likeness of air that disappeared. Angeal, his best friend, his confidante and brother in arms, followed stead and vanished like a shadow…walking out of Sephiroth's semblance of life. He tried to follow him, to touch his arm, to reach for him through solitude and somnambulism, but Angeal was fading. He could do nothing but stand there and watch him go.
Why couldn't I be the donor?
* * *
Sephiroth paced in the bunker lab as the memory played like random feedback, reaching as much for the image of Angeal now as he had then. His gaze hung long and lost on the glowing cryotank.
"A SOLDIER Type G…"
A final clipboard lay on a portable gaslight. Zack read it not knowing what to think anymore.
_Project: Ancient – Outline_
It is now an undisputed fact that the life form excavated from the earth is indeed of the Cetra, an ancient race spoken about in legend. Archeological research gives us clues to these creatures' genetic makeup, a characteristic trait of this race is that they bleed quicksilver. Furthermore, historical records indicate that these "Ancient Ones" channeled the power of this planet to tear the earth asunder. Using the cells of the unearthed Cetra, we have begun research on creating and mass-producing individuals with comparable abilities. The primary objective of this research is to significantly reduce Mako extraction costs.
Zack dropped the clipboard on the floor throwing his hands up in defeat. He had no idea what was going on, even less so how to piece together all this random intel—all he knew was that it had taken his friend away from him without meaning or mercy. In the hull of a Mako bunker, he looked to the last strong force in his life for answers, and Sephiroth obliged.
"Project G gave birth to the man we know as Genesis."
"Project Genesis," Zack deduced with iron eyes, and Sephiroth finished his thought for him.
"Contrary to this report, Genesis showed clear signs of change."
"…Degrading?"
Then Sephiroth looked up from his puzzle, turning to Zack with answers. "Not only that…"
"…Copies…?"
With a forlorn stare Sephiroth gazed into the cryotank, as if casting a silent curse upon its existence.
"Abominations…"
A flashing alarm shattered the calm in the bunker. Sephiroth and Zack whipped around to see Dr. Hollander on a catwalk pulling on an emergency lever. Startled, he scrambled in a panicked heap out a side exit.
"Zack! Go after Hollander!" Sephiroth ordered. He dashed after the scientists like a pit bull.
Zack sprinted across metal walkways with his boots echoing in the Mako chamber. The floors had grated sections that covered openings to the outside. Zack ran over one making the mistake of looking down…it was a long way down.
Out of the chamber and through an Operations wing, he followed the flash of a white lab coat stumbling around corners. He dashed on, climbing stairs and powering up service ramps, chasing Hollander all over the bloody reactor. They emerged out into an open receiving bay where the airships docked to load and unload cargo.
At the bay doors, a Buster Sword jutted out to block Zack's ascent. Hollander ran away, but Zack let him go, this was so much more important. He stood stone, not sure what to feel.
"Working for Hollander now? What is it you're after?"
"World domination," Angeal said dryly.
"That's not even funny, man."
"How about…revenge?"
"For what?" Zack demanded, bearing into him through the wall with a furious gaze. Angeal stopped, Zack had power over him now, he accepted this. Exasperated, Zack threw his fists out. "Angeal, why! What could possibly be up for you to act like—"
A wing flayed out over the Buster Sword, and Zack stopped dead. Solemnly, Angeal stepped from behind the bunker wall to reveal a single pearlescent wing.
"Whoa…" Zack staggered back, the wing brushing his power away like wind.
Angeal stood facing him, wing and sword. "I've become…a monster. A monster's objective is usually world domination or revenge."
Okay. It was still okay. They could fix this.
White feathers flayed all around him. Zack pressed forward now, reaching for his friend.
"You're wrong. Those aren't the wings of a monster."
"Well then, what are they?"
Zack caught a lone floating feather in his palm. Now he had to be the strong one, for Angeal.
"Angel's wings," he said with conviction.
"I see…Then what should an angel fight for, Zack?" It was a direct question. All their philosophical sparring matches came down to this. Angeal's Mako eyes bore into him.
"WHAT DO ANGELS DREAM OF!" he yelled, flaying his accursed wing.
Zack stood solid, reaching through dire desperation, yet unable to take even a step toward him. It was as if he saw Angeal fading from his semblance of life like a shadow…right in front of his eyes. Angeal held his Buster Sword firm like he held his wing, facing his young student who had none…who still had a chance.
He flipped his sword and drove it into the ground, then strode toward Zack. There was something in his eyes Zack had never seen before, a murderous intent as he backed away.
"Angeal," he pleaded, losing him all over again.
"Angels dream of one thing…"
"Please, tell me." Zack was dying inside. He clutched his black shirt as he clutched at his heart, as if to show Angeal that he'd become what he'd made him, that they'dsucceeded.
Then, sadness, the kind that could only be seen in Angeal's ocean eyes.
"…To be human."
Then the world slowed down, and Angeal rush-punched Zack straight in the solar plexis. He drove him off the ground, throwing him back thirty feet. Zack toppled across the grated floor like a stricken child to shatter the grating below him, and he fell off the Plate with a scream of death.
Far down, he fell as if from this world to the next.
[Received Circlet]
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