GuiltyRed's Into The Nexus

No One Would Ever Know (FFVII)

2009-08-02T17:01:47Z

Title: No One Would Ever Know
Challenge: Self Insertion
Character: surprise
Word count: 100

Ah, peace and quiet. It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to write like this. Between Sephiroth and his frosty cool perfection, Genesis with his unstoppable fire, and Angeal the gentle giant and man among men, I have more story ideas than I know what to do with.

Let’s start with Sephiroth and Genesis, someone wanted to see a story about them… a fantasy, huh? Okay, I can do that.

Title: Burning Wicked
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating –

“Hey, Kunsel! How’s it going?”

I hit the button to bring up a neutral screen. “Not bad, Zack, not bad at all.”

First Aid (FFVII; Angeal/Genesis)

2009-07-31T19:29:54Z

Title: First Aid
Challenge: First Time
Characters: pre-teen Angeal & Genesis
Word count: 100
A/N: Got three-for-one firsties going on here!

Genesis stared as his friend staggered back toward the tree. “Are you okay?” He’d led the charge in jumping down from the branches, and now Angeal was hurt because of him.

“Yeah,” the other boy grunted. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle. “Landed wrong; I can fix it.”

Angeal braced himself, then pushed his injured shoulder against the tree as if trying to knock it over.

With a loud “SNAP” the joint went back into socket.

Pasty-faced, Genesis murmured, “Wow… Did it hurt?”

Before Angeal could answer, Genesis fainted dead away.

Unheard, Angeal replied, “Well, just a little.”

Office to the Max (FFVII; Rude/Reno)

2009-07-15T18:32:40Z

Title: Office to the Max
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: PG13
Warnings: hint of smex and drugs
Word count: 917
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII, Rude/Reno: alternative uses for office supplies - The 10 Reasons Why There's Never Any (author's choice) In the Office
Summary: In which we probe the edges of Reno’s inventiveness and ingenuity, and test the limits of Rude’s and Tseng’s endurance.
A/N: This came to me as a series of short bits, ranging from canon-present all the way back through “Before Crisis” – with an additional drabble from an even earlier set of Turks. Can’t help it: some things never change. XD

Tseng sighed and looked away from the carnage above him. “All right. I understand why we never have any pencils – that we can actually write with,” he stated, sidestepping one that decided, at that moment, to relinquish its flimsy hold on the ceiling tile. “And we all know Elena’s tendency to swipe the nice pens and sell them on the black market Below Plate. But why, in the name of Reason, is there never any…”

Item One: Staples

“Reno, your suit is a disgrace,” Rufus hissed. “Be in my office in one hour, and for the sake of your job, be presentable!”

Reno slumped back in his chair and gave the closing door the finger. “Prissy bastard.”

Rude shook his head. He dug around in his desk for needle and thread. “All right, take it off, I’ll see if Fate owes me any favors.”

“Nah, partner, I’m cool, yo,” Reno stated with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got this covered.”

The slender redhead contorted around in his seat until his foot was in his lap, revealing the tattered fringe of a pants cuff gone wrong. He folded the fabric up into the pants leg until the damage was out of sight – “Eh, highwaters are better than wreckage, yo” – and reached for the stapler.

Item Two: Post-it Notes

“What the –” Tseng stared at the strangeness, then took a step back outside. No, this really was ShinRa Tower, he hadn’t wandered into the wrong building. Bracing himself, he strode back into the lobby.

Ribbons and banners of bright neon hung from the second floor bannisters, trailing down in a riot of color. From desktops and other furnishings in the lobby proper, pastel arrangements suggested flowers and butterflies and, in one extravagant case cascading from a file cabinet, a natural mako fountain.

“Whoohooooo!”

Tseng flinched, then made himself face the approaching noise.

Reno bounded down the stairs, taking three at a time. Rude and Cissnei followed at a more reasonable pace, but even they were grinning ear-to-ear.

“Reno!” Tseng barked. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Aw, it was GREAT, yo!” Reno enthused, bounding over to his commander with no visible lessening of energy. “Rude found this thing on the Internet, and we HAD to try it!”

“We’ll clean it up, sir,” promised Cissnei, just this side of giggling.

“They’re probably still usable, sir,” Rude added, pragmatic as always.

“All right, I’ll leave you to it,” Tseng stated and turned toward the elevators.

He was doing just fine until Reno called after him. “It’ll be on the news, yo! Totally upstaged the President!”

Tseng banged his head on the smooth glass wall and asked the gods what, exactly, he had done to deserve this on a Monday.

Item Three: Rubber Bands

Reno paused to admire his creation, reaching one finger out to pluck it like a demented harp.

Woven between the uprights on a broken canteen chair, the web of rubber bands gave off a wobbly hum at his touch.

When he dragged the giant slingshot to the open window and reached for a paperweight, even Rude averted his eyes.

Item Four A: Binder Clips 1

“No, I don’t think they’d make a good substitute for nipple clamps. No, not even if you used big clips with some packing material in the middle!”

Item Four B: Binder Clips 2

“If you put a few dozen of them together like this, it makes a flower!”

Item Five: Shipping Tape

He paused by the men’s locker room door. Odd sounds emanated from within, the sounds of sweaty, naked men bringing each other to the brink of –

Tseng blinked himself out of this odd reverie and set about trying to decipher just what, precisely, he was really hearing.

No, that was a grunt of exertion, no doubt about that. And on its heels, a satisfied murmur.

“Yeah, that’s it, yo, just a little bit more… Perfect! Now, how about…”

Reno? Tseng scowled and pressed a little closer to the door.

“I don’t know, man, it kind of stings…”

Rude??

“Oh, but babe, you’re beautiful like this!”

Then Tseng heard the unmistakable sound of a tape gun.

“Aw, yeah!”

“I’m trusting you, Reno…”

“Don’t worry, babe, I know what I’m doing. Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever – AAAAGHHH!”

Unable to stand by and listen anymore, Tseng thrust the door open to confront his delinquent men, hoping to catch them in the act – any act, but his imagination supplied ample details.

Rude sat half-dressed on the bench, his bare chest heaving. His large hands cradled his head.

Reno stood beside him, fully dressed, tape gun clutched in his hands like a murder weapon.

“What in the name of Shiva’s tits is going on here?” Tseng demanded, glaring from one man to the other and hoping his disappointment didn’t show.

Reno shrugged. “Man likes it smooth and shiny, yo. How was I to know his skull would be more sensitive than his nipples?”

Item Six: Liquid Paper (anybody remember this stuff?)

Veldt glowered at the supply cupboard and snarled, “Why is it, whenever I have to write a report for my boss, there’s no Wite-Write?”

Vincent Valentine looked up from his own desk and sniffed, his eyes wide and a little dilated. He quickly shut the tiny bottle and stuffed it into his pocket. “Dunno, partner. Maybe you should write it in pencil?”

Veldt sighed, defeated. “Speaking of which, why can’t I ever find a goddamn pencil around here – to write with, anyway?”

To Get From the Left to the Right! (FFVII; SOLDIER)

2009-07-15T18:20:37Z

Title: To Get From the Left to the Right!
Challenge: Film Quotes
Characters/Pairings: Crisis Core-era SOLDIER
Word Count: 100
A/N: The quote: “(General) Where the hell have you been, soldier? (Winger) Training, Sir! (platoon) TRAINING SIR! (General) What kind of training, son? (Winger) HOAARRRMMYY TRAINING, SIR! (platoon) ARMY TRAINING SIR!” also from “Stripes.”

General Sephiroth considered the ragtag platoon before him. No drill sergeant in sight, the odd assortment of troopers seemed to be following a 3^rd Class SOLDIER. After a sidelong glance to the other 1^st Class representatives and Director Lazard, Sephiroth addressed the platoon’s erstwhile leader. “Where the hell have you been, SOLDIER?”

The young man didn’t hesitate. “Training, Sir!”

“TRAINING SIR!” echoed the platoon with eardrum-bursting volume.

I know I’m going to regret this, Sephiroth thought; still, he continued. “What kind of training, son?”

Taking a deep breath, the SOLDIER bellowed, “HOAARRRMMYY TRAINING, SIR!”

“ARMY TRAINING SIR!”

Beside Sephiroth, Angeal hid his face in his hands.

Sephiroth gave him a look. “You…know this kid?”

Godchildren (FFVII; Lazard)

2009-07-14T21:35:52Z

Title: Godchildren
Challenge: Kinks and Fetishes
Character: Lazard
Word count: 100

They are beautiful, my SOLDIERs. Godlike perfection in the form of man.

Any time I am allowed to linger in the barracks or locker rooms is a blessing. I memorize each man: every angle, every plane, every detail. Long legs and barrel chest and fine-boned hands, piercing eyes and feral smile and brilliant untroubled laughter.

And when I am alone with my memory and my hand, I picture them in their glory, power restrained by will and bodies shaped by that power. Rippling muscles, inhuman speed, and unimaginable strength –

– all hidden beneath the smooth and hairless skin of a child.

Unbearable Light (FFVII; Weiss/Nero)

2009-06-22T18:43:30Z

Title: Unbearable Light
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: G
Warnings: If it’s a spoiler, you haven’t finished the game.
Word count: 454
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus, Weiss/Nero: Reflection/Recalling the past At Endgame - "I know we're going down, but we're going to do it fighting!"
Summary: Nero finds his greatest strength in his brother’s darkest hour.
A/N: For some reason, I seem to be channeling a hella-lot of stream-of-consciousness things lately… It doesn’t help that iTunes gave me “Forsaken” by VNV Nation on this one.

Time slows to a crawl, and you are there, yet so far away.

The usurper has shown himself at last, my brother. I knew you could never bring your hand to strike me.

It still hurts.

He wears your flesh, though not your smile. Never that. His smile was the grin of a carnivore contemplating the fresh kill still bleeding.

But your smile, brother, oh how you brought me the sun with your smile! The first time I saw it, I thought you were a god, and I in heaven. You weren’t so certain then, the shackles not yet forged that could hold either of us, and neither of us suspecting that all too soon they would be. You wondered at finding a brother, as did I, and marveled at the different.

I could spend hours tracing nothing across your fair skin with my fingertips. I did spend hours…and moments dreaming, when you were not there.

You taught me to fear nothing, even when their restraints burned against my skin. I would fall into the darkness and find you waiting there, your spirit brighter than the stars. Together we found comfort, and we dreamed.

Together we were no man’s slaves.

You gave everything to win our freedom, Weiss. You never expected to come through this with your life. Did you know that I knew? I tried everything to cheat for you, to steal your life back from the fate you had selected.

My efforts only secured the deal.

You look so fragile. You who held me up when there was no strength left within me, you who reforged my spirit when others tried to break it. You who cupped my face in his hands and promised me forever.

How dare you try to leave me now? How dare the god to fall?

I am not so weak, my brother. See how I come to join you? There is no brave new world for me. Not without you.

Never without you.

Can that fool not tell? I am speaking with my brother!

I don’t know what awaits, dearest Weiss, beautiful Weiss. We have fought to the end of our story. Now all must change. Your spirit is ash, as is my body. I will rebuild you, my brother. My heart is strong for you have made it so.

Come, let me lead for a time. I will take you to the dark and quiet places, sacred spaces where time no longer measures itself and the heart no longer bleeds. Perhaps we will find him, the one who knows the blessings of the Goddess, and our tale will go on.

Can you hear?

Can you hear the singing?

But why must it be so bright?

Stillness Shatters (FFVII; Angeal/Genesis)

2009-02-26T21:03:20Z

Title: Stillness Shatters
Rating: NC17
Warnings: No warning necessary other than NWS – you wanted sex, you got it. :3
Word count: 588
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Angeal/Genesis: wake-up sex - "Stillness shatters"
Summary: Waking Genesis can be like provoking a wild animal: first you have to be absolutely certain you want to, and then you have to be very, very careful.

Awareness seeps through sleep like sunlight through curtains. I stretch slowly, savoring the feel of motion after being still so long, laughing softly to myself as I hear my joints creak and settle.

I don’t have to look to know he’s still sleeping.

Hard though it is, I resist the urge to look at him. The pre-dawn is blue and cold, like mako; I don’t like to see him in its light, so I wait, watching shadows chase each other across the ceiling. Only when those shadows are ringed in gold do I turn, lifting up on one elbow to look down at my softly snoring love.

Strands of sun paint his skin a rosy gold and strike fire from his hair. Even asleep, he wears his color, as though it never existed before him. Smiling fondly I give that thought another moment: what could the world have possibly been like, before Genesis?

I reach down and brush a strand of hair from his cheek. His lips are parted, dry from sleep. I debate touching them, but I know this would probably wake him, and to wake Genesis before he’s ready is to invite all the furies down before breakfast. Instead, I caress his cheek as lightly as a breeze.

He snorts in his sleep and turns his face away from my hand, and I try not to laugh out loud. A mischief mood takes me then, prompting me to tug the covers down. My fingers trace down his neck to his collarbone, follow the gilded path of the sun across his lean chest, then pass lower. My touch is firm so as not to tickle; the last thing I want is to startle him awake like that and get a swift kick for my troubles. It’s been known to happen.

Carefully, I move to the foot of the bed to crouch between his legs. He’s slightly aroused, probably from some dream at this point. I doubt he’s even aware of what I’m doing. Smiling wickedly, I take him in hand and tug gently.

Genesis sighs deeply but does not wake.

Bold now and fairly reassured, I continue stroking him, then lean down to catch the head of his cock between my lips.

His back arches slightly and he groans, but I can’t tell if he’s awake yet. If he isn’t, he soon will be, of that I’m certain.

I let my tongue caress the underside, the tip, the delicate skin around the head as my hand keeps jacking him off, all so very slowly as my other hand drops to my own erection and squeezes.

He shifts, then I feel his hand tangle in my hair.

I give him a low growl of approval as I release my hold on his cock and take him fully into my mouth. My fingers trail down to caress his balls, tickling the soft skin before gripping them gently but firmly so that I can feel the growing tightness in them.

Smiling around his cock, I work my way back to the tip, letting my tongue play.

Genesis groans and tries to thrust up into my mouth.

I pull back.

Too-bright eyes open, daring me to do that again as he arches his hips more slowly upward.

I swallow him down.

With a violent shudder, Genesis comes. I don’t have to look to know that his eyes are tight shut now, his mouth open in a silent scream.

The fingers clenching in my hair tell me all I need to know.

Why Did the Chocobo Cross the Road? (FFVII; Sephiroth)

2009-02-26T20:52:39Z

Title: Why Did the Chocobo Cross the Road?
Challenge: Film Quotes
Characters/Pairings: Crisis Core-era SOLDIER
Word Count: 100
A/N: The quote: “(Winger) Platoon – a-one, two… (platoon) BOOM shaka-laka-laka! BOOM shaka-laka-laka! BOOM shaka-laka-laka! BOOM!” from “Stripes."

Sephiroth hated these events. He stood at attention, acknowledging the young troopers as they marched by in formation, their every move neat, precise, and mind-numbingly predictable.

As the last platoon passed him by, he frowned, his mental count off by one. Sephiroth turned toward Lazard and stage-whispered, “Where’s the rest of it?”

Lazard fidgeted with his collar and looked like he wanted to disappear. “Well, General, there’s been some trouble with –”

With great noise, the missing platoon double-time marched across the field, bypassing the parade route entirely.

Their leader called them to their places: “Platoon – a-one, two…”

“BOOM shaka-laka-laka! BOOM shaka-laka-laka! BOOM shaka-laka-laka! BOOM!”

Sephiroth stared. “That…was special…”

Best Served Cold (FFVII; Rufus, Kadaj)

2009-02-25T16:52:24Z

Title: Best Served Cold
Challenge: Revenge
Character: Rufus, Kadaj
Word count: 100

Oh, this moment was so worth the wait. That look of shock and horror, of utter and complete betrayal – perfection. To think, he believed he had the upper hand all this time, bringing me up here for a bird’s-eye view of the nefarious destruction he and his fellows would unleash upon the innocent citizens of Edge, all in search for their “mother” – a few vials of cells, hidden right in front of him all this time.

“A good son would have known.”

Serves the miniature nightmare right. If Sephiroth hadn’t started all this bullshit, my cat might still be alive.

At World’s End, Act 5 (FFVII; Weiss, Nero, Genesis)

2009-02-24T02:09:29Z

Title: At World’s End
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Lab squick, spoilers
Word count: approx. 6000 total
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core/Dirge of Cerberus, Nero/Weiss/Genesis: persuasion gone wrong – “Your words are poison.”
Summary: The last of the three friends must find new meaning in his life – a life in service to the will of the Goddess.
A/N: Last installment. I hope everyone enjoyed this fic, especially the requestor, and again I apologize for the delay. Peace, all.

Act V

~ A ~

Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return

Time once stilled moved forward.

A call.

A whisper, too faint to hear, but felt within the heart.

Genesis stirred. Who is here?

Bright as stars, white wings flashed across his sight. Wake up, sleepyhead.

Angeal?

Your puppy needs you.

I don’t have a puppy.

Look again.

Genesis felt rather than saw the presence in the cavern below. One body, two souls. Two familiar souls.

Two wings: one white, one black.

He smiled. Yes, I suppose I do. Angeal…

I am here, Genesis. I am always here.

He’s an awfully big puppy.

Angeal’s smile felt like sunlight after a cold rain. Teach him well. You may want to start…with a name. Now, go to him. He has traveled far to find you.

I love you.

The golden warmth enveloped him, filled him with the grace of the Goddess. I love you too, child.

~ B ~

To become the dew that quenches the land
To spare the sands, the seas, the skies
I offer thee this silent sacrifice

Genesis dropped to the water’s surface, quietly but surely.

He listened for the sound of time, but heard nothing. It could have been hours, or it could have been millennia since last he walked the world of men.

It didn’t matter.

The still form of his charge lay waiting, frozen in mako light.

Genesis strode toward the body, his feet causing no ripples.

Two brothers held fast to one another within the pale shell, neither living nor dead; a vibrant darkness clung to the cool flesh like a protective ghost.

Genesis stood over him, listening. He could hear the brothers whisper in their sleep, their essences still intact despite the mako all around and the pull of time.

This…was a good thing.

High and far, another voice hissed and raged like sleet against coals. The fury had built and coalesced until now all it needed was a vessel.

The world was full of fools who would play god.

Genesis bent and picked up the one who would stand by him in this last battle, the one-who-was-two, with unseen wings of light and darkness. Regarding him with gentle affection, Genesis spoke, blocking out that distant voice for a few precious moments. “It is not yet time for slumber. We still have much work to do...my brother.”

A name…

Every story begins with a name, he mused, but this is the end of a story, not a beginning. Not yet.

He gazed up to the open sky; the building that had once stood above had long since crumbled. With a prayer for the fallen, past and future, Genesis stretched out his wing and carried the last SOLDIER to his destiny.

The name…could wait.

At World’s End, Act 4-E (FFVII; Weiss, Nero, Genesis)

2009-02-21T18:12:28Z

~ E ~

The wind sails over the water’s surface
Quietly, but surely

It is not time.

Minerva watched in silence as Omega surged to full strength.

Chaos, as foretold, must be at his side.

But Chaos, bound to a human, was not commanded by Omega.

This…was a good thing.

Chaos, too, knew that this was not the time, that the planet was not ready to move on.

One day, children, your task will fall to hand, but not this day. No mortal can command the end of the world – even if he thinks himself a god.

And now…

These events were necessary. She does not grieve, or fret; she knows that the end will not arrive today.

But were it not for the actions of men, Chaos would never have learned compassion, or wisdom, and Omega would never have woken from the dreams of aeons past.

Those dreams…had not been pleasant. Waking was a mercy.

And now…

She regarded her newest defender, awaiting his teacher far below the drama playing out in the skies. The men who had brought all this to bear were gone, but their legacy was far from forgotten. While those who witnessed the clash of Chaos and Omega were properly impressed, they had no idea what was just around the corner.

As she so often did, Minerva smiled sadly at their hubris.

And now…

Children of Gaia, return, and sleep. Omega, return to peaceful dreams for a time, the nightmare distant. Chaos, sleep in the heart of the planet and tell me of your travels.

While away the turning times until the curtain rises upon the final act.

At World’s End, Act 4-D (FFVII; Weiss, Nero, Genesis)

2009-02-16T01:46:04Z

~ D ~

Legend shall speak
Of sacrifice at world’s end

“Freedom is worth the cost.”

Weiss’ words echoed emptily as Nero contemplated the body count. First had been Restrictor, the 14^th Unit. A bitter rebellion had left a hundred troopers and a score of officers dead – and Weiss at death’s door.

The resurrection plan had added hundreds, nearly a thousand dead – civilians, mostly. Something had not set well with him, some nameless thing that tainted Weiss’ eyes an unholy shade of mad.

Something that made their mental link fall silent.

Nero had suspected that things had gotten out of control, but he was too far committed to back out; if his brother had any hope of continued survival, he had to see this through.

The cost of freedom…is high.

Vincent Valentine, or the WEAPON inside him, had destroyed Azul and Rosso. The two SOLDIERs had died as free as they ever could have been; Nero did not mourn their passing.

But now…

Nero looked down at the hand embedded in his chest as physical shock began to hit. I knew it. We have been betrayed again, but I swear, I will not let him keep you, brother.

Moments tangled together as the dark rose up, pulling him into its warm embrace. Nero went willingly, letting the perfect darkness remove his flesh and the pain that lived within it.

When he next looked at Weiss, he Saw the truth. His brother, mortal and wounded, huddled within himself, overshadowed by the replica of a madman and the essence of…something huge.

Something that reminded Nero of Chaos.

So this is what the end of the world looks like.

Wearing the darkness like a new skin, Nero willed himself to reform. He strode toward his brother, reached out to him, pulled him close.

With a thought, he banished the madman from Weiss’ body, watching with disinterest as the one called Hojo dissolved into a digital flicker and was gone. Brother, I’ve come for you.

Weiss’ voice, when it came, was weak and distant. Nero?

I have no body, and your essence is damaged, Nero thought/spoke. Let us become one. Let us come together, so that none may ever tear us apart.

Weiss surrendered everything to his brother, welcoming him. Yes. Let us... Weiss paused, as if debating something; then: Let us go join him.

Nero sank into his brother’s flesh, felt his will fuse with nerves and muscle as though waking to his own body. Weiss...don’t leave me, he whispered, suddenly bitterly afraid. Would he displace Weiss, destroy him? In that, the price of freedom would be far too high.

Nero... Weiss seemed to draw strength from Nero’s presence. As if fighting his way up from desperate dreams, he lurched to his feet. Staggering slightly, Weiss/Nero followed the beacon that had burned so brightly in their dreams for years.

Below this chamber waited a cavern.

Their time among mortals at an end, Weiss/Nero reached the edge and did not hesitate.

At World’s End, Act 4-C (FFVII; Weiss, Nero, Genesis)

2009-02-16T01:44:03Z

~ C ~

My soul, corrupted by vengeance
Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey
In my own salvation
And your eternal slumber

I see everything.

Their lives play out as if on some fantastic stage, mako-lit and shadowed. I have given them the tools they will need to see this ended, though it will cost them their lives.

It is enough to put the final tormenter firmly in the past.

Does the end justify the means, I wonder? I am sacrificing these SOLDIERs to put down a madman, to bury his legacy in dust. I think Nero knows – of course he knows. The thing wearing his brother’s form is no SOLDIER.

Hollander was a fool, but Hojo…that one is evil. Without him whispering in Hollander’s ear, I have little doubt that Angeal and I would never have been born. SOLDIER would never have been born.

The Nightmare…would never have been born.

Even now I can feel him, stirring in the currents of the world’s blood. He has risen and fallen twice since I have locked myself away here, his fury unabated by time.

Sephiroth, once we were friends. My hatred was your downfall, and my own.

The three of us should have been kings together.

Now, Angeal has returned…home, and you…you wait, don’t you? You allow yourself no rest, no peace. You burn for vengeance against a wrong that never happened: you are no Cetra, no prince of the world. You are no god.

You wait.

Things are set in motion to rid the world of your creator once and for all. There is no place for him to hide even a fraction of himself, and without a host, the last fragment of Hojo will be destroyed.

The last of the SOLDIERs will be destroyed as well. There will never be another.

I will be watching, my friend. Watching, and waiting.

Should the trooper who bore Angeal’s sword ever become a monster, or worse, a gateway to you, I will destroy him.

And if you ever return with vengeance in your heart, I will destroy you as well.

So sleep, Sephiroth. Sleep. Live on in memory, but let Gaia take you. I have no wish to cross swords with you as enemies.

But if I must, I assure you: You will not rise again.

Kiss Kiss (FFVIIAC; The Triplets)

2009-02-14T21:30:15Z

Title: Kiss Kiss
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: PG13
Warnings: crack and momness
Word count: ~1000
Prompt: Phone calls from Mommy Dearest - *sigh* Hello, Mother....
Summary: Kadaj loves his mother, but…damn.

The three had come from nothing into sudden existence, wondering at their physical forms (and in the case of Loz and Yazuu, exploring various athletic variations together and in solo), and generally getting accustomed to “being” while waiting for “something” to happen. For many days, they simply “were,” guarded by ancient waters and watchful trees.

One day, to cover their nakedness and prepare them for battle, leather armor formed around them.

And in the pocket of Yazuu’s coat, something new made a sound.

Yazuu looked from one brother to the other, then investigated the noise. A small box that fit neatly in his palm repeated its musical demand. Seeing a hinge, Yazuu flipped it open.

“Hello? Which one did I get?”

Yazuu stared at the gadget from which issued a loud female voice. “Which one what?” he said vaguely in the direction of the thing.

“Don’t you be snotty with ME, young man! It’s Yazuu, right? The middle child?”

Yazuu bristled, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “Yes.”

“Did Kadaj arrive safely? I had to use a cut-rate service to afford tickets for the lot of you, should really have sent Loz freight, come to think of it – but as I was saying, did your little brother get there yet?”

Yazuu glared at Kadaj, who stood, open-mouthed, regarding the device as though it were some kind of insect. “Yes, Kadaj is here.”

“All right, tell him Mother loves him best and he has to eat his peas. I don’t care what he likes, he’s never tried them, he needs to eat them to grow big and strong like – well, you’ll find out.” The voice fairly oozed satisfaction, falling into a smug silence that nevertheless seemed quite loud.

“What did she say about me?” Loz whispered, feeling somehow slighted.

“She called you baggage. And I DON’T like peas,” Kadaj replied through a pout. “…what is peas, anyway?”

“Yazuu,” the voice said suddenly, causing said remnant to nearly drop the phone in shock, “you’re supposed to be the charismatic one. Make him eat his peas. Promise Mother?”

Yazuu shot Kadaj a glower that was pure poison. “He’ll eat it if I have to pin him down and shove it down his throat.”

“What?!??” Kadaj blurted, rounding on Yazuu. “You pervert!”

“Did he touch you, precious?” Mother’s voice grew louder, likely to ensure that Kadaj heard her himself. “Loz! Where are you?”

“I’m here!” Loz squeaked, his voice catching between two distinct octaves.

“I don’t want your baby brother distracted from his purpose. You keep Yazuu busy, so he stops touching Kadaj.”

Loz and Yazuu exchanged a look. “…okaaaaay…” Loz replied. “Should we do that now?”

The voice sighed. “Hand the phone to Kadaj, please, Yazuu, then run off and play like a good boy.”

Yazuu glared at the…phone. Yes, that was the name of it: a phone. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Don’t argue with your mother.”

* * * * *

Three hours later…

Kadaj sat on the rough ground, feet flat and knees up, head hanging listlessly between his knees and a thin line of drool trailing from his lower lip. His left arm dangled limply over a knee; the phone, lightly clutched in near-lifeless fingers, continued to emit a litany of instruction in that imperious female voice.

“…now, when you get there, find Rufus Shinra and give him a piece of my mind! Hell, he’s going to try to get my head anyway, right? Right, honey?”

“…right, Mother…”

“Of course I’m right. You find him and you tell him what a dirty, rotten, nasty little man he is, and I hope my cells rot him from the inside! The things his father did to my son…”

Kadaj pondered the logistics of this, debated asking, thought better of it.

“…well, SOMEONE should have to pay! It may as well be him. Isn’t that right, dearest?”

“…right, Mother…”

“Besides, it’s not like I can take anything out on those other SOLDIERs, they’re all dead anyway, miserable bastards, leaving my son all alone to face down that corrupt electric empire all by himself. But if I could, I’d give them hell, especially that Genesis fellow – quoting ‘Loveless’ at me…at me, of all people! He has no idea that the stupid story was written because I was eating the Cetra and no one knew how to stop me. I should find him and send him that last chapter…that’d be fun, but too much trouble, really. Oh, listen to me go on and on like an old gossip! How are you, dear? How was your trip? And your brothers, are they behaving themselves? Do you have enough to eat?”

Kadaj roused with a snort, sucking back the saliva and nearly choking on it. “Fine! I’m fine, Mother, really. Honest! And…” He glanced toward the trees, the last place he’d seen his brothers. Now that the voice on the phone was momentarily, blessedly silent, he could hear the faint but distinct sounds of well-paced buggery. “They’re fine too, Mom. I…do we even have to eat? I don’t think I’ve done that yet…”

“Oh, right, silly me, what was I thinking? No, you don’t have to eat.”

“…so, no peas?”

“No peas, sweetie.”

The phone gave a pathetic little chirp. A tiny red light flashed on the display.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake – the battery’s going out. Tell you what, baby, leave the phone near some materia and it’ll recharge. We’ll talk later. Be good, now, Mommy has to hang up. Kiss kiss!”

Kadaj barely managed to keep the joy from his voice as he said, “Okay, I will.”

The line went dead.

For one delirious moment he considered chucking the phone into the water – then he smiled as a darker impulse came over him. Walking no louder than a ghost, he made his way through the trees to where his brothers were still going at it like rabbits. He found Yazuu’s coat, then stuffed the phone back into the pocket from whence it had first come.

With any luck, the next time it rang he’d be out of earshot before Yazuu even knew he was gone…

Pontification Worthy of an Emperor (FFVII; The Tsviets)

2009-02-13T15:46:11Z

Title: Pontification Worthy of an Emperor
Challenge: Film Quotes
Characters/Pairings: the Tsviets
Word Count: 100
A/N: There’s more than one quote in this, but I’m only counting the AC quote as my freebie. And I am SO going to hell for this one.

Rosso the Crimson prodded the dead Restrictor with her toe. “Now what?”

“We need to be sure of our direction,” Argento stated, turning toward their leader.

Nero nodded. “Yes, brother, what is your intention?”

Weiss gestured grandly. “What I want…is to sail the darkness of the cosmos with this planet as my vessel –”

Nero coughed softly. “Someone already tried that.”

Weiss blinked. “…oh.” He looked around as if the bare walls could give him inspiration. It must have worked, for he brightened almost immediately. “I’ve got it! To boldly go, where – for pity’s sake, that’s been done too, hasn’t it…”

“I’ll be in my trailer,” Rosso grumbled.

“Ditto,” Argento muttered, following her out.

Nero just sighed.

Not So Smart (FFVII; Angeal, Genesis, Sephiroth)

2009-02-12T17:26:38Z

Title: Not So Smart
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: PG
Warnings: Crack
Word count: 470
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Angeal, Genesis, and/or Sephiroth: wingfic - "Well, this could be interesting."
Summary: Carpooling has never been this weird.

The three SOLDIERs regarded their prospective transport with some skepticism and a good deal of dismay.

“You’re kidding,” Genesis snarled, waving an impatient hand toward the offending vehicle. “Where did you get that…that…thing?”

“ShinRa motor pool,” Sephiroth muttered, rubbing his temple. “Awkward, yes, but when I made the request three days ago, we didn’t have this…complication.”

Angeal cleared his throat. “Technically, Sephir, we did, we just…”

“The damn thing doesn’t want to fold flat anymore!” Genesis growled. His long, double-jointed wing flexed and snapped as if to emphasize the point.

“Mine has always been a bit…rigid,” Angeal muttered.

“But at least it was small enough to hide in your clothes,” Genesis reminded him. “I’m totally screwed.”

“Gentlemen, please,” Sephiroth murmured, gesturing at both of them to quiet down. “I’ll drive.”

“How do you figure that?” Genesis asked in his prickly way. “Pulling rank?”

Sephiroth gave him an annoyed look and said, “Because I can fit behind the steering wheel.”

“Just because yours hasn’t sprouted yet…”

“And who’s to say it will?” Sephiroth grumbled. “Genesis, I feel for you, I really do, but just because you and Angeal have one set of mismatched wings between you doesn’t mean I’m going to sprout one, two, or half a dozen of the things. Maybe it’s all those stupid apples you two ate.”

“They were grown in an area rich with natural mako,” Angeal mused.

“Angeal! That’s not helpful!” Genesis huffed at his lifelong friend. “It’s not the damn apples’ fault, it’s Hollander’s.”

“I thought Hojo was the official fall guy?” Sephiroth asked, curious now. “If it’s changed, I need a new pincushion…”

Angeal cleared his throat. “We’re going to be late, at this rate.”

“If someone didn’t have balcony seats for ‘Loveless’ and no intention of missing opening night, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Sephiroth reminded them both. “Angeal, you take shotgun. I’m driving.”

Arms folded and wing fanning back and forth in time with his tapping foot, Genesis said, “What about me?”

Sephiroth spared him an annoyed glance. “You’re small, you can fit in behind Angeal.”

“What!”

“Look, it’s simple geometry,” Sephiroth stated, pointing at the cabriolet. “Angeal has one wing on the right side –”

“One and a quarter, really,” Angeal corrected mildly.

“On the right side,” Sephiroth reiterated. “He rides shotgun, hangs the wing out the window. You sit behind him. If you need the room, we can put the top down and your long-ass wing can hang out the back without getting ripped off in traffic.”

Genesis debated arguing, but realized that if there was any chance of making the opening act in time he’d have to shut up and get in the car. “Fine. But if I find out who arranged for the Smart Car, they’re going to die a lyrically horrible death.”

Never Enough (FFVII; Sephiroth/Genesis)

2009-02-09T22:18:23Z

Title: Never Enough
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: R
Warnings: none, really
Word count: 723
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Sephiroth/Genesis: hatesex – You are such a bitch!
Summary: Emotions bared like fangs, two men duel on more than one stage.
A/N: For some reason they refused to actually have sex, though I suspect it won’t be long now.

This was why they should never spar together without Angeal. Sephiroth knew it had been a bad idea, fueled by each man’s frustration at the day; without the calming balance of their mutual friend, things had quickly spiraled out of control.

Genesis launched gouts of fire, one after the other as if to burn his anger out through sheer repetition. His eyes glowed with mako-charged fury, and right now all of that rage had only one target.

Fortunately for Sephiroth, he was a very quickly moving target. Unfortunately, Genesis’ rage was contagious: Sephiroth felt his own cool rapidly evaporating under the onslaught. “Enough!” he shouted against the simulated windstorm that wrapped fire around him like the hand of a god.

“Never enough!” Genesis yelled back. “It’s never fucking enough!”

Twisting through the flames, Sephiroth dropped lower, aiming for the smaller man.

The two collided hard enough to dent the simcast floor.

Genesis struggled to force the other back, to no avail: sheer mass and greater strength proved too great a challenge. As he skidded back into the wall, Genesis’ glare was pure poison. “Bastard!”

Sephiroth pinned Genesis easily, held him against the wall and leaned in until they were nose to nose. “Most likely,” he quipped. “Why do you care?”

Genesis snorted an unhappy laugh. “Mister Perfect,” he snarled. “Why can’t I be you?”

Sephiroth frowned, surprised at this question and not sure how to reply. “Why would you want to?”

“Come on, everyone wants to be Sephiroth,” Genesis answered darkly. “You’re somebody, a hero. You get everything you want, handed to you.”

“You have Angeal,” Sephiroth countered, fairly certain that his impressions of their relationship were accurate. “That’s more than I’ll ever have.”

Genesis looked away. “Please. Do you expect me to believe that? You could have anybody – even Angeal.”

“But, I don’t,” Sephiroth said quietly. “And I don’t understand why you’re angry.”

“Angry?” Genesis gave a cold laugh. “Angry? No, this transcends anger, Sephiroth. Right now, I hate you with everything I am, because you are perfect and I…I am a failure, again.”

Sephiroth blinked and released his hold. “You…hate me?”

Genesis glanced anywhere but at him. “Well…yes and no. I hate what you are, what they made you and denied to me.” Genesis met Sephiroth’s uncertain gaze in a blaze of mako. If I could just be you, I wouldn’t have to want what can never be mine.”

Lunging forward, Genesis grappled Sephiroth about the neck, lifting himself up to press a bruising kiss to the other man’s mouth.

Startled, Sephiroth made no move.

Genesis released his hold and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth with a grimace. “Didn’t think so.”

Faster than thought, Sephiroth grabbed Genesis and slammed him back into the wall again. He pressed against him, holding him immobile; slowly as a predator savoring the kill, Sephiroth leaned down and returned the kiss with enough pressure to draw blood.

Genesis tasted copper as his lip scraped against his teeth. He tried to move, to push the other man away, but Sephiroth gave him no leeway.

After a few breathless seconds, Sephiroth released both hold and kiss. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Bitch!” Genesis growled, spitting blood.

“I thought I was a bastard.”

Genesis glared at him. “What do you want, then?”

“I…don’t know,” Sephiroth said quietly. “I’ve never… That’s why I admire what you and Angeal have, it’s something that’s beyond me.”

Genesis took this in with some difficulty. “You mean, you’ve – you’re – you never?”

Sephiroth shrugged. “Too busy being perfect, I guess.”

Genesis sagged to the floor as his rage flared out and cooled to embers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’re my friend, I should never…”

“Never have come at me with so much fire?” Sephiroth offered. “Apology accepted.”

“You know what I mean,” Genesis murmured.

“Don’t apologize,” Sephiroth said gently, offering Genesis a hand up. “If I always get what I want, that means you have to teach me how to kiss.”

Genesis considered this, then accepted the hand with a grin. “That’s a challenge I’ll happily take, though I doubt that Angeal will want to play referee.”

“I don’t mind if he does,” Sephiroth said with an almost shy smile.

Genesis gave him a mock scowl. “Learn the basics first; then we can talk about a three-way…”

Silent Sacrifice (FFVII; Genesis/Angeal)

2009-02-08T23:41:46Z

Title: Silent Sacrifice
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: G
Warnings: unashamed tearjerker
Word count: 306 (including quotes)
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Genesis/Angeal: Grief - "We were supposed to die together."
Summary: After Zack has carried Cloud away and before Deepground arrives, Genesis reflects.
A/N: Parts liberally borrowed from “Loveless”.

Has the war of the beasts brought about the world’s end? No, it is not so, for my soul knows no rest.

Your pup has done you proud, my love. If only my body weren’t so damn stubborn, I would be with you in the Lifestream even now, by his hand.

My friend, the fates are cruel.

We should have died as we lived: together, half-winged monsters clinging desperately to pride.

Flightless, prideless, I dream of the morrow.

My soul, corrupted by vengeance
Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey
In my own salvation
And your eternal slumber

I hold in my hand a single feather from your wing, white and as yet unbroken. It is the only thing that is real anymore. You would have saved the world from the likes of us, from the shame our existence brings.

Your honor now keeps me alive. I have seen Her, and while I long only to rest with you, I know my work is not yet done.

Neither is yours.

My friend, your desire
Is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess

We were supposed to die together, Angeal. There is no pain at this thought. No anger. I feel nothing, now. I feel…tired.

They say that all are reunited through the Lifestream. Some day, I will see you again. Surely my work here cannot last forever. No man can owe that great a debt to the Planet…can he?

You would accept such a fate without question.

In your memory, how can I do any less?

Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
To become the dew that quenches the land
To spare the sands, the seas, the skies
I offer thee this silent sacrifice

Surely not forever?

Would you wait that long, for me?

At World’s End, Act 4-B (FFVII; Weiss, Nero, Genesis)

2009-02-02T22:47:42Z

~ B ~

There are no dreams, no honor remains
The arrow has left the bow of the goddess

Seven hours, eleven minutes, thirty nine seconds.

All gone.

Weiss lifted his head, all too aware of the heavy collar and chain holding him to the crude stone chair. He breathed in the mako-thick air, watched the energy spark across his skin. He could still feel the sting of burns where his shirt had combusted against his flesh.

Ragnarok, once the pride of ShinRa, was no more. Or, rather, it was now a broken weapon in the hands of the traitorous 14^th.

Broken, but still sharp. Still lethal. So lethal the survivors had to be kept shackled and bound with mako and magic and steel.

How long had it been, since that night of betrayal and death? Weiss didn’t know. With all the visible clocks removed, and his bodily rhythms forcibly changed by mako and who knew what else they’d done to him, he’d lost all sense of time.

He consoled himself with the knowledge that no warning could have been enough to stop the slaughter. The 14^th – or Restrictor, as they now called themselves – had taken the air filtration system and gassed strategic points before conducting wholesale slaughter on the support troops and the lower-ranked SOLDIERs of Ragnarok.

Of the other 1^st Class SOLDIERS, Weiss supposed only his brother, Rosso, Azul and Argento were left.

He didn’t dare think about Genesis.

::Brother?::

Weiss sighed and tried to relax into Nero’s mental voice. The link that had been forged in the mako tube had not faded. It was now the only source of comfort allowed to the brothers, for the simple fact that Restrictor did not know about it. ::Nero, I miss you.::

Warmth rolled through him like a pleasant dream. ::I miss you too, Weiss. Have you seen the others lately?::

::Lately? What’s that?:: Weiss struggled to put events in some kind of time order and failed. ::It’s still foggy as hell, I couldn’t tell you what happened when, but I know I’ve seen Rosso and Azul.::

::I’ve seen them and Argento, plus a young girl I think they had on staff. She’s done up in a mako-charged containment suit, I’m not sure what’s up with her. I want to see you, though. They won’t let me::

::Nero…we have this, at least,:: Weiss told him, determined not to show any reaction on his face lest Restrictor take notice.

::Are you all right, brother? You don’t sound well.::

::I’m…chained to a chair next to a mako reactor core,:: Weiss replied sourly. ::I don’t think ‘all right’ has any bearing anymore.::

Nero paused as though sorting out thoughts he wanted to share from those he sought to keep private. ::I’ve been dreaming about him.::

::Genesis?:: Weiss asked, frowning in spite of himself.

::Yes, brother. He tells me to wait, to make sure the others survive a little longer, and to not let you lose hope. I…don’t think it’s a dream.::

::I’ve dreamed about him too, Nero.:: A chill of premonition ghosted down his spine. ::Tell me, this new girl…does she do computers?::

::As a matter of fact, she does. Why?::

::Nothing. Not yet, anyway. But…I may have an idea…::

::They’ll kill you if you try anything, Weiss.::

::I would rather die a free man than live on as Restrictor’s slave.::

A few moments passed in which Weiss wondered if he’d lost the connection to his brother, or worse, if something had happened. Then Nero’s voice sounded cool and smooth in his head. ::Tell me this idea of yours.::

Whom Gods Destroy (Chapter 20)

2009-02-01T16:12:59Z

20. – Words and Whiskey

Impersonal, impartial, impatient. The clack of wheels on rail pulled me forward on an impromptu errand, though I held no illusions as to its worth. It was a name, no more; a name I’d long associated with Bradley in my memory.

Our too-brief phone conversation had indicated I would be well received. This at least provided some small relief, of my melancholy if not of my discomfort.

As the train pulled in at Kiev, I wondered at my own audacity. I didn’t give too much thought to what Vandemeer might make of my sudden departure from the Berlin hotel. I had my pager, and by proxy my locator; if he wanted to know what I’ve been up to, let him look. Besides, I’d been approved for a week’s leave, and I was only now at the mid-point of it.

Departing the train, suitcase in hand, I cast about for a familiar face.

“Konrad, you haven’t aged a day.”

I turned, amused and alarmed that I had been outflanked; then again, she did have the advantage. Precognitives usually do. “Margaret, how have you been?”

Margaret Sheffield smiled graciously and inclined her head. “I’ve done all right for myself,” she replied, her low voice rough with age. “Have you ever been to Kiev, Konrad – off-duty, that is? It’s quite a beautiful city. I’ll show you around if you have the time.”

Her demeanor betrayed no lingering hostility or blame, only a weary sort of joy at the sight of an old colleague who had never been her enemy.

“I have not been, truth be told,” I replied as we reached her limousine. The driver opened the back doors for us and asked me whether I wished to be parted from my suitcase. I shook my head and set the case on the floorboards. Once Margaret and I were settled and the driver took his place behind the wheel, a thick pane of bulletproof shielding rose to separate the driver’s cab from our relative comfort.

“As for time,” I added, belatedly finishing my reply, “that remains to be seen.”

“Many things remain to be Seen, Konrad.” She regarded me with an unflinching gaze. “I think I know why you’ve come.”

I sighed and surveyed the limo for signs of a bar. Finding none, I leaned back in my seat and allowed myself to make eye contact with my hostess. “I am shockingly unsurprised, Margaret.”

She offered me a tiny smile, then gestured past the left-hand window. “If you do have time, I should at least like to show you the gardens – I seem to recall your having a fondness for such.”

I wondered if this meant she knew about my recent time in Berlin, and the soul-searching I had begun there. It didn’t matter. If she did know, she conveyed no scorn, and if she did not know… Well, I’d been ready to call myself paranoid for decades now, and Margaret had a well-earned reputation for inscrutability. Each answer was truly as good as the other.

We exchanged small pleasantries for the remainder of the drive, saving our real discussion for a more private venue. “I have arranged for use of a suite in the dignitaries’ wing,” Margaret informed me as our driver pulled in to the tidy courtyard. “It isn’t under surveillance; you can speak freely there.”

I wondered then just how much she knew about Project Rosenkreuz, or whether paranoia was still simply the mode du jour. “Thank you, Margaret. We do have much to discuss, and I fear time is indeed short.”

As we exited the car and approached the main building, I noted the clean new architecture and pleasant, scholarly lines of the campus. This did not look like an Esset training facilty so much as a college for the arts. Then again, the focus here was on mentalism and meta: separating the true mind talents from the feigned, training in the more subversive aspects for both psi and non-psi agents, and trying to harness visions of the future. If these were not art, I could not begin to quantify the difference.

The rooms that she offered as my temporary haven were clean and bright, with wide windows that actually opened behind light and cheery curtains. I suspected that, should I touch the walls, there would be no screaming in them. Still I resolved not to remove my gloves here unless absolutely necessary.

“Is this satisfactory?”

I turned back toward my hostess with a smile. “Yes, very.”

“I should stop wasting your time with niceties,” Margaret said with a smirk. “I’ve already arranged for dinner at seven, so now it’s your turn.” She helped herself to one of the chairs beside the coffee table. “Tell me about Bradley Crawford.”

My back stiffened. I debated asking her to give me some privacy to get settled in before dinner, but she was right: I dare not waste a moment. I joined her by the table and claimed the other chair. “What have they told you, Margaret?”

“What you really want to know is whether I’m in the loop,” she replied without rancor. “Yes, Konrad, our facility has been searching for them since April.” She lowered her eyes, and I held my tongue, uncertain whether she had gone into a Sight trance. “Esset knew the date of the Elders’ fall, had known for years – though they hadn’t known it for what it was. Bradley had predicted it, you see. May, 1988. Do you remember? His visions had gotten out of hand.”

I shuddered in spite of myself. “I do remember. He tried to hide it from me.”

“I think I would like a drink,” Margaret stated, rising from her seat. “Care to join me?”

“Whatever’s handy,” I murmured, not really watching as she approached the wet bar and took out a bottle of Scotch. They had known? Then how the hell had they been caught so off-guard?

Unless they’d thought the visions meant something drastically different from their own destruction.

I didn’t bother wondering why I hadn’t been told of any of this. I simply accepted the glass of Scotch and took a bracing sip.

As Margaret seated herself again, she said, “I’m so damn sorry, Konrad. That boy deserved better.” She drank a bit less delicately than she used to so very long ago, then met my eyes and stated, “I still have a copy of the notes, though I have no need of them. They’ve been in my head since that day. April eighth, 2001, over the sea. A girl, and fire. A tower, the second tower, he’d called it.”

A chill breathed down my neck, but not on her mention of fire. “Tower, you said?”

“Yes, he’d said there was a tower over the sea,” Margaret confirmed, watching me. “Does that mean something to you, Konrad? If it does, then I’ll be sure to spit on Esset’s divisionary policies yet again. I swear, if so many people held so many different pieces of the same damn puzzle…”

I snorted a laugh that had nothing of humor in it. “It was a book he was reading when he first came to us, that’s all. I just keep finding echoes of it.”

“Sometimes a book can reach the subconscious in ways that shape its interaction with the world, you know.”

“That’s why books are contraband,” I quipped. “At Rosenkreuz, anyway.”

“You’re not here to discuss books with me, Konrad,” Margaret chided gently. “Or to ask me about the past.”

“What do you know about my far-seeing project, Margaret?” I asked, setting my glass down on the table before my hand could begin to shake. I had dreaded asking her this, certain that either she would know nothing or that she would have been the one advising Prague on its plausibility.

“Damn little, truth be told,” she said. “Konrad, you do know that, as head of a Gamma-rated facility, I still report to Prague? And I will have to tell them you’ve been here to see me.”

“I know. Believe me, I’ll be posting my own report,” I told her, eager to avoid that kind of misunderstanding. “I’m not trying to sneak around their authority, Margaret. I just thought that maybe, as one of his best teachers, you might have some insight that others may have missed. Perhaps, in this circumstance, it would be better for the facilities to get past the dark ages of isolationism and just try to cooperate with each other.”

She nodded and gave me a knowing smile. “I happen to agree with you. There’s been too much mistrust and sabotage in the past, especially from Prague. This situation, though, is more critical than the old guard would ever want to admit.” She fixed me with a warning look and added, “The fact that you weren’t prevented from coming here, or I from meeting with you, attests to just how critical.”

“Prague owns Rosenkreuz, Margaret.”

“Konrad…” Her eyes dark with pity, Margaret Sheffield stated, “They always have.”

“What, did everyone know about this but me?” I snarled, offended by the implication.

“Not everyone,” she answered quickly. “But now that things have changed, that the new order is cleaning up the old’s mistakes, things are coming to light that should never have been buried in the first place.”

“Things like Rosenkreuz.” I picked up my drink again and downed it, though it made my eyes water. It hurt to think that my old colleagues knew more about the hell that was my life than I did. “I’m surprised they didn’t just carpet bomb it out of existence.”

“I wish I could tell you they never even considered that,” Margaret replied in a low voice. “Apparently they think it still has some value to the organization. I’m sorry, Konrad.”

“Don’t be. Vandemeer indicated as much before I left on holiday.”

“What did you hope to gain here today?”

“Not peace of mind, that’s for damn sure,” I muttered, then waved the comment off. “I apologize. My mood’s been dark of late. I just want to find Bradley and keep them from killing him. I thought – I’d hoped that you might have some news.”

She studied me with owl-bright eyes. “You didn’t think he’d contact me, did you? Or that I would – wait.” She shook her head and laughed bitterly. “If I had heard anything, I would have reported it, and they likely would never have told you. No, Konrad, I haven’t heard from him. I haven’t Seen him, either. And I haven’t been forbidden contact with you, so I can assure you from here on out, if I do find anything, I’ll pass it along. Our facilities should not remain strangers, not anymore.”

“Ah, but Rosenkreuz isn’t mine, Margaret.” I suppressed a smirk at her scowl; clearly she hadn’t been told everything after all. “Lenard Vandemeer, Gamma-division from Prague, is the reigning commandant now. In flesh as well as spirit, Rosenkreuz is the domain of Prague.”

Sheffield sat back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. “I knew he was being stationed there,” she mused, “but they gave no indication that you had been replaced, Konrad.”

I debated telling her more, unsure where the line was. “I think he expected me to take the retirement option,” I stated a little more sharply than I intended.

When she didn’t comment, I glanced at her to see if she’d taken offense.

Her eyes stared at nothing, dilated and unfocused. Her breathing had gone dream-deep.

She shook off the trance bare moments later. “Konrad. Show me that key.”

A/N: Words and Whiskey

A little change in chapter presentation – instead of pulling the short titles from songs, I’m going to improvise from here on out. It occurred to me that I’m spending too much time on the titles when I could be forging ahead with the storytelling, and the songs really don’t have any deep connection to the events anyway. It was a fun conceit, but I’ll save that for the three stories that actually benefit from such attention.

Speaking of the other stories, remember Frau Sheffield? She’s still an old battleaxe, that’s for certain. Whether Konrad’s visit will improve his mood…remains to be Seen.

At World’s End, Act 4-A (FFVII; Weiss, Nero, Genesis)

2009-01-23T02:36:39Z

Title: At World’s End
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Lab squick, spoilers
Word count: approx. 6000 total
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core/Dirge of Cerberus, Nero/Weiss/Genesis: persuasion gone wrong – “Your words are poison.”
Summary: The last of the three friends must find new meaning in his life – a life in service to the will of the Goddess.
A/N: Story is now complete. I'll be posting a segment every few days until done.

Act IV

~ A ~

My friend, the fates are cruel

Where am I?

Weiss struggled to wake, to move, to think without drifting back into uneasy dreams.

Dreams that threatened to follow him back to wakefulness.

Dark, masked figures and white coats…acrid smoke…screams and gunfire.

Something is wrong.

“BROTHER!”

Weiss lurched up only to be stopped by something hard, smooth and cold. His hands groped blindly, though he could swear his eyes were open. Are the lights out?

His chest hurt. Something cold and thick filled him, pushing his muscles from the wrong side, making his ribs ache.

Then his eyes snapped open, and the last fringes of nightmare faded into an even worse reality.

“NERO!” His throat burned as oxygenated mako rasped through his vocal cords, swallowing any sound.

Amber eyes locked onto him as a team of medics fastened a brace around Nero’s head, effectively muzzling him and muffling his cries. Two men lifted a set of metal wings and held them in place as the medics – the scientists – they –

::BROTHER!::

Weiss reeled, clutching at his head as Nero’s voice cut into his brain.

“Be calm.”

Weiss thrashed and searched for the speaker. I know that voice!

::Weiss, please…make them stop!::

::Nero…::

“You can’t help him. Not yet.” Genesis stood between them, blocking Weiss’ view of the grisly operation. “This has to happen.”

“Why?” Weiss moaned, unmindful of the way the green liquid burned his throat. “Why him?”

“Look at him,” Genesis stated, moving back a step.

Weiss stared, though the sight tore at him. Eyes glazed with shock and pain, Nero lay panting like a wounded animal; wings of steel rose above his back, not attached to any cybernetic harness this time, they were fused to his flesh… Frowning, Weiss tried to clear his eyes; something was distorting the image like smoke.

As he watched, a writhing darkness pulsed around his brother’s body, reaching outward. It engulfed one scientist before a masked SOLDIER emptied a hypodermic into Nero’s spine; the dark faltered and collapsed in on itself.

“You’re not hallucinating. He has to awaken to his power, for the sake of the world.”

“Nero…”

Gloved fingers caressed his face with the touch of an angel. “Be patient, and whatever happens, do not be afraid.”

The mako concentration changed as something was added to the mix, making him dizzy. He could read the lips of the woman who stood before the tank: This one next.

As consciousness sped away from him, Weiss looked around for Genesis…

But you’re not there.

Voices of the Lifestream (FFVII; Angeal/Genesis)

2009-01-22T19:50:18Z

Title: Voices of the Lifestream
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: NC17
Warnings: brief sex, lots of weird
Word count: 901
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII, SOLDIER: mutation - Mako causing a mutation that isn’t tentacles
Summary: Genesis and Angeal discover that not all changes are physical.
A/N: With the prompt specifically vetoing tentacles, I wanted to do something I personally hadn’t seen here before. Do let me know if I got away with it.

Genesis sighed and relaxed into the gentle flow of mako, riding it as it filled and shaped him. The world reflected liquid blue in his eyes.

And as always, there were the voices: legions of them, whispers through history, songs out of time. Great and small, young and old, snatches of memory with no more self-awareness than the stars – always the same, and always different.

::Damn I’m tired…::

Genesis frowned slightly, but not so much the scientists noticed. That one had sounded…familiar. He tried to find it again, but the wash of noise and sensation flooded his mind with light.

* * * * *

The next day, as expected, Genesis met with Angeal and Sephiroth to train. They never were allowed to rest long after their mako treatments; Genesis supposed with some bitter humor that the scientists worried they might otherwise rust. Invigorated and yet bone weary, he greeted the others with a vague wave of his hand. “Guess whose turn it was yesterday?”

“Not you too?” Angeal grumbled, leaning heavily against the wall. “Hardcore session yesterday, for me, anyway. Still tired as hell.”

Genesis suppressed a shiver. The voice – he remembered the voice within the mako and its plaintive complaint. That was Angeal’s voice! But how?

A black-gloved hand waved in front of his face. “Hello? You with us today or no?” Sephiroth frowned down at the smaller man. “I swear, sometimes I think the scientists just want to know how far we’ll bend before we break.”

“No, I’m all right,” Genesis murmured. “Just thinking.”

“Let’s get to it, then,” Angeal stated gamely, stepping away from the wall and drawing a practice sword.

Genesis grinned and gave himself over to adrenaline.

* * * * *

Mako-sweat gleamed on skin as Genesis pushed Angeal down to the mattress. All day they had worked to synchronize with the treatment through exercise and swordplay, but the mako still ran hot in their veins, refusing to cool. Eyes blazing, Genesis claimed Angeal’s lips with as much a bite as a kiss, fierce and demanding as Angeal gripped him under the ass and lifted him into position.

::I want you so damn much…::

Genesis gasped, then sank down onto Angeal’s waiting cock. With Angeal pinned to the bed, Genesis set a punishing pace, riding him with wild abandon. Auburn hair clung to his face, veiled his eyes like summer sunset.

::Goddess, you’re beautiful!::

A shiver started at the base of his skull, then raced quickly down his spine. He tried to concentrate on the fucking – the perfect, sweet, frantic fucking – but a corner of his mind couldn’t let this pass. Genesis concentrated on the man beneath him and thought, Angeal, did you just call me beautiful?

Angeal gaped up at him. “Geni? What did you just say?”

Genesis smiled and leaned down to kiss him. “Never mind. We’ll talk later.” He sat back up slowly, dragging his fingernails down Angeal’s broad chest.

* * * * *

::This is crazy!::

::No, it’s not.:: Genesis grinned at Angeal and took a sip of coffee. His lips didn’t move as he said, ::I heard you, during my mako treatment. You said you were tired. Tell me I imagined it, or this.::

Angeal frowned, logic and reason no longer in agreement. Jumbled thoughts raced each other before one coherent statement came to the fore. ::It’s just too weird, Geni.::

::I think it’s caused by the mako,:: Genesis mused silently. ::Maybe this is why some people don’t make it into SOLDIER, they can’t handle the voices.::

::For certain,:: Angeal agreed, ::though…I don’t think telepathy is what the scientists were talking about. No one else has ever mentioned such an effect. I’d think they’d tell us.::

::Maybe…the scientists don’t know, Angi.:: Genesis met his gaze with concern now. ::If they don’t know…::

::…we don’t dare tell them.:: As they’d often done aloud, Angeal finished his friend’s thought without faltering. ::They can’t know this.::

::What about the others? How do we know if this is just between you and me, or if it’s everyone?::

Angeal pondered this a moment. ::I think we shall have to be very, very careful…::

* * * * *

As Angeal and Genesis practiced their new talent, they began to notice other familiar voices in the mako. Some were newer recruits, only just getting their first taste of the treatment; of these, a few remained coherent, and Angeal knew that these would continue with the process.

The ones who couldn’t hack it, who lost themselves in the wash of voices – for those, Angeal wept.

Genesis began keeping a secret list of possible safe contacts among the voices.

But for all their trying, neither Angeal nor Genesis could hear Sephiroth.

* * * * *

Angeal selected his future trainee from the strength of his mental voice. Zack Fair had a powerful sense of self, the kind that would never be broken; for that, Angeal swore to train him, and when the time was right, to tell him everything.

* * * * *

Sensing his own private space invaded by another bright star, Genesis grew ever more moody and withdrawn.

Into his brooding came a new voice, wise and cold.

::Monster…::

* * * * *

Asleep within the mako reactor, the ancient being that was not an Ancient turned her dreams toward the new hive mind she had discovered. Some were broken, yes, but those could be the greatest allies. A touch, a whisper, a push, and they bent readily to her will.

Though unexpected among the humans, this was a most favorable mutation indeed…

</fck:meta>

FFVII/Family Guy Crossovers 1-9

2009-01-18T20:29:34Z

Title: Every Story Begins with a Name
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: surprise
Word count: 100

The black-leather-clad figure stormed down the stairs and into the library, searching for the truth that would set him free.

“‘Mother’, she says,” he growled as he paced furiously back and forth, “I’ll show her ‘Mother’! I’ll show them all! I’ll –”

“Whoa, talking to yourself, huh? Not a good sign.”

He turned to glare at the animal, an inferior beast with a tattooed rump. “‘Not a good sign,’ you say? I’ll show you ‘not a good sign’! I’ll –”

Without preamble, a buxom lady with reddish hair scooped him up. “Aww, is Stewie tired? Time for a nap!”

“BLAST!!”

Title: The Flowergirl Must Die
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: Stewieroth, Brian XIII
Word count: 100
A/N: FFVII/Family Guy

“Locked up again, I see,” gloated the tattooed animal.

The leather-clad menace tested the cage bars one by one. “Accursed wretch! Stewieroth answers to no one! Oh, I will make her pay for this.” He paused, face lighting up with unholy glee. “That’s it, those damned flowers of hers – dog, go dig them up for me!”

“Oh no, I don’t want any part of this,” the animal stated, tossing back his martini. “Besides, I thought you wanted to kill her.”

“More than anything,” Stewieroth purred malevolently. “But first I’ll have to do something about that idiot blond protector of hers…”

Title: My Name Is Cloud
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: “Cloud,” Ms. Gainsborough, and an evil watcher on high
Word count: 100
A/N: FFVII/Family Guy

“Chris, what’s wrong?” Lois Gainsborough asked the young man weeping on her doorstep.

“The other kids are being mean to me again!” he wailed. “They called me ‘Cloud’ because I farted.”

“Aw, sweetie, you know they’re just – whoof! Oh, man! What did you eat?” Lois fell over, laughing so hard she cried. “Oh, god, kid! I mean ‘Cloud’! You really snuck that one out, didn’t ya!”

“That’s it! I’m running away and I’m not coming back ‘till I’m famous!” Mounting his bike, the blond left her there alone.

From his vantage point far above, a smug Stewieroth watched him go…

Title: Mother
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: Stewieroth, Brian XIII
Word count: 100
A/N: FFVII/Family Guy

“So… how’s the whole ‘killing Lois’ thing going for you?”

Stewieroth glared at the smirking dog. “Flowerlady? I’ve decided that she’s not worth my time.” He knotted another dishtowel onto his makeshift rope. “I’m going to find my real mother, and together we will rule the world!”

“…uh huh. You’re nothing if not ambitious…”

The miniscule warrior paused to wipe sweat from his brow. “I have to find her, Brian. I know she’s out there. I’ve heard her, she talks to me, telling me my great purpose in life! It’ll be glorious!”

“I am SO not drunk enough for this.”

Title: Pretty Fly for a White Dog
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: Stewieroth, Brian XIII
Word count: 100
A/N: FFVII/Family Guy

“So, tell me, Brian,” Stewieroth asked as he settled into his seat on the 5:15 to Providence, “what’s with the ink?”

“Oh, this?” The dog looked back at his rump and sighed. “To be honest, I don’t really remember. I was pretty wasted.”

“But don’t most drunks get tattoos of their girlfriends, or put their name on their private bits – a jolly good stunt if your name is ‘Roger’,” Stewie chuckled darkly. “No, no, but seriously – why did you get that?”

“I asked for a XXXI, but they drew a XIII… guess I’m pretty fly in spite of myself, huh?”

Title: What’s In the Basement?
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: Mayor Rufus Shinra, Yuffie Takanawa
Word count: 100
A/N: FFVII/Family Guy

“And they all ask the same thing,” Rufus Shinra intoned solemnly. “‘What’s in the basement, Mayor Shinra?’ ‘What are you hiding, Mayor Shinra?’ ‘Where do you buy your shoes, Mayor Shinra?’”

Asian reporter and ninja Yuffie Takanawa sighed and checked her watch. “Mayor, I’m just here to ask about the expansion for the library.”

“A-HA! You want to know about the library I’m hiding in my basement, don’t you! Just like all the rest…”

Yuffie sighed. “All right, Mayor Shinra – what’s in your basement?”

Rufus signaled his bodyguards. “Tseng Tucker, Elena Simmons, Mr. Sunglasses – take care of this for me.”

Title: What’s In the Box?
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: Yuffie Takanawa, Tseng Tucker, Rude, guy in coffin
Word count: 100
A/N: FFVII/Family Guy

“We follow Asian reporter Yuffie Takanawa as she descends into the dark basement of Shinra Manor,” Tseng narrated loudly. “Rude, how would you describe it?”

“IT’S CREEPY!”

“Shh!” Yuffie hissed. “What’s that?”

“IT’S A COFFIN!”

“Shhhh!”

The lid of the coffin began to twitch, then flew back with full force.

The three thugs stampeded back up the stairs, leaving Yuffie alone.

A young-looking man with powerful arms levered himself up out of the casket. “Man oh man, how long have I been in that thing? I told ‘em, I’m not dead, I just can’t walk – who the heck are you?”

Title: Mr. Valentine Is a Wretched Blob of Angst
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: Yuffie Takanawa, Joe Valentine
Word count: 100
A/N: FFVII/Family Guy

“…So then Bonnie decides she’d rather hook up with a pharmacist, and she dumps me for Hojo Goldman.”

Yuffie Takanawa nodded sadly at the man from the coffin. He’d poured out a wretched account that would leave anyone a wretched blob of angst, and – oh, hell, he’s getting ready to talk again. “Joe, Mr. Valentine, maybe we can fix this.”

Joe slammed his fist on the table. “Fix what? Bonnie’s gone, that damn geek did somethin’ to her and put me in this wheelchair!”

“What if I could help you get revenge?”

“We’d need an airship.”

“I know a guy.”

Title: Mile High Club
Original Challenge: Crossovers
Characters: Joe Valentine, Yuffie Takanawa, and a Pilot
Word count: 100
A/N: FFVII/Family Guy

“All riiight! Never done it with a chick in a wheelchair – oh my god you’re a guy!” Cid Quagmire dropped his cigarette and zipped his pants.

“Cid, I need a favor,” Yuffie Takanawa said firmly.

Cid scrubbed a hand over his face, still embarassed over the whole Joe fiasco. “Sure, I’ll be glad to help.”

“We’re looking for Hojo Goldman,” Joe growled, his eyes flashing red.

“Oh!” Cid backed up a step. “Oh, jeez, I dunno… That guy’s crazy!”

Yuffie sidled up to Cid and unbuttoned her jacket. “If you help, I’ll let you touch one.”

“Where’s he live? Giggity!!!”

At World’s End, Act 3-D (FFVII; Weiss, Nero, Genesis)

2009-01-18T03:55:04Z

Title: At World’s End
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Lab squick, spoilers
Word count: approx. 6000 total
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core/Dirge of Cerberus, Nero/Weiss/Genesis: persuasion gone wrong – “Your words are poison.”
Summary: The last of the three friends must find new meaning in his life – a life in service to the will of the Goddess.
A/N: Story is now complete. I'll be posting a segment every few days until done.

~ D ~

Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return

At least they’ve been warned.

Genesis twirled the white feather between gloved fingers. His old leathers creaked with disuse as he strode quickly through the access tunnels toward the outer edges of Deepground.

Hero, wanderer, captive? I have been the captive all my life, and now…

He ducked into a side tunnel as two dark figures crossed his former path.

And now, my only hope for freedom lies in a cage no one else can break.

Unheard music drew him onward, calling to him in the voice of the Goddess: blue and green and vibrant, liquid as light. He had to squeeze through a long, narrow crack, then wind his way across a broken and treacherous path, but when the chamber yawned wide before him, he knew his instincts had not failed.

His own breathing echoed in his ears in this vast and empty space, far below Reactor Zero. Here, wild mako rippled and danced, unremembered by the inhabitants of Deepground.

Where even now they must be sounding the alarm at my departure.

Genesis closed his eyes and basked in the warm magic. I’m a child, none of this has happened; if I crawl back out the crack, I’ll be in Banora and the apples will be sweet and Angeal –

Tears spilled free, flowing down his cheeks in a rush of honest sorrow. “Angeal…” Goddess, please, take me now and let me be with him.

The mako itself seemed to whisper refusal.

“I’ve warned them!” Genesis sobbed. “What more must I do?” He blinked the tears away and searched the chamber for any sign of the Goddess, or of white wings.

As his words echoed away into silence, Genesis knelt and reached for a familiar vibration within the mako. Mako begets materia, and materia begets magic; here, all things are possible…almost all things…

Energy coalesced around Genesis, enfolding him, enclosing him. He felt himself rising, falling upward in a sphere of blue-white light.

Sleep, child; sleep until you are Summoned at the end of the world.

Coming Home: Chapter 100 (Weiss Kreuz)

2009-01-15T21:28:07Z

100

This Troy, she will not fall

In the back seat, Nagi shifted carefully, trying not to disturb the contents of the medical kit on his lap as he traded the hemostat for the wide-end tweezers. With steady hands he wielded the tweezers like a miniature screwdriver, removing the tiny screws from the phone casing to have a look inside. I could feel his psi-awareness unspool to delicately survey the item from within its circuitry. “Crawford, this isn’t a phone,” Nagi murmured. “It’s some kind of receiver with an alarm function.”

“Have you ruled out a tracking signal?” Brad asked as he swung the car into the slow stream of traffic heading out of Ankara.

“Absolutely,” Nagi said with conviction. “There isn’t any kind of transmitter at all.” He studied the guts of the device, occasionally trading out one impromtu tool for another.

“Funny how this medical kit could work for gadgets as well as people,” Farfarello observed.

“Yeah,” I murmured, “funny. Look, I still don’t trust this.”

Brad glanced over and asked, “Do you trust me?”

I sighed and gave him a defeated wave. “Yeah, you I trust.”

A strong hand landed on my thigh and squeezed gently. “This isn’t Poland, Schuldig. I’m awake now. Possibly more so than I’ve been in a long time. The pieces are moving…finally.”

I gave up trying to fathom his optimism and turned my thoughts to Nagi. The kid could reverse-engineer damn near anything electronic, and someone had just sent him a toy and all the tools he’d need to tear it apart.

Someone who knew what the kid was capable of?

I watched the road as we made our unhurried way westward. Brad had decided to circle around Canakkale and approach it from the north, giving us a better chance at a straight shot back into the mainland should anything go wrong. I finished off another bottle of water and leaned back for a nap. The team would need me rested and headache-free, and damned if I was going to fuck that up.

Of course, dozing while my mind was determined to play out every possible contingency wasn’t going to be easy. I imagined camouflaged helicopters and Omega-level operatives, then “peace-keeping” troops with tanks, followed by a James Bond-like figure with codewords and a cheesy accent. Grumbling to myself, I fidgeted and tried to get more comfortable. If I was going to half-dream some twisted plot, I may as well enjoy the show.

Farfarello’s quiet voice broke through my mental haze. “Do you think he picked the site at random, Crawford?”

“You mean, did he choose it for its historical relevance, as some sort of message? Unlikely,” Brad replied thoughtfully, “though not impossible.”

“And if he did?” I muttered.

“Battlefields are never free from pain,” Farfarello whispered, “no matter how much time has passed.”

Brad said nothing.

The hours seemed to crawl by as we approached our destination. I kept a passive watchfulness, scanning the area for any sign of psi-operatives or other undesirables. Finding none did very little for my nerves.

Brad found us a good spot to wait and watch from; we’d likely be living in the car until the situation resolved itself in another day and a half.

“I wish I knew what the fuck we’re looking for,” I growled, staring at the pack of cigarettes from our mysterious benefactor. I knew better than to light up, for several reasons. Until we found out what the hell was going on, I didn’t dare trust the damn things. Besides, they’d only make me cough.

I told myself I just didn’t want to listen to Nagi bitch.

I concentrated on keeping our vehicle beneath people’s notice, deflecting the locals and tourists easily enough without tiring myself. It always amazed me how much easier it was to suggest to the mind that it ignore what was right in front of it, rather than believe a wholly fabricated reality. Far had told me it was because it’s man’s nature to be skeptical and lazy, that people will overlook the obvious more readily than they will ever accept something outside their own beliefs. This, he’d said, was the cause of much suffering, for angels and devils overlook nothing, no matter how outlandish.

As one of the devils, I had to agree with him.

“I wish we could take a look around,” Far murmured, leaning slightly out his window. “What do you say, Crawford? Stay in the car and wait, or stretch our legs in turns? You could make sure a driver’s at the wheel at all times, in case we need to bug out in a hurry. Besides, I have to piss.”

Brad frowned slightly, probably looking for a hint of warning from the coming hours. He considered for several moments before nodding. “All right. Schuldig, why don’t you go with him?”

“Are you sure? I’m keeping us under wraps pretty well,” I told him, not happy with the idea of dropping my invisibility project.

“I…don’t think there’s any need, to be honest,” Brad stated. “They’re not here. They’re not even looking here. Not now.”

“How can you be sure?” I asked, needing more than just his say-so.

“I’ve Seen this, Schuldig.” Brad removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before setting the glasses back in place with a confident hand. “You know what, let’s all take a walk. We could use a decent meal. Farfarello, bring the duffel bag. And Nagi, bring that gadget.”

We disembarked and headed toward a nearby café, with Far on the lookout for a public bathroom and Nagi almost clinging to my shadow. The whole situation had us on edge, but we couldn’t argue with Brad – not yet, anyway. If things went wrong…

If things went wrong, I was ready to put a bullet in Brad’s head and lead the rest of the team the hell out of there.

A/N:

This Troy, she will not fall
“Citadel” – The Crüxshadows Ethernaut

Throughout this story, Farfarello has often served as a sort of Greek chorus, casting his canny observations from the outside. Here, he’s all too intrigued by the prospect of exploring Troy – both the historical city and the hidden impetus for Brad Crawford’s suicidal rebellion against Esset.

I wonder how much of it he’ll manage to piece together, and whether he’ll ever share his insights with Schuldig. Even I don’t know the answer to that.

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