Chapter Text
The hospital room is quiet; the steady soft beeping of the heart monitor and the occasional sound of one Genesis Rhapsodos turning the pages of his current reading filling the silence. The faint murmur of people going about their business filters through the wall and under the door, but it only contributes to the almost peaceful feeling of the space. One would think the SOLDIER 1st would be reading his dear LOVELESS to pass time on his vigil, but the mystery the preliminary, Turk-delivered report presents is more than enough to keep him occupied.
He casts a look towards one part of said mystery: the currently-unconscious blond man recovering from grievous injury laid out in the only bed in the room. A few bandages are still affixed to his face, covering the worst of the burns from the open air. The rest of his still-healing injuries are hidden beneath blankets and bandages, giving the appearance of an otherwise healthy and in-shape young man. Genesis shifts in his seat, switching his crossed legs and drags his eyes back to the report in front of him.
The initial explosion had destroyed the bottom floors of an apartment building in sector 1. According to bystander reports, there was no warning, nothing to indicate that something was off until the blast went off and sent debris flying into the streets. The building then came down, doing a fine job at taking down the two neighboring ones as well, and that is where the reports started to get messy.
Reportedly, three figures pulled themselves from the rubble of the building, all wearing black, and then proceeded to try and kill each other, though exactly how is yet to be clear. Most security cameras in the vicinity were either destroyed or in the wrong position to capture any of the action, and the Turks were still working their way through all the footage in an attempt to see what actually happened. Eyewitnesses claim that one of the figures, apparently the blond man in the bed before him, initiated combat by launching himself at the other two in a leap only a SOLDIER could make and was met by one of them, the other content to hang back and fire his strange gun at his opponent in support of his apparent comrade.
The resulting battle laid waste to the street and did substantial damage to the surrounding buildings and produced a body count of over 100, which was still climbing as bodies continued to be dug out of the rubble. It also resulted in the deaths of the blond man’s opponents; the man engaging him with his fists falling to the oversized blade the blond wielded before his comrade was, too, taken down. It was only then that the swordsman collapsed. By the time medics arrived on the scene, he had lost a substantial amount of blood from numerous large wounds and he was rushed to the nearest hospital for immediate care.
Of course, because the Goddess forbid anything be simple in life, the destruction and homicide right in the middle of Midgar was only the tip of the iceberg. The mystery blond’s injuries were far more numerous than anticipated, the vast majority of them being slash and stab wounds from some sort of blade, though there were also burns of various types and severities, broken bones, heavy bruises, and a single gunshot wound. Most interesting, however, was that most of the wounds had already begun to heal by the time he arrived on the operating table and continued to do so at a rate on par with, if not faster than most SOLDIERs. The mako glow in his eyes and the high concentration of mako in his blood only cemented the conclusion that the man was enhanced.
And quite readily, I might add.
Genesis gives the man another once over. The majority of the bruises, burns, and scrapes on his face had already closed by the time he’d been moved into the recovery room, and most of his wounds on their way enough that the doctors decided against stitches, as they would most likely need to be removed before the day was out. They’d also been cautious to give him any blood, unsure if even their stock of SOLDIER blood would be compatible with his enhancements, so they’d settled on a saline drip to keep him hydrated mixed with a mild SOLDIER sedative to keep him under until the worst was healed.
Most interesting of all was that the identities of all three men were a complete mystery. The blond’s face wasn’t anywhere in the ShinRa system, and his bloodwork showed no matches to anyone in the company. Which was impossible, what with the mystery cocktail of processed mako that made SOLDIERs being a closely guarded company secret. And then there were his two opponents; silver-haired, dressed in black leather, and, if the packet of information he was reading was accurate, possessing mako green eyes with slit pupils.
Sephiroth, must you be involved in every interesting thing that happens these days?
Science, or, more specifically the greasy stain that is Professor Hojo, had been outraged when the bodies of the Sephiroth look-alikes had evaporated into black smoke before they could be “properly” examined and had demanded that the blond man be “provided” for further testing of his enhancements. Which then brings Genesis to his current position: keeping vigil over the man as he heals so that he can’t be “disappeared” before the Turks get their information out of him.
The Commander had volunteered for watch duty when it became apparent that he would be forced to do damage control in one form or another in the wake of the “incident”. No, keeping the science department away from the mystery man with the threat of firaga was much preferred to coordinating troops to help with clean up or, Goddess forbid, even more paperwork.
There’s a knock at the door and Genesis shifts his attention fully to the present listening carefully for any signs of unrest in the hallway. Finding none, he calls for whoever it is to enter, and carefully preps himself to cast should someone undesirable be attempting to intrude. The door opens to admit the assigned nurse and he allows himself to relax back into the chair.
“Any changes, Commander Rhapsodos?” the nurse asks, stepping in fully and closing the door behind him.
“None, I’m afraid. The wind sails over the water's surface.”
The nurse gives him a look, eyebrow raised, before turning to the patient. He sets his clipboard down and pulls on a pair of medical gloves before beginning to check the bandages and the wounds beneath, carefully unwrapping those he deems as ready to come off. Genesis watches his progress with narrowed eyes, smirking a bit as the man tenses under his heavy gaze. He moves quickly, removing all but the ones around the blond’s foot and chest. The nurse then turns to check the IV bags and makes a few notes on his clipboard before adjusting something on the almost-empty bag of sedative. He tosses a look over at Genesis and swallows.
“I’m, uh, I’m taking him off the sedative to start waking him up, if that’s okay with you?” he asks, shifting uneasily underneath the SOLDIER’s gaze.
“Of course, the quicker he wakes, the quicker we can start figuring all of this out.” He softens his eyes a bit and smirks at the other man.
The nurse gives him a small smile and makes a few more notes on his papers before picking his clipboard back up.
“His healing is fast enough that don’t have any pain killers prepped, but we can get them if he decides he wants them. He should wake up within thirty minutes, call someone if he doesn’t.”
At Genesis’s nod, the nurse lets himself out and he turns back to the report, leafing back through it to see if he missed anything about the man’s injuries. A report of this type would usually include pictures and x-rays of the sustained injuries, though it appears that the Turk who threw it together for his convenience hadn’t had the time to get their hands on any, to the Commander’s disappointment. He would have liked to try and figure out the nature of the blade that had made the cuts by what they had left behind, a skill he’d picked up by nature of his occupation over the years.
Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess.
It’s around 20 minutes later when the blond begins to stir, shifting in bed for the first time since he’d been moved into the room. Genesis glances up, taking a quick inventory, before he “returns” to his reading; he does have a reputation to keep, after all. The process is going just as expected when the man tenses, freezing in place. The heart monitor begins to beep faster and the redhead swears to himself.
“There is no hate, only joy, for you are beloved by the goddess,” he quotes. “Peace, stranger, you are in Wilkinson General, a military hospital in Sector 4. No harm will come to you while you are within these walls.”
The man flinches at the sudden sound before taking a few deep breaths. The beeping slows down back to a more healthy speed and some, but not all, of the tension goes out from his body. He turns his head towards Genesis and slowly opens his eyes, wincing at the sudden light. The SOLDIER 1st doesn’t react other than to shift in his seat again, content to watch the man over the top of his papers. The blond blinks a few times and clears his throat, coughing a little before speaking.
“Where…?” His voice is rough and dry, anything unique about it hidden underneath the ick that always accompanies these types of hospital stays.
“You’re in a hospital, as I’ve said. Usually, cases such as yours would be taken to the SOLDIER infirmary in the tower, but the Turks didn’t want you anywhere near Science until they get to ask their questions, so here we are.”
The man blinks a few more times, his brow furrowing. He shifts in his bed, trying to sit himself up more only to let out a low hiss of pain and press a hand against his chest.
“Ah, yes, I would advise against moving too much. Your injuries might be mostly healed by now, but that doesn’t mean you’re in any shape to go running out of here. My friend, the fates are cruel.”
The man lets out a heavy sigh, looking around the room before resting his gaze on Genesis. The Commander feels his eyes rake up and down his form but doesn’t allow himself to react other than to flip the page he long since stopped reading. It’s only when the eyes leave him that he closes the folder and sets it on the side table, allowing himself to give his full attention to the enigma. He’s running a hand through his frankly ridiculous hair and looking at the window, brow still furrowed but otherwise giving no indication of emotion. Genesis is about to break the now-uncomfortable silence when the man speaks again.
“Sector 4…?” he asks, his voice still raspy. He coughs and clears his throat once more.
Genesis sighs, reaching over to the side table to grab the waiting cup of water, and holds it out.
“Please drink something, my throat feels dry just hearing you speak.”
He waits until the man focuses on him and takes the offered water before continuing.
“Yes, Sector 4. There was technically a hospital closer in Sector 2, but that one was quite busy with all the civilians and, as such, couldn’t be secured to the degree that we were able to here.” He stops, then turns his head slightly to mutter “Goddess-damned, insane scientists.”
The man’s stare intensifies at the mention of scientists, but he doesn’t react otherwise. Genesis frowns. What did he have to do to get a reaction out of this man!
As bad as Sephiroth, I swear.
“You made quite the entrance, what with you and your friends leveling a building and tearing up the place. A shame no one was able to interfere before you killed them, now we’ll just have to put blame on you for the loss of life and property.”
The man tightens his grip on the now empty cup, crushing the plastic, and shakes his head.
“Not my fault we ended up in the middle of a city when we started away from civilians,” he says, voice smooth with a hint of an accent.
Genesis blinks at him and squints.
“Wherever did you start that you ended up in the heart of Sector 1?”
The man just stares back for a moment before his face slackens, his eyes widening. He breaks eye contact, looking up at the ceiling, his eyes darting back and forth in thought. Genesis settles back into his chair, content to wait for the blond to decide he was ready to speak again. He’s about to pick the report back up, simply for something to do when the man speaks again.
“Sector 4? Sector 1?” he mumbles, then turns to look at Genesis again, his gaze sharper than before. “Midgar?”
The Commander rolls his eyes. “Yes, in Midgar, where else?”
The man’s brow furrows again and he narrows his eyes slightly before continuing.
“You’re Genesis Rhapsodos.” It’s a statement more than a question, concise in a way he had yet to speak in.
“And so he finally recognizes me! There is no hate, only joy!” He smirks, throwing his arms out in either direction in his pleasure.
The man ignores his outburst, looking down at his hands now, setting them palms up in his lap as he mumbles to himself, too quiet for even Genesis’s enhanced hearing to pick up. The SOLDIER frowns at the dismissal and crosses his arms, throwing himself back into his seat.
“What’s today’s date?”
“What?”
The question is certainly an odd one, though not completely unexpected, what with him being unconscious for an extended period of time. It still catches Genesis off-guard, however.
“The date?” The blond’s tone is harsher now, a slight tremor in the words.
Genesis pulls his PHS out, flipping it open to check.
“June 12th, year zero,” he answers, turning the device around and showing the other man before closing it and slipping it back into his pocket.
The man stares at him for a few seconds, eyes searching as if evaluating the truth of the statement before letting out a heavy breath.
“Of course, of fucking course,” he says, the words almost cutting.
He presses his palms to his face, breathing heavily and letting out a frankly impressive string of creative curses before starting to laugh.
What the fuck?
The laughter picks up - a hysterical edge to it - and lasts long enough for it to start to turn to sobbing before the man lets it die off, breathing heavily. Genesis just watches, wide-eyed, waiting to see if he’ll get to watch a man go insane right in front of him.
“Always something, huh? Can’t get a moment of peace, no sir. Odin forbid my luck actually working in my favor for once!”
The man jerks a little, looking back at Genesis as if remembering he’s not alone in the room. There’s a wild look to his eyes, the mako glow pronounced with his heightened emotions, and he scans him up and down again. The Commander shifts, not quite sure how to handle what is looking like some kind of existential breakdown.
“Sorry, just, lamenting my life is all,” the blond says, turning his eyes back to the ceiling. “What’d you do to get stuck on babysitting duty?”
Genesis blinks at the question, processing it before he bristles.
“I didn’t do anything,” he answers, tone sharp, “I just prefer not to be wasting my valuable time directing grunts or filling out paperwork when I could be unraveling the core of the mystery on hand and sticking it to the science department at the same time.”
The man lets out a laugh, still strained, but seemingly more genuine than before.
“I hear ya there.”
The two allow quiet to fill the room once more, the man fidgeting with his blanket slightly as he stares up at the ceiling and Genesis picking the folder back up to go back over it again. A few minutes pass before the redhead poses another question.
“What should I be calling you?” he asks, conversational.
“Hmm?” the man hums in question and turns his head to look at the Commander.
“I’ve been referring to you as ‘the blond’ in my head since I got here and that cannot stand.”
Said blond chuckles a bit before heaving out a breath.
“Strife.”
Genesis blinks.
“Pardon?”
“My name. It’s Strife.”
-_-_-_-
“What do you mean I’ve been called back?”
If Sephiroth had to put a name to what he was feeling right now, it was somewhere between decidedly unhappy and outright furious. The past month had been spent trying to secure the small Wutainese village as a staging point for the next leg of ShinRa’s campaign while fighting a very effective group of guerilla fighters every step of the way. He hasn’t slept in over two days, eaten since the previous night, and is splattered with mud, gore, and Shiva knows what else. But he was successful. He was looking forward to sitting down, finally getting clean, eating something more than a ration bar, and passing out after leaving his men in the hands of his lieutenants. And now, Angeal is on the line telling him to get on the first available ship back.
“I mean, something’s happened here and you’re needed.”
Sephiroth growls into the radio, fist clenching so hard around the plastic it gives a creak of protest.
“What could possibly have happened that the President needs me back in Midgar? Both you and Genesis are there, surely you can handle whatever it is.”
Angeal sighs, the sound crackling through the radio and Sephiroth knows his friend is running his hand through his hair.
“That’s what we’ve both said, Seph. But the Turks are insisting-”
“The Turks!”
Sephiroth scoffs, turning his glare at the tech sitting on the table in front of him. He notices the communications officer taking a few steps away from his post by the transceiver out of the corner of his eye.
“We just managed to clear the village of guerillas an hour ago. I’ve been on my feet for ten hours, haven’t slept-”
“I know, Seph.”
“- in fifty six, haven’t eaten anything more than a ration bar in seventy two-”
“There was an attack in the middle of Midgar, Sephiroth!”
That gave the SOLDIER a pause. It’s been a very long time since anyone tried to attack Midgar directly, especially with two of the SOLDIER Commanders in the city.
“I’m confident in your abilities to handle the attackers, Angeal. I don’t need-”
“The explosion leveled an apartment building. They’re still counting casualties, but it’s two-hundred and counting.”
“I still don’t see-”
“There were three men involved, all of them clearly enhanced in some way.”
Sephiroth sighs, running a dirty, gloved hand down the side of his face.
“So, they think Wutai managed to make their own SOLDIERs? And they’re nervous about another attack? Is that it? Would it not make more sense to keep me here in case they deploy them against our troops?”
It wasn’t his fault that Science couldn’t keep its secrets from the enemy, besides the fact that the attack would put the whole city on alert for spies and infiltrators. No, his place was here where he could keep his men alive and take the heat off of them.
“Not exactly…” Angeal sounded almost hesitant now.
“So, what are they worried about? What is so Gaia-damned important that-”
“Two of the attackers looked like you, Seph.”
What?
“I, I’m sorry. What did you just say?” His voice was cold now, expression shutting down as he locked his anger and frustration into the box in his head so he could focus.
“I, I don’t have all the details yet. I’ve been directing people all afternoon to try and keep the response ordered. But, there were three men who pulled themselves out of the rubble right away. Two of them were wearing black leather and had silver hair. Some reports say they also had green, slitted eyes. The third man didn’t and he fought both of them, killed them in fact.”
“The third in custody now?” Despite his calm tone, Sephiroth’s thoughts were racing. Two men, two men who were like him. And now they were dead.
“Not exactly. He was heavily injured and collapsed shortly after finishing the other two off. He’s recovering in a military hospital now and the Turks will be questioning him as soon as they can.”
“Any identity on him? On the… others?”
“He’s not in the system anywhere. As for the other two…” Angeal trailed off again and Sephiroth could almost picture him uncomfortably shifting his weight in place.
“What about them?”
“Well, it’s nothing concrete right now, but…” The man takes a deep breath, audible through the radio. “I heard that their bodies, well, disappeared in transport.”
“What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?”
Sephiroth was angry again; angry and concerned and confused and all kinds of other emotions that he struggled to shove back in his mental box.
“I mean disappeared. I overheard some of the lab lackeys talking about how upset the Professor was that his new specimens literally evaporated into thin air.”
“‘Evaporated’?”
“Poof, into black smoke apparently. I don’t know how accurate the info is but-”
“I’ll come back.”
If there was a single chance in Ifrit’s hell that there could be someone else like him out there, if this mysterious third man could somehow lead him to them, well, there wasn’t really a choice to be made.
“Really?” Angeal sounds almost surprised, but he lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. I’ll let them know to expect you. When can you leave?”
Sephiroth checks the clock hanging on the wall of the hut communications had taken over and runs the information in his head.
“There’s a few squadrons of troopers and some SOLDIERs headed back for leave at 0500 tomorrow. Nothing sooner.”
“Alright, I’ll let you go then. Get some sleep.”
His friend laughs and the radio goes silent. Sephiroth removes the device from his ear and sets it back down on the table, then takes a deep breath to settle himself.
“Commander?” the officer steps closer again, looking up at him with his brow furrowed in concern.
“Nothing to worry over, Major Stevens. Keep doing good work here and make sure that ship is cleared to leave at 0500 tomorrow.”
“Sir.”
The man salutes and Sephiroth takes his leave. He has eight hours to himself and he plans to use every minute.
-_-_-_-
Tseng enters the hospital room fully expecting to see Rhapsodos and the so-called “mystery man” at each other’s throats. Instead, the man is sitting propped up in his hospital bed, head down and staring at his relaxed hands as he completely ignores the redhead calmly flipping through the incomplete report at his bedside. The Turk clears his throat before entering fully and watches both sets of mako blue eyes snap up to watch him.
“I see you’re awake now,” he says, keeping his voice cool and detached.
The man audibly exhales in what could almost be a snort and goes back to looking at his hands. Rhapsodos, on the other hand, gives a dramatic sigh and flips the folder closed.
“Finally,” the SOLDIER remarks, standing up and stretching out his back in a single motion, “It’s been over an hour and I’ve been completely strapped of good entertainment.”
The blond must not be feeling particularly talkative, then. Tseng slides the information into his growing mental file on the man and steps further into the room.
“I’d like to talk to our guest now, Commander. If you would be so kind as to keep watch in the hallway; the last thing we need here are uninvited parties.”
Rhapsodos nods and leaves the room in a graceful sweep, closing the door softly behind him. The Turk grabs another chair from where it rests against the wall and pulls it closer - close enough to satisfy social expectations, but out of reach of the enigma in the bed - before sitting down in a smooth motion. He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a slim device. The blond, having looked up at the sound of the chair scraping against the floor, watches him set the piece of tech on the side table with a furrowed brow and cold, calculating eyes.
“I’m just here to ask some preliminary questions. This is a recorder to keep a record of the conversation, if that is acceptable to you.”
The device is already recording of course - has been since before Tseng entered the room - but he likes to ask; being open about his intentions usually helps ease more wary subjects. The man scoffs a bit, eyes hardening, but he nods.
“Okay.” Tseng makes a show of playing with the recorder and sets it back down. “Date of recording is the 12th of June, year zero. Location is room 314 in the Wilkinson General Military Hospital, Sector 4, Midgar.”
The man visibly flinches at the date, his hands gripping the blanket on his legs, but shows no other reaction.
Interesting.
“I am Tseng, of the Turks. Might I have something to call you?”
It takes a few seconds for the blond to answer, chewing on his bottom lip before apparently coming to a decision.
“Strife,” he answers, voice clear and cold and not at all sounding like he had multiple stab wounds and a bullet through the chest the day before.
“Is that an alias? A surname?”
Strife just shrugs. His eyes wander around the room a little before resettling on the Turk.
“Alright. Do you remember how you got here, Strife?”
The man scans his person, his face, and then makes full eye contact with him for the first time. Suddenly, Tseng feels like he’s staring down something more than just an injured man in a hospital bed. Strife’s eyes are the most vivid shade of blue he’s ever seen, the mako in them enhancing the natural color rather than smothering it and bringing attention to the slight ring of bright green around the pupils. They pin him into his seat, strip him down and unearth every piece of himself he tries to bury and make him feel small, weak, unworthy. And, just like that, Strife looks away, back down at his hands. Tseng is winded, feeling like he’s just run a marathon while fighting off a horde of monsters, but he collects himself quickly - he’s a Turk, damnit - and forces his body to relax back into his chair.
“Strife?”
The man answers more readily this time. “There was an explosion. I was thrown away, into the street.”
He shifts, glancing at the window again, but doesn’t show any other signs of discomfort. Tseng waits for him to continue.
“I was fighting… them, and then… I passed out?”
Strife now looks at him again, face still a cool mask that would make any Turk proud despite the obvious question in his voice.
“Yes. After you… dispatched your opponents, you collapsed. Some SOLDIERs that had arrived on scene called it in and a medical team arrived to move you here.”
The blond nodded, satisfied with the answer.
“Who were the men you were fighting?”
“Remnants.”
“Of what?”
Strife doesn’t answer, looking away towards the window. His whole body tenses slightly. They sit in silence for over a minute before Tseng decides to ask a different question.
“Why did you kill them?”
“They tried to kill me first. Would have gone off and done more killing if I’d let them go.”
That was interesting. Two men, reportedly looking very similar to a certain SOLDIER Commander, would have been dangers to society?
“Was that why they set off the bomb?”
Strife looks at him again, brow furrowed.
“Bomb?”
“Yes, the bomb that took down an occupied apartment building.”
The blond starts at that, jaw clenching and fists tightening in his lap as he looks away again.
“Not a bomb.” He stops, running his tongue quickly over his lips. “Materia. Don’t know what kind. Incompatible though, and overloading them didn’t help.” He laughs a little, a soft, dry, and wounded sound even as Tseng blinks in surprise. “Tried to take us all down together.”
The Turk’s thoughts were racing. What kind of men were they that they could overload materia? Could that even happen? How on Gaia did they survive the blast?
“Why would they do that in the middle of a metropolis?”
The blond shakes his head and does the same almost-snort from the beginning of their conversation.
“Weren’t in the middle of a damned city when they tried. I have no idea how the fuck we ended up here.”
Strife’s eyes widen a bit, some panic slipping through his mask before he shuts down again, whole body tense.
Didn’t mean to give that away? Hmmm.
Tseng considers the man for a few moments before deciding to change topics.
“Your weapon is very well made. Where did you acquire it?”
Another minute passes in silence.
“Where did you get your enhancements?”
More silence, not that the Turk thought the man would answer the question.
“Why did those men want to kill you?”
“...”
“How did you receive injuries from a bladed weapon when your opponents did not carry any?”
At that question, Strife turns back to him sharply, suddenly attentive.
“What do you mean?”
“You were fighting two men. One of them fought you hand to hand and the second was only armed with a gun blade. Neither could have given you the slashes and stab wounds present on your person when you were admitted.”
The man shakes his head.
“No, there were three men; there was another who was badly injured already. I saw him alive before I engaged the other two.”
Tseng feels his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise; there had been no word of a fourth combatant.
“The only bodies other than civilians pulled from the rubble were of the two men I mentioned. There was no sign of a third.”
Strife lets out a string of curses that reminds Tseng strongly of a certain foul-mouthed pilot.
“Should’a killed him when I had the chance. Damn bastard could be anywhere by now.”
“I take it the man will be a problem?”
The blond makes eye contact again, bearing his teeth and snarling as his anger radiates from him.
“The monster has no care for human life. He’s killed before and will do so again without hesitation for the smallest of reasons.”
Tseng can feel himself trying to back away against his will, his body pressing into the chair in an attempt to put distance between him and the predator in front of him.
“He’s a highly enhanced individual and he needs to die. I don’t care what the creeps in science say. You need a shoot on sight order out on him immediately. He cannot be allowed the chance to wreck more havoc. He-”
Strife cuts himself off, clenching his jaw and running a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath, and, as he releases it, the sheer immensity of his presence goes with it. Tseng himself takes a few breaths of his own, the pressure on his chest having disappeared as well.
“I think that’s enough questions for today. I’m sure we will speak again soon, Strife.”
The Turk picks the recorder back up from the table and exits the room as quickly as he can without looking like he’s running. Genesis looks up from his position leaning against the opposite wall and raises an eyebrow.
“Remain out here on guard. I’ll have someone come and relieve you within the hour.”
He’s walking away before the Commander has the chance to argue, and manages to hold his composure all the way down to his car. He’s a bit jerkier getting in than he’d like and takes a few shaky breaths to get himself back under control before starting the vehicle. He has a report to give.
-_-_-_-
On a clifftop outside the city, a lone figure stands, silhouetted against the dusty backdrop. He’s hunched over slightly, pressing an arm to his right side, but standing enough to keep the sword sheath strapped to his back from dragging on the ground. His slitted, mako-green eyes take in the sight of a fully-restored Midgar, watching the smoke from the previous day's “incident” rise until it disappears into the green-tinted cloud cover. A breeze blows by, kicking up dust and causing the man’s silver hair to glint in the limited afternoon sun. A crazed smile splits his lips open.
“Brother, dear Brother! What a gift you’ve given me! A world with Big Brother still living, and not yet knowing of Mother’s love!” Kadaj laughs, his head tilted back to look into the sky. “Please, dear Brothers, wait for me. I have so much to show you.”