DIFFERING ORIGINS

DISCLAIMER: FF7 and its related franchises do not belong to me. This fic is made purely for personal purposes, and is not meant for commercial distribution.

WARNINGS: Gen, OOC, AU, lack of canon accuracy, un-beta-ed

NOTES:

Please remember it's AU and OOC. I am only familiar with the original FF7 and FF7: Advent Children. Description and characterization of any other canon characters from the other games will be iffy. I know—what am I doing writing on a fandom I barely know, right? Honestly, I have no reason but just love for FF7-verse.

Thank you so much for your encouraging reviews. It's hard writing after not writing so long, and sometimes it's like pulling teeth. Your reviews encourage me and sometimes even provoke new ideas. I hope that you continue to enjoy this fic. I wish I could write longer, but please don't hold my inability to write more against me.

WWW

Cloud wrinkled his nose, distaste written all over his face. After the clean fresh air of Wutai, its beautiful green rolling hills, and its friendly people, the city of Midgar was a blight to all senses. It was monstrous in its ugliness, its massive pillars black and grey, the upper plate obscuring sun and sky and gave the entire city an appearance of a squat mutant mushroom. The air was a stale yellow from a combination of noxious industrial gases, vehicle pollution, and evaporating street wastes, and it smelled like a dozen newly-filled outhouses. There were no trees, not even a potted plant within view, and whatever animals Cloud saw were whip-thin and snarling, products of years of abuse and too little food. There was an explosion of people all around him, including those who had just arrived in the afternoon train with him. Cloud, disoriented and nauseated both from the train and Midgar's atmosphere, stood in their midst like a pebble dropped arbitrarily in a scummy puddle.

He stumbled as someone pushed him from behind. The young boy frowned, eyes narrowed, as he studied the broad shoulders and trim figure in a long black and red leather jacket and low-heeled black boots of the man who strode past him arrogantly. There was a sword hilt sticking out from the left shoulder. He noted how the rest of the crowd exiting the station platform flinched and moved away from the man. He wondered if the man was one of the SOLDIERs he had been briefed on. Wutai had minimal information on this special ShinRa unit; their records only mentioned glowing eyes, unnatural strength and speed, powerful materia, and a tendency towards berserker-like behaviour in the battlefield. Cloud had been informed that they formed the elite of ShinRa's army, but their actual numbers remained a mystery.

Cloud contemplated following the man, but he decided against it. Cloud's part of the mission was to tap into intelligence, not fool around with SOLDIERs. He had no doubt that there was at least one operative already in charge with gathering information on that unit.

Holding tightly to his travelling bag, Cloud joined the flow of pedestrians. He hadn't been given much instruction as to what to do when he arrived, but he hadn't expected any. Shinobi were different from Wutai's regular forces because they were made of highly-trained operatives who were expected to be able to land on their feet regardless of where they were left behind. Part of being shinobi was being able to make proper judgments given little information and only a mission objective; that way, in cases of being caught and interrogated, shinobi had minimal information to impart. Cloud huffed. That was all well and good in theory, but it didn't help one displaced boy as he tried to make his way in an alien and hostile environment.

Seeing a faded soup bowl sign in LED lights with an OPEN sign tacked above a doorway in one of the buildings, Cloud decided that it would not be a bad idea to get something to eat and get his bearings at the same time. He had to push his way through the crowd, an unpleasant and unfriendly task, but he finally managed to stumble into the diner.

It was surprisingly large inside, one room with 5 round tables, capable of sitting 25. Since it was late afternoon, it was only a quarter full, its hungry patrons scattered all over. On the far left was an L-shaped bar and two men in reasonably clean white aprons and stocking caps who were busily preparing bowls of steaming noodles from large metal pots. Cloud watched as they completed one bowl—one man seemed responsible for reading the order and preparing the bowl of soup, while the other man took the finished bowl, eased it onto the bar, called out a number, and took in the money. Cloud's eyes wandered and he saw a small line of people going to a little ticketing machine on the far right corner. He gingerly made his way past the tables, careful not to jostle any of the seated customers, and ended up with ticket #17.

The smell of the miso pork ramen was surprisingly enticing, and Cloud's critical eyes couldn't find anything overtly wrong with the dish. It even looked right, down to the tiny pieces of dried seaweed floating next to the thin slices of meat and bamboo shoots. He decided not to think too much about what the meat actually was, and heavy tray in hand, started for an empty spot in a middle table.

The soup was spicy and hot, the meat and vegetables tender, and it even tasted close to Wutai's original version. Cloud ate his slowly, eyes lowered as he tried to consider what he should do next.

His mission commander had told him that it would be best if he avoided combat-intensive positions. Years of Wutai training couldn't be erased, he'd been told, and experienced warriors would easily notice how much more adept he was at weapons and physical combat than boys his age should be. The same for his Materia training, especially as Cloud had a remarkable affinity for Materia and a ridiculously high MP reservoir. Be a clerk, he was told. Clerks, especially good ones, eventually became secretaries and assistants. Secretaries and assistants are their bosses' confidantes and sounding boards.

Perfect positions for the average spy/saboteur. If Cloud was able to steadily get promotions into strategic positions in the next three years, he might even be able to redirect orders and supplies to Wutai's advantage in case war did break out. At the very least, he would have access to higher levels of confidential information.

So, Cloud thought to himself, chewing a piece of meat slowly, find a job as a clerk. Maybe a weapon supply clerk.

Somebody jostled Cloud's elbow, and the boy jerked backwards violently as his bowl tipped forward. He yelped in shock as his chair fell to the ground, his back hitting the plastic with a painful thud. Then the boy hissed as the still-warm soup broth spilled onto his pants.

"Excuse me," came a completely insincere apology. Cloud grimaced and rolled to the side slowly, trying to avoid any more splatters on his clothes. He regained his footing and looked up to see a towering mass of muscle. His eyes widened as he saw the long red jacket and familiar sword hilt. It was the jerk from the station. The man's face was pale and aristocratic, with an aquiline nose and thin lips curled in a disdainful twist. His eyes, narrow, glowing, and grey, looked Cloud up and down in bored challenge. The man was bracing a loaded tray on a jutted right hip, and his left foot tapped impatiently.

Cloud breathed through his nose sharply, but refrained from saying anything. He merely shifted to one side and warily watched the taller man jauntily moved past him to sit two tables away. He had apparently been summarily dismissed for there were no more incidents, and Cloud turned back to his spoiled meal.

It was a lost cause. The broth was spilled all over the tray and was puddling on the floor, chunks of leftover meat and noodles floating on the surface. His bag had been within the splash zone, but luckily, it was oiled with a special waterproofing solution. He pulled at his pants with a grimace; he would have to walk around in wet pants until he finally found a reasonable place to stay.

"You okay, boy?"

He turned to see the restaurant's cashier standing next to him. The man had a mop and a bucket in hand. "Yes," Cloud said softly. "I can clean it up," he offered.

"Good," the man said unsmilingly and thrust the mop and bucket into Cloud's hands. The boy closed his eyes, ignored the snickering of the other diners, and began to clean up.

WWW

Three hours later, Cloud was back on the streets of Midgar. He had managed to find a room in a dingy dormitory ten blocks from the train station. The price had been ludicrous, considering his accommodation consisted of one semi-clean bed in a room with four, a small metal locker, and a shower that sputtered cold water. Cloud had taken it without complaint, took a shower, and changed into a pair of well-worn dark leather pants, heavy boots, and a black, bulky long-sleeved turtleneck. He locked his bag into his assigned locker, using his personal padlock, and booby trapped it with razor-twine. Like all undercover operatives, he had only brought the minimum required clothing and shoes, though of good quality, a set of books (useful for both reading and code-work), some stationary, toiletries, food and water, wallet complete with pictures of two females (subbing in for his mother and girlfriend), and his prepared passes and paperwork. Cloud's few non-essentials included a carved steel wolf stud in his left ear, two polished wooden sticks as long as his arm, a spool of razor twine and its special cutting knife, and two Materia—one low-level ice and fire each. The fighting sticks, known as moro-moro sticks in Wutai, and the materia were especially chosen since they were his best weapon aside from swords and were unassuming in appearance, and the materia were a type that could be easily obtained for a reasonable amount in any ShinRa reactor town. Since Cloud was claiming to be from the busy and large port of Junon, they wouldn't be unusual items for a boy to have; a few travellers, mostly excitable and battle-hungry young men, often purchased cheap materia from local stores to use against monsters. Cloud had checked a few of these materia throughout his trip from Wutai to Midgar and had been appalled at the quality. Most were little more than dully-glowing marbles, with a speckled or a webbed surface. Cloud thought that if somebody did manage to somehow release the materia's hidden spell, the materia would more than likely explode along with the wielder's arm. He chose to save his money.

Cloud had debated as to whether to take at least the moro-moro sticks for protection, but decided against it. He didn't want to gain the wrong sort of attention that fighting well would incur.

Coming downstairs, he had found the dorm's lobby half-filled with boys his age. Careful questioning revealed that all of them were there for the scheduled entrance exams to get into ShinRa's cadet program. A talkative brunette, clearly both excited and frightened to death, babbled about how the cadet program was the entry way into ShinRa's SOLDIER program and how much awesome life would be if one was a first-class SOLDIER like General Sephiroth! Cloud, carefully primed from years of being talked at by his Wutaian friends, nodded his head at strategic intervals and made interested noises. It took very little for the boy to spill out what he knew of ShinRa's military structure.

Cloud listened intently. Wutai's records of ShinRa had only begun to be amassed two years ago, and had large gaps. Prior to that time, ShinRa had been more intent on planting its Mako reactors in whatever town it could build/bribe/conquer within its own continent. Lord Godo, a peaceful man more focused in maintaining his country's wealth, had only paid minimal attention to the industrial giant; he had believed that the distance and the ocean between them would be sufficient to save them from ShinRa's ambitions. Clearly, that had been the wrong attitude to take, and now Wutai was scrambling to accumulate intel against the other nation.

Apparently, Cloud's goal to become a clerk would not be as easy as he had initially assumed. There were only two ways into ShinRa: either as a cadet in their military or a salaried civilian in their company. All jobs, high and low, combatant and non-combatant, within ShinRa's military were given only to those who had undergone and passed the cadet program. To get a job within ShinRa co. itself was just as difficult. As the biggest and most stable employer, the competition for jobs, even low-paying ones were high. Cloud, with minimal provable education and skills, would be competing against Midgar-bred and –educated hopefuls who were likelier to pass any required security checks.

Still, the boy had decided that he needed to at least give it a try. Even a job as a janitor might have potential.

So now, the boy was on a train heading to the Upper Plate, where he would find ShinRa's Human Resources office. The guards at the station sneered at him but did nothing. The security screen did not beep, and he was safely past. Cloud moved to the side and looked around.

The Upper Plate was a cleaner, brighter, more colourful version of the Lower Plate. Cloud could actually see the sky and the sun, though the air was still lightly tinged with yellow. Most of the buildings were tall, glassy towers, sleek and streamlined. There were a few scraggly trees and squares of bushes and flowers on a set pattern on the walkways, and the stores had beautiful glass displays. There were LED signs everywhere, with neon billboards advertising this and that, and like the Lower Plate, bustled with people. One big difference was that the people in the Upper Plate were noticeably cleaner, better-dressed, and walked with an air of smug importance.

As Cloud walked around, he observed the people. Most of the people he passed were noticeably civilians, dressed in a variety of fashion. Every so often, he would see clumps of young males in uniform, eyeing passing girls or looking at store displays. His eyes noted several men, usually tall and bulky in dark leathers and boots with a variety of weapons, who were trolling about. His lips compressed. They reminded him of the SOLDIER in the red jacket, and guessed that they were indeed SOLDIERs.

Another type of pedestrian that Cloud saw every so often were dressed in a sharp blue suit. These men and women moved with a casual air of competence, and they smiled politely at the other passersby. However, something about them made Cloud's gut clench, and he decided that he would need to find more about them.

Cloud spent the next three hours wandering around the Upper Plate. He discovered that it was organized in districts, with the ShinRa Tower at its centre. Everybody seemed to live within one of the smaller towers, and Cloud could see well-lit lobbies from the glass front doors. There was a variety of restaurants, shops, theatres, and even malls within the towers. The boy had even scouted out the Upper Plate's red light district, and was bombarded by neon lights advertising clubs, bars, love hotels, and brothels. He had been shocked to see that they even had a mock-up of a Wutaian teashop, with women in cheap bright kimonos and thick white face paint flounced at the front. Cloud had paid that store special attention, but he couldn't see anyone who might potentially be part of the Wutai's network. He had pinkened slightly and hurried away after the teasing got bawdier. Cloud then spent a good twenty minutes in a bookstore, purchasing political and economic textbooks aimed for college and university students; the cashier had barely paid him and his purchases any attention, which was a relief.

After Cloud was certain he had a fairly good grasp of what the Upper Plate offered, he walked over to the administrative towers. The receptionist at the Human Resources office was friendly and bored, so she had no hesitation in chatting with him.

"I'm afraid we're fresh out of good jobs," she told him, popping the gum in her mouth. Cloud fought not to flinch at the annoying sounds. "Had a batch of file clerk positions open a couple months ago since a few had been transferred to Junon, but they've been filled up for a bit. What are you looking for again?"

"Maybe a job in shipping," Cloud said, smiling just as he practiced. Smiling was surprisingly difficult for him, but espionage classes had taught him that one way to build trust and rapport was to appear friendly and approachable. Smiling did that. He had spent far too many hours in his bathroom mirror before his instructor had pronounced his smile 'acceptable'. "I'm from Junon myself, and I work mainly for a small fish grocer."

"Really?" the girl's smile dampened slightly. "So what brought you over to Midgar?"

He shrugged. "Wanted something better. Was hoping to get married in a year, so I need a good job for my family."

The girl's eyes widened. She sighed wistfully. "Wish my boyfriend's as hardworking as you. He does nothing but hang around the Osmodeus Theatre, trying to get a position in the new Loveless play they're putting out. He wants to be an actor." She rolled her eyes.

"That's . . . interesting,"Cloud said dubiously. He had never met anyone who wanted to be an actor. Wutai's street performers and acrobats tended to come in families, so acting was more along the lines of an inherited job.

"It would be if he could actually get in," the girl said, "but he's just not good enough to cut it as a professional. I'm no actress and I could see that. He's just being stubborn and silly . . . Oh, Professor Hojo!" She was waving at someone behind Cloud. "Sorry, sir, none of the applicants for those lab assistants last week passed the final test. Supervisor Hopkins said that they are still interviewing a couple more."

Cloud froze. It was as if every single cell in his body had seized up. His heartbeat began to echo loudly in his ear and his eyes were misting red.

He could near a snort and then angry muttering, and finally the sound of footsteps fading away. He kept his eyes down, unsure of what the girl might see in his eyes if he looked up then.

"That's Professor Hojo. I hate him," she confided in soft whispers, "he's creepy and he never wears anything aside from that lab coat of his. Sometimes there's this odd smell that follows him around. The only good thing about him is that he's so focused on whatever he's working on that he never hits on us office girls, not like some of the other higher-ups. That and the fact that he usually never comes here. But he recently lost two of his lab assistants—something about an experiment gone wrong—and he's been nagging my supervisor to find replacements. He doesn't understand that it's not easy to find people with the right kind of skills and education, and also have the stomach to work for him." She looked at him consideringly. "I probably should have mentioned those openings to you, but there's really no chance somebody without a degree or some kind of lab experience could get that job. Besides, I don't consider it a good job anyway-who knows what they do in those special labs?" The girl shuddered.

Cloud dry-swallowed. It took him a few minutes to be able to speak, though he kept his gaze just below her own expectant eyes. "No," he smiled (horribly, he thought), "I don't really want to work in some kind of lab. Too used to working outdoors."

So, it was the cadet program, after all.

-TBC-