MACHINE

Half-Cannon/Half-AU, rated T for language.
Enjoy!

This wasn't right. None of this was. A mix of emotions puddled in his head like a thick corrosive fog or thick and sloshy liquid. He couldn't think straight, could not formulate a single theory as to how things boiled down to as they had. His chest ached (to hurt), his lungs burned (Singe), and his mouth was drier than that of the finest-grade cotton material.

They stood, eye-to-eye, only feet apart. (A short distance) Staring hard, unwavering connection of blue to blue. Ephemeral life, conviction and guilt. The larger man that had once stood tall with pride nestled on his shoulders had changed, warped drastically. No longer was he proud; he was disgusted, he was ashamed. (Depressed) Eyes of storming midnights blue were raging from behind his pupils and irises while crackling electric blue of the other was wounded, confused, and upset.

One single wing, solitary ivory white appendage hanging from his powerful shoulder-blade. There was one, but two as well. It was a single wing undoubtedly, but underneath the main appendage lay a much smaller one, almost like that of an infant angel wing. So bizarre yet so beautiful.

"There's someone waiting for you, is there not?" His condemned voice asked, his sword drawn and at the ready for battle.

"Angeal, don't do this." He pleaded, his face indignant as he drew his own blade; dwarfed compared to the mighty blade in front of it.

However, the older man moved fast, much faster than to be expected of his towering frame and powerful build. Metal against metal, scraping and clashing. (Squealing) Back and forth, steel locked with steel. (A stalemate) Broadsword swinging down, clashing with the smaller broadsword below to keep it locked down, unable to rise and retaliate.

"Good, Angeal." A voice praised from one of the darkest corners, the owner stepping to light.

A large squatty man, rather husky in build with a voice as equally as husky and scratchy as his plump aged frame.

Hair styled much like the mentor of the raven-haired teenager, only speckled and streaked with more gray from age. A full face of stippled facial hair encroached his jaw, chin, and upper lip. (A mask) White lab coat thrown over his shoulders, a mockery of a professor if anything rather than being said title. He was a crack, a quack. (Rather insane) Faded and dated yellow shirt with some kind of Dumbapple propaganda spewed on the front as a logo.

Ridiculous khakis an inch too short for his stubby frame and sandals. Seriously, who wears that in the middle of a sleepy snow-village? His deep voice of scratch grated into a chuckle once more, further stepping into the dimming light of a late golden evening transitioning into early dusk. He pauses just a few feet from the two with their swords still crossed and pointing at the ground, effectively stealing their attention with ease from his mere presence alone.

"Now is the time for our child to take his revenge!" The squatty man's voice echoed through the large silent room, roof gaping largely to let in the sinking sun.

The young First Class SOLDIER's jaw dropped at the connection, though he did not voice it or even a sound. (Make noise) His mentor, Angeal Hewley, the apparent son of the rather deranged professor Hollander? This must have been the reason the older man had interfered when the teen was close to catching him. (Apprehend more like) Zack Fair was nearly appalled.

"Our child?" The black-haired teenager parroted, glancing away from the professor to glance into his mentor's unreadable eyes.

"Shut up!" Came Angeal's denial in a loud and powerful shout, "My father is dead!" He added with a spit, breaking his blade away from his student's.

This in turn caused the younger to spin awkwardly and be shoved away from his mentor, leaving him with his blade aimed to the ground as he stood almost right beside the plump near elder. Storming midnight blue eyes glared hard into the professor's, wing extended out behind him fully and rather high into the empty air behind him.

"Then do it for your mother." Hollander grated.

There was silence between the three, so much so it was like the quietness had been a separate entity and spoke volumes of nothing in the absence. (Stillness)

"My mother's shame made her take her own life!" Angeal grunted, nearly growling out the claim.

Zack's confused blue eyes widened tremendously at this. He remembered his mentor's mother; Gillian, lay sprawled against the living room floor of her own home more still than sleep. (Dead) So, it wasn't his teacher that had slain his own mother. He almost felt bad for the punch to the face now.

The SOLDIER bent his head down, the newly appointed First Class looking dead on to his guide even as Hollander began to speak again, his voice filling the air unnecessarily.

"Ashamed? Unfortunately, you are mistaken." He corrected, looking out to the setting sun as he took a few steps towards it, the two black-haired men either looking down or at the other. "I think she was very proud of it." He added, standing still as he kept his back to his apparent flesh-and-blood.

He slowly rolled on his heels, turning at a gentle and slow one-eighty degree angle to face the taller and broader form of the distraught SOLDIER while Zack could only observe with his sword still trained to the ground obediently.

"She even used her own name for the project's sake." Hollander supplied, letting a long pause of silence follow his explanation, as if for dramatic effect. "Project G, otherwise known as Project Gillian." He grunted out, nodding his head curtly like a twitch, as if to get the point across. (To explain)

Zack, the observer, was once again stunned. Project G stood for Angeal's mother, and not what he thought. Originally, everyone within Shin-Ra that knew of this speculated that this project stood for 'Genesis', due to his degradation and the events that commenced it. No, it wasn't meaning Genesis, it was meaning Gillian.

Angeal could take standing still no longer, rushing forward with great power and speed as to intimidate. He fisted the collar of the stout man's yellow shirt and unclasped lab coat that was stained off-white from poor care.

"Don't you dare speak my mother's name!" He spat, composure long gone and thrown out of the gaping hole in the ceiling that let the setting sunlight wash in.

"Jenova cells were injected into that woman." Hollander continued, his own had grasping onto Angeal's to remove it from his shirt (Practically the neck) "Those cells were then injected into Genesis while still in the fetal stage." He elucidated.

More light now being shed into the darkness surrounding Project G and the individuals involved. No wonder the brunette SOLDIER deserted after finding out this atrocious truth. No wonder Angeal had disappeared for a short while when he learned the reality as well. Now Zack-the-Spectator was learning it all himself.

"But Genesis was a failure. I would never accept something like that." The professor rambled on. However, an insightful look spread across his face as he looked over at the powerful First Class. "Although, Angeal…" He continued, pausing for impact.

"You were actually bred inside Gillian's body."

Zack gave his mentor a distant, almost far-away look. So he too was involved in Shin-Ra's dark shadows. No wonder Banora was being funded by the company. The top three SOLDIER's in all of the corporation were part of some sick and disturbing experiment, creating by the rivalry of two hack, down-and-out scientists under the guise of 'professors'; Hojo was no exception.

"You are perfect." Hollander suspired, leaning back to glance into the dilapidated ceiling complete with gaping holes and structural damage.

Angeal then shoved the professor before turning on his heel to where his back was facing both him and his student. He kept his head down and away from the others, even when he began to speak.

"Zack, I am perfect…A perfect monster."

As soon as he finished his admittance, he spun to face the young seventeen-year-old, agony and pain in his face.

"I can pass my cells to other beings." He explicated, being blunt and not beating around the bush.

This explained why all of those monsters had some of Angeal's characteristics, and by that, he meant that's why they all had his face on some part of their body. The vision almost made the teenager cringe as a cold chill coursed through his body, much like the recoil of a shotgun echoing in his muscles and nerves.

"A two way conduit-" Hollander began, regaining his balance that had once been stolen from him earlier from the shove. He righted his hefty weight before continuing, "Jenova's power has passed on to you completely."

Angeal turned his head over to the left, an annoyed and disgusted look on his face as he shot the expression over at the elder professor. He quickly pulled his head away and glanced down at a slight angle, not looking completely down, but just enough for his head to be tilted down.

"Zack, do you remember our promise?" The SOLDIER questioned.

The ravenette was silent as Angeal walked past him while speaking, "That we'd fight against all that creates suffering?" He reminded, pausing in his one-directional pacing right behind the other First Class.

"Yeah, but you're wrong." Zack spoke quietly, almost surprised his voice worked after not speaking for so long and taking everything he had heard into consideration.

"But I created my own suffering." The mentor suspired. Another pregnant pause of silence permeated the air before he spun on his heel, now facing the back of his student still turned around. "Zack, let me show you."

At this point, the young man slowly turned around, facing his guide with a distant look gently burning behind his bright blue eyes of Mako mixed with the sky: A SOLDIER trademark.

"Stop! If you do that you can't turn back!" Hollander's panicked voice shouted.

But the older man paid no mind to the professor's outburst. Instead, he held up his left hand into the air, fingers curling into a tight fist. Instantly four strange monsters imprinted with his cells spawned from all four corners of the room; All of them savage and beastly. (Angry)

Zack's sword was back up in his hands, active and ready. (To begin)

"Wait, just one sample!" The crazed scientist howled, lunging at Angeal with groping hands.

However, he was easily pushed aside with little to no amounts of effort, the large man easily skidding through the air before crashing down to the ground back-first and wrong side up, much like an overturned turtle. The monsters reared, wings spreading, limbs crouching. When they lunged, Zack was ready to strike, however, each one of them ran right past him and straight behind him where his mentor stood.

Glancing behind him suddenly became hard to do, as if he was moving in slow motion, being unable to turn around fast enough and stop them and set his mentor straight.

"Angeal!" He called desperately, fighting to turn around faster.

But when his lagging body finally caught up to his overloaded brain, the sight disturbed him. If Angeal hadn't been a monster before, he sure was now. He stood tall, even on hound legs on all fours. (Massive) A trident in hand, electric rod type tails, three of them, swishing wildly behind him. Hair unkempt, long and wild, shield brandished in his large spare hand. Large wing still present, altered severely though, (Changed) there was even the snapping jaws of a strange creature on the front of his massive quadruped body.

Hollander had ran by this point, abandoning the teen and the now transmogrified man-turned-monster. It was up to the First Class to take care of things, and by take care things, a much darker meaning lay hidden.

The trident plunged forward, slicing and splitting the skin on Zack's left cheek open, a deep horizontal line that caused a trail of thick blood to pulse from the slash; The origin of his cross scar.

"Angeal…What happened to honor!?" The ravenette cried as he brandished his blade furiously. He could already feel the moisture billow behind his eyes.

And he lunged…

Dull blue eyes snapped themselves open within seconds.

Zack lay in his bed, arm draped over his forehead and blank blue eyes staring at his softly spinning ceiling fan. He blinked once, twice, to clear out the grogginess still clinging to the corners of his eyes. His once animated face had been drained of all emotion and it hadn't returned ever since that goddamn day six months ago. That day; he was forced (Coerced, begged) to kill his mentor.

He complied, but only after it was too late to turn him back or change his mind.

He sat up slowly as he removed his arm from his face, the thick jade-green covers swarming his body slipping of his torso to swell at his lap and hips. He gave up on being himself ever since that day. He stopped smiling, stopped talking, and stopped functioning unless it was the bare minimal. He still performed above and beyond for his job as a First Class SOLDIER. By that, no longer was he afraid or merciless enough to kill. Nowadays, that was the only way he could cope; killing.

He slaughtered without mercy, without blinking or flinching. It had gotten to the point where he could mutilate a person without showing any kind of facial expression. He was always jammed in neutral, much like Sephiroth and how he behaved. But his was for much different reasons, he was just socially-inept, while Zack on the other hand was socially and spiritually dead.

He had no reason to smile or show compassion, he was too deterred to show mercy or forgiveness. (Unable) He even stopped being himself around the few friends he still had left. Which honestly, was not that many since the major change in his personality. Kunsel hardly ever spoke to him, Luxiere stopped talking to him all together, in fact, everyone had. The only ones that still talked to him, even occasionally, were Sephiroth, Lazard, and the president of Shin-Ra. Everyone else usually tended to give him a wide berth no matter where he went.

For this reason, he was always given the tough missions that would have any normal operative question their morals and beliefs. He had stopped questioning things long ago and learned to take things with a grain of salt. He was done with emotions, he was done getting attached. Even if they don't mean to, the ones you love will always cause you pain, and it just wasn't worth it. You could peg him for being loyal to the company, even after all he had seen and learned, but he was not.

Now, he was just in it for the blood. Outsiders just nixed that with blind faith and absolute trust. No, this world has no absolutes, just blurred lines too hazy to make out where they cross and when you've stepped over them.

Zack's PHS began to buzz and vibrate loudly from its spot against an idle end table beside his full sized bed. He blindly reached for it, not pulling his bored eyes away from a random corner in his room. He flicked the device open with a soft pop before he held the small trilling object to his ear.

"What?" Came his grated and rather monotonous voice.

"We've got another mission lined up for you Zack." The voice of Lazard cut through the static sounding silence.

"When and where?" The ravenette asked as he ripped the blankets right off his body with a loud 'whip' sound.

"Within the hour, you'll be shipped to Mount Corel. There should be a helicopter waiting for you on the roof, you will get the full details there." The director explained before swiftly disconnecting the two lines.

Zack tossed the phone back onto the end table and rose from his bed, ignoring his body's demand to shiver from the cold. He balled up the fabric of his white tank top in his fists and bunched it up just enough to pull it over his head and toss it to his bed, not even caring if the article of clothing made it safely or not. He stripped from his light gray sweatpants, kicking them off to the side as he pulled open his sticky closet door.

Without needing to look, his callused fingers collided (struck) with the soft sweater of his uniform top. He yanked it carelessly from its hanger and ripped the pants out of an indolent closet shelf before promptly kicking the sticking door shut. He shrugged his way into his fatigues and his shirt, tucking it in where necessary before adding the required armor and accessories until it was complete. (Finished)

His stomach craved breakfast, but his brain ignored the human action, opting to collect the Buster sword sitting nice and polished in the corner of his room closest to the door. His right hand curled around the rusted-colored red handle, feeling the grooves and indentions of the design even through the gloves he had donned.

He held it eye level toward him, his face narrowing even darker as he gazed at his warped reflection in the hazy metal. His thick cross, or 'x' shaped scar was still as visible as ever. His hair was slightly longer and cut since then, trimming away his childlike innocence from so long ago. He could not live like that anymore, with the change to his appearance, he made a change in his moral vows to no longer be blind; but to simply stop caring.

He used to care, he really did. But his sympathetic side died with his mentor, as well as his happy-go-lucky nature and his endless smiles. All he had left was an empty husk that was once Zack Fair, now the stranger he currently was had replaced him.

In the beginning, right after he had slain Angeal, he had cried. He had sobbed and whined like he never had in his life. He cried for a month straight, day in and day out, even through the night. But by month two, all his tears dried up and he was physically unable to cry past that point. He even stopped visiting Aerith after that and he had never gone back to that dilapidated church ever since.

He tore his face away from his fuzzy reflection with a snarl as he held his blade down at the ground. His hand groped the handle tightly, squeezing so harshly he felt the cold bite of the metal through his black leather gloves. With another growl he tore out of his room and stormed through the hallway and even his living room. He claimed his boots and Materia bracer from the closet beside the front door that lead into floor fifty-nine of the Shin-Ra complex.

He attached his bracer to his wrist and strapped up his boots before booking it out of his small one-bedroom flat. If he was being honest with himself, he did retain a few emotions after the rest had died; Anger and annoyance. If he wasn't pissed or provoked, then he was constantly bland. It was a vicious cycle that allowed Zack to function as best as he possibly could.

He boarded the small elevator in order to ride it to the roof so he could leave this blasted tower. The sooner he was out on this mission the better, regardless of what it was. He could at least take away his agitation by performing his SOLDIER tasks and duties, even performing them when it wasn't necessary. (Called for)

Flustered musing and a ding later, he made it to the roof.

There indeed was a chopper waiting for him, the blades spinning, circling around quickly as to lift off when given the go. Standing outside of the large mechanical bird was General Sephiroth and two cadets, both with their helmets on and unidentifiable. He power-walked towards the individuals, striding long and authoritatively as if to emulate the man whose sword he had inherited.

Sephiroth's ears twitched as he gently craned his neck to the right, where the brooding First Class was approaching mightily. He could sense the younger man was in one of his moods again and knew it was not a good time for idle conversation.

"Fair." The silver-haired man greeted curtly, nodding his head in the man's direction sharply.

"General." Zack returned, just as terse. "So, this mission, what's it about?" He questioned, getting right to the point as he settled his weight on his right hip and side.

"There are Shin-Ra traitors concealed in the village of Corel. They have stolen important documentations and speculation has it they will use it against the company. We have been dispatched to find them and allocate them as necessary." Sephiroth responded in his usual strict and stiff speech pattern.

"Good, I needed an outlet." The ravenette huffed, quickly boarding the helicopter and breaking any other kind of banter or talk before it could be started or continued.

Now, it wasn't Sephiroth's business to get involved in the private life of others, but for Zack, he couldn't help but to get involved after what the both of them had been through.

"Riddle me this, Lieutenant Fair, by killing others, does that somehow make you feel better?" The General cogitated as he stepped inside the cramped chopper.

One of the helmed cadets concealed eyes glanced from both the silver-haired man, to the raven-haired one almost expectantly as if he was also curious to know.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Zack snorted, sitting across from the Alpha of Shin-Ra with his arms crossed over his chest while a deeper scowl tugged at his face.

"By killing others cold-heartedly as you so like to do, does it somehow equate the pain in your hardened heart for how you were required to slay Angeal?"

"Excuse me? You wanna fuckin' run that by me again?"

"Do you justify your insatiable hunger for blood by calling it redemption? Do you think if you slaughter enough people then the pain of slaying Angeal won't be as significant?" Sephiroth worded, crossing his own arms over his chest.

"You just gotta fucking psychoanalyze everything, don't you? Don't pretend you know how I feel, and don't tell me how I cope and deal with it is wrong, because I don't see his blood on your hands!" Zack snarled, pointing at the General with his right index finger.

"Perhaps not." The silverette muttered, glancing out the small window of the chopper as he removed himself from the conversation.

It seems his Lieutenant was indeed senselessly murdering those Shin-Ra deemed fit to kill in order to hide the pain in his heart for killing Angeal all those months ago. That's not what he would have wanted, this is not what he would have wanted his student to become: A killing heartless and cold-blooded machine with no room for love. He needed a different outlet. He needed a friend.

Just as suspected, the group of four were given leery eyes from the common folk. Mount Corel had always been an Anti-Shinra kinda town. There was talk among the people and with Scarlet; the woman in charge of the arms development, that there were plans to build a reactor sometime in the distant future.

But they were not here for that, they were here to deal with some traitors. Word around town was that the two rogue Shin-Ra employees were hiding in some rundown shack deep in the mountains behind the village. Of course, things were never that easy. They couldn't be sheltered in one of the wooden houses here, or just right outside the village. No, they had to be deep in the mountains. Oh well, a walk through the perilous cliffs did a body good every once in a while.

So, that's how a simple 'Search-and-Destroy' turned into a fucking 'Needle-In-A-Haystack' mission.

Honestly, the trek ended up being more trouble than it was worth. The paths were crawling with Adamantoise and Needlekisses and whatever monster the trails decided to throw at them. The monsters weren't all that tough, they were just annoyingly placed throughout the sierras. But when the paths were clear, they made decent progress, well, mostly.

One of the cadets kept falling behind and Sephiroth, a little bit out of character, made sure he did not fall to far behind. However, the slower pace annoyed Zack fervidly. He spun on his heel and started walking backwards before calling out,

"Can you go any slower?" He groaned before whipping back around to walk through the trails normally.

"This certainly feels familiar." The cadet from beside him spoke with a gentle wispy lilt to his voice. "Except back then you were much more peppy." He added.

"What are you going on about?" Zack huffed as he shook his head.

"Honestly, I'd be more surprised if you remembered. But this is what happened in Modeoheim a while back ago."

"I seriously have no…Wait a sec." The ravenette thought aloud as he stopped walking momentarily. "Come to think of it…Hey, aren't you that Cloud kid?" He asked, having a rare moment of lukewarm kindness.

"Wow, you did remember." The cadet responded as he took his helmet off to expose his face.

Yup, that was that one Cloud kid alright; Blonde spiky hair that rivaled his own, bright blue eyes the color of the sky but untainted from Mako, pale skin that had looked just like the snow around them that day. As much as Zack tried to forget that day and the events that transpired, it was almost nice to recall something lighthearted from that dark time. Almost nice to have a familiar face that knew him.

But the weird part was the fact that when the First Class talked with the teen that was only a year younger than him, he didn't feel upset or angry in the slightest. Normally, talking with people seemed to get on his nerves lately. It was much different for some reason. It even made that dead heart in his chest flutter momentarily, feigning a heartbeat. (Faking)

"Huh, I had almost completely forgotten about you." Zack commented as he started walking ahead again.

"I wouldn't doubt it, we haven't been on any missions together since the Modeoheim one." Cloud responded, able to keep an even pace with the genetically enhanced SOLDIER.

"That long, huh?…" The ravenette sighed, a multitude of memories flashing in front of his eyes for a brief moment, shaking his head when he felt the stinging in his cheek where his scar was.

"Yeah, I heard a lot of things happened to you after that mission." The blonde commented sympathetically, walking a little faster to keep up.

"Eh, you heard right I guess." Zack spoke indifferently, shrugging his shoulders.

"So, from what I picked up in the chopper earlier, Angeal, he was your mentor, right? So, you had to…you know…" Cloud stammered, trying to words his question right without upsetting or offending the ravenette.

"Yeah, I had to kill him. There's no beating around the bush or a soft way to ask or answer that question." The ravenette snipped, starting to feel a little moody after being reminded of what he had to do. Now he couldn't wait to find those traitors.

"…I'm sorry." The blonde apologized softly.

That got Zack to stop in his tracks in order to turn around and give the cadet a confused look almost.

"What the hell are you apologizing for? It was just a question." He quipped with one brow furrowed and the other one arched slightly.

Cloud shook his head vehemently then, "No, not that. I'm sorry…For your loss. Losing someone is always hard." He responded sincerely.

That made the ravenette pull his head back as if he had been struck of slapped in the face, his narrowed eyes widened considerably larger. However, he shook his head from side-to-side strongly as he started to walk ahead again. That was weird. No one had apologized for the loss before, just said 'I'm sorry you had to do that.' Or 'You killed him? Why!?'

He growled again recalling the accusations that followed his actions. As if the consistent crying in the beginning hadn't been bad enough, his hide was nearly tanned by his fellow members and not to mention a few higher ups. When he tried to explain that's what Angeal wanted, they shook their heads and called him crazy and a comrade-killer. Perhaps killing the enemies was also a way to prove he wasn't a killer of his own kind, so to speak.

"Alright let's hurry up already, before those bastards get away." Zack called from over his shoulder, his tone and face going right back to pissed and snippy.

Cloud continued to follow beside him, only a few paces back as to give him some adequate space, it looked like he could use it. Either that, or if he got too close, he might get his head bit off. He'd hoped to consider Zack a friend and vice versa, ever since the ravenette practically stated to the world they were friends that day. From the time of the Modeoheim mission to now, he had wanted to get to know the spunky SOLDIER. However, he had to get through to him in a different way now that he was a little more rough around the edges.

Rumors and word of mouth in his unit barracks told of Zack earning a new nickname: Machine. This was because he followed orders without a second thought, never even hesitating to kill someone on the spot. He had no morals anymore and his emotions had been stripped away to a bare minimal. Everyone speculated he turned into a completely different person when he killed, almost like he enjoyed the crime. Some say you could see it in his eyes.

But the old Zack, the one he first met –he had to be locked away deep inside somewhere- wouldn't be able to hurt a fly even if he tried. But trauma and stress can completely alter a person from what Cloud had heard. Kind of like when someone gets into an accident and suffers a concussion, they can have fluctuating mood swings for months or even years. He was in a situation just like that; the slaying of his mentor being the metaphorical concussion.

He just needed someone he could lean on. After all, one can only take so much by themselves without any kind of human interaction or someone to confide in. If he wasn't already at his breaking point, he was probably sure damn close to it by now. The blonde knew he had some kind of connection with the SOLDIER.

All he had to do was just be there for his friend in the way he needed. After all, he had been very kind to him, even though he was an insignificant cadet. He figured he'd at least be able to do something for him.

"So where the hell is this stupid little shack supposed to be anyway?" Zack complained, still continuing to lead the way.

"I have been informed it resides near the train tracks." Sephiroth answered, much closer to the fellow First Class now that the other cadet had adequate time to breathe and catch up.

"We getting close or what?" The ravenette asked as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Judging by the amount of time we have spent traveling, we should be getting very close." The silverette confirmed with a sharp nod of his head.

"Good." The seventeen-year-old grunted, picking up his pace.

Cloud continued to follow at a reasonable stride, not going too fast or too slow. The last thing he wanted to do was be a burden, he was still on duty after all.

The scenery began to change by this point. The mountains had disappeared below them and now there were long infrastructures of tracks long abandoned, aged and rotting as time ticked on. The wind whistled through the large open space and ruffled their clothes and hair. It was slightly colder up here than it was at the base, but nothing that couldn't be handled and taken in stride. The party of four stopped for a moment to survey the area, the two SOLDIER's now up in front with the two cadets in back to bring up the rear.

"There's the shack!" Zack pointed out, his index finger trailing to a decomposing structure in the nearby distance.

"Proceed with caution. These tracks are unstable and have many frail sites, they might be prone to give out under extreme amounts of weight." Sephiroth warned, speaking to both his Lieutenant and his cadets.

"Yes sir!" Cloud and the unknown trooper responded with a sharp salute. Duty is duty after all, regardless of who you were acquainted with.

The ravenette threw caution out the window and replaced it with the euphoria of a mad chase, like how a fox hunts a rabbit in the wild. He charged down the rickety planks of rotting wood, each slat groaning under his weight. Sephiroth followed much more eloquently, moving so fluid it was as if he had been floating. The two cadets brought up the rear, taking it slow and steady on the unsteady trajectories. (Trails)

Within minutes, the shack was already in reach and Zack had burst open the door without being even remotely discreet. There were two people inside, a man and a woman. The male had generic brown hair and brown eyes and was dressed in a lab coat while the female possessed brown hair and eyes as well and was dressed in business attire with her hair in a bun. They looked dirty and hungry, no doubt from hiding out here for a few days or weeks even.

The shack was literally a shack: Four walls, a floor and a roof was all they had inside. The two people had brought their own amenities to survive off of. However, it wouldn't do them much good now that they had been found out. The Buster sword was pulled off the magnets on the back of the ravenette's holster and held upright, ready to sing a metallic song once more.

"P-Please! Don't hurt us!" The woman cried, cowering into the arms of the scientist.

"Hand over the documents." Zack growled, his eyes narrowed fiercely to show he meant business.

"We don't have any documents! Shin-Ra framed us!" The scientist beseeched with a fervent head nod.

Sephiroth stepped into the shack by this point, his eyes none too happy like his comrades while the cadets remained poised at the front door outside, in case they managed to weasel out somehow.

"We have leads that inform us they saw you two making off with those papers before you fled the country. Confess now and you will be spared." The General warned, keeping his weapon sheathed but his eager left hand over the hilt.

"We didn't do anything, please!" The woman sobbed, still trying to veil behind the man beside her.

They were hiding something.

"General, what orders were we given if they chose not to cooperate?" Zack asked, not breaking his eyes away from the two cowering people in front of him.

"If they show signs of struggle, we are allowed to detain them by any means necessary. The president even allowed the disposal of their lives, but I prefer it not come to that." Sephiroth explained to his comrade.

"Hear that? If you don't fess up, I get the great pleasure of ending you where you stand." The ravenette chirped darkly, jabbing the air in front of the couple with his broad blade.

"I-Okay…Okay….You win…" The man uttered, starting to crumble.

"Halling!" The woman cried in desperation, clinging to his arm tightly.

"It'll be okay, Clarissa." The scientist explained, pulling his lover from his arm.

He shuffled towards them with his hands up in surrender. He crouched to the rotting wood floor below, the material so warped and aged it resembled more of brown Swiss cheese than parts of what used to be tree bark. With one hand, he pulled up a board from the floor, where something was kept.

"It's the documents you want right? Nothing else?" Halling inquired, his eyes begging for mercy.

"If you hand the research materials over to us, we will spare the rod." Sephiroth agreed, keeping his hand over his sheathed blade.

"Okay then…Let me get those papers…" The scientist choked, sticking his hand into the putrefying foundation. "Ah, I got them! They're right…Here!" Halling shouted, quickly pulling out a small hand pistol and firing it as soon as it was raised eye level.

A shot ricocheted, the blast echoing through the dying room as Zack was clipped in the right shoulder from the .9 millimeter bullet. He cringed and cried out, his arm flexing as he involuntarily dropped his blade. Sephiroth was quick to act, his hand on his blade and unsheathing it with lightning speed.

The man fired off another shot, the steel of Masamune deflecting the bullet with unpracticed ease as it pinged through the decaying wall.

At this point, the ravenette was seething with rage. Instead of allowing the pain of the gunshot to faze him, he reclaimed the fallen Buster Sword in his left hand instead of his right. He gripped the handle tightly before swinging out, catching Clarissa right in the jaw and hacking it off.

The appendage sailed through the air as the former secretary let out a bloodcurdling scream. He hacked into her again, the blade slamming down through her skull and splitting it in half as gray brain matter oozed out of the large gash. When the blade was removed, her limp body fell over and twitched before falling completely still. (Unmoving)

Sephiroth flicked his wrist lightly as his blade sung through the air before swiftly decapitating Halling with ease. His head rolled off his neck and toppled to the floor where his body soon followed suit, the two people now divided into sloppy seconds and thirds to quench the parched earth below the decomposing shack.

Zack, however, turned angry eyes flickering from blue to Mako green at his brother in arms. "Why did you kill him, he was mine!" He hissed, his pupils cutting to cat slits and back to pinpoints, lambent as ever.

"You were wounded. I merely acted on instinct." The General responded, flipping the blood off his prized Katana before sheathing it once more.

"It was a graze, I could have done it myself!" The ravenette snorted, moving his sword to his right hand and using his now freed left one to squeeze his slightly wounded shoulder. His lips curled back as he growled savagely at the General; utterly pissed his kill was stolen.

"You are befitting of the name Machine, Lieutenant Fair: Working only to satisfy a certain set of frivolous goals. Angeal would not approve of your disposition." The silverette hissed.

"You keep him out of this! He has nothing to do with this!" Zack screeched.

"He has everything to do with this! Ever since he asked you to end his life you've been like this; Angry, pissed, and bland. Everyone is fed up with your poor attitude and now I can see why. It's time you either move on or get left behind." He snipped as he spun on his heel and briskly hurried out of the shack.

"Get those documents while you're at it, Machine."

It wasn't often that Sephiroth showed raw emotion like that, only when it was needed, called for, or when someone had crossed the line. For his Lieutenant, it was a mixture of all three emotions. The way he was going, he was only spiraling downward with no hope of ever resurfacing and acting as how he used to be. He might already be past the point of saving. Without a light and a voice to guide him, he was only steering himself in the wrong direction. Others had tried, but couldn't contain him.

Was his fate to be so far gone in his madness that it would only be a matter of time before Shin-Ra declared him a threat that needed to be eliminated? The General could only hope not. With the death of Angeal and absence of Genesis, the seventeen-year-old was the company's last legs.

Zack snorted roughly, squeezing his wounded shoulder tightly to stimulate more pain. He quickly whirled around where the two bleeding bodies lay deathly still, life oozing out of them rapidly in the form of crimson liquid. He looked daggers at them with infuriated eyes still hazing (fluctuating) a sickly Mako green like the General's; only much more warped.

He rammed the blade into Halling's separated head, splitting through the skull like cracking a brittle eggshell. He ripped the massive edge from the head, blood spurting out haphazardly as brain matter festered from the large gash like puss or infection. He struck the blade back into the thick head, grunting as he did so. Eventually, the ravenette got to the point where he just began to stab and mutilate the head below him until it resembled something unrecognizable as human and more so monster.

Aging and fresh blood alike splattered all over his sullied uniform as well as his arms and face. His tongue darted out from behind his lips and licked a large spot of the substance off his cheek, the organ dipping in slightly as it moved through the crevices of his old scar. The metallic tang had him cringe in both disgust and sick joy. He wasn't just a machine; he was a War Machine out for blood and bereavement. (Death)

He was a Weapon.

He was molded into what he was by the very company he worked for, where lives were taken daily and morals were lost hourly. Once the last light of his life had been snuffed out just like the weak burning candle it was, he was left to sit and corrode in the darkness. Once his morals had been shattered after he was forced to end a life he cherished, it was only a matter of time before the guilt and madness encroached (Swarmed) him like a choking black blanket.

If those events were to have never occurred, the ravenette would probably still be laughing and smiling. However, the company took everything from him without giving anything back in compensation for each loss.

Or so he thought.

There was gentle creaking from behind him. Zack snapped his head up and reeled in a sharp one-eighty degree half spin with his weapon outstretched and his eyes glowing darkly within the rotting shack, making the blood blaze against his tanned skin.

Cloud stood there with his hands up in surrender and his pale face drained of color it already lacked naturally. The SOLDIER kept his blood-soaked blade primed in the air above the mush and bloody bodies yet held it in reserve at his side. His hardened eyes glared deep into the trooper's pitiful and frightened ones; grotesque green melting into transitory turquoise.

"Zack, it's okay." The blonde simply stated, taking a step forwards.

Reacting out of battle-hardened instinct for when anyone approached him, the ravenette instantaneously lifted his sword back up to eye level as he narrowed his eyes. Those that came near him always tried to disarm him or subdue him. He was always advanced towards with malice combined with the intent of mollifying.

Cloud stopped advancing, but kept his hands up to assure him he meant no harm.

"Hey! What are you doing, Cloud? He's still in psycho-mode! You can see it in his eyes!" The other cadet bit, glancing into the shack from his safe spot outside.

"I would advise against advancing while he is still in his haggard state." Sephiroth warned, knowing very well how the ravenette acted while still stuck in this mode.

He was not afraid to cut down comrades like this, even if he knew them or not. They had lost almost an entire platoon over the course of one month because of the First Class's instability and inability to accept help or stand down.

Cloud, however, brushed off the warnings and took one more step forward, even with the blade hanging poised in the air like a coiled serpent. The cold metal was literally an inch away from his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. Obviously he was frightened, but he chose to ignore the human instinct inside him.

Zack tilted his head to the right as he pushed the blade closer to the pale neck, the tip of the sword indenting into the clammy flesh. His eyes were still hazed Mako green and swirling with the substance.

"Think this through, Zack. Would your mentor want you to kill one of your own?" The blonde timidly challenged, keeping his hands at surrender.

The ravenette's pupils constricted into pin-points as he jabbed the metal against the blonde's neck, slicing through the top layer of skin. His bow-shaped lips curled back into a snarl as he growled deep at the mention of the teacher he was forced to slay. The cadet outside let out a startled cry while the one inside gulped again before steeling his resolve. If he didn't stop his friend and set him straight, no one would. It was time he move on from this stage in his life.

"Listen to me, okay? Hear me out and don't, don't stab me, okay? This needs to come out and you need to hear it." Cloud started, taking in a shaky breath to gather up his courage and wits.

The First Class slipped far gone in his phase tilted his head further to the right, slowly retracting the blade but keeping it elevated.

"Six months ago, after everything happened, my bunk-mates were talking about what you did. Word got around of what Angeal said before you had to do the deed. Something about monsters, honor, and creating suffering and fighting those that spread it?" The blonde reminded, tilting his own head as he tried to get the crazed First Class to remember.

Silence could only be interpreted as he understood.

"Look at yourself, you're causing suffering. You're creating it for both yourself and for those around you. Angeal wanted you to give him an honorable end, and you provided that. But now you've lost your own honor and what do you think that means? Your teacher wouldn't be so happy to learn about this, would he?" Cloud continued.

Zack's face kept changing from insightful to pissed within seconds of the speech. He jutted his blade forward again, breaking another layer of skin and drawing the faintest traces of thick crimson from a small slit at the base of the blonde's throat. Any deeper and he'd asphyxiate on his own blood.

"Stand down, cadet!" Sephiroth ordered, knowing that the ravenette was on the edge of killing him.

"You're fucking crazy!" The other cadet choked.

"Wake up, Zack. Stop killing other people like this, you're dishonoring Angeal's memory." Cloud firmly told, narrowing his own eyes but in determination to break through.

The two outside expected the blonde's head to be severed right from his body after that remark, but when nothing happened, they stood there in stunned silence. The Buster Sword remained pressed into the cadet's neck for a few more excruciating moments before it slowly began to lower. Hazy green eyes then looked towards the stained and sullied blade, tarnished in cold blood.

This was his mentor's memento, given straight to Zack from Angeal himself, and it was soaked crimson. His eyes began to flash, this pupils dilating and distending as his murderous miasma flickered in and out. This blade was a symbol of pride and honor, and the substance that bathed it symbolized derision and disgrace.

"He would want you to move on, after all, he wanted you to give him a fitting end. It's not like you killed him for sport like you're doing now. So, move on and be yourself again, you've got people around you that are wanting to see the real you again. I would know, I'm one of them. So, please, come back." Cloud pressed as he finally put his hands down to his sides and began to approached the conflicted SOLDIER.

When Zack did not move or lash out, the blonde stood right in front of him and looked him dead in his flickering eyes. Then, past the blood and the lingering threat of the blade, Cloud hugged him. When was the last time he had been shown a gentle touch like so? He was just lost and needed to be steered back on course again. The blonde wanted the former Zack to come back, so he could be friends with him again.

The tainted blade was drove through the wood and into the rotting foundation as hesitant and unsure arms returned the awkward embrace. His eyes mellowed out, the green draining out of them like water draining from a colander. Former electric blue replaced them. It seems as though the damned could be saved after all, by those willing enough to reach out and repair the damage.

The ravenette, now calmed down from his haze, encircled his arms around his friend tightly (Envelop) as the weight of his actions finally caught up to him. He had been killing wildly, for sport, for fun. Cloud was right; Angeal would only be disappointed in him for how he had acted, claiming under the false pretense of anger and justification.

"Thank you, Cloud." Zack acknowledged with his voice much softer and gentle than it had been in months.

"It's no trouble, but, could you let me go now? We're still on duty, you know." The blonde sheepishly reminded, his cheeks flushing hot at the close proximity of their bodies, not only that, but he could catch a scent of the SOLDIER's natural aroma; Sandalwood and violet.

"Oh, right." The ravenette recalled, letting the lithe teen out of his much needed embrace. "To make up for it, how about we go to lunch sometime, my treat?" He added with a faint grin, one he hadn't shown for a long time.

"Uh, well…" Cloud muttered, having to look away to prevent that blush from being noticed by the observant First Class.

"It's not like it's a date, Spiky; just an outing to celebrate new friends." Zack dryly chuckled, the action feeling foreign to him after not performing (Acting) it for so long.

"I think I can handle that." The blonde said with a smile.

"Sweet! I know this great bar and grill down in sector eight we can go to after we get back." Zack recalled, pointing his thumb over his shoulder as if the establishment had been behind him this whole time.

I'm sorry, Angeal. I won't act like that again, and I'll do what I can to honor and preserve your memory and your fitting end. Also, I have a feeling you sent me a companion to keep me in check while you're gone.

Nice choice, my friend.

~END~

I hope you all liked it!