Chapter XI

Genesis

And God said, "Let there be light." And there was light.

-Genesis 1:3

"The farther from the present I venture, the more difficult it is to remember."

It was nice, really, this blissful sleep. Physically, he felt himself being lifted off the ground, heard two strange voices muttering, but it was all a hazy mess of spidery green and black in his mind, so he pushed his feelings of alarm aside. His head felt too heavy for his neck, and his limbs not strong enough to move, but inside, everything was so light...

"However, there is no forgetting that day."

The heavy weightlessness was slowly fading, though, replaced by a cold sensation that he couldn't pinpoint. Was it on his back? His arm? His chest? Another few seconds. No, he decided, the cold was everywhere.

It wasn't until he was sitting up that he realized he'd been lying down to begin with. He was in a lab: He'd recognize that scent anywhere. Old memories of metal and blood lapped at his consciousness.

Now that he looked around more, though, he felt his stomach lurch. There was that sterile medical equipment that Genesis remembered in the old Shinra labs, amidst beds and dressers.

And there was the Shinra logo, along with...

Oh...that explained it. He was in-

"Deepground," a deep, deliberate voice said, "as you know, has access to the most advanced medical equipment in the world. The President spares no resource for his secret army of super soldiers."

His breath caught for a moment, but then exhaled into a laborious sigh. "Weiss the Immaculate. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He turned around, eyes flickering over the impressive leader of Deepground before resting on the door.

Weiss frowned, shaking his long snowy hair. "I'm afraid it's not good news, brother."

Genesis's expression turned sneering. "Oh? Are you planning on trying to keep me here against my will?" He hissed. "Shinra lapdogs. You can tell your precious president that-"

"It's not like that," Weiss interrupted, looking piqued. "Shinra sent us to retrieve you from the region of Banora, and their orders were to keep you detained under maximum security." Weiss turned his back on the taller man and gestured to the room. "Obviously, you regained your strength in the nick of time, and escaped our clutches." He turned his head, his only visible eye from that angle looking at Genesis significantly. "Right?"

It was Genesis' turn to scowl. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You ask what I mean by sparing you?" Weiss asked archly.

Genesis scoffed. "I would not go as far as to call it that," he scorned, lips curled. "Why didn't you run off to carry out the orders like the good little puppets you are?"

"Hm." Weiss turned to face him again. "That is precisely what I wish to speak of."

"Really, now?" Genesis lilted, falling back onto the bed with grace. "Speak up, then. I haven't got all day."

The realization was just starting to hit him as he outstretched a hand, staring. His white palm looked perfect to the naked eye. Only his sharper vision caught the tiny scars running along the knuckles... But he was getting distracted: There was no pain, even when he flexed his fingers. Dare he believe that he was finally healed? No more degradation? No more struggling to take a breath because his lungs were disintegrating? No more fighting to keep from shaking because his muscles were falling apart?

It was hard to let himself hope.

He felt his left shoulder. The wing was gone.

"The Restrictors," Weiss said. "They're the ones in control of Deepground. They are... oppressive."

"Get rid of them, then," Genesis said simply. "That's what you're trained to do." Really. Did they need to come crying to him every time something needed to be done? It was pathetic.

"It's not that simple," he argued, shaking his head. "They've done something to us that physically prevents our harming them."

"How unfortunate. I'd recommend a skilled doctor, but... ah, he's dead." He laughed, even though it wasn't funny.

He felt like he could laugh and laugh until the world ended, and even then, when his every breath was ash and smoke and he was ankle-deep in blood, he would still be making that hollow, dry sound. The relief at being saved, it was overflowing in a waterfall of words, and if he was silent he would burst.

He was always good at building walls, though. Within seconds, he was quiet, dam built to suppress the river. It was better that way. Always.

Weiss glared. "We cannot. We're being controlled by these people – if you could even call them that!" He was frustrated now, pacing back and forth. Then, "They locked my brother up in chains. They said he was too dangerous to be left alone."

Genesis quirked his head, interested now. "When did that happen?" Nero the Sable had been an extremely loyal and able-bodied warrior, and perfectly lucid by army standards.

Then again, maybe Genesis wasn't the best judge of sanity. He'd thought his friends were normal, too, and Angeal had essentially committed suicide. Sephiroth had been fine, until that monster had wrapped her dirty claws on his genius mind...

Stop.

Sometimes, there were cracks that he had to fill with mortar-lies and brick-distractions. He was good at his job, though – such a good little laborer, patching up the trickles before they fell too far. Everything was safe now. Everything was okay.

Weiss' eyes were sad and confused. I have no idea how to love, he was saying, but I'm so head deep in it I can't find my way out. Now I have no idea what to do with myself. I'm floundering.

The expression didn't suit Weiss at all. Hadn't anyone ever told him, Genesis wondered. To love is to destroy.

"We were sent out to retrieve you. We succeeded, and got back without difficulty. They came for him in the hangar once we landed the helicopter. I could do nothing to stop it. I had my place to consider."

Genesis said nothing.

"We hadn't been outside in so long. It was such a relief to be sent to Banora. I don't remember Nero ever being so happy. He didn't remember what the sky looked like."

Genesis felt a wave of pity break through his barriers, but as quickly as it had come, he shoved it aside. Weiss and Nero were monsters and murderers. Not that he was any different, but...

'Not anymore,' he thought. 'I refuse to be called a monster any longer.'

"What is this really about, then?" he asked languidly. Snorting derisively, he added "Because I'm assuming that this conversation does have a point."

"Help us." The words were emotionless, but it was the closest Weiss could ever get to a plea.

Genesis quirked an eyebrow, his lips pursed. "Why ever would I do that? You have nothing to offer me."

"You're our brother. You made us what we are."

Predictable that he would return to the fact that Genesis had donated his cells to all members of the Sviets, granting them inhuman strength.

"He wanted Sephiroth's to do it, you know." He paused. His euphoria over being healed was slowly fading, replaced by that familiar, lonely feeling of bitter inferiority and injustice. "The president. He wanted Sephiroth. But Hojo refused, and since Hollander never really cared about me anyway...I was volunteered to donate cells to the cause." He scoffed. "I was property, nothing more. Not even valuable property, comparatively." No one cares about third to best.

"You didn't volunteer willingly?" Weiss looked briefly surprised, but shook it off quickly and said, "Irregardless, what's done is done. You and all of Deepground – the Sviets, especially – are connected, and..." he ground his teeth, "you're our only hope of being released from the Restrictors."

Genesis tsked. "With or without my help, I am sure you will find a way out eventually." He thought for a moment, then added, "And even if you do not, it means nothing to me."

Weiss was looking at him with displeasure. "So...you'll leave us down here to rot, then? The people that carry a piece of you in them?" Weiss glared. "Where is your loyalty, Genesis Rhapsodos? I thought SOLDIERS were supposed to be honorable-"

His casual air snapped. Snarling in anger, Genesis launched himself from the bed towards Weiss. The bigger man tried to stop him, but he had always been the fastest. Genesis looked down at Weiss, who was kneeling on the ground and grasping his stomach.

"Don't ever," Genesis said dangerously, raising a finger, "say that to me again. You," he brushed Weiss' forehead with his index finger, "know not of what you speak. Do you understand?"

"Indeed, brother," Weiss said. He got to his feet, looking slightly mollified. "I see that you are not ready to answer yet. Perhaps I could come back later?"

Genesis looked crookedly at him, all traces of anger gone. "Alright then," he said after a length. "If you insist."

"You should stay here. No one resides in this place, and if the Restrictors discover you, they will be angry."

He rolled his eyes. "Never. I will go as I please."

"But the Restrictors-"

"-will never know I'm here." Genesis sauntered over to the closet and removed a standard Deepground uniform.

Weiss looked uneasy. "...It's risky. I'm not sure that-"

"You wish for me to understand your pain?" Genesis retorted. "Well, then let me."

"Weeks passed."

Genesis, once in uniform, was able to pass as Deepground soldier remarkably well. His height matched with the others', and the full-face mask kept anyone from recognizing him. He used it to his advantage, walking around the sterile walls of the underground facility and stepping in and out of labs. It was a horrendous place. Every day, the troops awoke at an early hour, were fed, and went immediately to combat training, where they stayed until the end of the day unless they were scheduled for a lab session. No one talked in the hallways. No one talked at all, unless spoken to. It was eerie and empty and soulless, and Genesis never thought he'd miss the chatter of boorish, immature SOLDIERS but he did.

Weiss was right about the Restrictors, too. Were they even human under that armor? If they were, how did they sleep at night? After witnessing an on the spot execution (wham-crack, and the poor soldier was a lifeless skin-meat-bones), Genesis decided to avoid populated areas. He'd seen enough death for a lifetime.

As he turned an abrupt corner to avoid the oncoming Restrictor, he felt a tug at the back of his mind. It was a strange sensation, as though there was a sudden rush of something in his body, and then he felt his feet moving in a different direction.

The thinkfeelbreath brought him to a door unlike the others. It was locked, he discovered, but he managed to kick it open with relative ease.

'Strange,' he thought. Never one to not take advantage of an opportunity, though, Genesis slunk in.

The computer room was disappointingly unremarkable, for there were many of those in Deepground. He'd felt that strange urge to go there, though, and he didn't feel like leaving. Surely he wasn't hearing voices in his head for no reason, right? He almost laughed at the absurdity of his thoughts. It wasn't really funny, once he thought about it, but a raw sense of desperateness had been clinging to him for days now, and he didn't quite feel as sane as usual. ('That's not saying much, Gen,' he imagined Angeal saying with a crooked smile).

After only several minutes of poking around the database on a computer, Genesis knew he was out of his league. He was never talented with computers, or technology in general. He got paid to kill things, not to sit around in front of a machine all day.

Besides, the locked door wasn't going to be guarding computers; the computers here were all linked to the same network. Whatever files stored on a computer in this room would be the same as one in another, less reinforced one. So...whatever this room was supposed to keep people away from would be physical. Files, maybe? But weren't files just stored on the computer these days?

'Maybe these files aren't stored on the computer for a reason. Maybe Deepground was afraid that someone would be able to break in,' Genesis speculated. It sounded right to him. Deepground was paranoid, and they were training a large group of professional hackers themselves. Surely they knew that some digging would happen amongst their ranks. In which case, keeping the files physically would make more sense.

He looked around the room again, and his eyes rested on a huge black safe that had been tucked away in the corner. He stood up and walked towards it curiously. He hadn't noticed it before, and now that he examined it, he felt foolish for not doing so. It was so obviously holding something of vast importance. And whatever Shinra found important, he wanted to have.

Shinra...the company that had taken so much from the Planet, from his friends, from – most importantly – himself. He wanted to seem them burn for what they did. The Presence from before – foreign, yet familiar, unsettling in its sheer power, yet comforting like a warm mother's touch – arose in the back of his mind that seemed to whisper disjointed words and thoughts.

'All in due time.'

Shinra will burn for what they've done. First, though...

He surveyed the sleek cube of metal critically. It looked like the common, typical safe box, though replacing the circular dial was a number pad to punch in the combination.

Concentrating on the Hell Firaga Materia – thank the Goddess he still had it – he raised his hand. A thin beam of fire shot from his palm and straight towards the safe with a sizzling sound. He swept his arm to the right, then stopped the torrent and examined his work. The top of the safe had been sheered off completely, leaving its contents easily accessible. He smiled.

Without preamble, he reached inside until his gloved fingers brushed against something. A fat manila envelope. Just as I suspected, Genesis thought with pleasure. He pulled it out easily, then – realizing that he had no other place to put it – hiked up his pant leg, folded the large envelope in half, stuffed it in his mid-calve-length boots, and pushed his pant leg down again.

The presence was whispering to him again. Vaguely, he thought sardonically that he shouldn't be listening to the voices in his head; that's what had, essentially, happened to Sephiroth. But this was different. It wasn't Jenova...it was-

-Minerva.

Mother. The true Mother. The Goddess. The Planet. Genesis knew what the Presence was with strange clarity. Peaceful. He'd been touched by the Goddess, and her presence lingered.

Despite his old ties with industrialized Shinra, Genesis had never been one to defy Her. For the first time in a long time, he had found a sense of purpose.

"There really was no need to tell him what I was going to do, but I supposed that I owed him a bit of manners. After all, he had helped, however unknowingly."

Aware that finding Weiss in the hellhole would be nigh impossible, he decided to return to the empty room that he'd taken residence in over the week. Perhaps Weiss would feel Her, too, and know to come.

His faith paid off. Not ten minutes later, Weiss came walking through the door. Genesis had taken his helmet off at that point, and was pulling his fingers through his hair carefully, trying to fix it. The other watched him with hooded eyes.

Finally, Weiss spoke. "Have you made your decision?"

"Yes. I have," Genesis said, inclining his head.

"And what have you decided? Are you going to help save your brothers and sisters from a tortured existence?"

"Let us say," Genesis said, standing up and walking over to the rusted heart rate monitor, "that you manage to overthrow the Restrictors. What is it that you do next?"

Weiss hesitated, obviously not expecting the question. "I haven't given that much thought."

"Will you attempt to overthrow Shinra?" Genesis asked as he ran his now un-gloved fingers along various buttons on the machine. He noticed several bloodied fingerprints. They were small, like a child's.

"Over...? Of course not. We may be the best army on the Planet, but Shinra would crush us. And it is to Shinra that we owe the power we hold," Weiss said, jutting his chin towards Genesis and smiling slightly.

Genesis frowned. Inside, the Presence was churning with vague anger. 'Protectprotectprotect...'

"And if," (when) "Shinra is defeated? What then? Will you," Genesis smirked privately at the cliche, "try and take over the world? Without Shinra, you would be unstoppable, would you not?"

"Why are you asking this?" Weiss asked. "Shouldn't we concern ourselves with the present, rather than the future?"

"I'm asking," the former SOLDIER said, turning around to face the other, "because I need you to know why I would never help you."

Weiss' eyes widened, and he seemed to freeze. Whatever pretense he'd been putting on, he hadn't been expecting Genesis to refuse.

"Weiss the Immaculate," Genesis said, putting his hand on other man's shoulder, "you were...correct, when you said that I have forgotten my honor. I had a very wise friend, once." The words were flowing from his mouth now. He could not stop them. "He always used to say that no matter what happens, one must always protect their honor as SOLDIER. I never gave his comments thought, but now I know that he was right.

"I've never had much honor. It's time I changed that. And fighting your war is not what I'm supposed to do."

He turned around, picked up the bag that he'd put all of his clothes in, sheathed his rapier, put on the helmet, and walked out the door before Weiss could say anything more.

I know what I have to do now, he thought as he left.

Because of the disaster with an unnamed, immensely powerful man in a Deepground soldier uniform, (an impostor, obviously, but how had he gotten in in the first place?) escaping their facilities, it wasn't until half an hour later that they discovered the broken safe and the missing files. The Restrictors never did mention that fact to the President.

"The crimes were heinous. But I am sure you know all about that."

Project 1E93 was an operation years in the making. The first traces of a similar disease-control idea were Professor Gast's, and that had been over twenty years ago. Over time, the goal of the project had evolved. What was once supposed to be an experiment on disease control to better the lives of the people on the Planet had been twisted into a sinister objective.

Of course it had. Dr. Hojo had been involved. He could turn anything into a weapon.

Entry 55, Stage I: Found prime specimen of elusive and highly-rare creature. Non-sentient. Incapable of speech, though its DNA is similar to humans. Further study is required.

Entry 70, Stage I: Specimen of creature survived twenty days without any form of sustenance. No apparent fatigue was displayed before it disintegrated

Entry 89, Stage II: First attempt at ZMB/human DNA grafting was failure. Human subject fell into a fit and secreted blood before death. Cause of failure is unknown. Further study is required.

Entry 95, Stage II: Discovered that a mild strain of the Influenza virus forcibly injected into ZMB specimen before DNA graft smooths procedure considerably. Virus looks promising.

Entry 209, Stage III: Subject 14A arrived today. Former SOLDIER Third Class. Perhaps the Mako energy in Subject 14A will contribute to a success. Procedure this afternoon.

Entry 212, Stage III: Procedure was successful. Subject 14A showed signs of instability shortly after the procedure, but has survived longer than any insofar.

Entry 240, Stage III: Subject 14A dead. One week since procedure. My hypothesis regarding Mako energy increasing overall lifespan and quality of life is correct. Not only did Subject 14A live longer than any other, it also displayed far less symptoms for a shorter amount of time.

Entry 5, Stage VI: Specimen 28A showed remarkable amounts of Mako tolerance. This could be the one that we need. Virus injection procedure due in three weeks. Mako injections will proceed until that date.

Entry 267, Stage VI: Found remains of specimen 28A near Kalm. Remains of seven civilians also found. They had been seriously mutilated. I can only conclude that specimen 28A is the cause of wounds. All corpses have been tested and found positive for virus strain 1E93. Project on track. Next course of action is to find a more suitable host.

Entry 359, Stage XI: Operation has been moved to Lab 146-2, located near Nibel Mountains.

Entry 360, Stage XI: President Shinra ceased all further experiments involving Project 1E93. All data pertaining to virus strain 1E93 has been confined to Shinra labs 146-2 and must be kept under close surveillance. Final data conclude that outbreak of said virus would most likely be deadly to 60% of population.

He closed the smaller file and threw it into the steadily growing stack. All the papers he'd scanned so far had been similar. Grotesque, inhumane experiments. A tallying up of Shinra's sins, the skulls paving their own personal stairway to the gates of Hell. Nothing useful beyond that, though.

Over an hour later, Genesis threw the last file into the stack. Still nothing remarkably helpful, but he wasn't concerned. Shinra was probably sweating now that they knew their top secret files had been stolen right from under their noses. It was worth the trouble just for that.

He stretched lazily on the hotel bed, eyes wandering to the window. Skies the clearest blue he'd ever seen, not a cloud in sight. A sea bird cried mournfully from its perch in a gently wafting palm tree. White sand stretched over the shore, disappearing into the softly rolling waves. The scene was idyllic. Picturesque. Utterly relaxing.

And yet...

She was tugging at his consciousness again. Genesis twitched unconsciously. That same feelingwas back again. He hadn't felt it since he'd been in Deepground. Letting Her thoughts guide his actions, Genesis swept the pile of papers into a neat stack, picked it up, and walked out of the room. The sand was hot on his bare feet, but he paid it no mind as he walked closer to the water.

He paused when a wave came rolling in and he was suddenly ankle-deep in salt water. He closed his eyes, marveling at the sensation. He'd never been to Costa del Sol, never seen the beach or felt the sand in his toes or felt the warm breeze. Shinra had never given him vacation (not for their multi-million gil creation, never, he was too good for that), but then again, he'd never really wanted one. Work had been his life.

Shinra had siphoned so much out of his existence. Suddenly angry, and with Her coaxing him, he ripped the papers – once, twice, three times – until they were scraps, and then he let the wind carry the bits into the ocean.

Watching as the specks of white disappeared beneath the frothy waves, the wind kissed his cheeks, carrying with it the lingering remnants of seaweed and cold. The lone seabird cried again, calling for its mate with eerie tones. Chills gripped him suddenly, despite the sharp sunlight. His shoulders trembled.

He remembered the legend of old. 'The ocean was made from the Goddess' tears.'

"When I first came to the city as a child, I thought it a glamorous place filled with only the highest class. It was a juvenile notion. Midgar is a city of coldness and fear, where people starve to death under the feet of fortunate scoundrels and fools, and the copious blood stains the streets black."

The slums were a hellish place. Impoverished people congested the streets and byways, most of whom were coated in a permanent layer of dirt. A sea of lowered heads, downcast eyes, dragging feet, and worn clothes, it was so vastly different from the upper plates. The slums were like their own little dilapidated city, like two different worlds, existing separately...

He could almost make himself believe that, too, if it weren't for the ceiling of steel and brick where the sky was supposed to be. Drains from above emptied waste into streams flanked by unrecognizable debris. Children rummaged through it all, knee deep in filth, faces covered with grime, but sporting determined expressions. The two places...they weren't separate. They were shadows, one affecting, and the other left with no choice but to follow, always behind, always last, always trampled.

Genesis was fascinated. How did people survive down here? He was sure that-

Swatting away the eighth so-called pickpocket of the hour, he lost his train of thought. His lips pursed in annoyance. They seemed to have targeted him as wealthy, despite the drab cloak and hood he wrapped around himself, hiding most of his clothes and his distinguishable red hair. He felt angered at their persistence, but every time he started getting upset, he'd feel that Tug on his consciousness and shrug it off. He had more important matters to attend to.

What the matters were, he wasn't entirely sure, but there was no ignoring the sometimes painful jabs of direction the Planet sent his way.

He stopped. The church was simplistic in it's architecture, and something about it made him feel like it'd been there longer than the city had. A feeling of content and right washed over him. This was where he was supposed to be.

Well, the Planet might be all-knowing, but Genesis was unimpressed. He walked up the crumbling steps to the aging double doors, which were slightly ajar. Blandly, he kicked them open and gazed around the sanctuary. High, arched ceiling. Chipped pillars near the wall. Splintering benches – all facing the front – lining a middle aisle. He strode noisily, unafraid, down the center, his eyes sweeping the place before resting on a spot directly in front of him.

He felt himself stop. Flowers? In the slums? How curious. He continued walking towards the flower bed, halting when he was a foot from its edge. The Whisper became something different, something utterly bizarre and strange and yet it felt so...so... familiar.

Music.

It sounded like two young boys running with all intensity from the old farmer's field, apples piled in arms, laughter and friendship coating lighter tones. It sounded like a young and awkward angel-boy with silver hair and hesitant cat-eyes staring stiffly at them both, and then it sounded like the first time they made him laugh. Genesis smiled blithely at the memories. The bitterness and guilt would come later tonight in his dreams, but for now, he was content with getting lost in them.

"Can you hear it?" He tore his gaze from the plants and looked towards the new voice. He was met with green.

A faint wave of sadness and nostalgia snapped at his mind. 'Sephiroth had had green eyes.' But he pushed the thought away. These eyes were nothing like Sephiroth's. The General's had been eerie and catlike, with slitted pupils and a piercing stare. And the color had been disconcerting and calculating. Modified. Unnatural.

These eyes were opposite. Gentle. Understanding. Strangely, Genesis found himself thinking that if the Planet had had eyes, they would look like this.

"You're lost."

He snorted. "I am nothing of the sort." Genesis didn't know who this girl was, and, strange eyes or not, he was not going to tell her anything.

"You don't have to pretend," she said, and though Genesis figured she'd be angry at his slight, her voice was complacent. She knelt down and touched a flower tenderly, then looked up and said, after a pause, "You're SOLDIER."

Genesis' eyes narrowed. He didn't want anything to do with SOLDIER or Shinra anymore. But he knew his eyes glowed with the Planet's blood, and so there was no denying it.

"I knew a SOLDIER, once," the girl said. Her voice – though naturally cheerful – wavered at that point, and Genesis sensed the heartache behind it.

Determined to change the subject, he asked, "What are all these flowers doing here? I didn't think anything grew in the slums."

"This place is special," she said with a radiant smile. "And I take good care of them." She stood up abruptly at this and put her hands on her hips, her expression suddenly hard. "So don't go stepping on them, okay?"

"Why would I do that?" he asked, amused at the fact that this delicate young woman was bossing him around. The music grew louder, and his shoulders relaxed automatically in content. This place...it really was special. He'd never felt so close to Her before.

The girl's shoulders relaxed, too, and the smile was back on her face. "You hear it, too, don't you? I knew as soon as I saw you... Are you like me? Are you an Ancient?"

An Ancient? This girl was an Ancient? He'd thought they'd all died off... But then again, it would explain why she looked so... And why he felt so...

Unable to put his thoughts into words, Genesis settled with shaking his head. "You think I'm an Ancient?"

The girl brushed a delicate hand against the pink bow fastened at the base of her chestnut braid, looking disappointed. "Oh." She looked up at him with her big eyes, a thoughtful frown on her face. "But you're different," she concluded. "The Planet has touched you."

Genesis sobered, turned away slowly, and looked around the room again. His mind was racing. Was the thing the Planet wanted him to find not the church, but the girl who was at the church? There was no doubt that the sanctuary was special, but this strange brunette... there was something even more special about her.

'The Ancients were a race in commune with the Planet.'

"I'm searching," he said at last, head lowered, back still facing her.

"What are you searching for?" she asked, serene.

"Answers, maybe. I'm not entirely sure, you see. The Goddess is telling me where to go, but I can't... I can't understand." Genesis turned around, throwing his hands in the air, exasperated with the whole situation. "I've been wandering around for ages. She finally led me here. I don't know why. Do you?"

He'd thought that she might have looked at him like he was crazy, that no, she didn't have answers, she was just a flower girl from the slums, she didn't know anything about the Planet, you're hearing voices in your head? You should really go to a hospital for that.

But she didknow. He could see it in her eyes.

"I knew as soon as I saw you. That you were different. You're special. You've been chosen." Something was different about her voice now. It seemed lower, older, wiser.

"What have I been chosen to do?"

She smiled. It was not malicious, but it was not a gentle smile, either. She told him. He asked her to repeat herself. She told him again. He stared at her.

"Never forget."

"There is no hate, only joy
For you are beloved by the goddess
Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds..."

"I think.. it's you."

"Then...I shall never forget."

(( I offer thee this silent sacrifice. ))

"Time passed."

"Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul
Pride is lost
Wings stripped away, the end is nigh."

Genesis caught sight of several Shinra guards on patrol and slipped into an alleyway, weekly supply of food held under his arm. The brown paper bag crinkled noisily, but the guards did not look over. He released a breath and watched the silver cloud puff and disappear. It was winter. Cold. Especially under the plates. The slums during winter were torturous. The meager fires people would start on street corners would release smoke that had nowhere to go when it met the ceiling. Every intake of oxygen meant fumes burned your throat on the way down. It was really no wonder that adults who had lived in the slums their whole life had a permanent cough.

He hated waiting.

The Mako reactor loomed above him. He stayed low, feeling the ground, lifted the solid metal latch and lowered himself into it.

It was dark, but Genesis had grown used to darkness. His eyes glowed in the meager light that managed to get through the cracks of the trap door. He turned sharply. Left right left left left right left right... The winding tunnel had grown so familiar his movements were automatic. Another left turn, and there was the ledge. He jumped and landed neatly, though the impact was jarring.

After another ten minutes, Genesis emerged from the darkness. The underground lake was undisturbed and peaceful. There was the soft sound of waves. He sighed and made his way in the semi-darkness to the smaller, lower section off to the right.

The unease of being away retracted. It was always this way when he left, even for a short period of time. Painful, almost. The Goddess wanted him here, why should he go there? And so he kept his supply shopping to once a week and spent the rest of his time where She wanted him to be. Like a leash around his neck, he could never stray far.

"Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess..."

He wasn't sure how long it had been. Every night, he felt the Her. Her light brush of touch grazed his mind, Her knowing gaze rested on him invisibly. After awhile, (Weeks? Months? He wasn't sure), the girl in the church joined Her. Often, Genesis would ask her why she was there. She would never reply, just smile sadly, and tell him not to worry, things were okay. Soon enough. Things would be better soon enough. He'd get his role to play soon enough.

"We seek it thus, and take it to the sky."

Genesis didn't want his opportunity 'soon enough'. He wanted it then. He'd had enough of sitting on the sidelines.

"Ripples form on the water's surface."

Because while he sat alone in his underground cavern, the Planet was slowly dying. He felt Her screams, like a thousand voices and one voice at the same time. She grew weaker each day. And then Genesis would ask the girl from the church every night why nothing was being done, and the girl would smile sadly and say that there was something being done, he just needed to be patient.

Patient.

He didn't want patience. He wanted revenge. He wanted to gut President Shinra, hang his head from the topmost Mako reactor. Blow it to smithereens. A rain of steel and blood would fall from the choked sky, and the people in the slums would be free. The Planet would be free.

He would be free.

He'd destroy all of them. All of them.

"The wandering soul knows no rest."

"Eventually, the noises stopped. My dreams, which used to always include the girl from the church, had returned mostly to normal. The city above me was left to rust. I was forced to travel farther for food, and I learned that Shinra had been destroyed. It was my dream... but my happiness only lasted a few short days. I still felt unsatisfied. Something more was out there. I still could not leave the cave for long, and so I waited.

"I am not sure how I stayed sane after all those years underground. Perhaps I didn't. People have always suspected that I'm unstable. Maybe they were right, and so the sensation is not altogether foreign to me. I don't remember my days there. It is as if I have a blank spot in my memory. I suppose, it's really for the best. Either way, I do remember the day the monotony finally reached its end...

"When I woke up, there was commotion on the ground above. A vast change, for the streets had been empty for awhile...

"The ruckus stopped for a moment. Then-"

The enormous bang overhead shook the earth. Rocks fell from the ceiling. Dust poured like smoky rain. There was a blinding light, and then... plunged into semi-darkness again.

A blue glow surrounded the slight hole in the cavern's ceiling. Genesis' gaze rested onto the small, barren island in the middle of the lake, where a limp, familiar figure lay.

He couldn't quash the smirk. Finally.

"Finally."

He was, at last, free from the throes of purgatory. He'd served his time. Now, here was the chance to prove himself.

He was tired of being the so-called villain... tired of always losing, (for villains, they are never allowed to win. At the end of the play, when the curtain fell and the applause started its course, the heroes were always the last men standing). For what did he have to show for all his years of hanging on by a thread, of kidnapping and threatening and...and...

"I was ready."

He knew he could do it.

"I had repented for what I had done. All was forgiven for the sake of justice. Redemption was in my grasp..."

"When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end
The goddess descends from the sky."

Genesis smiled again.

"Weiss."

Forests were loud. Genesis didn't care about people's poetic descriptions of the silences, the hush, the mild wind on the softly trembling leaves -- for forests surely weren't deserving of such a lush mental picture. They should see what such writers would say about their 'whispering trees' after spending a few nights alone in them, jumping at every sound, hearing the wild cries of beasts, the crackling of leaf against leaf, all noises that might as well have been the equivalent to a room filled with angry executives.

There was another rustling in the underbrush. Genesis sat up. It really did sound closer that time. Eyes narrowed, he and looked around shrewdly. The darkness was hardly a hindrance to his eyes, thankfully, or he would have had a problem seeing the figure sprawled on the ground several feet away. White hair hung limp and tangled against the pale face. Perfectly sculpted arms were resting neatly on his toned chest. And yet, even in sleep, Weiss was haunted and worn and broken, seeming like a ghost.

"Do tell me, friend," Genesis muttered, mostly to himself, "how I am possibly supposed to sleep with you thrashing about so?"

Weiss twitched again, causing the plants around him to rustle loudly. Genesis narrowed his eyes. Was it so much to ask for some peace and quiet? The forest was loud enough already, without the former Deepground leader adding to the noise. So, he was having nightmares. Awful, really. But wasn't it about time he got over it? It had been a month since Nero's death. Surely he couldn't still be hung up on that.

"He's a part of me now," Weiss had explained when Genesis brought it up. "I can't get over it. He's inside of me. He's trapped."

You need to stop being so sentimental, Genesis had responded. It's getting ridiculous. How are we supposed to avenge his death if you're acting no better than a pathetic fool?

Weiss had not answered. Instead, he turned away, and continued to stare off into space.

Disgusted, Genesis had left. When he came back, he found Weiss in a similar position as before, eyes dull. Nothing he could say changed his state.

Sighing as he moved yet again, Genesis rolled over, determined to get some sleep. Heavy, level breathing suddenly turned faster, coming in rapid bursts. Cracking an eye open, Genesis watched as Weiss grimaced. He recognized the signs immediately, and groaned into his makeshift pillow. Just like that, any hope of sleep at all was dashed.

Infernal nightmares. Couldn't they haunt Weiss just a tad quieter? How, in Gaia's name, was he supposed to sleep with all the screaming?

Well, maybe not screaming. Not yet. But it might as well have been.

Resigned, he pulled himself to his feet and walked towards the restless figure.

"Wake up," Genesis demanded sleepily, kicking his back lightly. No response. "...Please?" he tried. Still nothing. He ground his teeth, then kicked harder. Weiss released a small outtake of breath, but that very well could have been from the images in his sleeping brain, not the external force. It was maddening.

He was beginning to thrash around. Soon, Genesis would have to personally restrain him to prevent self-harm. Awful. Uncomfortable. He vividly remembered the feeling of being held down (on lab tables, with sharp knives all about and a young Sephiroth in the corner wondering what was wrong with the picture, why Genesis was crying). He wrapped his hands around his biceps, knelt on his kicking legs, and grit his teeth. Weiss would always start to fight harder, an unconscious protest to any impediment of freedom (after all, Weiss had surgery room memories, too). It made his vision change. Pictures of himself dressed in a white coat would splash across his thoughts, somehow now the perpetrator. He imagined the frightened little boy sitting on the too-cold metal, nursing a torn shoulder and vowing viciously that he would grow strong enough to hurt everyone who did this to him. To Sephiroth and Angeal, too. Now, it felt like he was betraying them. And himself.

It wasn't the same, though. If he didn't do this, Weiss would hurt himself. It wasn't the same. He ran the mantra through his head, eyes closed, feeling the muscles writhe beneath his grip, and hating himself for making them react so.

Always, as soon as Weiss awoke, Genesis would retreat. He wouldn't speak for a long time after that.

But even following all this, Weiss never cried for his brother. Perhaps that was a bad sign. Wasn't crying a vital part of the grieving process? Supposedly, once the tears had dried, it made one feel better.

Genesis wouldn't know. He was fourteen the last time he cried. It was the day he got the results for the Second Class test. He didn't pass. Angeal did. Sephiroth was already a First. Fierce jealousy and tears ensued.

He passed several weeks after that, but it didn't really matter. Angeal – his best friend, whom he had always secretly felt superior to – had beaten him. It couldn't be taken back.

That had been a pivotal moment for him, now that he thought about it. The first time he recognized himself as 3rd-to-best. Life became a competition. It left a serious impression of inferiority in his psyche, one that he still hadn't managed to shake.

Hm. All this self-discovery was making him starving. He looked around meadow, hoping to see sustenance he'd overlooked. Every day, they got closer to the Nibel mountains. And every day, the vegetation grew sparser and sparser. As a result, food was growing increasingly hard to come by.

When he returned to where they had appointed camp for the night, Weiss was hadn't changed positions. It would be far less of a hassle to have him normal again...though, the very fact that he was sick was the reason they were making the journey in the first place.

That's right. Weiss was sick. It was passed grieving, at this point, though the grieving hadn't helped any. It had taken him far longer to notice the signs, because he had simply assumed Weiss was going through emotional turmoil, not physically sick.

Mako addiction. Weiss had Mako addiction. It figured, really. Of course they'd be more pumped full of Mako than the average SOLDIER 1st Class. Of course Deepground didn't care that the amount of it they were injecting their members with would kill an average person after a few months, and a tolerant one by 35.

Now, Genesis wasn't one particularly interested in medicine. He tried to stay as far away from it as possible, actually. But Mako addiction was another story completely. He was a SOLDIER, and every SOLDIER through 2nd Class had a mild case of it at some point, or were at least exposed to someone who had.

To most, it was nothing more than a mild case of nausea .

To a few unlucky fellows, though, it meant they had to drop out of the program. Shinra tested for Mako tolerance, but even they got it wrong sometimes.

He knew what Weiss had -- was absolutely certain. He also knew that if he didn't get a dose of Mako in the next few days, he was going to die.

If he died, Genesis would fail.

"I left Weiss about half a mile from the Shinra labs. I was only being cautious. I didn't really expect to find much trouble. The lab was ancient. When they first built it, it had only been to use for a temporary station while they finished the one in the nearby mansion. In fact, I was hardly expecting to find what I needed. I was dragging my feet, hoping I wouldn't have to set a foot anywhere closer to Nibelheim. What I found was... unexpected, to say the least.

"...But that story's for another time.

"The lab had a vast supply of Mako. I took several months worth, and even that was hardly denting the stash. Lab reports taught me how to help Weiss, and so I suppose they were good for something, in the end.

"A week later, and Weiss was back to...well, not normal, but he was functional again. We were back on track, as far as our plans went. But... I awoke the next day to find him gone. He had heard rumors about a woman in Wutai that might help his... situation. I wasn't really surprised that he had left, I suppose. He still had a long way to go before he could be of any use.

"After he left, I wandered around for awhile. I had already killed my whole family and since the entirety of my home town is ash, I had nowhere to go. Mercenary work at a few towns was not covering all my expenses, and I grew tired of traveling quickly. From a client, I heard of the newly re-furbished Battle Square at the Gold Saucer, and figured a stabler position would be more adequate for someone like me...

"Which brings us to the present."

Zack ran his fingers through his hair. His spikes felt greasy – he really needed a shower. How long had it been since he'd felt clean? His most recent memories – besides the painfully clear ones of running, running, and never stopping – were peppered with sanitary rituals. Excruciating showers after surgery. The detergent smell of Mako. The white, white walls – so blinding, except when they were splattered with red. Having the opportunity to get grimy was pathetically exhilarating.

'Not the point, Zack,' he told himself as he studied Genesis' smooth face. Permanently smirking, the ginger was vain, flashy, selfish and cruel, with a glint in his eyes that told of unspoken, dangerous secrets that made one second guess their every move. You're about to step on a mine, his gaze seemed to say. But I'm not telling you where it is; seeing you blown to pieces in a sea of lights will be fun.

Could he trust him? Zack internally scoffed. There was no way he could. Surely, Genesis had spent all these years slinking around Costa del Sol, slipping under Shinra's radar like the serpent he was. He had the locals wrapped around his finger in string spun from his careful half truths. This was all just a game to him. Everything was.

But... even to his mind's eye, the picture looked wrong. As much as Genesis was a narcissistic manipulator, there had to be some shred of compassion in him. Angeal and Sephiroth had loved him, for all that Zack saw him as pompous jerk, and both of those men had been the best judges of character he'd known. Neither would have put up with him if he had been truly evil, would they?

'No,' Zack thought. 'They wouldn't have been friends if Genesis was as bad as he seems. There must be something more to him.'

Maybe he was just fooling himself. People changed, after all: Cloud was proof of that.

He looked over at the blonde now. His hair swayed in the gentle breeze, drawing Zack's attention. The pale gold spikes looked silky and utterly unlike his own, and Zack suddenly wished to run his fingers through them. Lacing his hands together at the thought and feeling his own calluses instead, he felt ashamed for his weakness.

Cloud must have felt him staring, for he turned his head to face his. Their eyes met. Zack almost looked away in the embarrassment of getting caught looking, but the meaning behind the gaze stopped him. He sobered. This was no time to be daydreaming: Reality was already surreal. He looked over at Genesis briefly, then back to Cloud. His lips turned up in a small smile. Sorry. I'm paying attention now. The blonde returned it even slighter, shaking his head. Yeah, whatever.

He tore his attention back to Genesis. The redhead looked smug, and Zack was immediately put on his guard. "Remembered me, have you?" he asked in a lilting voice. Zack frowned. Genesis delighted.

"I'm not sure whether to believe you," Zack admitted bluntly, ignoring the comment. Genesis shrugged.

"Believe what you wish. After all, whatever you believe makes it your reality. But what I have told you is the truth," he raised his hand, smirking slyly, "SOLDIER'S honor." His fake earnestness made Zack's fingers itch, but he refrained.

Cloud's lips were tight. "I guess some of it must be true, at least. You knew about Weiss and Deepground. And you mentioned Aerith."

Zack had overlooked the fact that Genesis had spoken of Aerith, forgetting that the redhead would have had no knowledge of her. And while he didn't know who or what Weiss and Deepground were, if Cloud said they was real, he believed him.

He was surprised at the fervor he hoped that he was on their side. Genesis had been the interlocking piece to his old life, the only constant factor in those chaotic final years. Those days hadn't been all bad, actually. At least he had been free.

Shinra had abused SOLDIER, but the program itself had never been corrupt. As pure as any killing job could be, the members looked out for each other. The honor, the camaraderie – if only it hadn't been that Company, he would have stood for something real. No one from the outside would understand, because all they saw looking back at them was the glowing, muscled surface. And they were afraid.

That was something he had in common with Genesis, at least: He wasn't the only one who had been called a monster.

"Aerith?" Genesis said, puzzled.

"The girl from the church," Zack explained, and not without grief. "Sephiroth killed her."

Genesis looked oddly dazed. "Sephiroth...?" The word hung heavily in the air. Zack chanced a look at Cloud, who's eyes had shifted to the ground. His jaw locked in place as he snapped his vision back to Genesis.

"That's right. He was your friend, wasn't he?" Zack asked, lips in a hard line.

Genesis shot him a look beneath lowered lashes. "...He was."

"And Angeal," Zack said, crossing his arms. His expression was slowly growing darker as hateful memories overshadowed his thoughts. "Remember him?"

"Hm," Genesis grunted, looking away, but Zack still caught the angry flash of his eyes and the slight baring of teeth. His posture straightened. He like he would say more, but a sharp, level voice interrupted.

"It's cold," Cloud said. Surprised, Zack spun around to stare. Cloud's lip twitched, his eyes sending a significant look. Now is no time to fight.

Realizing that he had been instinctively reaching for his sword, Zack jerked to a more casual stance and looked back at Genesis. The older's lips were still curled into that strange smile, something unreadable flickering behind his shrewd eyes. His whole demeanor looked like a person torn between running away and lunging for the jugular. Zack suppressed a shudder.

"That's right," Zack agreed, even though he hardly noticed the weather anymore. "We could use some firewood. Why don't you go get some?" he asked Genesis, his voice forcibly slow and bright. Cloud was right; they couldn't afford to fight amongst themselves in such a way. They should be separated before anything rash happened.

A faint trembling wracked his shoulders for a moment before Genesis answered with a slightly stuffy air. "...Okay," he sniffed, and just like that, the person who most hated following orders, who lived for blood and explosions, who was as unpredictable as a rabid Nibel wolf, walked away to do as he was told.

Zack watched him sweep away in wonderment, a vulnerable fox skittering back to it's burrow the moment the situation turned heated. How different from the Genesis he'd once known, who had thrived off of conflict and projected an untouchable air.

Genesis hadn't lost his fire, but perhaps he had changed over the years.

"Thanks, Cloud. I don't know what came over me," Zack said seriously, rubbing the back of his neck. His hair tickled his fingers uncomfortably, so he rubbed his upper lip instead. "I was just..."

Angry. He had been angry. The moment he mentioned Sephiroth, and Zack had seen the guilt written all over Genesis' face... he'd very nearly hit him right there.

Loyalty was what drove Zack. A fierce, almost predatory urge to protect and defend what he cared most about. The thought of intentionally hurting Cloud made his mind spin, because it just wasn't possible.

When Genesis had abandoned his friends, it only took one look at Angeal's face to send Zack into an angry rant, and in the Nibelheim Mako Reactor, when Genesis had told Sephiroth that he was a monster... Zack had been at an utter loss.

His words had been the catalyst. Sephiroth had always known what less complimentary people thought of him, but he was so high up in the world the words never came close to making an impact. The stones the enemies and common people threw had no hope of reaching his heavily-walled pedestal. But Genesis was on his level. Genesis was allowed inside the barriers – welcome, even. Genesis was given rare smiles and joking words and expressions of gratitude.

And then Genesis had laughed, eyes alight with jealousy and hatefulness. He had promptly reached for a gun and shot Sephiroth in the face, smiling all the while.

"You're a monster."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The General lost all ties anchoring him to the Planet that day. Bloodied and bruised, he'd searched and searched, looking to see if there was any more hope in the world. Anything else to hold him together. He found Jenova, and before too long she had sunk her talons too far into his consciousness, tied the puppet strings too tight. Sephiroth had been turned into a slave.

He may have killed dozens and dozens of people, but from Zack's perspective, Genesis held partial blame. If he had reinforced the bonds of friendship, perhaps the chains would have kept Sephiroth grounded. Perhaps – if Genesis hadn't been so spiteful – Aerith would still be alive.

It was too late for Genesis to feel guilty.

"... He just gets under my skin, you know?" he said crossly, right fist clenched. "He always has." There was a slight rustle behind him as Cloud stood up. Zack spun around, flashing an apologetic smile.

The blond shrugged. His face looked troubled. "...He was friends with Sephiroth?"

"Yeah. Back in the day," Zack said with a nod, though his tone was gentler. Rightfully so, the man was a sore subject with Cloud. "They were Shinra's golden trio, those three. Friends since they were kids. The whole deal."

"...It's hard to imagine," Cloud said distantly.

"I guess I know what you mean. Sephiroth hardly seemed human," he said. He had to keep reminding himself that his Sephiroth and Cloud's were vastly different. Cloud wouldn't understand him if he said that the General he knew was aloof, yes – but he had also been dryly humorous and had had a fierce affection for his close friends.

"Do you think he'll leave?"

It took a moment for Zack to answer. "Genesis? No. He'll come back. He has nowhere else to go."

'...And neither do we.'

Questions?

"...and Angeal had essentially committed suicide.": Genesis is emotional and far from shy, but he is also someone who finds it hard to see the bigger picture. He has a singular viewpoint which is usually tuned into his own personal needs, but hardly ever the needs of others. He is social in the sense that he enjoys company, but he is also selective and picky as to who he interacts with. It does show that he is not completely this way – or, at least, didn't used to be – through his childhood friendship with Angeal, who was poor, and that he is capable of seeing beyond social ranking. However, I still stand by the belief that he hardly truly sees people at all. When he does, he is hardly ever impressed. Therefore, the people that leave an impression catch his undivided attention in a way that nothing else does, which is why he is absolutely obsessed with Sephiroth. But even then, it is hard for him to take his eyes off of himself. Ultimately, Genesis is a selfish person who was treated by his friends in a way that made him a little more aware, but still more internalized than anything.

In this respect, we can conclude that Genesis probably had no idea what Angeal was going through. Genesis is the type that would do anything to stay alive: Angeal had a point where he was getting less out of living, and he had to stop while he still had a shred of dignity left. Genesis loved Angeal, I'm sure, and he put forth his effort in his own way; but truthfully, Genesis never took the time to see what was going on with him. The thought of 'giving up', as Genesis would think of it, was completely foreign to him. When his best friend died willingly, he could not wrap his mind around how it could be his fault. He feels guilty, but he doesn't know why.

Also, as I mentioned before, Sephiroth was once a real class act. Crisis Core showed a side of him that no one had seen before. He was socially awkward. He was self-assured, but not prideful. He was loyal. Before he went crazy, he was thinking about giving up his 'at the top of the world' career because he didn't believe what Shinra was doing was right. He felt abandoned when all his friends left him. He told Zack to go see his girlfriend (who he ended up killing later. Isn't that ironic?) even when the job was getting heated. And he said "Take care." It was adorable. Hugging of PSPs ensued, as well as a quick edit to my profile page: Sephiroth was SO going on the favorite characters list, and not because he was delightfully evil when he lost his mind.

/pointless explanation

Merry Christmas! ^_^

(Yes, I AM pretending that it didn't take me ages to finish this, why do you ask?)

Oh, foo. I guess there's no ignoring the elephant in the proverbial room.

Weiss is a bitch to write. So is Genesis. I don't like them. Not 't tall, yes.

I hate this chapter. It makes me sick. But I will post it, because I love you guys and it's Christmas Eve. I wanted to get you a present. Yes yes.

It is going to be my project to go back to all chapters and tear them to pieces. Hopefully then I won't feel as demoralized.

By the way, I know you're confused. Never fear, though. I'm... slightly less confused.

OH. And as for the Bible quote at the beginning, I didn't mean to offend anyone. I just think that since this whole chapter was about Genesis enlightening everyone, (thank you, Genesis, for being such a bitch. I really didn't appreciate that), the 'let thar be light ya' was appropriate.

Yup.

Am I the only one excited for Final Fantasy XIII? Probably not, but I feel like it.

Oh. And... yeah. Final Fantasy Wikia is your friend, if you're confused about Genesis' story. When I act like this story could fit in with canon, it makes me feel more talented. But it also makes it a lot more difficult. If I got something wrong... Forget it. 'Cuz I sure am. I tried my best. 3

And please review, even though I don't deserve it at all. (Reverse psychology? Psh. Of course not.)

-b9 iNe