FicWad

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters except Arlex, Matthew, and Tylus. The rest belong to Sqaure Enix. A damned shame huh?

WARNINGS: Language, Violence. (This chapter's not much as fare as warnings go.)

Cloud sat up with a pained groan. His body felt so stiff. He opened his eyes, only to realize he wasn't back in his bed at the orphanage anymore. Then the events of last night flooded back into his memory. His first thoughts were of his leg. Looking down didn't help. His ankle was purple and swollen, and he discovered he could move it only a little.

/Just ignore the pain. Pretend it's not there. No matter how much it hurts, you can't just lay here mumbling all day./

He investigated his hands next. They weren't so bad. In fact, most of the tiny abrasions had scabbed over and begun to heal already. Following his own advice, he ignored the pain in his leg, and leaned foreward. With quite a bit of effort, he broke the rear view mirror from the car's windshield. Wiping it off on his damp sleeve, he held it up so he could see his neck. He touched one finger to the gash there and pus oozed out. It had become infected overnight.

"Oh boy, I look and feel like shit. Great." He cursed aloud.

His stomach growled angrily. He gave it a lazy pat.

"I know, I know . . . You'll have to wait. I don't think I can walk right now."

On his growling stomach's whim, he forced the door open and crawled out onto the asphalt. He leaned his back against the car and began the task of mentally preparing himself for what would most likely be a very painful experience.

/I need something to lean on as I walk./

He looked around. The alley had been too dark to take in the night before. Not like he was paying enough attention to his surroundings then anyways. There wasn't much to observe truly. Just the rusty old car he'd slept in, a dumpster, and a few trash cans. He couldn't believe his luck, propped up between two of the trash cans was a single crutch, thrown away because it was missing the foam padding at the top. It would definitely be better than nothing.

Cloud thrust all his weight against the car. Using it as his sole source of leverage, he struggled to his feet. God his ankle was killing him.

/Ignore the pain, ignore the pain, ignore the pain. It's not there, it's not real./

/Bullshit This hurts too much to ignore, you dumbass./

/I'm so nice to myself . . . /

He limped over the crutch and took it in one hand. He had to adjust it to make it shorter.

/Imagine that . . . / he thought sarcastically.

It was sturdy enough to help support his small frame. He made his way to the street, which was surprisingly empty.

/Where the hell am I supposed to get breakfast? Well, Arlex said he stole his . . . /

/He also acted like he was your friend, now didn't he. That turned out to be a lie./

While Cloud knew Arlex had lied, he didn't doubt that the red-head had lived on the streets during one point in his life. So, there was only one question. Take his supposed enemy's advice and attempt to burgle his breakfast, or find an alternative solution.

Cloud concluded that there was no other way, aside from dumpster diving, which he wasn't willing to resort to just yet. He'd try Arlex's way first. Now, to find the market place Arlex had called Wal-Market.

He wondered around, receiving strange glances as he passed other people. Some even had the nerve to point, or whisper behind his back. He payed them no attention and continued on his way. He imagined he looked pretty rough. His shirt still bore blood stains, and his black pants where slightly torn at the knees. Not to mention the plentiful, paltry nicks, cuts, and bruises. Then, there was his pitiful limp, the bullet in the gun. He hated the attention of someone's eyes on him. It made him feel as if every one was sizing him up, judging him as inferior before they even heard him speak. Anger began to boil inside of him, he felt his body's minute rise in temperature and tried to deny it. So he continued on his way, fighting his rising anger at the people of Midgar in general. He resisted the urge to stop in his tracks raise his fist and shout at them to mind their own damned business, concluding it'd only make them stare harder.

"Why are humans so . . . so fucking full of themselves?" He muttered aloud, not caring who heard. "It's not as if my life, my physical state, and certainly not my looks concern them."

It took him the better part of an hour, but finally, by following the stream of gawking morons, he chanced upon a seemingly endless sea of civilians all clustered around covered wooden stands and tents that looked as if they'd been thrown up in haste. Cloud noted that many bore their goods without any security or watchfulness at all. This had to be it, Wal-Market. His attention immediately left his subject of fury. He'd heard of it, what it sold, and how it operated. Anything could be bought here. Anything from food to weapons, and armor to chocobos, exotic pets, clothes, rare antiques, jewelry, potions, and sometimes even illegal contraband. His eyes widened in excitement. All of these things were here, and if he played his pawns correctly, he had access to all of it.

Cloud's mind reeled. Where to start? And once he did find something he wanted, how to go about obtaining it without being caught? He looked at this as an opportunity to prove to himself he could be sly, cunning, sneaky, and quick. He'd never stolen anything before, unless a sock counted.

/Hm, quick, with /this leg? Whatever. . . //

He felt a pang of guilt at what he was about to do, but knew it had to be done.

/Stealing is dishonorable and vile. /

/Since when have I ever been allowed any honor?/

/Still, it's wrong. What if you get caught?/

/I won't get caught. /

He was beginning to dislike the mental voice of his common sense, which he tended to ignore all too often. He found himself blindly following his instincts more often than not.

/That's what you said the first time you hurled yourself over an eighteen-foot tall fence. /

"Starvation, or become a thief?" he retorted to himself.

That shut up his mental rambling. It would seem, that even that little voice in his head wouldn't argue when bribed with the promise of a much needed meal.

He'd have to be careful not to further agitate his injury on top of all his other problems, but nevertheless, he felt this was going to be an enjoyable experience. He tried to take in everything at once. The sounds, the smells, the sights, the people. It was like taking an eight hundred pound man to a free all-you-can-eat buffet.

Cloud's stomach grumbled even louder than before at the delicious aromas that wafted by his nose. He couldn't wait to find their source. He began his search at the nearest stand, fighting his way to the front. Small colorful orbs where placed behind glass cases.

/These must be materia. There are so many . . . /

He'd never seen materia before either, not even before his mother's death. He'd only read about them in a magazine. He marveled at them, wondering what powers lie dormant in each one. He decided he'd have to learn to use them someday, but not today. They were too hard to get at. Damn those glass cases. Maybe it was for the best. If he did acquire one, he'd probably accidentally kill himself with it anyways. His first day of freedom and he'd died already, perfect.

He passed a clothing tent, observing their merchandise. Slinking among the honest shoppers, he made his way to the racks of new cloths. A sign above one read denim. He'd never worn denim before, but many did by the looks of the people surrounding him. He figured it would be wise to blend in with the crowd, considering his status as an apparent fugitive.

He'd never shopped for himself, so, naturally, he didn't know what size he'd need, but first priorities came first. Which ones did he like? Regular blue seemed too frequent in the displays of those around him, and he didn't want to blend in that much. Just enough to stave off the stares of Midgar's civilians. Moving down the rack, he found black jeans which appealed to him greatly. Lifting a pair from the rack, he held them to his waist.

They were obviously too big. He repeated this with every black pair in the clothing tent. They all seemed too big, he had to gain some weight. Disheartened, he went back to blue, and dug in the endless pile of designs until he unearthed a lighter washed pair. Two scaly, black, winged serpents entwined down one leg. One baring dripping fangs, the other screaming in apparent agony, as a highly decorated dagger pierced the roof of it's mouth.

For some reason, he felt attracted to the serpents and held the pants to his waist. They weren't too big. Cloud grinned, barley able to suppress his joy. He felt like whooping out, but knew he couldn't take the risk of drawing attention. One more problem. How was he to klepto an item this big? He'd decide that after he found himself a shirt.

Browsing the ails, his attention was drawn by a high-neck, ribbed, sleeveless jumper, black of course. He didn't need to compare it to himself, he could tell by looking it would fit. I mean, come on, almost everything fit his small frame, and it wouldn't hurt for the shirt to be the tiniest but baggy, as long as it didn't hang off of him like a garbage bag.

He didn't need shoes. He wore a sturdy pair of boots the orphanage had handed out to him. Used boots, but they'd live a lot longer. Looking down, he wondered who'd owned them before him. They were black, mid-rise, blunt steal toed, and rather heavy. The only decorations were a small red diamond on the heel that read, 'ShinRa Inc.' Aside from the decorations he knew they'd been originally manufactured with, one had three shallow slashes along one the side.

/What the hell did the person who had these before me do for a living? Swim with piranhas? And what the fuck is ShinRa Inc.?/

Being sheltered, more like 'imprisoned' in the orphanage for the majority of his life, meant he was completely clueless when it came to knowledge other than common sense in the outside world. He'd never once watched television, never listened to a radio, never read a real book. He'd never done much of anything other than be bored to fucking death at that.

Finished with his 'shopping', he glanced around nervously. Now, came the hard part, making it out of the store with said items. He took in the entirety of the tent. Before, he hadn't noticed that one wall was dedicated to the sale of porcelain knick-knacks and glass ornaments. There were in the perfect location, on the opposite wall of the exit. Maybe he could . . . use them as a distraction?

He strolled over to the shelves upon shelves of delicate masterpieces. He almost felt bad about what he was about to do, knowing that most of them were hand-blown, therefore, some poor person had spent hours of labor to create what they hoped would bring joy and beauty to someone's home.

/Well, they are going to bring me joy. . . as in a desperately needed pair of clothes. /

Was he really becoming so sadistic?

No surprise there. He'd been mentally antagonized and downcast for so long, that his tormentors, meaning every pathetic person happily living there lives in Midgar and thinking they had it life hard, were beginning to infect him with their deadly virus as well. That virus, which Cloud affectionately referred to as 'weakness', was the most deadly thing to possibly smite the human mind. Yes, mind. Cloud knew he was weak in body, but had always told himself that didn't matter, not as long as his mind was fortified to the relative solidity of a tempered diamond. But that didn't mean he couldn't dream.

His body disgusted him, it being so scrawny and small. Hell, he couldn't even fight off Matthew. He reminded himself that Matthew was older than him too. But still bigger. He went back to his mental note about gaining musculature. There was no time better to begin than now. Or, after he'd made it out with his clothes and swiped a meal that is. No use working out on a hopelessly empty stomach.

Coming out of his reverie, he focused on the task at hand. A distraction. He chose a small glass orb from the shelf. Small, but heavy . . . perfect. An uncharacteristic smirk brushed Cloud's features. Wiping it away, he pretended he planned to buy the orb, and stalked purposely toward the check-out. Then, consciously stopping between two shelves of books, acting as if he had interest. He glanced around cautiously. Convinced no one would see, he raised his hand with lightening speed, and sent the heavy little orb flying to its certain doom, the shelf of fragile breakables.

Upon contact, chaos ensued. Several surprised yelps could be heard as hundreds of expensive statues shattered the floor with more than one resounding crash. Cloud jerked up at the commotion, feigning shock. The pandemonium climaxed as two men began swinging at each other, one apparently believing the other had thrown one of the glass ornaments at him, the other defending himself against an enraged schizophrenic.

The clerk tending the register screamed and lifted a phone to her ear, dialing security. Cloud took this as his chance. He waited until the clerk was too occupied to pay him any attention, and hurried through the exit and into the market outside. Seeing the concerned looks from passerby, he slowed his pace and offered them all traumatized grin.

He pointed behind him with his thumb. "Hell of a fight going on in there now. They knocked over some shelves." That said, most people continued on their way in disinterest, as if this kind of thing happened often. Which probably did on second thought. Some exited individuals rushed in, desperately in need of entertainment.

Cloud heard someone shout,'GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING UNDERWEAR!!!' and decided not to stick around, especially if someone was now running around in the nude trying to steal back their own underpants.

/Who the hell steals underwear? When someone else is already /wearing it at that? //

Shaking off that train of thought, he smiled widely at the success of his plan. He hadn't meant to cause a preapocalyptic mini-apocalypse, but he'd enjoyed it. This feeling, was it what people called fun? He'd definitely need to have more of this. . . fun, but maybe not on such a chaotic level. He continued on his way, all the while wearing a rare smirk on his face.

He slipped between two tents, that where barely a foot apart due the crowds of merchants, and changed into his stolen goods. The pants fit his waist like a glove.

/Now there's a first. /

The shirt was even more of a surprise, it was a little too big, but not distastefully so. He still had the task of gaining a few pounds anyways. It was a drastic change from the overly large regular T-shirts handed out at the orphanage. He couldn't quite see himself, but, looking down, he was given a surprise. He looked good from what he could see. Fear seeped into him as his thoughts lingered back to the orphanage, then to Matthew.

/Maybe . . . looking good isn't such a great thing after all. I'll just have to be careful. Never again will I let someone else get pleasure from my body without my own consent. /

His previous venture in the clothing tent had given him a bit of confidence. He was now mentally prepared to kick anyone's ass if they tried anything, no matter how much bigger they were. He still had the knife in his boot. He felt guilty for keeping it, the esteemed murder weapon, but knew he'd likely need it.

/Heh . . . Aren't you forgetting? You did kick someone's ass. No, it's more like, you /killed someone's ass. //

Returning from his dark cave of thoughts, he practically tripped over a waist-high rope, as he was busy focusing on everything but the space directly in front of himself. Regaining his balance, and cursing from the newly aggravated jolt of pain in his ankle, he looked up only to have his face buried in an expanse of musky yellow fluff. He stumbled backwards in surprise, but clung to the golf club which he'd dug into the ground. He didn't fall all the way. With an enormous effort, he pulled himself back up to his full height, and turned to face his soft yellow attacker.

/What the . . .?/

Before him stood the biggest bird he'd ever seen. The only thing that separated it from him was the single rope he'd all but flipped over. The bird warbled in delight when it noticed his awed expression. It flapped its wings and jumped into the air. At that, Cloud noticed there were several more in the holding pin with it. Not all were yellow, but he marveled at them all the same.

/They don't seem to be threatening. . . actually, it's kinda cute, but, what the hell is 'it'?/

He was startled by a booming voice from behind.

"What, you ain't never seen a chocobo 'afore?"

Cloud turned to find a mountain of a man standing behind him. He wore a stained red button-up shirt, which only made his barrel chest look wider, and a pair of dark blue jeans, whose legs disappeared into deep brown leather high-top boots, which were caked in what could only be feces.

"Ch...chocobo? What's a chocobo?"

"What? Yeh're not serious?"

The tall man put one hand to his face,

"Where in the hell are you from?"

Not wanting to reveal that he was from the orphanage, Cloud responded with the only
other place he'd ever been.

"N. . . Nibelhiem . . . sir."

"Nibelhiem . . . "

The man scratched his head as he thought.

"Isn't that a lil' ole village up near Mount Nibel?"

Cloud nodded.

"Don't they have any chocobos up there?"

"Not that I remember, no."

Of course he wouldn't remember, he hadn't been to Nibelhiem in nine years. Even when he did live there, he paid next to no attention to the village itself, being preoccupied with house chores and such. His mother probably wouldn't have cared if he'd gone out for a while. Hell, she'd have been happy if he'd run away never to return. Just one less mouth to feed.

The big man rubbed his chin in thought. A friendly smile graced his surely features, an unusual sight indeed Cloud decided. Not that the smile seemed out of place, it fit, but just barely.

"My name's Tylus." He thrust out a calloused hand. "You are . . .?"

"Cl...."

Cloud hesitated. He couldn't tell this man his real name. The news of his crime surely had spread by now. Thinking quickly to correct his mistake he cleared his throat as if he'd been interrupted by a cough, not a quick decision, and continued.

"Clyde. My name is Clyde." He accepted the crushing hand which was at least five
times bigger than his own.

"Hmmm . . ." Tylus scratched his chin. "Yeh don't look like a Clyde, but, hey, our parents can't see the future now can they?"

Cloud's ears rang with booming laughter as the huge man released his hand.

"What happened to yeh leg there? It don't look too good."

Not wanting to reveal any detailof his escape whatsoever, Cloud simply replied with a curt. "Nothing."

Tylus wasn't fooled by that lie because, obviously, something had happened to Cloud's leg. Thankfully, the man respected his privacy and didn't press the matter. He welcomely changed the subject.

"Well, seeing as yeh've never seen a chocobo afore, I think you should get to know them a little better."

"How can I get to know them better? I practically melded my face into the gold one's chest."

Hearty laughter rattled his head again as Tylus lumbered over to the corner of the holding pen and returned with a bucket full of what looked to be grass.

"Would yeh like to feed him?"

"Feed him? I . . . I don't . . ."

"They don't bite, promise. There's no reason at all to be afraid of chocobos. They ain't mindless eating machines like their close cousins the ostrich. Actually, if they could talk, they'd be just like people. Very happy-go-lucky people."

Tylus stepped over the rope, gesturing for Cloud to follow. Cloud's instincts screamed at him. Why should he trust this man? Even if he seemed friendly, so had Arlex less than twelve hours before he'd attempted to rape him. This man was no different, just as dubious as any other he'd yet to come across. No wanting to end himself up in another hurtful situation, he decided to worm his way out of it.

"I . . . I don't think I should," he mumbled, and turned to leave. "I have somewhere to be, and not enough time to get there," he lied.

"Eh, suit yourself. If you ever wanna come spend some time with my chocobos, I'm here every Wednesday, and me son tends the sales on Thursday."

The big man waved him off cheerfully.

Cloud crutched away and decided to take a rest, he'd already exhausted himself in his weakened state. After all, he didn't need to make his leg any worse. He plopped down into the dirt, leaning against a post being used to support a corner of a gun shop. Yes, in his new jeans. Not that he cared, his leg was beginning to throb with slow dull pains. A cooling breeze caressed his sweating body, soothing his mind of the waves of discomfort emanating from his ankle. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling as he unintentionally drifted into slumber.

-----------------

Sephiroth woke early the next morning. He didn't bother showering, but dressed himself in a black long sleeved cotton shirt, and a pair of black silk draw-string pants. He planned on being lazy today.

As soon as he exited his bedroom and into his den, he let out an annoyed groan. Zack lay sprawled in an unusual position on his couch, drool oozing from his gaping mouth. Sephiroth sighed. Last night he'd gone home after the rain had stopped, and apparently Zack had decided to follow suit, but instead of going to his quarters back at ShinRa, Sephiroth's old quarters which he knew were quite comfortable, he'd come back to the white-haired man's apartment to sleep on his couch.

He felt he'd never understand his odd friend. He crossed the room to the couch and observed the various filth Zack had brought along with him. The floor around him was littered with beer bottles, and Zack's unconscious form clutched one loosely in its left hand. A magazine titled 'Play Rabbit' lay open across the sleeping man's chest, open to a very explicit page showing two women doing . . . ahem . . . things. Sephiroth noted Zack's fly was open. He shook his head and relieved Zack's hand of the beer bottle, and the magazine. Gaia knows what the other hand had been up to before he fell asleep.

He threw both items away, and went to retrieve a blanket. When he returned, he slowly relocated Zack's limbs into what looked to be a more comfortable position, not wanting him to wake up with pins and needles, or a crick in his neck. He then draped the blanket over him.

Satisfied, he moved to his kitchen, where he found more of Zack's mess. The whole carton of ice cream had been left out on the counter to melt. He growled to himself at his friend's stupidity. Zack may be his replacement as general, but without his guidance, ShinRa would indefinitely be screwed, seeing that, no matter how well developed Zack's skill's became, he was still just an overgrown teenager. He grudgingly cleaned up the large sticky puddle of vanilla ice cream, and discarded the soggy container. He'd save whatever mess the dark-haired man had left in his guest bathroom for said being.

Finally, time to brew his coffee. As he waited for his morning beverage, the doorbell rang.

/Who the hell would visit me this early?/

He went to answer the door, and was met by a man who's black hair fell straight and smooth to his shoulders. He wore a navy blue suit, and a small dot adorned his forehead. Tseng of the Turks.

"Sephiroth Sir, you're just the man I've been searching for," he said in a silky voice.

"Tseng, what business have you with me?" He didn't bother to question the Turk's unusual choice of timing.

"As you may already know, ShinRa has officially declared war with Wutai."

"Official? No, I thought we were in the preliminaries of war. When did the situation escalate?"

Sephiroth motioned Tseng inside, finding their current subject too confidential to discuss with half of the party standing in an open hallway. He lead Tseng to his kitchen instead of the den, seeing Zack was currently unpresentable. He also didn't think it appropriate for Tseng to see their general in a semi-hangover.

Tseng took a seat on a cherry bar stool. Sephiroth opted to stand.

Tseng continued. "As I was saying, ShinRa declared official war against Wutai last night at around 2300 hours."

"What pushed us?" The ex-general began to pace.

"We received General Zack's report on his last mission. Yes, I know you accompanied him. Trust me, if you were anyone else, you'd have been charged with espionage by now, and I'd be arresting you at this moment with a team of SOLDIER First Class instead of calmly conversing with you in your kitchen, but you're our ex-general, so we deem you a trustworthy ally."

Sephiroth halted in his pacing and sighed. One person couldn't keep his daily actions a secret from the government, yet an entire country, such as Wutai, could. What was the world coming to? He supposed Zack had revealed his accompaniment in the report, or maybe ShinRa had learned of his presence in Wutai from the infirmary reports written up when he'd dragged Zack in, either way, they knew.

"We've done our research on those six cloaked warriors who attacked the two of you. It turns out, they are deserters from Wutai War One. It seems they agreed to betray their country in exchange for their lives. Only one thing bothers me. Their personal files state that they were only regular soldiers who weren't strong enough to make to so much as SOLDIER Third Class, and they almost killed General Zack. They've gained so much strength in so little time."

"They did seem abnormally fast," Sephiroth agreed, leaning against the bar.

"This isn't the only reason I've come here tonight," Tseng enlightened.

Sephiroth's curiosity had been piqued. "Continue."

"I've been sent to request that you come out of retirement."

"I guessed as much." He observed his rarely un-gloved hands."My answer is, yes, but under three conditions. One, if Zack agrees to resign his position to me. Two, if Zack will be assigned as my second-in-command, and three, if I can stay here in my apartment."

Tseng looked a bit taken back by his foreward mannerism, but nodded all the same.

"Yes, you may continue to reside here if you so wish. As fare as General Zack goes, he cannot be currently located to discuss this matter with, but if he agrees, then he will indeed be assigned as Lieutenant-General."

The corner of Sephiroth's lips curled in a small grin.

"I can find him for you."

"You know where he is? All of the Turks have been ordered to temporarily abandon their current assignments to search for him. I doubt you can find him any quicker."

"Oh really? I beg to differ. If you will . . ."

Sephiroth stood and beckoned Tseng to follow him into the den. Tseng stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. Zack had begun to snore, and quite loudly at that. The trail of drool leading from his mouth to his chest had nearly doubled in size since Sephiroth had resituated him.

"Um . . . well, at least we now know where he goes when he's missing."
-----------------

The growling of his stomach roused him. Cloud sat up, groggily rubbing his eyes. It was night, and Wal-Market's lamps had been lit. He'd fallen asleep?

/There you go dumbass, great way to keep your guard up!/

To his astonishment, people were still up and about, but not like in daylight. Now, most of the people he saw staggered from drunkenness. While he had been sleeping, a new tent had been erected in the stead of the chocobo stall. He assumed Tylus had loaded up his chocobos and left until Wednesday. In front of this new tent, someone had posted a sign that read 'Wal-Pub, best beer in Midgar.'

A pub, and drunks . . . great. Why did he always have to worm himself into such dismal environments. Cloud hated drunks because, the way he'd learned things, where there were drunks, there were fights. Not to mention, men tended to get a little excited under the influence of alcohol, if you know what I mean. The atmosphere just didn't appeal to him at all.

He rose to his feet, gripping his crutch, and began his journey back to his car. His stomach roared at him with an animalistic fury. He hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. Annoyed at himself for falling asleep and not finding a suitable meal, he limped through the nearly empty streets of Sector Six. It had to be pat midnight, so most people were warm I there beds.

As Cloud passed the opening of an alleyway, a viscous snarl tore the air to meet him. At first, he thought his stomach had finally blown a fuse, but then he heard it again, and this time it sounded much closer. He caught a flash of brown in his right eye, but before he could turn to see what if was, the snarling brown creature had slammed into him at a full running tackle. He had only enough time to act on one of the most basic of animal instincts and shielded his face with his arms.

He went down without much of a fight, seeing he'd been weakened by his injuries and lack of food. He let out a cry as the fury mass tore at his arm. He was at a loss for actions, struggling to keep the monster away from the softer tissues of his face and abdomen.

He couldn't see, could only feel the creature's heat smothering him, and its weight holding him down. Fighting against its strength, he realized his efforts were in vain. The brute's strength far outmatched his own. He felt the warmth of his own blood on his face and neck as the beast tore at his flesh, but didn't panic. Instead, his mind reeled for scenarios to free himself from this nightmare, release him from this horrid hell-hound's jaws.

At last, he remembered Arlex's knife in his boot. Thankful that he'd kept it despite the fact that it was an alleged murder weapon, he chanced removing one hand from his face and brought it down to meet his good foot halfway.

His hand fumbled there for a second, then, finally, he managed to work the hilt from his heal. He had the blade unsheathed in an instant, and brought it up in a wide arc, bringing it down into the creature's back, it's spine, in a single swift blow.

The mass above him let out a terrible piercing yelp, akin to that of a banshee, he thought, before it collapsed onto him. He lay there for a moment, breathing in the bastard's putrid scent, a scent unlike anything he'd ever inhaled before. It smelled earthy, yet like a rotting corpse both at once. After he caught his breath, he rolled the beast off of himself, and turned to examine it.

A dog. A brown pit bull twice his size. It's eyes were frozen in an eerie stare, pupils mere slits, like a cat's, with glowing green irises. Yes, glowing. Many scars had been carved into the rogue's flesh.

Rabies. Did it have rabies? It wasn't foaming at the mouth, but those eyes. What else would explain them?

/Maybe the pit bull was just born that way. /

He doubted it, but he still had to try comforting himself as much as possible. He took one look at his arm and shuddered. The wound wasn't deep, but it looked nasty and the same earthy stench emanated from it. It would most definitely become infected.

He hadn't the slightest idea how to go about cleaning a wound like this. The dog had simply bitten on once, and hadn't let go. Cloud could clearly see the outline of the beast's canines where they'd pierced his forearm. The rest was a mess of incisions and bruisings where it had lunged its entire head to and fro, trying to rip his arm off. Cloud was grateful that the wound hadn't bled much, but he had to admit, he'd never been hurt like this before, never.

Then, there was the risk that the monster had rabies. If that were the case, which was very likely, he'd without a doubt die of it soon.

He didn't know what to do. What could he do? He couldn't go to the hospital, he'd be arrested and charged for murder. He had nowhere to go. No one to help him.

Cloud didn't cry often, hell, he cried more within the past few days than he had in the entirety of his life. It was as if his emotions had just begun to function properly, and for the first time, he allowed himself the right of self-pity. Not anger at himself as he'd felt when he'd wept in his bed back at the orphanage, but sadness for himself. These tears came from his fear of losing his life. He didn't have a great life, but it was the only one he'd ever get, and he wasn't willing to give it up so easily.

So he cried. He curled into as tight a ball as he could manage, and let the tears flow. Thoughts raced through his mind. What had he done to piss off the higher deities above that made them despise him so. All he wanted was a normal life like everyone else had been gifted with. All he wanted was someone who cared, but no, everyone wanted to cause him harm in one way or another.

He stayed where he was, crouched on the ground for what must have been over an hour. His sobs relented and his breathing evened out as he watched the sun peak over the horizon. He paid one last glance to the dead carcass not far from him. It lay there, motionless, its eyes still glowed even in death. Cloud shuddered and prayed the creature hadn't given a deadly disease.

He looked down to his arm, expecting to see the torn mess of flesh he'd seen when he last looked at it, but was given a pleasant yet eerie surprise. The bruises around it had all but disapeared, and the gashes where teeth had ripped at him had already begun to heal.

He marveled at it wide eyed. People just didn't heal this fast, especially not a wound like this. He'd been so sure it would become infected and not heal at all, resulting in his eventual death from sickness or fever. Maybe his prayers worked, or maybe some other unknown factor had come into play. He didn't know, nor did he care. The only thing he could think of was the fact that his arm would be healed up in less than a week if its progress kept up this pace.

Curious, he looked down to his ankle, and a wide grin graced his features. It wasn't as swollen, and it was no longer discolored. He stood slowly, expecting the pain it had tortured him with for about thirty-six hours now, but it never came. All he got from it was a weak pang, but a weak pang was a heel of a lot better than a staggering sear.

His grin grew even wider. For some odd reason, his body had begun to heal at an inhuman rate, but why? He tossed that subject aside, having more to be greatful for now than he'd ever had before. He began his journey back to the abandoned vehicle he'd slept in, leaving his crutch behind. Like he'd need it now? He could walk with only a small limp, and things could only get better. Well, as long as he stayed off of it. He wasn't about to abuse his new found vitality.
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Author Notes:
Hello! I know you're all waiting eagerly for Cloud and Seph to meet. I'd originally planned for it to happen in this chapter, but I've decided to put it in chapter three. I promise, they will meet in chapter three. I'll have you know, this is going to be a long fic, but the longer the better right? I have lots planned, with Wutai War Two and all.

PLEASE REVIEW!!!!