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Description
FFVII
Legacy

Genre: Action/ Adventure/ Emotive themes
Setting: 3 years after DoC
Rating: M
Status: WIP
OCs: 25%
Disclaimer: All related Final Fantasy VII names and characters are copyrighted © by Square Enix. However, this story and the OCs are mine. Thank you.

NOTE: Chap 31 is yet to be written and finalized. It will come!! It won't affect the story only the tension. Chap 31 ends with Cloud collapsing and he's out cold. It is witnessed by Denzel if not everyone.

LEGACY

Cloud opened his eyes to discover he was immersed in a sea of swirling emerald green. Gone was the cetra city and the tower, even the platform he had been fighting on. Unlike previously when he had experienced this otherworld place, he was aware of his surroundings and in charge of his thoughts. Despite his weightless drifting through the translucent stream, he felt tense with an urgent sense he was needed somewhere and he had to get back. But there was nothing he could do to control his movement, he was at the mercy of the unyielding propulsion that seemed to be shooting him faster into, only Gaia knew what...

After some moments a tangible darkness appeared and began to snake through the shades of green. Suddenly he descended into the congesting mist, and with his body tensing for impact, he landed with bended knees on a hard flat surface in a cavernous grotto. A short distance from him, a hulking stone monster stood motionless. He stepped backwards slowly in chance it hadn't noticed his arrival. Observing this new location, he blinked in shock at the mounds of black rocks and indistinct openings under a rippling sky of blemished greens. The air was stifled with a potent stink, similar to what he sensed coming at him from the tower. For some reason the aberrant place felt familiar, but how or why he couldn't put a finger on.

The gargoyle paced from foot to foot, and a great rumbling, coming from its gut, rocked the ground. Its black pool eyes opened and Cloud didn't stay long enough for them to find him. Still clutching his two swords, he raised them in preparation of the creature's attack. It turned his way and Cloud raced around to its back as its heavy maul swiped at him. Cutting into its calloused hide, Cloud bounced back and it half flew, half jumped faster than he expected. Cloud dashed from its path, his movements sluggish, as if a weight had settled on his chest. Only barely able to outrun the beast's pummeling strikes, he struck with his sword and it fell heavy and without effect. He should be able to evade this monster. Pausing too long, he was caught in its paralyzing gaze. Ease of movement diminished and his muscles hardened. This shouldn't be happening. Gathering all his physical strength, he attempted to flex his rigid limbs. It was useless, he was stuck fast with the massive gargoyle bearing down on him.

~ It is a matter of your will not of your body ~

An indistinguishable voice overpowered his negative thoughts. It was compelling yet calming. Paying heed to its advice, he closed his eyes and with his thoughts intent on freedom and destroying the monster, he willed his body free. The petrification broke off from his skin with shards flying in all directions. Sensing a new energy filling his body, he advanced at an accelerated speed to hew the creature down with both swords, nearly cutting it in two. On its death it vanished and became a murky haze. Cloud stood dazed and observed through the gloom a vague green light speeding closer. As it neared it resembled a door.

~ Let us see where it began ~

Before Cloud could respond, the dense green enveloped him. After some moments of weightlessness, he landed with a gentle jolt on his feet in a room with solid brick walls and furniture. As his mind adjusted to this new and puzzling environment, he discovered he no longer held his swords, nor were they halted on his back. It did not seem to matter in the peaceful space that seemed void of any monsters. The room might have been a basement as there were no windows and only a single bright globe lit the shelves and worktops. A desk took up nearly one wall and it was scattered with paperwork, notebooks, and a stack of volumes. The opposite wall had a long workbench covered with a range of lab paraphernalia. There was no dust and a beaker of liquid bubbled away on a burner with some effect.

In confirmation the lab was in operation, a man in a white coat entered the room via a short narrow staircase. He walked through Cloud, and with his back to him, he leant over the beaker, examining the brewing elements before sitting at the desk. Cloud took a sharp gasp at the sight of the man. His tan hair formed soft spikes at the top of his head and it curved around the sides of his smooth cheeks. His sea-blue eyes were partly shaded under the glare of the bulb and his complexion was flawless ivory. Cloud's body and spirit knew the man yet with his physical eyes he couldn't place him. Could it be him? "Dad..." his voice caught in his throat at the word he hadn't uttered since childhood.

The man opened a journal and searching through the pages, he muttered to himself. Cloud watched him until a tiny blue-eyed boy toddled into the room unnoticed by the man absorbed in his note taking. The child, in navy overalls, walked on shaky feet to the workbench. Stray strands of near white hair dangled over his forehead, the rest stuck straight up on top in a ruffled mess. Instinctively, Cloud knew. It was him. Unable to run or touch or hinder any misdeed he had a sense was going to happen, he remained frozen as if stuck in some dream he couldn't escape. He stared on in wonder, transfixed. Because he also knew at that time in his childhood he didn't know anything about the world or life. He was so young, so innocent, so trusting, and so in love with the man at the desk.

The boy reached his tiny bare arm up to the bench. His little hand crept along the metal surface, feeling for something that his eyes couldn't see. In a spontaneous swoop, Cloud reached to stop him taking the vial. Nearly losing his balance, his hand slid through the boy and through empty air. The toddler grasped the vial of purple liquid and he poured it all into his mouth at once. A second later he cringed and his face reddened. Abrupt crying got the man's attention. He quickly knelt by the boy and after picking up the empty bottle he held the child's shoulders and lifted him. He yelled towards the stairs, "Serena!" The child was breathing erratically and while his crying had stopped, he broke out in a feverish sweat. The man bellowed with more urgency, his voice becoming demanding, "Serena, hurry up!"

The boy went limp in his arms and a blond haired woman with a ponytail rushed in. On sight of the stricken child, she took him from the man and cradled him in her arms. "Layne, what have you done?!" She sobbed, tears rolling in her eyes.

Mum?! And it was her, just like he remembered. Everything about her was the same.

The man, his arms waving in panic, started blustering, "You have to keep him out of her—"

She answered with anger, "He was with me in the kitchen. You know he wants to be with you and he moves so fast—" Her words ended in a gulp. "What has he... what happened?"

The man covered his forehead with his hand and pressed his fingers to his brow in anxious thought. "He's... ingested a formula..."

"What?! Layne, what have you done to him?" She pressed her lips to the child's neck as he slipped into unconsciousness. "My baby... shall we tell the company?"

"No," he shouted, and than said more contritely, "We'll deal with this. On our own."

Without any warning the scene transformed, in a blurry fusion of color while Cloud stood stone still. Not given any opportunity to reflect on the scene, his childhood room suddenly manifested before him, and the next memory. He stepped closer to his old bed and viewed his young self under the sheets. His hair was damp against his cheek and he looked pale and lifeless. Sitting on a stool by the bedside, his mother bowed her head as if in prayer and clutched his tiny hand.

Some minutes passed as Cloud listened to her crying and he wondered if he were dying, when the man, his father, entered the room. She looked up with red eyes, and her voice was raw as she spoke. "Finally you're home."

"Still no change?" Kneeling by the bed, he sighed heavily and smoothed his hand along the child's face.

After watching him, she turned back to her deathly charge and murmured, "It's been nearly two days and his fever has only just broken. But still..." her anguish-filled expression turned back to the boy, and her eyes became awash with new tears. "I hope you haven't kill—"

He grabbed hold of her hand holding the child's and gently shook them both, and gaining eye contact with her, he said, strongly, "No. It shouldn't... it's..."

She kept her voice low, but it was sharp. "It's what, Layne?"

"An antidote." His face flushed, he lowered his gaze.

"For those people?"

With his eyes lingering on the boy's face, he nodded.

Cloud looked on in wonder, wanting to tell his worried parents he would be okay, but this was years ago. Instead they were the ones who had passed away. The perplexing scene also led him to question who these people were that his mother referred to.

His mother suddenly started, with a piercing glare, "I've had enough of this. Human research, intrusive experiments, all those people down in that mansion." Exhaustion was evident on her taut features and slumped torso, and she raised her voice to a yell. "That man's poor wife and child. A child, Layne! And he was your friend."

The man's face drooped and it remained red. "But the antidote was for them... " He finished weakly, "...to help all of them..."

She carried on, unrestrained, "But now our son has to suffer for it. Is this the price we have to pay? It's not right. All those experiments on people, and who knows what they are doing in Midgar? We shouldn't have to live like this."

He raised his palm to placate her to silence and he quickly scanned the empty room as if someone might be listening.

Serena shook her head at him and let out a coarse breath. She dropped her voice, "I just want Cloud to get better."

He squeezed her hand and touched the boy's temple, clearing away the wet strands. "He will," he said confidently.

Cloud's parents gazed at each other with profound affection and they kissed with touching warmth. The intimate moment struck Cloud's heart and every feeling from his childhood of not belonging suddenly shifted and turned upside down, leaving him with a craving to know who these people really were and what sort of life they had together. A life that had been cut tragically short.

The boy mumbled, breaking their embrace, "Dada."

His father ran his hand down the boy's chin to his neck and raised and pulled him to his chest. Relief made his embrace tighter, warmer. "I'm here."

Serena stroked his wayward hair and gave him a big sleepy smile.

Cloud's heart overflowed with emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. Not since this period in his life. He was that child again, sinking into the safety of those arms, smelling the scent of his clothes and skin, and feeling every crevice, every muscle of that man's encompassing hug. He also felt how short that time had been. He wanted to relive that love one more time. But the whole scene suddenly faded and he floated in murky green. Propelled forwards, he skimmed the green haze until he raced towards a white door that grew as he neared it. The forgotten memory left him stunned, and seriously questioning, who was this man, his father?

~ Heros are not defined by the weapons that they wield nor the status of their rank ~

Once more the unfamiliar voice invaded his thoughts. He landed in another scene, this time in his family living room. The child Cloud might have been a couple of years older and he played on the floor while his mother watched him. Cloud knelt by her and looking into her peaceful expression, he wanted to clasp her hand. He longed for her to embrace him again, and to feel her gentle reassuring glance. But she looked right through him.

He stood as his father entered the room wearing a long dark coat. His mother also stood and his father caught hold of her arms and his voice was quiet yet firm, and he spoke as if in answer to some previous question, "I've made a decision."

"You're going to Midgar?" She held her breath in fearful anticipation.

He nodded and folding a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, he said, "You were right about everything. I can't live like this any longer. This is not the type of world I want to live in, or have Cloud live in."

She cupped his chin and brought his face in line with hers. "But, Layne... is there any other way?"

"I'm the only one who can get in there to see them."

Tears moistened her eyes. "I'm... scare—"

"They're started experiments on the child." He shook his head and said firmly, "And I heard they may be moved to the new facility. I doubt I will have access. I must do it now. For my old friend at least."

Serena looked down at Cloud, watching them talk and she smiled at him. A sad smile yet full of care and love.

"It will be fine. They will be fine." Layne assured her and his eyes shone with earnest confidence. "I've worked out a plan. They may not even consider it was me. But..."

She startled at the hesitancy in his voice.

"...just in case." He dug something out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. A ring with a wolf's face. "Give this to Cloud when he's at the right age. You'll know when and tell him what it means. You remember."

Cloud stared at the ring. His father's ring. My ring. Tifa's ring. The clarity of the moment suddenly brought revelation to everything that he connected with it. He knew in part, but now he fully understood his affinity with the emblem. It was so much more than a ring.

She stared at him blankly, not wanting to accept the jewelry, not seeming to care what it meant right than. The fact that he was giving it to her seemed painful enough. He kept a firm grip on her arms, keeping her steady and looking into her eyes, he spoke with strength in his tone, as if making sure she would remember. "If only one member of the Nibel wolf pack is still alive the whole pack can live. They continually set their hearts on each other, giving each other strength and resuscitation, even resurrection. It's in their nature to never give up. In essence they can be indestructible as a pack." He paused and glanced at Cloud. "We are that wolf pack—"

"But, Layne, I can't brin—"

He kissed her as she spoke. "You will, in your heart. And anyway, I'll be back and I'll tell Cloud myself." He finished with a hearty chuckle.

"It's no time for laughing." She swatted his arm in reprimand.

"Mummy, are you sad?" Cloud stood by her legs, looking up with curious eyes and trust.

Layne knelt by his son and placed his hand on his head, flattening his spikes. "We are talking about the wolves. Your wolf pack will always look out for you, and your mum gets worried about her wolves." He took the ring from his wife's hand and showed it to the child. "One day when it fits you, I'll give you this wolf ring. It's very special."

Cloud touched it with one finger and his eyes shone.

His father went on, "it means you have the heart of the wolf, the same as your parents."

"Heart of the wolf?" he creased his small brow and tilted his face.

"It means you fight for your pack and you never give up on them." His father hugged him close and kissed his cheek.

Cloud's eyes were awash with uncontrolled tears at witnessing the heart piercing scene, long forgotten. His father had left him a legacy long before he joined Shinra, even before Zack. It's just Cloud had embedded the exchange under deep furrows of memories. He placed his hand over his broach in memory of the time when his mother had given him the ring, as well as the story of what it had meant. Now he understood why it had been so difficult for her and how much he had pushed her away at that time in his life, before he left to try and join SOLDIER, a time when he needed independence. Did he break her heart back then? He wiped his eyes. Curse this sadness. He attempted suppressing the grief, but the heartache was entrenched, buried over the years. He desired to reach out for the man one more time... to speak to him, to touch... to know him. And for him to know who Cloud was and that he remembered what it meant to have the heart of the wolf.

In an instant the scene vanished in a revolving panel of color, leaving him with heart-wracking pain. His father was gone. Cloud was suspended in the lifestream, once more wondering and now with more urgency, who was his father and what did he go and do in Midgar? He drifted through the emerald haze, before streams of darkness shot up to claim his limbs. Attempting to resist the pressure, he struggled without success. The mysterious voice pervaded his thoughts and this time with commanding force.

~ Hear the wolf's cries ~

The darkness swamped him and he let himself be dragged downwards to land hard on a rocky surface.

~~ 7 ~~

Genesis leaned against a twisted metal girder atop the rusted walkway and tilting his head back against his collar he admired the star glazed night sky. A building breeze stroked his fine hair across his forehead and cooled his skin. Lifting the worn leather book, he spoke without needing to see the passage. The profound words were inscribed on his heart forevermore. "She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting."

The book was merely a treasure, a physical reminder of that time. A time when he was weak and dependent. The eternal message was a gift come to comfort him and bring peace to his turmoil. It had delivered him from insanity and revealed his purpose in life. Nothing else had come near to his closed shattered soul. Except. That one man. He thought on him now and with an ever increasing frequency, and as of late, he lingered in the background of his ruminations. He was almost as toxic as the drugs he depended on. Even in his debilitation and virulent infirmity that man was the only one who knew the person Genesis was at his core. A fallen shell. The begotten one. But his brother was soft, deceived by his compassion and never acknowledging the greatness growing in Genesis' spirit, the destiny of supremacy waiting for him to take hold, for both of them to seize.

Angeal. He had been a fool in the end. He too could have reached the pinnacle of power, ruling alongside him. But he had to go and let himself be destroyed. For a time Genesis had presumed they were similar, but he came to disdain his virtuous opinion, his code of self-righteous morals, and his weakness for those in need. It instigated his impotency and his death. Even now with the distance of time between them, the man's noble ways hounded Genesis' thoughts, distracting him from his focus. Was Genesis still trying to prove himself the more powerful as if Angeal watched him? Was everything he did, to gain his approval like he too was some 'puppy'. "Your wings are stripped away..." Genesis knew he was by far the more powerful of the two, of the three of them. He had outlived them all and he would show the world. The only one left worthy of the title of SOLDIER 1st class. "My friend, you have flown away to your eternal slumber."

Voices within his fragmented mind began harassing his concentration. The peace of the night's sweet air was fleeting however he was not yet willing to enter back into the suffocating lab downstairs. Long tired of doctors and medicine and his enervating dependency. Once more he was a prisoner desiring freedom and the power to serve his Goddess. In return she would grace him with her consuming presence and gift him with ruler-ship over the planet. All his sacrificial labor and striving would not be in vain. Much suffering and torment he had endured and now the end of the journey was nigh. Running his finger along the underside of his wrist, he visualized the materia within his flesh. Godship was within his grasp. Black materia, potent and destructive, a doorway to a force that could affect the whole planet and call forth the true embodiment of the Goddess. She would fulfill his heart's desire and live within his body. He would be her glorious host as she judged the planet. What would his brother think of that he wondered, and all of them. "...the prisoner's sacrifice will save the planet..."

Genesis strolled into the lab, his coat flicking against the shelves. The incessant bleeping of the medical monitor filled the sterile room. It continued day and night yet had faded somewhat to the back of his hearing and lasted as a reminder that all was going according to plan. And except for one desk lamp and blue light from the tank in operation, the lab was dark. He skimmed past the desk and glimpsed the notebook half hidden under the hands of the napping doctor, Journal of Professor Gast. He kept on and walked up to the lit tank, and stretching his arm high, he leaned his gloved hand upon the glass, and admired the figure hovering in the oxygenated suspension container. Such a beautiful creature, he marveled. Black hair fanned out from her lowered face and twirled seductively around her body. Clothed in shorts and a tight white top, her body was of perfect proportions. Day in, day out, he studied her, becoming fascinated by her porcelain features cringing with pain and the movement of her hands and arms in her stasis environment. He pondered who she was, recalling her struggle on her arrival, and he speculated as to the limit of her strength, and her endurance. Over her protruding stomach, wires were placed in vital zones, recording life signs and feeding in nutrients. An intravenous tap was in her wrist for the most important thing, the growth serum. It would grow the infant bare millimeters per hour. An abnormal and dangerous speed, so the doctor informed him. It was still too slow as far as Genesis was concerned. Weiss and the planet marched on while he waited under sufferance, a prisoner once more.

Even in her comatose state and despite not being aware of her surroundings, she clutched at her belly, seeking relief from the agony of an unnaturally expanding womb. The doctor informed him that she could easily die from the formula if they were not careful about dosage, but Genesis believed her to be tougher than that. As long as she lived the few days they needed to grow the baby and extract it. Weiss had requested the woman after Genesis had accomplished his task. He failed to mention whether she needed to be dead or alive. Perhaps such a detail did not matter to a man like Weiss. Genesis would not agree to anything until he was assured of Weiss motives. She came at a high price and not without enemies. The very man who impregnated her had the cells, and therefore the power of his old rival Sephiroth. The cells which he desired to place in his own body. The same man who killed Sephiroth. Although he found that difficult to believe. He recalled nothing powerful or noteworthy about him. But still it would be foolish to presume he was still weak. If indeed he possessed Sephiroth's genes than he would be a worthy rival. No, even Genesis would not be so arrogant. Yet an attack on Genesis would be useless. In the end all of humanity will come under the reign of the Goddess.

Genesis clenched and unclenched his fist, flexing his muscles, barely tolerating the electrifying energy surging through his arm and chest. "This is taking too long." His voice was loud in the quiet metallic room and it surprised him.

With a rustle of paper, the doctor lifted his head from the desk at the sudden noise and hit it on the lamp. He sorted his scattered sheets and mumbled in answer, "She's getting as much as a human can take, well, it's not her, but the baby that's receiving the formula. Humans are fragile, remember..."

Genesis didn't care for his compassionate explanations or feeble excuses nevertheless he did care about the living cells and them remaining so.

"Her body is only just holding on. Right now, she's existing in some unknown place between life and death. When it gets nearer the time, it won't be so dire to keep her alive. Unless you plan on sending her to Weiss?"

Genesis took a long breath and straightened his back. "Hmmm..." I have begun a life of seclusion with this mysterious woman. The more time he spent contemplating her beauty and flawless lines, the more he desired to keep her himself.

"Once you are transformed you won't be concerned with such things." Ivon rubbed his weary eyes.

"Have you unearthed anything from your father's notes?"

He laid his glasses down on the notebook and replied, "His research on White Materia is limited but apparently ancient Cetras used it although it is unproven whether any other human can." He finished with a yawn.

Genesis kept his back to him and let his breath out against the glass in resignation.

Ivon continued, "It does stand to reason that only a Cetra would wield this special materia. Materia that no human has ever seen. As far as records go."

"Its power must be immense." Genesis' delicate brow lowered.

"Must be. It destroyed Midgar."

"Weiss must be planning something..." he muttered aloud.

"A way to use the materia?" Ivon considered him thoughtfully as he took his glasses and buffed them on his coat. "Maybe he just doesn't want you to have it."

"Perhaps." Genesis concentrated on Weiss' possible motivation and his past known desires. Were they any different to his current plans or was he choosing a more deceptive method. "If he had a counterbalance, say the Protomateria..." As he reflected on the scenario it made sense, terrible sense. Weiss didn't want the White materia for its sake, he wanted the Protomateria, and the White Materia would offer a control. He meditated on the truth of his presupposition.

Ivon remarked, "But that wouldn't be an easy task. There's only one Protomateria that we know of."

"Vincent Valentine." Genesis lifted his face with a contemplative gaze. Would Weiss actually consider confronting and battling his old foe again and after such a definite defeat? "It would seem an unwise strategy on his part." He paused, his vision once more set on the girl. "Unless," is that why he wanted her? "He has some plan."

"It's true you might become even more splendid with the White Materia as well, but aside from that, you do have the Black already." The doctor said with self-assurance, "Your transformation will be more magnificent and more impressive than the White Materia."

Genesis' chest constricted with an abrupt pain, and his face paled, becoming a deathly hue against the sheen of his crimson hair."I feel her. The Goddess is awakening... within."

Ivon nodded eagerly, a devious smile on his long mouth. "That's right and so mighty and all powerful, she will spread her reign over the whole planet."

Smiling, Genesis turned his face back to the tank. "Now I just need the regenerative cells of this infant and I will be immortal."

Suddenly, warning lights flashed on the monitor board by the tank, and a riveting alarm began blurting repeatedly. Ivon jumped from his chair and half pushing Genesis from his path, he pressed a button on the keypad and scrutinized the data stats on the screen.

"What is it?" Genesis watched the woman in the tank, her body slumping and trying to curl in on herself.

"She's failing," Ivon replied. "Shit!" He tapped with rapid precision on the keypad. The green dosage stalled and a bluish liquid flushed through the wrist tube.

"Save her," Genesis ordered – as if his very command could bring her back. He was not yet ready to lose her. It was too soon.

Sweat trickled down the doctor's cheek and he growled, "I'm trying." Leaning his face close to the screen, he pored over the stats. "Currently it's not looking good at all. And there's not much I can do about it..."

Description
FFVII
Legacy

Genre: Action/ Adventure/ Emotive themes
Setting: 3 years after DoC
Rating: M
Status: WIP
OCs: 25%
Disclaimer: All related Final Fantasy VII names and characters are copyrighted © by Square Enix. However, this story and the OCs are mine. Thank you.

NOTE: Chap 31 is yet to be written and finalized. It will come!! It won't affect the story only the tension. Chap 31 ends with Cloud collapsing and he's out cold. It is witnessed by Denzel if not everyone.

LEGACY

Cloud opened his eyes to discover he was immersed in a sea of swirling emerald green. Gone was the cetra city and the tower, even the platform he had been fighting on. Unlike previously when he had experienced this otherworld place, he was aware of his surroundings and in charge of his thoughts. Despite his weightless drifting through the translucent stream, he felt tense with an urgent sense he was needed somewhere and he had to get back. But there was nothing he could do to control his movement, he was at the mercy of the unyielding propulsion that seemed to be shooting him faster into, only Gaia knew what...

After some moments a tangible darkness appeared and began to snake through the shades of green. Suddenly he descended into the congesting mist, and with his body tensing for impact, he landed with bended knees on a hard flat surface in a cavernous grotto. A short distance from him, a hulking stone monster stood motionless. He stepped backwards slowly in chance it hadn't noticed his arrival. Observing this new location, he blinked in shock at the mounds of black rocks and indistinct openings under a rippling sky of blemished greens. The air was stifled with a potent stink, similar to what he sensed coming at him from the tower. For some reason the aberrant place felt familiar, but how or why he couldn't put a finger on.

The gargoyle paced from foot to foot, and a great rumbling, coming from its gut, rocked the ground. Its black pool eyes opened and Cloud didn't stay long enough for them to find him. Still clutching his two swords, he raised them in preparation of the creature's attack. It turned his way and Cloud raced around to its back as its heavy maul swiped at him. Cutting into its calloused hide, Cloud bounced back and it half flew, half jumped faster than he expected. Cloud dashed from its path, his movements sluggish, as if a weight had settled on his chest. Only barely able to outrun the beast's pummeling strikes, he struck with his sword and it fell heavy and without effect. He should be able to evade this monster. Pausing too long, he was caught in its paralyzing gaze. Ease of movement diminished and his muscles hardened. This shouldn't be happening. Gathering all his physical strength, he attempted to flex his rigid limbs. It was useless, he was stuck fast with the massive gargoyle bearing down on him.

~ It is a matter of your will not of your body ~

An indistinguishable voice overpowered his negative thoughts. It was compelling yet calming. Paying heed to its advice, he closed his eyes and with his thoughts intent on freedom and destroying the monster, he willed his body free. The petrification broke off from his skin with shards flying in all directions. Sensing a new energy filling his body, he advanced at an accelerated speed to hew the creature down with both swords, nearly cutting it in two. On its death it vanished and became a murky haze. Cloud stood dazed and observed through the gloom a vague green light speeding closer. As it neared it resembled a door.

~ Let us see where it began ~

Before Cloud could respond, the dense green enveloped him. After some moments of weightlessness, he landed with a gentle jolt on his feet in a room with solid brick walls and furniture. As his mind adjusted to this new and puzzling environment, he discovered he no longer held his swords, nor were they halted on his back. It did not seem to matter in the peaceful space that seemed void of any monsters. The room might have been a basement as there were no windows and only a single bright globe lit the shelves and worktops. A desk took up nearly one wall and it was scattered with paperwork, notebooks, and a stack of volumes. The opposite wall had a long workbench covered with a range of lab paraphernalia. There was no dust and a beaker of liquid bubbled away on a burner with some effect.

In confirmation the lab was in operation, a man in a white coat entered the room via a short narrow staircase. He walked through Cloud, and with his back to him, he leant over the beaker, examining the brewing elements before sitting at the desk. Cloud took a sharp gasp at the sight of the man. His tan hair formed soft spikes at the top of his head and it curved around the sides of his smooth cheeks. His sea-blue eyes were partly shaded under the glare of the bulb and his complexion was flawless ivory. Cloud's body and spirit knew the man yet with his physical eyes he couldn't place him. Could it be him? "Dad..." his voice caught in his throat at the word he hadn't uttered since childhood.

The man opened a journal and searching through the pages, he muttered to himself. Cloud watched him until a tiny blue-eyed boy toddled into the room unnoticed by the man absorbed in his note taking. The child, in navy overalls, walked on shaky feet to the workbench. Stray strands of near white hair dangled over his forehead, the rest stuck straight up on top in a ruffled mess. Instinctively, Cloud knew. It was him. Unable to run or touch or hinder any misdeed he had a sense was going to happen, he remained frozen as if stuck in some dream he couldn't escape. He stared on in wonder, transfixed. Because he also knew at that time in his childhood he didn't know anything about the world or life. He was so young, so innocent, so trusting, and so in love with the man at the desk.

The boy reached his tiny bare arm up to the bench. His little hand crept along the metal surface, feeling for something that his eyes couldn't see. In a spontaneous swoop, Cloud reached to stop him taking the vial. Nearly losing his balance, his hand slid through the boy and through empty air. The toddler grasped the vial of purple liquid and he poured it all into his mouth at once. A second later he cringed and his face reddened. Abrupt crying got the man's attention. He quickly knelt by the boy and after picking up the empty bottle he held the child's shoulders and lifted him. He yelled towards the stairs, "Serena!" The child was breathing erratically and while his crying had stopped, he broke out in a feverish sweat. The man bellowed with more urgency, his voice becoming demanding, "Serena, hurry up!"

The boy went limp in his arms and a blond haired woman with a ponytail rushed in. On sight of the stricken child, she took him from the man and cradled him in her arms. "Layne, what have you done?!" She sobbed, tears rolling in her eyes.

Mum?! And it was her, just like he remembered. Everything about her was the same.

The man, his arms waving in panic, started blustering, "You have to keep him out of her—"

She answered with anger, "He was with me in the kitchen. You know he wants to be with you and he moves so fast—" Her words ended in a gulp. "What has he... what happened?"

The man covered his forehead with his hand and pressed his fingers to his brow in anxious thought. "He's... ingested a formula..."

"What?! Layne, what have you done to him?" She pressed her lips to the child's neck as he slipped into unconsciousness. "My baby... shall we tell the company?"

"No," he shouted, and than said more contritely, "We'll deal with this. On our own."

Without any warning the scene transformed, in a blurry fusion of color while Cloud stood stone still. Not given any opportunity to reflect on the scene, his childhood room suddenly manifested before him, and the next memory. He stepped closer to his old bed and viewed his young self under the sheets. His hair was damp against his cheek and he looked pale and lifeless. Sitting on a stool by the bedside, his mother bowed her head as if in prayer and clutched his tiny hand.

Some minutes passed as Cloud listened to her crying and he wondered if he were dying, when the man, his father, entered the room. She looked up with red eyes, and her voice was raw as she spoke. "Finally you're home."

"Still no change?" Kneeling by the bed, he sighed heavily and smoothed his hand along the child's face.

After watching him, she turned back to her deathly charge and murmured, "It's been nearly two days and his fever has only just broken. But still..." her anguish-filled expression turned back to the boy, and her eyes became awash with new tears. "I hope you haven't kill—"

He grabbed hold of her hand holding the child's and gently shook them both, and gaining eye contact with her, he said, strongly, "No. It shouldn't... it's..."

She kept her voice low, but it was sharp. "It's what, Layne?"

"An antidote." His face flushed, he lowered his gaze.

"For those people?"

With his eyes lingering on the boy's face, he nodded.

Cloud looked on in wonder, wanting to tell his worried parents he would be okay, but this was years ago. Instead they were the ones who had passed away. The perplexing scene also led him to question who these people were that his mother referred to.

His mother suddenly started, with a piercing glare, "I've had enough of this. Human research, intrusive experiments, all those people down in that mansion." Exhaustion was evident on her taut features and slumped torso, and she raised her voice to a yell. "That man's poor wife and child. A child, Layne! And he was your friend."

The man's face drooped and it remained red. "But the antidote was for them... " He finished weakly, "...to help all of them..."

She carried on, unrestrained, "But now our son has to suffer for it. Is this the price we have to pay? It's not right. All those experiments on people, and who knows what they are doing in Midgar? We shouldn't have to live like this."

He raised his palm to placate her to silence and he quickly scanned the empty room as if someone might be listening.

Serena shook her head at him and let out a coarse breath. She dropped her voice, "I just want Cloud to get better."

He squeezed her hand and touched the boy's temple, clearing away the wet strands. "He will," he said confidently.

Cloud's parents gazed at each other with profound affection and they kissed with touching warmth. The intimate moment struck Cloud's heart and every feeling from his childhood of not belonging suddenly shifted and turned upside down, leaving him with a craving to know who these people really were and what sort of life they had together. A life that had been cut tragically short.

The boy mumbled, breaking their embrace, "Dada."

His father ran his hand down the boy's chin to his neck and raised and pulled him to his chest. Relief made his embrace tighter, warmer. "I'm here."

Serena stroked his wayward hair and gave him a big sleepy smile.

Cloud's heart overflowed with emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. Not since this period in his life. He was that child again, sinking into the safety of those arms, smelling the scent of his clothes and skin, and feeling every crevice, every muscle of that man's encompassing hug. He also felt how short that time had been. He wanted to relive that love one more time. But the whole scene suddenly faded and he floated in murky green. Propelled forwards, he skimmed the green haze until he raced towards a white door that grew as he neared it. The forgotten memory left him stunned, and seriously questioning, who was this man, his father?

~ Heros are not defined by the weapons that they wield nor the status of their rank ~

Once more the unfamiliar voice invaded his thoughts. He landed in another scene, this time in his family living room. The child Cloud might have been a couple of years older and he played on the floor while his mother watched him. Cloud knelt by her and looking into her peaceful expression, he wanted to clasp her hand. He longed for her to embrace him again, and to feel her gentle reassuring glance. But she looked right through him.

He stood as his father entered the room wearing a long dark coat. His mother also stood and his father caught hold of her arms and his voice was quiet yet firm, and he spoke as if in answer to some previous question, "I've made a decision."

"You're going to Midgar?" She held her breath in fearful anticipation.

He nodded and folding a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, he said, "You were right about everything. I can't live like this any longer. This is not the type of world I want to live in, or have Cloud live in."

She cupped his chin and brought his face in line with hers. "But, Layne... is there any other way?"

"I'm the only one who can get in there to see them."

Tears moistened her eyes. "I'm... scare—"

"They're started experiments on the child." He shook his head and said firmly, "And I heard they may be moved to the new facility. I doubt I will have access. I must do it now. For my old friend at least."

Serena looked down at Cloud, watching them talk and she smiled at him. A sad smile yet full of care and love.

"It will be fine. They will be fine." Layne assured her and his eyes shone with earnest confidence. "I've worked out a plan. They may not even consider it was me. But..."

She startled at the hesitancy in his voice.

"...just in case." He dug something out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. A ring with a wolf's face. "Give this to Cloud when he's at the right age. You'll know when and tell him what it means. You remember."

Cloud stared at the ring. His father's ring. My ring. Tifa's ring. The clarity of the moment suddenly brought revelation to everything that he connected with it. He knew in part, but now he fully understood his affinity with the emblem. It was so much more than a ring.

She stared at him blankly, not wanting to accept the jewelry, not seeming to care what it meant right than. The fact that he was giving it to her seemed painful enough. He kept a firm grip on her arms, keeping her steady and looking into her eyes, he spoke with strength in his tone, as if making sure she would remember. "If only one member of the Nibel wolf pack is still alive the whole pack can live. They continually set their hearts on each other, giving each other strength and resuscitation, even resurrection. It's in their nature to never give up. In essence they can be indestructible as a pack." He paused and glanced at Cloud. "We are that wolf pack—"

"But, Layne, I can't brin—"

He kissed her as she spoke. "You will, in your heart. And anyway, I'll be back and I'll tell Cloud myself." He finished with a hearty chuckle.

"It's no time for laughing." She swatted his arm in reprimand.

"Mummy, are you sad?" Cloud stood by her legs, looking up with curious eyes and trust.

Layne knelt by his son and placed his hand on his head, flattening his spikes. "We are talking about the wolves. Your wolf pack will always look out for you, and your mum gets worried about her wolves." He took the ring from his wife's hand and showed it to the child. "One day when it fits you, I'll give you this wolf ring. It's very special."

Cloud touched it with one finger and his eyes shone.

His father went on, "it means you have the heart of the wolf, the same as your parents."

"Heart of the wolf?" he creased his small brow and tilted his face.

"It means you fight for your pack and you never give up on them." His father hugged him close and kissed his cheek.

Cloud's eyes were awash with uncontrolled tears at witnessing the heart piercing scene, long forgotten. His father had left him a legacy long before he joined Shinra, even before Zack. It's just Cloud had embedded the exchange under deep furrows of memories. He placed his hand over his broach in memory of the time when his mother had given him the ring, as well as the story of what it had meant. Now he understood why it had been so difficult for her and how much he had pushed her away at that time in his life, before he left to try and join SOLDIER, a time when he needed independence. Did he break her heart back then? He wiped his eyes. Curse this sadness. He attempted suppressing the grief, but the heartache was entrenched, buried over the years. He desired to reach out for the man one more time... to speak to him, to touch... to know him. And for him to know who Cloud was and that he remembered what it meant to have the heart of the wolf.

In an instant the scene vanished in a revolving panel of color, leaving him with heart-wracking pain. His father was gone. Cloud was suspended in the lifestream, once more wondering and now with more urgency, who was his father and what did he go and do in Midgar? He drifted through the emerald haze, before streams of darkness shot up to claim his limbs. Attempting to resist the pressure, he struggled without success. The mysterious voice pervaded his thoughts and this time with commanding force.

~ Hear the wolf's cries ~

The darkness swamped him and he let himself be dragged downwards to land hard on a rocky surface.

~~ 7 ~~

Genesis leaned against a twisted metal girder atop the rusted walkway and tilting his head back against his collar he admired the star glazed night sky. A building breeze stroked his fine hair across his forehead and cooled his skin. Lifting the worn leather book, he spoke without needing to see the passage. The profound words were inscribed on his heart forevermore. "She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting."

The book was merely a treasure, a physical reminder of that time. A time when he was weak and dependent. The eternal message was a gift come to comfort him and bring peace to his turmoil. It had delivered him from insanity and revealed his purpose in life. Nothing else had come near to his closed shattered soul. Except. That one man. He thought on him now and with an ever increasing frequency, and as of late, he lingered in the background of his ruminations. He was almost as toxic as the drugs he depended on. Even in his debilitation and virulent infirmity that man was the only one who knew the person Genesis was at his core. A fallen shell. The begotten one. But his brother was soft, deceived by his compassion and never acknowledging the greatness growing in Genesis' spirit, the destiny of supremacy waiting for him to take hold, for both of them to seize.

Angeal. He had been a fool in the end. He too could have reached the pinnacle of power, ruling alongside him. But he had to go and let himself be destroyed. For a time Genesis had presumed they were similar, but he came to disdain his virtuous opinion, his code of self-righteous morals, and his weakness for those in need. It instigated his impotency and his death. Even now with the distance of time between them, the man's noble ways hounded Genesis' thoughts, distracting him from his focus. Was Genesis still trying to prove himself the more powerful as if Angeal watched him? Was everything he did, to gain his approval like he too was some 'puppy'. "Your wings are stripped away..." Genesis knew he was by far the more powerful of the two, of the three of them. He had outlived them all and he would show the world. The only one left worthy of the title of SOLDIER 1st class. "My friend, you have flown away to your eternal slumber."

Voices within his fragmented mind began harassing his concentration. The peace of the night's sweet air was fleeting however he was not yet willing to enter back into the suffocating lab downstairs. Long tired of doctors and medicine and his enervating dependency. Once more he was a prisoner desiring freedom and the power to serve his Goddess. In return she would grace him with her consuming presence and gift him with ruler-ship over the planet. All his sacrificial labor and striving would not be in vain. Much suffering and torment he had endured and now the end of the journey was nigh. Running his finger along the underside of his wrist, he visualized the materia within his flesh. Godship was within his grasp. Black materia, potent and destructive, a doorway to a force that could affect the whole planet and call forth the true embodiment of the Goddess. She would fulfill his heart's desire and live within his body. He would be her glorious host as she judged the planet. What would his brother think of that he wondered, and all of them. "...the prisoner's sacrifice will save the planet..."

Genesis strolled into the lab, his coat flicking against the shelves. The incessant bleeping of the medical monitor filled the sterile room. It continued day and night yet had faded somewhat to the back of his hearing and lasted as a reminder that all was going according to plan. And except for one desk lamp and blue light from the tank in operation, the lab was dark. He skimmed past the desk and glimpsed the notebook half hidden under the hands of the napping doctor, Journal of Professor Gast. He kept on and walked up to the lit tank, and stretching his arm high, he leaned his gloved hand upon the glass, and admired the figure hovering in the oxygenated suspension container. Such a beautiful creature, he marveled. Black hair fanned out from her lowered face and twirled seductively around her body. Clothed in shorts and a tight white top, her body was of perfect proportions. Day in, day out, he studied her, becoming fascinated by her porcelain features cringing with pain and the movement of her hands and arms in her stasis environment. He pondered who she was, recalling her struggle on her arrival, and he speculated as to the limit of her strength, and her endurance. Over her protruding stomach, wires were placed in vital zones, recording life signs and feeding in nutrients. An intravenous tap was in her wrist for the most important thing, the growth serum. It would grow the infant bare millimeters per hour. An abnormal and dangerous speed, so the doctor informed him. It was still too slow as far as Genesis was concerned. Weiss and the planet marched on while he waited under sufferance, a prisoner once more.

Even in her comatose state and despite not being aware of her surroundings, she clutched at her belly, seeking relief from the agony of an unnaturally expanding womb. The doctor informed him that she could easily die from the formula if they were not careful about dosage, but Genesis believed her to be tougher than that. As long as she lived the few days they needed to grow the baby and extract it. Weiss had requested the woman after Genesis had accomplished his task. He failed to mention whether she needed to be dead or alive. Perhaps such a detail did not matter to a man like Weiss. Genesis would not agree to anything until he was assured of Weiss motives. She came at a high price and not without enemies. The very man who impregnated her had the cells, and therefore the power of his old rival Sephiroth. The cells which he desired to place in his own body. The same man who killed Sephiroth. Although he found that difficult to believe. He recalled nothing powerful or noteworthy about him. But still it would be foolish to presume he was still weak. If indeed he possessed Sephiroth's genes than he would be a worthy rival. No, even Genesis would not be so arrogant. Yet an attack on Genesis would be useless. In the end all of humanity will come under the reign of the Goddess.

Genesis clenched and unclenched his fist, flexing his muscles, barely tolerating the electrifying energy surging through his arm and chest. "This is taking too long." His voice was loud in the quiet metallic room and it surprised him.

With a rustle of paper, the doctor lifted his head from the desk at the sudden noise and hit it on the lamp. He sorted his scattered sheets and mumbled in answer, "She's getting as much as a human can take, well, it's not her, but the baby that's receiving the formula. Humans are fragile, remember..."

Genesis didn't care for his compassionate explanations or feeble excuses nevertheless he did care about the living cells and them remaining so.

"Her body is only just holding on. Right now, she's existing in some unknown place between life and death. When it gets nearer the time, it won't be so dire to keep her alive. Unless you plan on sending her to Weiss?"

Genesis took a long breath and straightened his back. "Hmmm..." I have begun a life of seclusion with this mysterious woman. The more time he spent contemplating her beauty and flawless lines, the more he desired to keep her himself.

"Once you are transformed you won't be concerned with such things." Ivon rubbed his weary eyes.

"Have you unearthed anything from your father's notes?"

He laid his glasses down on the notebook and replied, "His research on White Materia is limited but apparently ancient Cetras used it although it is unproven whether any other human can." He finished with a yawn.

Genesis kept his back to him and let his breath out against the glass in resignation.

Ivon continued, "It does stand to reason that only a Cetra would wield this special materia. Materia that no human has ever seen. As far as records go."

"Its power must be immense." Genesis' delicate brow lowered.

"Must be. It destroyed Midgar."

"Weiss must be planning something..." he muttered aloud.

"A way to use the materia?" Ivon considered him thoughtfully as he took his glasses and buffed them on his coat. "Maybe he just doesn't want you to have it."

"Perhaps." Genesis concentrated on Weiss' possible motivation and his past known desires. Were they any different to his current plans or was he choosing a more deceptive method. "If he had a counterbalance, say the Protomateria..." As he reflected on the scenario it made sense, terrible sense. Weiss didn't want the White materia for its sake, he wanted the Protomateria, and the White Materia would offer a control. He meditated on the truth of his presupposition.

Ivon remarked, "But that wouldn't be an easy task. There's only one Protomateria that we know of."

"Vincent Valentine." Genesis lifted his face with a contemplative gaze. Would Weiss actually consider confronting and battling his old foe again and after such a definite defeat? "It would seem an unwise strategy on his part." He paused, his vision once more set on the girl. "Unless," is that why he wanted her? "He has some plan."

"It's true you might become even more splendid with the White Materia as well, but aside from that, you do have the Black already." The doctor said with self-assurance, "Your transformation will be more magnificent and more impressive than the White Materia."

Genesis' chest constricted with an abrupt pain, and his face paled, becoming a deathly hue against the sheen of his crimson hair."I feel her. The Goddess is awakening... within."

Ivon nodded eagerly, a devious smile on his long mouth. "That's right and so mighty and all powerful, she will spread her reign over the whole planet."

Smiling, Genesis turned his face back to the tank. "Now I just need the regenerative cells of this infant and I will be immortal."

Suddenly, warning lights flashed on the monitor board by the tank, and a riveting alarm began blurting repeatedly. Ivon jumped from his chair and half pushing Genesis from his path, he pressed a button on the keypad and scrutinized the data stats on the screen.

"What is it?" Genesis watched the woman in the tank, her body slumping and trying to curl in on herself.

"She's failing," Ivon replied. "Shit!" He tapped with rapid precision on the keypad. The green dosage stalled and a bluish liquid flushed through the wrist tube.

"Save her," Genesis ordered – as if his very command could bring her back. He was not yet ready to lose her. It was too soon.

Sweat trickled down the doctor's cheek and he growled, "I'm trying." Leaning his face close to the screen, he pored over the stats. "Currently it's not looking good at all. And there's not much I can do about it..."