#cloudru

With a tremendous effort, he forced his heavy, sandy eyes open, then flinched in the blinding light, which stung and made them fill with tears. Covering his face with his arms, he groaned and rolled onto his side.

His head was splitting and his pulse was beating a dubstep rhythm on his eardrums. His body felt sore and weak and feverish, too, as if he’d gone through an extreme workout routine while suffering from a severe flu. His mouth tasted like some kind of dental medicine. Like that horrible, all-pervading green from the dream. His stomach turned, as the dizzy, seasick feeling returned.

“I asked you a question,” the hostile voice persisted. “A series of questions, in fact. I suggest you answer them quickly. I am not a patient man.”

Ugh, this prick. He uncovered his eyes and tried to squint around, but all he could see was a too-bright blur, through all the stinging and watering in his eyes.

It slowly occurred to him, as his thoughts recalled themselves from the wild interpretive dance they’d been doing, and fell reluctantly back into a semblance of order, that he was in Zack’s bed, in Zack’s room, at Shinra Tower. That made sense, because that was where he’d gone to sleep. What didn’t make sense, was this irritating person-blob, looming over him, backlit by the huge windows, rudely demanding a lot of answers to baffling questions.

“Who the hell are you?” he finally managed, in a husky rasp. “What are you doing in here?”

“You are in no position to ask questions of me, trespasser,” said the interloper, his voice gratingly clear, despite his person being fuzzy and vague. “You have exactly five seconds to tell me who you are and what you are doing in SOLDIER First Class Fair’s quarters.”

Cloud ignored the question and rubbed his eyes. Things were developing colors, though shapes continued to be mostly beyond his comprehension. The person-blob was all red, from top to bottom. Perfect. A big, red, blurry annoyance, as a counterpoint to that sickening green dream. Just as he was thinking this, his vision adjusted, and a man’s person resolved, in front of him.

Cloud stared up at him, still blinking away tears. “You’re…Commander Rhapsodos.”

“I know who I am,” the supernaturally beautiful, world-famous war hero returned tartly. “I asked who you are. Last chance.”

“I’m Cloud,” he said, clearing his throat against the cracking hoarseness. “I’m Zack’s friend.”

“Incorrect,” Genesis Rhapsodos retorted. “I know all of Zack’s two friends, of which I am one. You are not the other.”

“But I am,” Cloud maintained. “I mean, we’re not very close friends, but—”

“You’re not very close friends, and yet you are sleeping in his bed, in his highly secure private room, whilst he is absent.” Fierce, stunning eyes—like if a tiger’s eyes could be vibrant blue—narrowed suspiciously. “You know what I think? I think you’re a Turk spy.”

Cloud frowned, disoriented by this bizarre logical leap. “Huh? I’m not a Turk.”

“Then how do you explain this?” With an air of triumph, the First SOLDIER held something up for him to see, then waited impatiently while Cloud’s bleary eyes took a moment to recognize it.

“Wait a goddamn minute. If you have my ID, why are you asking who I am?” Cloud demanded, his awed reverence for this man decreasing in direct proportion to his increasing grumpiness level. “You can see my name on there, and that I’m a civilian contractor. I met Zack in the lobby, after work, and we’ve ben hanging out.”

“Nice try, little Turk,” Genesis sneered. “Your ID has a higher level of access clearance than mine. I checked. Now, are you going to tell me what you’re really doing here, or shall I drag your ass up to Director Tseng’s office and ask him in person?”

“Let’s do that,” Cloud said, brightening. “Actually, I’ll call him right now. He can tell you who I am.”

Genesis clucked his tongue and gave his long, burnished-copper hair a dismissive toss. “Why would I believe that sneaky Turk’s word about another Turk? He’d just lie for you.”

“If you wouldn’t believe him anyway, then why did you threaten me with—”

“Silence!” Genesis cut him off, holding up his gloved hand. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re too stupid to be a Turk.”

Cloud made a face. “Seriously? I mean, no offense, but Reno…”

“Ha! Turk! You’ve exposed yourself by naming your accomplice!”

“I met Reno in the lobby, too!” Cloud pleaded, leaning back to evade the accusing finger, that was dangerously close to his face.

Genesis withdrew the finger and planted his hands on his hips. “So, in this fantastic scenario you’ve constructed, Shinra’s top-level military and intelligence personnel have just been hanging around the lobby all day, waiting to run into you.”

“It kind of seems that way, actually,” Cloud muttered. “But listen, mister—commander—”

“Genesis.”

“Gen…Genesis,” he repeated, faltering under the weight of the man’s forename, which felt much too grand and luxurious to be handled so casually by his backwoods mouth. “I get that it’s weird for a civilian to know a SOLDIER First Class and some Turks, and have really high access clearance, but it’s because I do private consulting for some high-level people at Shinra. Tseng knows all about it. He can back me up.”

“Which high-level people, and why does Tseng know all about it?”

“Tseng knows because he got me my clearance. Sorry, but I can’t tell you who my clients are. I signed some pretty hefty NDAs, and I’m more afraid of Shinra’s lawyers than I am of you. Uh. With all due respect.”

Genesis pursed his perfect, sculptor’s-model lips. “Then what kind of consulting do you do? I’m sure telling me that much won’t violate any NDAs.”

Now Cloud was in a pickle. He didn’t think it would be wise to try lying to the man who had personally obliterated an entire island nation, at the age of fourteen, but the nature of his ‘consulting’ at Shinra was the whole reason for the NDAs, in the first place. As for his work outside Shinra, that was fair game. Also, Genesis could literally pick up the Arts & Culture section of any Midgar newspaper, and instantly find out what his day job (so to speak) was, anyway.

“I’m a professional dancer. I consult as a physical therapist, on the side,” he said, relying on his standard euphemism for client work. It was even sort of true. What he did basically amounted to therapy of a physical nature. And, being a lifelong athlete, he knew enough to bullshit his way through if he was ever questioned.  

Meanwhile, First SOLDIER Genesis Rhapsodos, from the news and television shows and recruitment ads and documentaries and huge fucking poster in Zack’s living room, was standing there looking like the definition of human superiority, eyeing Cloud cagily. “Physical therapist? Aren’t you a little young for that?”

“I am, thank you.”

“Tch. And you’re good enough to see clients who require you to have sky-high access to Shinra Tower?”

“Of course. Why else would they have hired me?”

“You realize I can very easily find out exactly who you really are, and what it is you do, correct?”

“I mean. You’re holding my ID card, so…”

Genesis promptly tossed the ID to him. “Is Zack a client?”

“No. We’re friends, like I told you.”

“The kind of friends who fuck?”

“Yeah, that kind,” Cloud shot back defiantly.

“Hmph. Well, I suppose you are pretty enough for Zack to notice you. You’re too stupid to be a Turk and too small to be a SOLDIER, so…perhaps you are telling something in the vicinity of the truth. But you’re still trespassing. This is a private floor, restricted to the Firsts and our invited guests.”

“I keep telling you, I am an invited guest,” Cloud said wearily. “Zack brought me here, himself.”

“Ah, but guest privileges only last twenty-four hours. Zack is not currently in residence, and has not been since yesterday morning. Hence, you are no longer an invited guest.”

“Nice try, but I’m not that stupid,” Cloud scoffed. “I spent the night with Zack last night, how could he have been away since yesterday?”

“You must be stupid, if you think I’d fall for a lie that obvious,” Genesis scoffed right back. “I know precisely how long he’s been gone. I saw him off, myself.”

“But I can prove it!” Cloud insisted, rummaging on the night stand for his phone. “Look, here! He messaged me after he left, this morn…ing. What the fuck?”

He stared at the screen in blank bewilderment. Then he closed the messaging app and opened it again, as if that might somehow convince the discrepancy to resolve itself. It didn’t. No matter how he looked at it, the messages from Zack were dated from the twelfth, while his phone’s home screen proclaimed today to be the thirteenth.  

An ominous weight began to settle in the pit of his stomach. He racked his brain, trying to think what the fuck could have happened, and what he could have been doing here for an entire extra twenty-four hours, to no avail. The harder he thought, the more muddled his mind became, till a stab of pain split his skull and he groaned, collapsing back into the pillows.

“I think…I’m sick,” he panted, as a wave of electric-green nausea rolled in on the heels of the pain.

“Mentally, at least,” Genesis said drily. “Though, it looks as if you may be physically ill, too. You’ve gone quite pale.”

“Have to go,” Cloud mumbled, doggedly pushing himself up again. “Gotta get home. Andrea’s probably freaking the fuck out.”

“Who’s Andrea?” Genesis demanded. “Your partner? Lover? Are you two-timing Zack?”

“Zack’s not my boyfriend, and Andrea’s my boss,” Cloud said irritably. “Andrea Rhodea.”

“Andrea Rhodea, of the Honeybee?”

“Is there another guy on the Planet named Andrea Rhodea?”

“So you’re that kind of consultant,” Genesis said, with a knowing smirk. “Well, that does clarify things, doesn’t it.”

“Doesn’t clarify what happened to my entire missing day, but I’m glad you feel enlightened,” Cloud grumbled, as he scooted to the side of the bed to contemplate the task of standing.

“At least I understand why you’ve been obfuscating your relationship to Zack, now. Client confidentiality is a sacred tenet of your trade, after all.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Zack’s not a client. Do you have a learning disability, or something?”

“You know, it’s not every day one of the Firsts brings a new person into the sanctum,” Genesis mused, as if he hadn’t heard him. “They are usually quite careful about preserving my privacy.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I happen to be a very private person, outside of work. I wouldn’t talk about you to anyone, unless I wanted to draw attention to myself, which I do not.”

“Mn. We who work in the public eye tend to be quite guarded, don’t we.”

“By guarded, I assume you mean ‘suspicious assholes’.”

Genesis shrugged. “Takes one to know one.”

Cloud snorted out a laugh, then groaned again, as the throbbing ache clamped down on his skull. “This is like, the worst hangover I’ve ever had, times a thousand. What the fuck happened to me?”

“Considering the missing time, I would suspect someone had slipped you something, only you’re in the most secure location in Midgar. No one can even enter this floor, without Angeal, Zack, or myself.”

“Won’t my ID get me in? You said the clearance is higher than yours.”

Genesis shook his head. The sun had briefly broken through the eternal cloud cover, at that moment, and his long hair threw off fiery shimmers in the brilliant light, now streaming in the windows. “This floor is a special area. Not even the little prince can use his credentials to get in, and he owns the place.”

Cloud made a mental note that ‘little prince’ was a pretty good pet name for his dog. “But there has to be a way around that. I’ve seen a lot of spy movies. There’s always a back door, and some guy with a key.”

“I think we’re assuming a bit too much. Most likely, you took some medication of Zack’s, accidentally. The concoctions they give us could easily kill an unenhanced person. There’s no reason they couldn’t cause a blackout.”

“I don’t think so,” Cloud said doubtfully. “I hardly take any meds. Like, not even over the counter painkillers. Why would I suddenly break that habit?”

“Maybe you were already hung over and looking for something to take the edge off.”

“No way. We didn’t drink anything stronger than Mt. Nibel Dew, at the movie theater. Though, I’m pretty sure that stuff could strip the paint off cars.”

A perfectly groomed copper eyebrow arched. “Aw, how precious. A date at the movies, like a pair of high-school sweethearts.”

“Hey, shut up,” Cloud scowled, then quickly remembered who he was talking to, and how easily severable his neck and limbs were. “I mean…I didn’t mean…sorry.”

“You don’t have to walk on tenterhooks, for my sake,” Genesis replied breezily. “I’ve decided that I like you.”

“Since like a minute ago, when I was a Turk spy?”

“Yes, my capriciousness is part of my charm. Do try and keep up.”

“Wait, what the hell is a tenterhook?”

“You are a friend of Zack’s, and so you must be a friend of mine.”

“Must I?”

“You must. Give me your phone.”

Fighting down a disorienting sense of unreality, to the point that he was beginning to doubt he’d actually woken up, Cloud held out his phone to the most famous man on the entire planet. Genesis took it and tapped on the screen for a moment, as if he was some kind of human being who did mundane human things like using the chat app on a phone.

“There. Now you have a contact that the tabloid press would pay ruinous sums of money to acquire. Consider it a gesture of trust.”

Cloud looked at the screen, as he accepted the phone back. Sure enough, Genesis had added his contact details, under the inexplicable name BadApple.

“Um. Thank you,” he said stiffly.

“Don’t mention it. Now that we’re on such intimate terms, I will do you a friendly favor and escort you home.”

Cloud balked at the idea of this monumental celebrity spending his incalculably valuable time driving him down to a whorehouse in the slums. “Why would you do that?”

“You said yourself that your boss must be in fits, worrying about you.”

“I don’t think I used the word ‘fits’.”

“Besides, you’re far too unwell to go on your own. I’m afraid you have no choice but to indulge my fancy and let me take care of you, in Zack’s stead.” 

“Th—thanks, then,” Cloud said, not knowing why he felt so inclined to cooperate. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Anything for a friend. By the way, you’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“Oh, no,” Cloud groaned, as he was taken by both wrists and pulled to his unsteady feet. “Not another helicopter.”

“Helicopter? Goddess forbid.”

Winged flight is a glory of which humans have dreamt, since our first primitive ancestors beheld the flight of birds, with envy and longing. Over the millennia, the development of modern engineering has brought our species into the sky, but it is only a pyrrhic victory. For all our technological capability, there is still nothing we can do, that approaches the freedom and grace of sailing through the heavens under one’s own power, unfettered by artificial apparatus, and unbound from the planet’s gravity.

This is, of course, because most of us are not superhuman killing machines, genetically engineered by highly unscrupulous scientists, in the employ of a colossal mega-corporation, with unlimited funds and little interest in ethical minutiae. Genesis Rhapsodos was one such superhuman, and along with all the other physical and mental advantages those morally elastic scientists had bestowed upon him, came the power of flight, unaided by mechanical contrivance.

The heaven-defying splendor of this experience was wasted on Cloud, unfortunately, because he was far too occupied in using every ounce of his strength to cling fast to this winged madman, who had scooped him up like a princess and leapt off a sixtieth floor balcony, with literally zero warning.

He wasn’t sure how high they were, or how far they’d gotten, because he was also keeping his eyes squeezed resolutely shut, lest he faint from terror and fall to his death. But it wasn’t as if he missed that much. Even if he’d not been too petrified to open them, the icy-cold wind battering his person, due to the tremendous speed at which Genesis traveled, would have forced his eyes shut, and he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the spectacular view, anyway.

Repeating a silent oath to the helicopter goddess that he’d never speak or think ill of those wonderful machines again, Cloud weathered the ordeal as best he could. In a briefer time than he would have expected, he felt Genesis arc downward, plummeting like a very slow meteor, till they alit on the street, outside the Honeybee.

“Wings. You have…wings,” Cloud mumbled drunkenly.

Genesis set him on his feet, then immediately had to catch him, because he swayed and nearly pitched over.

Adrenaline-crashing and irrationally indignant, Cloud tried to push the man away and stand on his own, only to find he could do neither. He was in superb health and uncommonly resilient, but even his robust constitution was no match for ghastly green dreams and an aching head and sick stomach and missing time, and getting woken up and interrogated by war heroes from posters and dragged off balconies and flown across the city—all slopped together, like the world’s most stressful omelet.

The thought of an omelet set a fresh wave of nausea crashing over him and with that final straw, Cloud’s wobbly legs gave out. It was thus that he was carried into the Honeybee, half senseless and pale as death, after an absence of multiple days with no contact, in the arms of the world’s most renowned personage. Needless to say, it caused something of a commotion.

The club was still several hours from opening, so there were few staff in the front of house. The first person to encounter the pair was a waitress in a bee costume, who stopped dead in her tracks and shrieked, “Cloud! Andrea! Cloud’s back! He’s back!” Without stopping to ask questions, she wheeled about and went running away down the hall, bee-bustle bouncing violently behind her.

There was a general rustling and banging as other people came hurrying out of various doors, in response to the disturbance. Among these were Aerith and Tifa, who would have thrown their arms around Cloud and peppered him with tearful kisses, but for the fact that he was being carried by—

“Genesis Rhapsodos?” Aerith said, tilting her head to one side, then the other, as if the slight alteration in angle might reveal him to be an entirely different person.

“At your service,” the First SOLDIER answered, with a dip of his chin, since his possession of Cloud’s person made bowing inconvenient, at the moment. “I understand my young friend belongs to this establishment.”

“What happened to him?” Tifa cut in, too beside herself with worry to care about any celebrity, war hero or no. “Why are you carrying him? He’s not hurt, is he?”

Genesis eyed her skeptically. “He only mentioned Andrea Rhodea. I’m afraid I won’t be relaying details to anyone else, on his behalf.”

She would have replied indignantly, but Andrea came rushing in just then, with the bee-costumed waitress trailing after him. His expression, when he saw Cloud, was that specific cocktail of fear, hope, shock, anger, and tremendous relief, that one might see on the face of a parent, when a teenaged child comes home safely, many hours after curfew.

“Cloud, darling! Thank the goddess you’re safe!” he cried, shooing the girls out of the way. He immediately observed Cloud’s condition, however, and addressed himself to his protector, in a lowered voice. “Is it serious? Does he need a doctor?”

Genesis answered in an equally confidential tone. “I don’t believe so, but it would be best to take him somewhere more comfortable and private, before you ask him any questions.”

“Of course, of course,” Andrea agreed quickly. “His room is upstairs. You don’t have to trouble yourself, though, I can carry him from here.”

“No, thank you. I’ve come this far, so I may as well take him all the way.”

“I actually think—I can walk now,” Cloud said, lifting his head feebly.

“No one asked you,” Genesis informed him, pushing it right back down. “Lead the way.”

Scolding the staff to stop gawking and get back to work, Andrea led his headliner and said headliner’s guardian angel to the staff elevator. Practically dying of curiosity, but not having any alternative, everyone dispersed and went back to work. But there was a lot of grumbling about it.

“It’s good to see you well, Genesis,” Andrea said awkardly, as the elevator lurched upward.

“Likewise, Andrea,” Genesis replied, in an equally strained tone.

Neither of them looked at the other. There was a stifling, wooly silence until the bell dinged, announcing their arrival on the third floor.

Nero and Weiss, who had apparently been waiting for the elevator, stood out of the way for the three, as they emerged—Weiss with a look of concern, and Nero with a sneer.

“So, he’s alive,” Nero sniffed. “Looks like I owe you twenty gil, brother.”

“Cloud, we’re so glad you’re back,” said Weiss, smiling warmly. “We were worried about you.”

“I was not the least bit worried,” Nero corrected.

“Thank you for bringing him home, sir,” Weiss said, addressing Genesis, who he clearly did not recognize. “Is he alright? He’s not injured, is he?”

“Only a bit under the weather,” Genesis assured one of the only two people in the world who seemed to have no idea who he was. “He felt faint, so I thought it’d be safer to carry him. Can’t risk having the Honeybee’s big star out of commission, can we.”

“Tch,” Nero said, and sauntered past them into the elevator, followed by Weiss.

In Cloud’s room, Genesis laid the returned lamb down on his bed, where Cloud gave a brief and somewhat scattered account of his situation, to an increasingly anxious Andrea. Unable to make heads or tails of it, and needing to be doing something useful, he hurried off to make Cloud some of his famous hangover tea, just in case it might help.

“What do you mean, the Honeybee’s big star?” Cloud asked Genesis, once he’d gone. “You said you didn’t know who I was and called me a spy.”

“Yes, but I happen to be literate, and your name is all over the marquees, outside. Not to mention the many posters in the lobby.”

“You didn’t recognize it before?”

“I don’t get out much,” Genesis said, casting his eyes about, for a place to sit. The single chair in the room had a pile of Cloud’s glittery costumes draped over it, so he seated himself on the corner of the bed.

“Uh. My room’s kind of a disaster,” Cloud said sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

“I like it. It’s colorful and lived-in. It feels very…yours.”

“Well, yeah. I’ve been here for five years.”

“I’ve lived in Shinra Tower for twelve years. My room has never felt like mine.”

“What’s your place like? The same as Zack’s?”

“It’s about twice the size. And it was furnished from Shinra’s private, curated collection of antiques.”

“Wow. That’s generous of Shinra.”

“They didn’t do it for me. They did it for the optics. I am aware that it’s more than most people have, and I shouldn’t complain, but it’s furnished according to other people’s tastes, and I’m not allowed to live anywhere else. It’s nothing but a—”

“If you say the words ‘gilded cage’ right now, I swear to the goddess,” Cloud threatened.

Genesis laughed. It was a beautiful, unaffected laugh, that burst forth naturally and scintillated in the air, like a rainbow of ice crystals. Cloud got the feeling it was a very rare and precious sound.

“I wasn’t going to say gilded cage, for your information, as apt as the aphorism would have been. I was going to say it was nothing but a PR ploy. ‘My’ apartment was featured in a dozen interior design magazine spreads, before I even set foot inside.”

“But you’re a SOLDIER. Shouldn’t they want you guys to look super badass, like…sleeping on beds of nails and eating raw meat and stuff?”

“Shinra’s PR people aren’t fools. They knew the gung-ho, hyper-masculine image wouldn’t suit me. Unlike their standard recruits, I grew up wealthy and privileged, and I didn’t adapt well to many aspects of life, at Shinra.”

“By ‘didn’t adapt well’, you mean…”

“I incinerated three training facilities in as many weeks, and the fire that mysteriously began in the first quarters they assigned me at the Tower took down half a floor of the building.”

“Wow. And Andrea accuses me of having diva tantrums.”

“Can you blame me? They expected me to sleep in polyester sheets,” Genesis shivered.

“I think we can all agree that synthetic fabrics are an abomination,” said Cloud, who was very particular about his own bed linens. “So, you had a habit of setting fire to Shinra property in fits of pique, and their solution was…to give you a lot more extremely expensive Shinra property.”

“Mm-hm. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

“I get the feeling that’s how it works for you, most of the time.”

Genesis had gotten up and was shrugging off his famous, crimson leather trench coat, which he flung carelessly onto Cloud’s chair, atop the other clothes. His thermal top was sleeveless, and Cloud couldn’t help but notice that his arms were a lot more muscular than they’d appeared, under the sleekly tailored coat.

“Correct. I’m not the type to take things lying down, in the first place, but they also made a crucial mistake.”

“Which was?”

“They let me find out that the launch of their SOLDIER program was relying entirely on me. You know what they say. Never let a spoiled, melodramatic, superhuman teenager, with the ability to spontaneously create massively destructive fires, find out how vital he is to the success of your riskiest venture.”

“Tch. Who doesn’t know that old saying? I think my mom has it cross-stitched on a pillow.”

Genesis chuckled again. He was over at the vanity table, now, rummaging through Cloud’s array of perfumes and cosmetics. The cosmetics were all well loved, but most of the perfume bottles were gifts from clients, left unopened, only placed around for decoration. Cloud watched him, fascinated by the way he interacted with physical space. He seemed to move with careless, catlike grace, but there was something off about it.

Suddenly, it occurred to him what he was seeing. As natural as they appeared, all of Genesis’ movements were delayed, by an infinitesimal fraction of a second. As if everything he did was a deliberate and calculated performance.

Cloud was thunderstruck. The level of absolute self-awareness, and the incredible presence of mind it would take, to consciously regulate every single move your body made, was unimaginable. He prided himself on his excellent control, but this man was far out of his league.

“Feel free to tell me to mind my own business,” he said, “but if you don’t like it at Shinra, why don’t you leave?”

“You’re mistaken,” Genesis answered, as he picked up a particularly ornate crystal bottle and turned it in his hand, watching the refraction of the light, in the finely cut facets. “I am very satisfied with my position at Shinra. We have our differences, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I am a hero, after all.”

Cloud was unable to respond to this strange statement, because Andrea knocked on the door, at that moment, and bustled in with a tray, bearing slices of toast, and the promised pot of tea.

“How are you feeling, bumblebee?” he asked, as Cloud sipped a steaming cup.

“Still achy, all over,” Cloud admitted. “But the tea is really helping my stomach.”

“I think you should let the doctor have a look at you. Losing a whole day can’t be normal. What if you hit your head?”

“But my head doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just my body.”

“The best cure for that would be a long, hot bath,” Genesis put in.

Cloud shrugged. “Staff bathroom only has showers.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I had heard that the Honeybee possesses a luxury suite, featuring the largest bath in the city.”

“We do,” Andrea said proudly. “The Greek bath suite. I designed it myself.”

“There you go, Cloud. Why not try it?”

“Those suites are for sessions with clients,” Cloud objected. “I don’t need to soak in a hot tub, anyway. The shower will be just fine.”

“I really think you should try the bath.”

“Well, you’re not the boss of me, so…”  

Genesis narrowed his eyes. “Andrea, I have become enamored with this charming little honeybee. I would like to book a session with him, in the Greek bath suite, to begin immediately. Here is my Shinra ID. Charge whatever you like, they’ll be paying. There. Now I’m a client.”

“Hey, wait a minute. I didn’t agree to this,” Cloud protested.

“Sorry, bumblebee, we can’t possibly turn away a world famous war-hero,” Andrea said, gleefully scanning the ID card with his phone. “I’m sure you’ll do your very best to satisfy your client.”

“You heard the man,” Genesis said smugly. “Bath time.”

“The fact remains that he walked into this building and did not walk out!” Rufus Shinra was thundering, at some uniformed Shinra security guards, who stood before his desk, shaking in their boots. “Unless he grew wings and flew away, he is still inside it, somewhere. Do your jobs and find him, or I’ll replace you with men who can!”

The guards hastily saluted, and practically ran from the office. The moment the door shut behind them, Rufus sank into his leather chair, clenching his teeth and spasmodically clutching his neck, where the knot of intense pain was worsening by the hour. Darkstar, sensing his master’s distress, but not having a wide range of options, as far as comforting him, put his massive head on Rufus’ lap and snorted, in sympathy.

“Sir,” said Tseng, as he stepped in, a moment later.

“I don’t want to hear anything, unless it’s about Cloud Strife’s exact location and status.”

“Understood, sir.” Tseng turned on his heel, to walk back out the door.

“Get back here, you asshole,” Rufus called after him. “You know better than to listen to me, when I’m like this.”

“Yes, sir,” Tseng replied, with an audible smirk in his voice, if not on his face. “I’ve got the report from our agents in Wutai. There are a number of interesting photos, which I thought you might want to see. Nothing from the Valentine compound, for obvious reasons, but security at Da-chao Palace did not present an obstacle.”

“Put them on the screen,” Rufus said irritably. “I don’t want to scroll through your phone.”

Tseng did whatever he did to make the holographic screen appear, in front of Rufus’ desk, and the photo set popped up. The first one was Cloud, being handed out of the car by Vincent Valentine, at the grand entrance to Da-chao palace. The next twenty or so were shots of the two walking the red carpet, from a lot of different angles. There were dozens, inside the ballroom, documenting every single person Cloud and Vincent spoke to, though they were not of the highest quality, due to the lighting and the crowd.

“Princess Kyrie,” Rufus muttered. “Are the rumors about her and Valentine true?”

“Unlikely, sir.”

He scowled at a picture of four youths, who he hadn’t seen before. Or maybe he had. Their faces had been beaten till they looked like pigs’ heads, so there would be no way of knowing. The series of photos depicted them emerging from what appeared to be a side-courtyard, disheveled and bloody, heavily aided by Da-chao palace staff.

“Who are they?”

“No one important. The sons of some businessmen and minor gentry, from Junon and Kalm.”

“Then why are you making me look at them? Who beat them up, like this?”

“From what I can tell, sir, Cloud Strife did,” Tseng said tranquilly.

Rufus forcibly concealed his astonishment, since that was exactly the reaction Tseng had intended to produce, by springing it on him like that, and replied coolly. “Explain.”

“Upon investigation, we have surmised that, at the behest of Princess Kyrie of Junon, these young men lured Cloud Strife into a room used for storage, in this courtyard annex, a small distance from the main palace. Brass knuckles and a cricket bat belonging to two of the young men were found at the scene. It’s unlikely they expected to be the victims of a severe beating.”

“What does Junon have to do with Cloud Strife? Why would they target him? To get to Valentine?”

“These four are not in Queen Mireille’s employ. They’re amateur thugs, just out of prep school, with a history of academic misconduct, assault, and allegations of sexual abuse of fellow students. It appears the grievance was personal, in nature.”

“Personal how?”

“We obtained this video, from one of our people inside Junon Palace. It was sent to Queen Mireille, whose personal assistant uploaded it to the palace email server. I believe it will answer your questions.”

Tseng touched the play button, and the video popped up on the screen.

“Please, please stop,” a male voice was groaning, as the phone camera jostled and blurred, and then focused on his face. Or, what was left of it, anyway. The bridge of his nose was sitting at a grotesque angle, and was already livid with an ugly, purple contusion. One eye was swollen all the way shut, and there was blood in the drool trickling down his chin, as he bawled and pleaded. “Don’t kill me, please. My father’s super rich. He’ll give you anything you want. Don’t kill me.”

“I told you idiots like ten times, I’m not going to kill you,” said a voice behind the camera, that was so very clearly Cloud Strife’s, Rufus got half-hard just hearing it. “You are going to look into this camera, and state your name, your buddies’ names, and exactly what you did.”

“Buuuuhuuuhuuuuuu, it was all Gregor’s ideeeaaaaaa!” the young man wailed, till Cloud’s hand flew out and slapped him across the mouth, stunning him into silence.

“Stop crying, you fucking embarrassment. You brought this on yourself. Be a man and own up to what you did. Then it will all be over. Understood?”

Cloud’s voice was icy and domineering, and lacked the bantering lilt it had, when he was ordering Rufus around, in their sessions. Without that cork on the foil, it was a naked blade, of which Rufus was just now learning the sharpness. He shuddered involuntarily, at the same time the young man on the screen gave a terrified nod.

“Good,” said Cloud. “Now talk.”

With admirable patience, Rufus listened to the perpetrator’s rambling, self-justifying, blubbering account, all the way to the end. This included the names of his accomplices, their leader’s sister, who had brought the princess to them, Princess Kyrie’s belief that she was betrothed to Vincent Valentine and that Cloud Strife was an interloper, and the four young men’s intention to record themselves assaulting Cloud, then release the video to the internet, in order to publicly humiliate him. Princess Kyrie, for unclearly defined reasons, apparently believed that this would somehow alienate Cloud from Vincent Valentine, thus endearing her to him.

Rufus had superhuman control of his body language and expressions, but Tseng observed the slight flaring of his nostrils, as he slowly tapped one finger on the desk.

“Please, try to remain calm, sir,” he said. “You’ll make your neck pain worse.”

“Thank you, Tseng, I am perfectly calm,” Rufus replied. “Shinra must not be seen to have ties to the families of those four young men. Should any…misfortune befall them, they will certainly be subject to public scrutiny, which might tarnish our reputation, by association.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Is Princess Kyrie still in Wutai?”

“No, sir. The princess has been sent by her majesty the queen, on a goodwill tour of Junon’s charity hospitals and vaccination centers, all over the world. She is expected to be abroad for twelve months, at the least.”

Rufus gave a mirthless laugh. “I guess she’s in time-out, then.”

“Shall I have my agents keep an eye on her?”  

“Don’t bother. Queen Mireille can deal with the brat herself.” Rufus flipped back through the pictures, to the young men being helped out of the storage room, and stared thoughtfully at them, for a long time. “This type of beating. It wasn’t panic or self defense. It wasn’t even anger. It was…”

“Ruthless,” Tseng finished for him.

“Yes. But you don’t have to sound so pleased about it,” Rufus muttered.

Tseng’s phone vibrated with an incoming call, just then, which all his agents knew never to do, unless it was urgent. “What is it?”

“Sir, it’s Elena. I think we figured out what happened to Cloud Strife.”

“One moment. I’m putting you on speaker, with President Shinra. Go ahead.”

“Good morning, Mr. President. We have just learned that an hour ago, Commander Rhapsodos was absent from a SOLDIER briefing, and we have multiple witnesses saying he flew past their windows, carrying a blonde-haired individual. We think that individual was Cloud Strife, and that he and Commander Rhapsodos exited via a window or balcony, on the First Class floor, where there are no security cameras.”

“Damn it. What the hell kind of show is Lazard running, over there?” Rufus snarled, clutching his neck, where the knot was twisting tighter. “Why are his freaks hosting civilians on restricted floors, and flying out of unauthorized exits, with no accountability?”

“Uncertain, sir. This is brand new intel, and I called Director Tseng immediately, as instructed. I’m on my way to speak with Director Lazard, now.”

“Good work, Elena,” Tseng said. “Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir.”

He tapped the screen to end the call, and again to make another. “Rude. Get down to the Honeybee. I want eyes on Cloud Strife. Alert me, the moment he’s found. And watch out for the Red Menace. Apparently they’re together.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

genesis my beloved

He ignored his phone for the moment, returning a few cheerful greetings, as he made his way up to his room. When he got there, he shut the door behind him and fell face-first into his bed. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed himself in Wutai, with Vincent, there was just something about being alone, in his own room, that he badly needed, after so much time being ‘on’.

After he’d laid there recharging for a while, he kicked off his boots and began scrolling through the rest of his many, many messages. Tseng (for Rufus) and Reeve had both made appointments already, and Vincent wanted him to know he’d be at the show Saturday. There were about forty more, from regular clients, and also a calendar alert from Aerith, with a schedule of his booked sessions. This was going to be a busy couple of weeks.

Just then, there was a knock on his door, and one of the bellhops called out to let him know Andrea wanted him in the theater, right away. Cloud shouted back that he’d be down in a minute, then pouted to himself. Yes, he’d technically been on vacation for the past week, but it’s not as if he’d rested all that much. Damn that old man’s demonic sex drive.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think I need a vacation from Vincent,” he sighed, as he pulled his boots back on.

A few minutes later, Andrea Rhodea found himself being faced down by his two headliners, who had their hands on their narrow hips and expressions of extreme indignation on their equally beautiful, but diametrically opposite faces.  

“You want us to what?!” they demanded, in unison, which was ironic, considering what they were angry about.

“Listen, darlings, I know you’ve had your differences, but this is the only way to enter the upper city with the big splash the Honeybee needs,” Andrea reasoned.

“I don’t do tandem,” Nero sneered. “He’ll just get in my way.”

“I hate to agree with Nero, but I don’t understand how we’re supposed to perform together,” Cloud put in. “We don’t even do the same type of gymnastics. You can’t actually expect one of us to learn the other’s discipline, in three weeks. That’s not possible.”

Nero gave a derisive laugh. “Maybe for you. I learned yours in four days.”

“What?” Cloud demanded. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“When Nero covered your Saturday show, he…performed your routine,” Andrea answered, looking uncomfortable.

Cloud’s eyes flashed with anger as he turned on Nero. “That routine belongs to me! I don’t want you ruining my reputation, by fucking it up in front of my audience!”

Nero tossed his black hair. “I think what you’re really worried about is that I’ll ruin your reputation by doing it better than you. Which I did.”

“Andrea!” Cloud said, appealing vaguely to their boss.

“I didn’t authorize it. Nero took the initiative to do it on his own,” Andrea explained. “And while it wasn’t what I would call better, it was very good. That at least shows that he can learn quickly enough for the two of you to perform together, for the audition. Which you will be doing. So I suggest you get used to it. I want you both on stage, ready to start working on a new routine, first thing in the morning.”

There was a lot more arguing, pleading, and bargaining, along with a heavy dose of sniping, between Cloud and Nero, but Andrea stood firm, and eventually, the two dancers had no choice but to go away and stew about it.

The session in the morning (Honeybee morning, which meant noon) was more of the same, and nothing worth mentioning was accomplished. The next day's session went slightly better, but the one the day after that was a regression toward the mean. They butted heads about costuming and stage design, couldn’t agree on anything, insulted each other about sixty times, and wound up giving Andrea such a headache, that he ended the meeting an hour early and went back to his office, presumably to rethink his life choices.

When Cloud suggested they keep working, Nero rolled his eyes and walked away, which was just fine with Cloud. Not even pretending to be dissatisfied with getting out of that unpleasant task, for the day, he quickly escaped to the bao place and treated himself to a basket, while he worked on returning some of his messages.

First, he sent one to Vincent, thanking him again for the lovely trip, telling him to send Cid his best regards, and reminding him to update him, if he found out how the queen ‘dealt with’ the princess. Next, he sent one to Reeve, saying he was looking forward to seeing him soon, and asking if he should wear anything specific.

Finally, he sent one to Tseng, saying there was no need for President Shinra to send a helicopter, since they’d actually made an appointment in advance, like adults, and thus he would have plenty of time to get there, on his own. Tseng replied with a middle finger emoji. His work messages now taken care of, Cloud replied to Zack.

Strife: movie and food sounds good. you free tonight?

He didn’t expect to get a message back right away, but the phone vibrated before he’d even set it down.

Zakku: awesome! yeah i’m free! anything you like or don’t like eating?

Strife: you pick. something casual though i don’t want to dress up

Zakku: got it i know just the place! what kind of movies you like?

Strife: anything but weepy melodramas

Zakku: the cinema in the tower is always playing all kinds of stuff. let’s just choose one when we get there. should i come pick you up?

Strife: no i live in sector 6. i’ll take the train up just tell me when

Zakku: oh why didn’t you say so? i can meet you down there instead if you want. there’s a lot to do in the undercity too!

Strife: i’d rather go up. i’m kind of sick of everything down here

Zakku: cool! that means i can still take you to that place to eat. tower entrance at 2100?

Strife: i’ll be there

SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair was a genuinely upbeat and optimistic person. He was well-adjusted, had loving and supportive parents, and despite being generally aware of his strength, good looks, and high status, he was not vain. Instead, he had a rare healthy balance of humility and self-confidence.

However, the moment he caught sight of the little, spiky-haired blonde, striding purposefully across the square, to meet him, all of that flew out the window, and he immediately felt ungainly and out of his depth.

Zack had courted and been courted by extremely attractive people of all genders, but none even came close to comparing with the tiny, freckled blonde, with the sharp blue eyes and even sharper tongue. He’d simply never met anyone like Cloud Strife.

He was small and slender, and so beautiful, it made Zack’s chest feel tight and achy. But there was also something indefinable about him, too. A kind of strength that couldn’t be measured in weight lifted or fights won. A kind of grace that came with near-perfect mastery of oneself. He couldn’t help being fascinated.

In anticipation of their date, and because he was a naturally conscientious person, Zack had been at the entrance to Shinra Tower, at nine o’clock sharp, just like they’d agreed. As a result, he waited for Cloud for fifteen minutes, but Cloud was at the mercy of the train, so Zack had expected a bit of delay.

“Hey, Cloud!” he said brightly, when the young man approached. “Thanks for meeting me. I hope the ride up was ok.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Cloud replied, less brightly. “The train, you know.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m just glad it got you here as fast as it did. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Always,” Cloud smiled, already beginning to loosen up, under the influence of Zack’s warm and easygoing aura.

The ‘place’ Zack had talked about was on Loveless Avenue, but a bit off the main drag, on a side street. When he saw that it was a bar style mini-restaurant, with only four stools for seating, and was operated by one very old Gongagan man, Cloud knew he was in for some amazing food.

They wound up getting okonomiyaki and omuraisu to share, along with two full orders of takoyaki, for which the place was apparently quite renowned. Zack and the old man bantered back and forth, while they watched him cook, and another couple soon arrived and took the other two seats, so the atmosphere was lively and convivial.

The food was perfect, especially for the brisk weather, being hot and hearty homestyle fare. Cloud was full before he was even halfway through his own half, but Zack was more than happy to pick up his slack, and even looked as if he could stand to eat a bit more.

When they were finished eating, Cloud didn’t insult Zack and make things awkward by pretending he was going to pay for himself. He merely bowed his appreciation to the old man, and then thanked Zack sweetly for the meal, as they departed. He could tell Zack was impressed, with this basic bit of etiquette, which made him smile inwardly. As a professional, he at least knew how to behave himself on a date.

When they got to the cinema, in the Midgaria Mall, there were three movies to choose from, that were currently seating. It was between Meet Cute II: Whole Latte Love, Sayonara my Samurai, and Mega-Bahamut vs. Ultra-Behemoth. The correct choice was obvious, to anyone with two brain cells to rub together.  

“Concessions?” Cloud asked.

“Hell yeah! Popcorn, hot dogs, slushies, candy!” Zack said eagerly.

“You just ate half a truckload of takoyaki. Are you seriously still hungry?” Cloud laughed, poking his (flawless washboard) stomach.

“It’s the SOLDIER treatment, man,” Zack pleaded, as he defended his midsection. “We need like, three times as much food as a regular person of equivalent body mass.”

“Is that true?”

“Yep. That’s why our meals are subsidized,” Zack said gravely. “They can’t pay us enough to feed ourselves.”

“Ok, now I know you’re bullshitting. Hurry up and get your snacks. We’re gonna miss the exposition, and then how will we follow the plot?”

Snacks were duly gotten, and they even managed to find seats without some tall jackass in a hat sitting in front of Cloud, which was an extremely noteworthy occurrence and absolutely worth mentioning, as any petitely inclined person can attest.

“What did you think?” Cloud asked, as they strolled out of the theater, at the end of the studio-approved two hours and eleven minutes.

“Eh, it was alright,” Zack shrugged. “I just wish the CGI didn’t look so fake. The first Meet Cute was better.”

“Yeah, the quality really tanked. So much for the Meet Cute-iverse.”

“So, um. You want to get going, or do you maybe…want to hang out at my place?”

Cloud made a doubtful face. “Don’t you live in like, barracks, or something?”

“Nope. Firsts get our own apartments. Nothing too fancy, but they’re way nicer than the dorms the Seconds and Thirds have to live in. And you don’t even want to know how the troopers live.”

“Alright, sure. I’d love to see your place.”

Zack’s apartment was on the secure 60th floor of Shinra Tower, in a quiet low-lit hallway, with brass numbers on the doors, of which there were only four. Inside, the apartment was astonishingly spacious, but otherwise, very much a young, single man’s living space.

In the living room, there was a huge flatscreen, several different game consoles, and various controllers, sitting all over the cabinet below the television. The coffee table was strewn with what appeared to be training manuals, and a few tech magazines. On one wall, there were posters from martial arts movies and bands, and on the other, a single, ten-foot-tall poster, featuring the world-famous First SOLDIER, Genesis Rhapsodos.

Cloud wasn’t going to ask about it, but it occurred to him that Zack might actually know the elusive, stunningly beautiful war hero, whose valiant and highly publicized deeds of heroism continually sent the entirety of Midgar into paroxysms of Pro-Shinra fervor. If the man was Zack’s friend, it seemed a little weird to have a poster of him on the wall.

“Uh, haha. Genesis hung that up,” Zack said, seeing Cloud looking at it. “He said it’s for inspiration. And also that if I take it down, he’ll make me do seven-thousand squats.”

“You two are friends, then?” Cloud said, trying to sound casual.

“Well. Yeah,” Zack laughed. “There are only three Firsts. We’ve all worked together for years.”

“Who’s the other one?”

“Angeal Hewley. He’s my mentor.”

“Why haven’t I heard of him? Or you, for that matter.”

“Shinra doesn’t want us in the spotlight. Genesis is the face of the program, so they direct all the publicity toward him.”

“That doesn’t seem fair to you two.”

Zack shook his head. “It’s not fair to Genesis. Angeal and me get to just do our jobs and live our lives. The whole world watches every single thing he does. People talk about him all the time, like they know him and have a right to have opinions about his work, and even his personal life. It’s pretty hard on him.”

“I’m glad he has a friend like you, then. You seem to care about him a lot.”

“I’d do anything for either of those two,” Zack said fervently. “They’re my best friends in the world.”

Cloud went over to the far wall, which was just a massive window, looking out over the city lights and the eerie-green glow of the reactors. It wasn’t as high up as Reeve’s office or penthouse, or anywhere near the president’s rooftop office, but it was still on the 60th floor, which wasn’t bad at all.

“Awesome view, isn’t it?” Zack said proudly.

Cloud nodded. “I live on the third floor of a tiny building. My window just looks out over the dirty street. It has a fire escape, though. The neighborhood cats like to sleep on it, when it’s warm out.”

“Aw, man. I wish I could have a cat.”

“You can’t?”

“No pets allowed on the SOLDIER floors. Probably better, anyway. I’m gone so much, I’d have to get a pet-sitter all the time. Poor thing would probably forget me.”

Cloud looked up at him. They were standing very close together, now. “What color were your eyes, before you were a SOLDIER?”

Zack smiled and leaned even closer. “You can’t guess?”

“Hm…grey?”

“Nope. Boring old brown, like everyone in Gongaga.”

“No one has brown eyes, in Nibelheim. I guess that’s why I’ve always liked them the best.”

“You don’t like my eyes how they are, now?”

“I do, in fact. They’re the first thing I noticed, about you. I mean, after the huge sword.”

Zack’s hands were sneakily slipping around his waist, so Cloud hooked a finger into the waistband of his pants and pulled him the rest of the way into a kiss. What a kiss. Goddess. Zack was devastatingly good at it. Gentle and tender at first, then increasingly heated and playful. Cloud could practically see his tail wagging, when he carried him to his bedroom and pounced on him.

“You want to be on top, or you want me to be?” he asked, as he peeled off Cloud’s underwear.

“You top.”

“Cool. If you ever feel like changing it up, just say the word,” Zack grinned. “I'm a switch-hitter.”

While he was saying this, he skinned out of his own underwear, and his big, gorgeous dick bounced free. Dicks did tend to be rather buoyant, in that state, but Cloud could have sworn there was an extra measure of spritely springiness to it, reflective of its owner’s personality.  

They started face-to-face, and Cloud couldn’t keep his eyes or his hands off Zack’s cut-marble pecs and abs. Even without the waist armor and pauldrons to enhance it, he had the perfect, inverse-triangle body shape, so iconic to Shinra’s elite SOLDIERs.

“C—Cloud…fuck. You feel so good, baby,” Zack panted, pushing his thighs higher and wider, as he rocked into him. “I want to fuck you hard. Can I?”

Cloud nodded, biting his bottom lip eagerly.

Naturally, Zack was as good as his word, and fucked him hard. Not like a wild beast like Vincent, and certainly not with Sephiroth’s savage precision. And a lot less emotional and intense than Reeve. His energy was more like…a puppy, to be honest. Enthusiastic, mischievous, and absolutely relentless.

Fortunately for Cloud, however, SOLDIER stamina was impressive, but it wasn’t quite demonic. Cloud was extremely athletic himself, and thus had no trouble keeping up with Zack, in that regard. He was also sure he had never laughed and talked this much during sex, in his life. They were romping around together, purely for the joy of it. Sex was fun, and it should be.

Zack, well-behaved puppy that he was, politely pulled out and came on Cloud’s back or belly, every time, without having to be asked. He even went and got him a damp towel and a bottle of water, when they'd finished.

“Cloud…ah. How do I even say this,” he said, when they were lounging around in bed, afterward. “I really like you. Like, a lot. You’re so cool and beautiful and fun to be with. I can’t even tell you how amazing you are. I’d like to keep doing this, if you’re into it. But I owe it to you to be up front, and tell you that I can’t be, like…reliable. I go away on missions without warning, all the time, and I’ll never be able to tell you when, or where, or for how long. I might get hurt, or even die. And no matter how much I like you…my job has to come first.”

Cloud suppressed a smile. “Zack. Are you trying to tell me you can’t be my boyfriend?”

Zack looked painfully awkward. “Uh…”

“It’s ok,” Cloud laughed, coming to his rescue. “You wouldn’t want to be my boyfriend anyway, trust me. I can’t tell you about what I do, either. And my job comes first, too. We’re kind of in the same boat.”

“Didn’t you say service industry? I thought you worked at a café, or something,” Zack said, squinting at him.

Cloud arched an eyebrow. “Do you really think I work at a café, looking like this?”

“Well. Not when you say it like that, I don’t.”

“The point is, we can’t be boyfriends. But I like you and you like me. What should we do about that?”

“I guess…we should just have a good time together, when we can? And not worry about it too much?”

Cloud was so relieved to have this understanding between them arranged so easily, he very nearly teared up. “I’d like that a lot.”

“You still want to spend the night, though, right?”

“You think I’d rather ride the train to the undercity, at three in the morning?”

Much to Cloud’s amusement, Zack was a perfect gentleman in every respect, letting him shower first, giving him an (oversized) set of pajamas to wear, and even running downstairs to the all-night drugstore, to buy him a toothbrush. When they got into bed, the giant puppy wrapped his big arms around Cloud, nuzzled into the back of his neck, and instantly fell asleep. It was disgustingly adorable.

When Cloud woke up, apparently alone, in a strange place and with a painfully stiff dick, it took his brain a moment to catch up, because it was attempting to comprehend why he was wearing pajamas, and why in the name of Odin an adult human being’s bed would be covered in blue jersey sheets.

Then he recalled that this was his big puppy’s place, and there was no accounting for the taste of males in their twenties, when left to their own devices. A cursory search revealed that the puppy in question was indeed, not in residence, but Cloud did find a message on his phone.

Zakku: sorry to bail on you like that. got called up for a mission. told ya it happens a lot. 😕 i don’t have much there except cereal but help yourself to whatever and stay as long as you want. i’ll call you as soon as i get back! 💙 

Zakku: ps the door auto-locks and i won’t be back for at least a week so don’t forget anything when you go! 😄

Ugh. He was so fucking sweet and earnest, it made Cloud’s teeth ache. How could a person like Zack possibly be one of Shinra’s elite war machines? SOLDIERs First Class were supposedly human atom-bombs, sent in to destroy large numbers of enemies—be they monsters, automata, human beings, or otherwise—when things were too dangerous for the regular military.

Cloud glanced at the copper-haired hero in the poster, on his way out. It seemed like those things were too much for even the top level SOLDIERs to handle, sometimes. People said Genesis Rhapsodos was the greatest warrior the Planet had ever known, and that there had still been times when even he barely survived whatever hell Shinra sent him into.

An image flashed unbidden before Cloud’s eyes, of kind, thoughtful, cheerful Zack, in a war zone, with smoke and carnage all around. Under heavy fire. Covered in blood. Fighting for his life. Possibly even losing that fight. His throat constricted and his eyes stung with threatened tears.

Ok, no more of that. He shook himself and pushed those maudlin thoughts away. Sure, he liked this guy, but there was no sense worrying about what might or might not happen to him, in the future. Cloud’s work wasn’t exactly safe, either. All they could do was make their choices and take their chances, just like everyone else.

He was so wrapped up in his meditations, he hardly glanced at the group of white-coated scientists, who got on the elevator on the next floor. He just pressed himself into the corner, like usual, and kept his hood up and his head down. The elevator lurched, a little, as it started moving again, and Cloud gave a jolt, at a sudden, sharp prick, in his upper arm.

“What the fuck!” he said, grabbing it reflexively as he looked up.

One of the scientists was facing him, drawing his thin, gnarled hand back. In it, was one of those auto-injector syringes. It was that fucking weirdo with the round glasses! The one who lanced his finger in that lab, the first time he was here!

“You again! What the hell did you…you do to…me…” Cloud’s words slurred together as a wave of nausea swept over him, and his vision began to tilt sideways.

“We meet again, Nibelheim,” glasses-weirdo said, pushing up his weirdo glasses, with a positively reptilian smile. “I’ve been attempting to entice you to stop by the lab for a while, my boy. You’re a bit more slippery than I expected.”

Cloud tried to swing a fist at the bastard, but his arm wouldn’t go. His head weighed about eight tons and his legs had turned into cooked pasta. He staggered forward and would have collapsed on the man, but two of the other scientists caught him by the arms and held him upright.

Glasses-weirdo looked extremely pleased, which did not seem to bode well for anyone not interested in being vivisected. “Well, no matter. You’re here now. Take him to Exam-B. I’ll be in shortly. Full restraints and mako sedation.”

Mako sedation? What the fuck? Cloud’s whirling brain didn’t think that sounded very good, but he couldn’t make his mouth open, to object.

“But, professor, he’s a civilian!” a scientist objected, for him. “Surely…excessive for…like this.”

Cloud struggled to understand what she was saying, but their voices were fading in and out and becoming increasingly garbled, as his grasp on consciousness began to slip.

“Ha!” glasses-weirdo cawed. “Underestimate…at your…my specimen…as you’re told!”

Whatever the other scientist’s reply was, Cloud never knew. The cold, sticky, heaviness of the poison had crawled up his spine and poured into his head like sludge, sucking him down into unconsciousness. But he thought he saw something, as the blackness closed over his eyes. It was a face. A face from a photograph someone had shown him…

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY 

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING ELSE TO SAY the correct choice was Mega-Bahamut vs. Ultra-Behemoth

When the two walked the red carpeted receiving line together—one tall and black haired, all in blood red, and the other petite and golden-haired, in shining white—the effect was extremely striking.

The Valentine Patriarch was a prominent figure, so the whole place was immediately abuzz with curiosity, regarding the origin of the young unknown, who had managed to endear himself to the famously prickly and unapproachable man. No matter how much they asked one another, though, all anyone found out for certain was that no one else seemed to know who he was, either. Naturally, speculation ran rampant.

“I heard someone say he was sent to the Valentines as a child concubine, and they’ve been raising him in isolation, until he was old enough to accompany the patriarch,” said a young lady, behind her silk fan.

“That’s ridiculous. Who has concubines anymore,” another sniffed.

“Just look at that blonde hair and those blue eyes,” a third remarked wistfully. “I bet he’s a Shinra scion, who defected to the Valentine side, for love of the dashing and handsome Lord Valentine.”

“Ah, but isn’t Lord Valentine your fiancée, Princess Kyrie?” said a tall, lilac-clad young woman, with a hawk nose and a patrician air about her, who appeared to be the leader of this clique. “What ever is he doing escorting a young man to the ball? Shouldn’t he have come with you?”

The princess, who was standing nearby, blushed as pink as her gown and shot the lilac girl a glare.

“A lot of unmarried gentlemen attend with male friends, instead of a date, it doesn’t mean anything,” one of her own retinue retorted, in her stead.

“I heard he’s also refused to see her highness, even once, since he’s been visiting Wutai,” one of the lilac girl’s followers rejoined, with a pout of sympathy. “I do hope he hasn’t had second thoughts.”

“Lord Valentine is the head of a very important clan. There are plenty of perfectly valid reasons he might be indisposed,” another of the princess’ faction defended.

“Too true, too true,” the first young lady tittered, fluttering her fan. “If I had a lover who looked like that blonde boy, I’d certainly never leave the house.”

The lilac girl and her companions all laughed merrily at that, while the infuriated princess turned on her heel and flounced off, with her retinue in tow. Her intended had already embarrassed her, by declining to accompany her as her escort, and now he even had the gall to show up with a man. That was tantamount to deliberate public humiliation! Not that there was anything she couldn’t forgive him for, but this would require a very good explanation.

Not even the most colorful among the stories about the mysterious boy, that were invented and repeated that evening, touched anywhere close to the truth—that he was a gymnast turned cabaret-dancer prostitute, from the backwoods of Nibelheim, via the Midgar undercity slums.

His aristocratic good looks figured heavily into this, of course, but most convincing of all, was the fact that the boy was so graceful and at ease, around all these rich and powerful people. No one who hadn’t been born and raised among the gentry could be so effortlessly charming, when confronted with the rank and class of several nations.

The more those envious people watched the little upstart, hoping for him to slip up, the more they found that his manner was flawless—neither stiffly formal nor overly familiar, neither obsequious nor arrogant, and his face carried no hint of either trepidation or over-eagerness to please. If one didn’t know better, they’d think he was hosting guests in his own home, so impervious he seemed, to the relentless scrutiny.

What they did not know they were seeing, of course, was the carefully crafted stage persona of a highly skilled, veteran performer, who spent his life as a professional chameleon, shifting flawlessly into whatever role the situation required of him. Had they known the real Cloud, they would have been less baffled by his unflappable composure.

This was, after all, the young man who had fearlessly slapped President Shinra across the face, in his own office, who dared to be contrary and demanding with the Valentine Patriarch, and who was able to weather the violent and volatile temper of the psychotic, drug-addicted leader of the Remnants, unscathed.

Far from being afraid that a few rich people with fancy titles stuck to their names would judge him, Cloud was thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to trot out his rarely used urbane-dandy character (which he had developed for a client with some very specific tastes, and was based loosely on several of the more famous homosexual socialites of the prior century).

Everything about his mannerisms, turns of phrase, and costume, was tailored specifically to fit this character. He had even had a silver cigarette lighter and matching case, filled with long, black cigarettes borrowed from Vincent, to complete the impression. Thus, what Cloud performed, the people at the ball saw—which was a sophisticated young elite, in his native environment.

The formal presentation to the Wutaian monarch was far briefer and less harrowing than Cloud had expected. King Godo was a bluff and gregarious old man, who had too many people clamoring for his attention, to be overly inquisitive regarding the young beauty on the arm of his guest of honor.

Vincent had just been greeted by some important whoevers of whatever country, when Cloud heard a shriek, and turned to see a young lady hurrying over, pushing people out of her way in her haste. He was instantly spellbound by this creature, who appeared to be a mass of contradictions, from head to toe.

Her dress was a poofy, pink confection of satin and flounces and ribbons, much like a little girl might wear in a fairytale, only the bodice was extraordinarily low-cut. As she trotted over, her ample, half-exposed bosoms bounced and jolloped in such a way, that it seemed it was only the will of the heavenly Dao that prevented them escaping entirely.

She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, and was pretty enough, but her features were somewhat spoiled by her overdone makeup (in the grand tradition of teenaged girls attempting to look older), and the gaudy jeweled tiara, that topped her stiffly curled hair, was more ridiculous than enchanting.  

She shoved right past Cloud, as if he wasn’t there, and stood in front of Vincent, all bright smiles and blushing cheeks, and big, doe-eyes only for him. Cloud concealed a smirk behind his champagne glass.

“Vincent, Vincent! I had a feeling I’d see you here!” the girl enthused, as if it were a chance meeting, and not a party given specifically in his honor. “Agnes said you might not come, but I was sure she was wrong, and here you are!”

“Your highness,” Vincent replied, with an infinitesimally slight dip of his chin, smoothly withdrawing his hand, as she attempted to grasp it. “I trust her majesty the queen is well. Is she not with you?”

Cloud’s smile widened imperceptibly. If he had greeted someone the way this girl just did, and received a response like the one she’d gotten from Vincent, he’d have left the party straightaway and committed seppuku, to spare his ancestors the shame he’d brought on them.

This young lady, however, had a much thicker face than Cloud, and didn’t even appear to notice the older man’s frosty reception of her effulgent greeting. It was almost impressive, the way she let Vincent’s barely concealed disdain roll off her, like water from a duck’s back.

“Oh, you know grandma,” she said breezily. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere, talking politics with some councilman or another. Old people are so boring, who knows they even come to these things. Parties are for fun and dancing! Speaking of dancing, have you—”

“Your highness, allow me to introduce my date,” Vincent interrupted, gesturing around the animated young woman, to Cloud. “This is Cloud Strife. Cloud, Her Royal Highness Princess Kyrie of Junon.”

“An honor, your highness,” Cloud replied, with a languid half-bow, as the princess shot him a look of mingled disgust and resentment, then turned back to Vincent, without acknowledging him.

“What’s going on, here, Vincent?” she demanded, sounding like a wronged wife. “Who is this boy?”

“His name is Cloud Strife, your highness,” Vincent repeated, while Cloud looked amused and took a sip of his champagne.

The girl’s face quickly worked through a couple expressions, then she settled on a smile, playfully tapping Vincent’s arm with her fan. “Vincent, you goose, this is the royal palace. You can’t have your footmen hanging around, in the main ballroom. There’s a banquet set up for the help in the back courtyard.”

“Cloud is my date, your highness,” Vincent said, unperturbed, reaching past her to take Cloud’s hand and pull him to his side. “It was lovely seeing you again, but I’m afraid we’ll have to catch up some other time. I was just on my way to greet the delegation from Kalm. Give her majesty my best.”

Before the princess could even think of a response, her intended husband had absconded, with the blonde boy on his arm.

She planted her hands on her hips and very nearly stamped her foot in pique, but she noticed several people glancing over, and murmuring amongst themselves. Eyes reddening and bottom lip trembling, she hurried away to rejoin her friends.

Within a minute, she had gathered her loyal supporters in the ladies’ powder room, where she sobbed pitifully while she gave them a full (and somewhat embroidered) account of how she’d suffered, at the hands of the scheming, blonde mate-sniper.

“Lord Valentine is obviously just playing around,” one of her friends soothed. “It’s not like he’s going to marry a man. The clan will never allow it.”

“True,” another agreed. “He can’t give him children, and the clan patriarch has to produce heirs. Everyone knows that.”

“Besides, you’re the crown-princess,” a third chimed in. “That boy is just some nobody. Lord Valentine will get bored and toss him away, soon enough.”

“You really think so?” the princess sniffled, as one of the girls carefully dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief.

They all nodded enthusiastically.

“All men have their little dalliances, before they settle down. It’s nothing to worry too much about.”

“My father was notorious, before he married mother.”

“My aunt says the more they play before you marry them, the less they’ll stray afterward.”

Under their coaxing and ministrations, the princess began to feel a little better, but when she recalled the smug look on that blonde’s infuriating, freckled face, her anger surged up again, and she twisted her fan until it snapped in her hands.

“This is all that little slut’s fault,” she huffed, throwing it away. “How dare he cozy up to my fiancée! How dare he take what belongs to me! The future queen of Junon!”

“You know what we should do, is teach him a lesson,” said the girl who was fixing the princess’ hair.

The princess perked up. “Oh? What kind of lesson?”

“You remember my cousin, Gregor, right?”

“The one who was accused of excessive hazing, by all those boys, at Cheltenham Academy?”

“Yep, that’s him. He’s back from school, for winter holiday, and he and his friends are here, at the ball. All you’d have to do is cry a little, and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to help knock that hussy down a peg, for you.”

Another girl made a face. “You heard what they did, right, princess? Are you sure you want to go so far?”

“True. I don’t want them to really hurt him,” the princess said.

“Oh, they won’t, they won’t,” her friend quickly assured her. “They’ll just humiliate him, so Lord Valentine won’t want to have anything to do with him, anymore. We’ll see if he dares to be so full of himself, then.”

“Well…alright,” the princess agreed. “Let’s go find Gregor.”

After they’d walked the social gauntlet, for a while, Cloud began to lag, and get a touch pink in the cheeks. The ballroom was crowded, and despite it being early winter, the Wutai weather was quite a bit warmer and more humid than a northern lad was accustomed to. Vincent noticed his condition right away, and promptly led him out to one of the balconies, to cool off.

“What do you think of the ball, little devil? Is it not as dull and tedious as I warned?” he said, with a rueful smile.

“I’m actually having a pretty good time,” Cloud replied staunchly, as he opened the lapels of his frock coat and fanned himself with them. “It’s just a lot warmer in there, than I expected. This brocade is very good at preserving heat.”

Vincent leaned on the railing and lit a long, black cigarette, eyeing his young lover appreciatively. “You can take off the coat, you know. No one will mind.”

“What, and be seen in such an indecent state, in front of all the gentry?” Cloud gasped, feigning horror. “My reputation in society would be ruined! How would I find a noble husband, after that!”

Vincent chuckled. “Never fear, my little tuft hunter. I would marry you, and then no one would dare to offend you, no matter what your reputation.”

Cloud’s cheeks were already two little apples, from the heat, so Vincent didn’t notice that they turned slightly pinker. “Ah, ha ha. All joking aside, that princess of yours is certainly a piece of work. How old is she, anyway?”

“Nineteen.”

“Wow, really?” Cloud frowned. “I wouldn’t have guessed a day above sixteen.”

Vincent nodded his understanding. “Her grandmother dotes on her, so she has been sheltered and spoiled, and has never faced any adversity. Unless she does some maturing, before the time comes, I’m afraid Junon will pay the price, for putting such a ruler on their throne.”

“Oh, I see. Queen Grandma is hoping you’ll marry her, so that your influence will do her some good, as far as growing up. And even if it doesn’t, Junon will be able to rely on Valentine military power, as a deterrent, in case granddaughter pisses off any other nations. Is that close to right?”

“Perhaps you should go into statecraft, little devil. It appears you are a natural.”

Cloud drew himself up proudly. “Well, not to brag, but I have watched a lot of Wutaian palace dramas.”

Just then, a servant came to say that Her Majesty Queen Mireille asked for Valentine-sama’s company, in the east gallery, at his earliest convenience.

“Go ahead, I’ll be fine,” Cloud said, when Vincent hesitated. “I need to cool off for at least another ten minutes, before I’ll be ready to face the heat again, anyway.”

“Still, I don’t like leaving you alone,” Vincent frowned. “What if you are swept off your feet by some charming prince, while I’m away?”

“Then you’ll just have to challenge him to a duel and win me back. Go on. Don’t keep your Grandmother-in-law waiting.”

Pressing a kiss to Cloud’s hand, Vincent tore himself away and went off to attend the queen. Which was one of the weirdest things Cloud had ever experienced, on a date. Sure, he’d made President Shinra come on his dad’s desk and piss on a puppy training pad, and played somno-incest with Reeve, but having his date summoned away by real-life royalty was a new one.

He took one of his borrowed cigarettes from the silver case and lit it, then practiced leaning on the railing, trying to look carelessly cool, like Vincent. He felt he had it mostly down, but there was something to it he knew he wasn’t completely selling. Maybe you needed to be an actual old man to really project the kind of world-weary indifference, that made Vincent so captivating.

He was musing upon this, and watching his blue-white tobacco smoke curl up and waft away on the balmy night breeze, when there was a soft footstep behind him. Cloud’s spider-sense prickled and he tensed up to react, but in the next second, a throat was cleared.

“I beg your pardon, Strife-sama?”

Cloud turned to see a uniformed servant. “What is it?”

The young man bowed deeply. “Strife-sama, Valentine-sama requests your presence, right away. If the gentleman will please follow me, I will take you to him.”

“Sure, lead the way,” Cloud said, grinding out the cigarette butt, before he followed the servant inside.

They went through the main ballroom, his guide keeping to the fringes, so as not to drag him through the crowd, and then down a side passage, to a breezeway, which led across a courtyard, to another wing of the main building.

“What is he doing way out here?” Cloud asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Apologies, sir. I was only instructed to bring you to him,” the servant answered.

Cloud’s danger detection system was pinging faintly, but he chalked that up to his own paranoia, and unfamiliarity with the place. This wasn’t exactly a back-alley in the slums, anyway. It was the royal palace. It’s not like he was going to get mugged by a band of roving viscounts.

At length, the uniformed servant stopped at a door and bowed, as he opened it. Cloud stepped into the doorway and paused, frowning.

“Hey, it’s pitch dark in—” His sentence broke off abruptly, as several pairs of hands grabbed hold of him and dragged him roughly into the dark room.

A second later, a hand popped out, pushing a thick wad of bills into the servant’s hand. “You didn’t see anything. Now, get lost.”

The servant stuffed the cash into his pocket and practically ran away, across the courtyard. He felt terrible for tricking that pretty little blonde into going in there, with those thugs, but if he had refused, who knows what they’d have done to him. He was a literal nobody, and he couldn’t afford to lose this job, or worse, by offending the wrong people. At least this way, he got to keep all his limbs and make a little extra cash.

“Well, Vincent, here we are again,” the queen’s aged voice said, as he stepped into the east gallery. She was standing with her back to him, in front of the open windows, looking out over the palace gardens.

“Your Majesty,” Vincent replied, with a courtly bow.

“Don’t you ‘your majesty’ me, you old fox. We aren’t enemies, yet,” she snorted, turning to peer up at him in the bright light of the moon. “Good goddess, you get younger every time I see you. Where the hell do you get off looking like a damned kid, when the rest of us geezers are halfway to being mistaken for escaped mummies?”

“You know I can’t help it, Mireille. I never wanted to stay young forever.”

“You could have the decency to dye your hair grey. Or at least wear spectacles, or something.”

Vincent smiled. “I am pleased to find you are well, and in good spirits, my friend.”

“Yes, yes, I’m as healthy as a horse,” she said, waving her hand. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? What’s the meaning of you parading some cheap little doxy around, in front of all the gentry and heads of state, tonight?”

“That young man happens to be quite important to me,” Vincent said mildly. “Please don’t subject him to baseless insults.”

“Baseless? Ha!” The queen croaked out a laugh. “You think I don’t know exactly who and what he is? My intel agents aren’t that lazy. I knew all about him before he set foot on Wutaian soil.”

“As expected of my old friend,” Vincent said, dipping his chin.

“What the hell are you doing publicly associating with a whore, Vincent? You’re that determined to drag your family’s good name through the mud? What would your daddy think?”

Vincent’s smile remained tranquil, but his scarlet eyes glittered coldly. “My family’s good name means even less to me than my father’s opinion, Mireille. And the opinions of the gentry and heads of state rate lower, still. Are you not at all embarrassed, berating and disparaging a commoner, who is little more than a child, on your granddaughter’s behalf?”

The queen’s face worked, for a moment, as she tried to muster some royal indignation, but she quickly dropped the charade and her shoulders slumped. “Look, Vincent, I gave up on the marriage scheme, when Kyrie got old enough to start displaying her personality. She’s not the type to catch the interest of a man like you. She’s obstinate, impulsive, inconsiderate, and she only cares about being rich and pretty, just like her idiot father.

“Problem is, the damn fool thinks she’s in love with you, and won’t take no for an answer. You know I can’t bear to disappoint her, because of her mama, so I…I promised her I’d ask you again. Only, she got it into her head that I promised her you’d accept, and she’s been building her castles in the sky, since then.”

“Mireille, Mireille,” Vincent sighed. “A marriage will not solve your problems, and continued overindulgence will only make everything worse. You will live for a good long time, so take the opportunity to instill some discipline into the girl. I know that she seems hopeless, now, but if she’s anything like her grandmother, she has the capacity to mature into the wise and compassionate monarch, that Junon needs.”

“Hmph, you old flatterer,” the queen groused, pretending to be displeased. “Fine, I’ll take your advice, as best I can. I only wish some of that Valentine austerity had rubbed off on me, back when Grimoire was alive. Maybe I’d have been a better grandmother. Or at least a stricter one.”

“My father’s aloofness and austerity did not make me the person I am. You are already better parent to Kyrie, than my father was to me.”

“Alright, enough of that. Tell me about this little blonde, who’s so important to you. I never thought I’d see the day you’d open that cast-iron heart back up. Not after Lucy.”

Cloud, who had been at risk of very real bodily harm from many powerful men, including Sephiroth, Tseng, Rufus Shinra, and various others, over the course of his career, was expecting a lot worse than what he saw, when the lights went on, in the isolated storage room.

What he had expected, was Wutaian ninjas, or assassins from Junon, or Turks (on the off chance that Tseng had changed his mind and decided to kidnap him back to Midgar), or even Sephiroth, who seemed to have the ability to appear wherever he wanted, irrespective of the laws of time and space. What he got, was four not very bright-looking boys, aged between seventeen and nineteen, in tuxedos that seemed ill fitting and uncomfortable, despite the fact that they’d been tailored.

They were pretty big and brawny, obviously of the sports-inclined ilk, and two looked like they’d had more than a few broken noses. One of them had a cricket bat and one had brass knuckles, but those were all the weapons Cloud could see. They were just high-school kids.

“Is this all of you?” he asked, doubtfully, as they shoved him into the center of the room.

“What, you want more?” the dark-haired leader smirked. “I knew this one was a fucking slut.”

“Mh-hm. Just like those pretty little third-form fags, at school,” said the largest one, who had curly, fire-red hair.

One of them went to the door and made a big show of placing the old-fashioned locking bar and chain, intending to demonstrate to their captive that escape was impossible.

“Don’t bother calling for help, either,” the leader informed him. “There’s no one around to hear.”

“So you’re prep-school bullies, huh? I thought those only existed in movies and BL manga,” Cloud said, fascinated. “Wow, is that an actual cricket bat? Did you come right out of central casting?”

“Keep talking, faggot,” cricket guy grinned, slapping the heavy, wooden bat into his palm. “Every word outta your mouth is a tooth I’m gonna knock out, before I skullfuck you.”

Cloud squinted an eye at him. “You want to force me to suck your dick, and I’m the faggot? How does that make sense?”

“Shut up, slut!” the leader growled. “We all know you’re using your ass to worm your way into the Valentine family. Well, let’s see if that prissy vamp wants you anymore, after he sees what you do on your knees, for all of us.”

“I don’t have to hold the camera the whole time, right?” said the one who had locked the door, and who now had his phone out, apparently intending to record their criminal activity. “I want to do him, too.”

“I’ll take over for you, but I get to use his ass first,” the redhead leered, rubbing the bulge in the crotch of his trousers. “I’m already hard, just thinking about how he’s gonna squeal when I stick it in.”

The one with the brass knuckles laughed maliciously, seeing Cloud’s brow furrowed. “Finally getting scared, huh? Don’t worry, sugar. We’re gonna treat you right.”

“Hm? Scared?” Cloud blinked up at him, like he’d forgotten he was there. “No, it’s more like…out of my depth. See, I’ve never even been to high school. So, you’re going to regret this in ways I don’t have the vocabulary to properly express to educated young men, like you. Oh, I know. Maybe you could make use of those fine educations and help me think of some good words.”

“Enough talk, bitch,” cricket guy said, pointing the tip of his bat at Cloud. “Get on your knees, or we’ll put you on ‘em.”

“I bet you think that’s really intimidating,” Cloud replied pityingly. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it only works when the person saying it is actually scary. Not a soft little dumpling who’s barely off his mother’s tit.”

“You piece of shit whore! Fuck you!” the dumpling in question roared, rushing forward to swing the bat at Cloud’s head.

Cloud easily ducked under the clumsy attack, swept the boy’s legs with a whiplash kick, caught the bat midair, and brought it down with a hollow thud, on the back of his head.

It was all so fast, his cronies hardly had time to process what they were seeing, let alone react. Meanwhile, cricket guy curled up and started rolling around, howling like he was dying.

“What a fucking baby. I didn’t even hit you hard enough to crack your skull,” Cloud scoffed, stepping over his writhing body, toward his associates, who were suddenly looking a little green in the face. “Ok, who’s next? You all wanted a turn, right? What about you, red? Didn’t you want to hear some squealing?”

The redhead backed up hastily, stumbling over camera guy, who dropped his phone, shattering the screen. Knuckles guy had run to the door, but the lock bar and chain were too complicated for him to get open, before the blood-spattered cricket bat tapped the door in front of his face.

“You guys wanted to trap me in here with you,” Cloud said, with a deranged smile. “Now you’re trapped in here with me.”

The brass knuckles fell to the floor with a ringing clatter, as knuckles guy backed away from the little blonde, ash-white and visibly shaking with terror. “Y—your eyes! What the fuck is with your eyes, man! S—snake! Snake demon!”

Thanks to the forethought of the four would-be assailants, the servants on duty in that area of the palace had all been bribed or threatened to mind their own business, for a while. Thus, the cracks, thuds, crashes, wails, and screams that filled the storage room, for the next half hour or so, were heard by no one who paid the slightest bit of attention.

“Gross, there’s blood on my shoe.” Cloud scowled down at the redhead, whose face was so battered and swollen, the features were hardly distinguishable. “Vincent gave me these, you better hope it comes off.”

The boy gurgled out some pathetic, unintelligible noises, in reply.

“You’re right, they’re finished leather. Of course it will.”

So saying, Cloud bent down and ripped off the redhead’s cummerbund, which he used to carefully wipe the boot clean.

“Good as new. Thanks, red, you’re a lifesaver,” he said jauntily, dropping the soiled accessory on the boy’s supine person. “Oh, and give the princess my regards. I was in serious danger of getting bored, but you guys really livened up the evening. Sayonara, gentlemen.”

“Little devil, I apologize for leaving you for so long. The queen was in a rather chatty temper, this evening, and kept me longer than I intended,” Vincent said, when he returned to the balcony, to find Cloud exactly where he’d left him, seated idly on the railing, sipping a cocktail and smoking a cigarette.

Cloud smiled sweetly, looking like the purest sunlight and daisies in spring. “No sweat, I’ve been entertaining myself, just fine.”

Vincent leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, then drew away, frowning. “I smell blood.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not mine. I’m kind of over this party, though. Can we get out of here?”

“Mn. You read my mind.”

Vincent’s eye glowed like a small sun, when they were in the car on the way back to the Valentine ryokan, and Cloud told him what happened, with the four thugs and the storage room. He wanted to go back and raise (likely literal) hell, but Cloud soothed him with kisses and by stroking his hair, till his eyes drooped and he buried his face in the boy’s neck, purring like a big cat.

It did also help that Cloud had forced the boys to confess to what they did—and more importantly, who put them up to it—and recorded it on his phone camera, which recording he had already sent to Vincent, to do with as he pleased. Vincent sent the video right along to the queen, who only responded with, “I see. I will deal with her.”

“Hoo, boy,” Cloud shuddered. “I almost feel bad for your little princess, now.”

“You are my only little princess,” Vincent mumbled, muffled by Cloud’s collar.

“You’re purring like a cat, you know,” Cloud laughed. “Is that a demon thing?”

“It’s a Valentine thing, but it’s not related to the demon. It is rare, though. I only knew my father and grandfather to do it, aside from me.”

Unseen to Vincent, who was busy pressing his fangs gently into his lover’s soft neck, Cloud’s smile froze on his face. He knew exactly one other person, who purred like this, when his long hair was petted.

But it had to be a coincidence. There was absolutely no possibility that Sephiroth and Vincent were in any way related to one another. Was there? No. It would be insane to even suggest such a thing. It was definitely just a coincidence. A weird, weird coincidence.

Definitely.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY definitely

NEXT CHAPTER

“Glasses!” Cloud gasped, pointing accusingly at Reeve’s face. “And you didn’t even warn me!”

“Uh…sorry. Do you not like them?” said the understandably confused Reeve, reaching up, to take them off. 

“Nuh-uh! Don’t you dare!” 

Cloud kicked the door shut behind him, dropped his bag, and grabbed Reeve, dragging him into a kiss. Reeve was too startled to react for a second, then he gave a soft groan and leaned into it, letting his hands roam hungrily over Cloud’s taut little body, as they fumbled their way to the sofa and fell onto it, without breaking the kiss.

“I guess—I guess you like the glasses, then,” Reeve said breathlessly, when Cloud released him. 

“No fucking way, they’re flat-out cheating!” Cloud complained. “You’re already that hot, and you really have the nerve to pull out the sexy-dad glasses and sweater look? Rules violation, unfair play!”

Reeve chuckled. “Wow. No one’s ever said I look like a dad before.”

“Maybe not to your face. I bet a lot of little Shinra employees call you daddy behind your back.”

“You’re making me sound a lot more attractive than I really am. Trust me, there’s no way anyone at work thinks of me that way.”

“Oh, no. It’s just as I feared,” Cloud lamented, cupping Reeve’s face in his hands. “Overwork has fried your brain, and you’re living in a delusion where you’re not one of the sexiest men alive.”

“W—what?” Reeve stammered. “I’m not even close to one of the sexiest men alive. Especially not when men like you exist.”

“We don’t count.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. In the interest of fairness, athletic twinks have our own separate category. Otherwise, all other men would always lose to us.”

Reeve laughed again. “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

Cloud couldn’t help but smile, too. “You’re a lot happier when you’re not in that stuffy office. Speaking of which, I’m gonna go change into something a little more comfortable. That ok?”

“Yes, please. Make yourself at home. The bathroom is the third door, there. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, anything’s fine. Whatever you’re drinking.”

When Cloud returned from the bathroom, Reeve choked on his sip of wine, coughing and sputtering into a napkin. “Holy—holy shit! You can’t say I’m cheating, when you’re wearing that!”

“What, this old thing?” Cloud said innocently, while doing a little twirl, to demonstrate that the pink-lace short-shorts laced up in the back, with a pink ribbon. With the matching camisole and slippers, he was basically dressed like he was playing a teenaged girl in a naughty sleepover porn. 

“You said you wanted the girlfriend experience, so I dressed accordingly.”

“If I had a girlfriend who dressed like that, I’d never leave the house,” Reeve muttered. 

“So, what do you feel like doing tonight, honey-bunny?” Cloud crooned, accepting the glass of white wine Reeve was holding out to him. “Want to snuggle up on the couch and pretend to watch a movie?”

“I, uh…yeah. That sounds good,” Reeve said awkwardly.

“Or, how about I give you a neck rub, and you tell me about your day.”

“Sure.”

Cloud narrowed his eyes. “Don’t just agree to whatever I say. I’m here to make you happy. If there’s something you want, I want to hear it.”

“No, no I don’t—well, maybe. Ok, yes. But it’s kind of…embarrassing.” 

“Good news. If there’s anyone you don’t need to be embarrassed telling about it, it’s me. You’re the one who told me sex workers are like therapists. So, treat me like that. A safe space.”

“Hoo boy.” Reeve passed a hand across his forehead. “It’s just, I know it probably isn’t a cool fantasy to have, and I’d never want to do anything like that in real life, I just—”

“Hey,” Cloud interrupted, taking his hand to squeeze it. “Every kind of fantasy is ok. It doesn’t matter what you get turned on by. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Reeve looked unconvinced. “Are you…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You could tell me you daydream about fucking cartoon hedgehogs, and I still wouldn’t judge you. As long as it’s just fantasy, or you express it as part of consensual play between adults, literally anything is ok.”

“Well…alright.” Reeve took a deep breath and let it out. “Here goes. I would like it if you could pretend to…to be asleep, while I touch you and…do things to you.”

Cloud blinked. “Is that really what you were worried about telling me? Then it’s no sweat, I’ve done plenty of somno play.”

“Somno?”

“Somnophilia. Wanting to fuck someone who’s unconscious.” 

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t know there was a real term, for it. But there’s more. I—I also want you to ‘wake up’ partway through, while I’m already inside you, and, uh…”

“You want me to struggle? Beg you to stop? I can cry, if you want.”

Reeve squinted an eye at him. “You’re not nearly as weirded out by this as I expected.”

“Reeve, my sweet, summer wolfman,” Cloud sighed, patting his shoulder. “This is one of the least weird things I’ve been asked to do.”

“Really? Wait, wolfman?”

“Yeah, really. I had a client once who wanted me to soak in a cold bath, first, and play dead while he fucked me. I got a married couple who wanted me to pretend to be their kid, and walk in on them fucking. One wanted to be a new stepmother, and I was the horny stepson who took advantage of her, while dad was out of town. I have multiple current clients who like to be put on leashes and treated like dogs. I even have these four brothers who make me cook food for the three younger ones, then the older one fucks me in another room, while they eat.”

Reeve looked appropriately astonished. “My thing probably sounds pretty tame, then.”

“Non-con fantasies like that are the most common ones, believe it or not. But I’ve done pretty much everything. Power exchange, age play, pet play, teacher-student, coach-athlete, voyeurism, incest…”

“Incest?”

“Yeah, mostly daddy and big brother stuff.”

Reeve swallowed hard. “Would you…would you call me daddy?”

“Try and stop me.”

A little while later, Cloud was ‘asleep’ in Reeve’s huge, ridiculously comfortable bed, with the lights out, and the only illumination coming from the windows. The door opened softly, letting a beam of warm light from the hallway fall across the bed.

He heard Reeve call out, “Sweetheart? You awake?”

Cloud didn’t reply, obviously.

Cautious footsteps padded across the carpet, to the bed. He was lying on his stomach, hugging a pillow, with his legs splayed out and one knee bent, so when the covers were drawn back, the first thing Reeve saw was the pink lace of the tiny shorts, barely concealing the bulge of his sack, between his thighs. 

A knee pressed down on the bed, then big, warm hands slid up under the shorts, to gently cup his ass. Reeve’s thumb hooked the crotch and pulled them to the side, and the other thumb and forefinger spread him apart.

Cloud heard him curse under his breath and grinned inwardly. Covering his asshole, was a sparkling, pink, heart-shaped gem, which was the base of the plug he was wearing, and hadn’t told Reeve about. 

There was a short pause, then Reeve’s warm weight pressed down on him, as he leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Playing with yourself in daddy’s bed. I’ll have to teach you a lesson.” 

The scent of wine on his breath, mingled with Reeve’s aftershave, really did lend to the atmosphere of a slightly drunk parental figure, about to do unspeakable things to a sleeping teenager. Cloud’s dick began to swell and thicken, with excitement.

Reeve slipped his pink shorts down, leaving them hanging around his ankle, and slid a palm under his abdomen, to pull his half-hard dick down between his thighs. There was another pause, in which Cloud could hear Reeve’s uneven breathing. Then the hands took hold of his ass again. 

It was only because of his extreme professionalism, at that point, that Cloud was able to remain still and unresponsive, breathing relatively evenly. Reeve’s beard tickled his inner thighs as he bent down and put his hot mouth on Cloud’s sack, sucking and licking, while his thumb rhythmically prodded the plug. Pretty soon, Cloud’s dick was rock-hard, despite being forced to point downward between his thighs.

Reeve drew away, then took hold of the jeweled base of the plug and began to pull. Cloud stirred slightly and made a drowsy murmur of protest, as it popped out, with an obscene squelch. A thin stream of clear lube trickled down over his balls. 

“Got yourself all ready for daddy, didn’t you,” Reeve said hoarsely. 

Cloud heard a belt and zipper, and the rustle of fabric. Reeve guided the head of his cock to Cloud’s taut, lube-slick entrance. 

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy’s so tight,” he breathed, as he pushed in. “Daddy can barely fit inside you.” 

Cloud was about ready to explode. His dick was throbbing and drooling, and it took all his self control not to moan from sheer relief, when Reeve finally bottomed out, filling him to the brim. Cloud waited for him to set a good rhythm, then he began to stir, and groggily lifted his head.

“What…what’s happening,” he mumbled. Then he froze and pretended to panic. “What are you doing! Stop! Help!” 

Reeve grabbed his wrists and pinned them, as he began to sob and thrash. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s just me, sweetheart.”

“D—daddy?” Cloud sniffled. “Why are you…why are you doing this to me?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You were playing with yourself, in my bed, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t! I wasn’t—!”

“Don’t lie to me,” Reeve cut him off sternly, punctuating the sentence with a savage thrust. The uncustomary aggressiveness in his voice amplified his sexiness by about ten-thousand, and sent chills up cloud’s spine. “Daddy came home and found you asleep in my bed, with a toy stuck up your slutty little hole. Weren’t you playing with yourself and thinking about daddy fucking you?”

“Hngh—ah! I was! I was!” Cloud ‘confessed.’ “I’m sorry, daddy! I won’t do it again!” 

Reeve slid almost all the way out. “It’s too late for that. You wanted daddy’s dick, so now you have to take it.” He slammed it back in, all the way to the base. 

“Noooo! Daddy, it’s too big!” Cloud whined, pretending to struggle under Reeve’s solid weight.

“Don’t fight, baby. Be good and take it,” Reeve panted, thrusting even harder, as Cloud bucked against him. His cock was getting hotter and harder. He was close. “You’re gonna make daddy come, if you keep tightening up like that.”

“Daddy, s—stop! It feels weird!” Cloud wailed (while gleefully tilting his ass up to take Reeve’s dick as deep as he could).

“Hngh…baby! Daddy’s coming! Fuck!” 

Reeve pulled out abruptly, and Cloud felt warm fluid spattering across his ass and thighs. As soon as he’d finished, he pushed back inside, to ride out the spasms, while Cloud wrung himself hard and fast, till he came in the tight space, between his stomach and the mattress.

“Oh, fuck,” Reeve said breathlessly, falling onto the bed next to him. “That was—that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Not so bad yourself, daddy,” Cloud said, with a wink. Then he pretended to pout. “You’re not tired already, are you?”

“Not yet. Thank the goddess for all that boxing. Just, uh…just give your old man a couple minutes.”

They rolled around for a while, flirting and laughing, and wound up fucking again, with Cloud on top, riding Reeve cowgirl style. After that, they took a long shower together, in Reeve’s enormous spa-style Swiss shower. Reeve wanted to walk him out, but Cloud waved him off, saying he was a big boy and could take care of himself. And so the two cheerfully said goodnight at Reeve’s door, promising to see each other again, soon.

When the elevator reached the lobby, Cloud peered around, half expecting to see Zack, or Reno and Rude, but no one was around except for a few security guards and holographic receptionists. The scene was less desolate, outside, since this part of Shinra Tower was a block from Loveless Avenue, and the nightlife was always lively.

Cloud was crossing the bustling fountain square, bound for the train station, when a hand fell heavily on his shoulder, giving him a jolt. “I see you’ve been making friends in…high places.” 

Cloud attempted to swallow in a suddenly dry throat. “Sephi? W—what are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you, if I didn’t know perfectly well, already.” Sephiroth leaned close, so Cloud could feel his breath on his ear. “There’s a man’s scent, all over you.”

His voice was hard and cold and crystal clear. Like knives made of ice. Which meant he was sober, and thus at his most dangerous. Cloud suppressed a shudder.

A gloved hand took hold of his arm, and Sephiroth deftly steered him around the corner, onto the intersecting street. He glanced anxiously about, but he wasn’t thinking of calling for help. His fear was less that Sephiroth would hurt him, and more that he’d hurt other people. He didn’t want anyone to get killed, so the only choice he had was to go along with the man, and hope he’d stay calm.  

They walked for about half a block, before Sephiroth pushed him into a dark, narrow space between buildings and shoved him up against the brick wall, pinning him with a hand on the back of his neck and a knee between his legs. 

“I don’t think you quite understand your situation, little puppet, so I will explain it.” Sephiroth lowered his voice to a menacing murmur. “You belong to me. The fact that you are able to run about and do as you please, is because I allow it.”

“It’s my job, Sephi. It’s not like I can just—”

“Hush. If I objected to your waywardness, I would put a stop to it, but I do not. It amuses me, the way you play these fools like perfectly tuned instruments. The way you make them line up to lay riches at your feet, in exchange for a taste of your body. You have given yourself to so many men, and yet none of them can truly possess you. They are your servants and playthings. You are free.” 

“B—but you just said I belong to you,” Cloud faltered.

“That does not mean I intend to cage you. You would wither in captivity, and you would hate me. I would rather…but that is not what I’ve come to talk about. I sought you out because you are in a position to be useful to me. You are going to be my eyes inside Shinra.”

Shit. Cloud’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean? Why me?”

“There is no chance you would travel regularly to Shinra Tower for an ordinary client, and even less chance an ordinary client could dispatch the Turks, to transport you, to and fro. That means your clearance must grant you upper-level access.” 

Cloud was stunned that Sephiroth knew all of that, but he didn’t dare ask how. He also didn’t think his usual tactic of playing dumb was going to do much good, so he just kept his mouth shut.

Sephiroth slapped something onto the wall, in front of his face. It was a creased and faded photo, of a pretty young woman, with brown eyes and light-brown hair. 

“Who’s she?” Cloud asked, confused.

“Irrelevant. All you need to know is that she is somewhere in Shinra Tower. Memorize her face. You will look for her, for me. Tell me, immediately, the moment you see her. That’s all. Simple enough, yes?”

“Seph, this…I can’t just go snooping around in there. What if I get caught?”

“I trust you can use your talents to talk your way out of any minor trouble you encounter. But if it truly came to life or death, you’ve no need to fear. I will come to your rescue.”

“Oh, you will? And how the hell are you gonna rescue me, inside Shinra Tower?” Cloud demanded, his blue eyes sparking defiantly.

Sephiroth answered with a cold chuckle. “There are few places in this world that can keep me out.”

“If it’s so easy for you to get in, then why don’t you look for this woman, yourself? What do you need me for?” 

“The time has not yet come, to move openly, against Shinra. For now, I must stay in the shadows.” His grip tightened on the back of Cloud’s neck. “I trust my little puppet will do his very best, for me.”

“I—I will,” Cloud gasped, as Sephiroth pressed him into the wall with his body, and his hard dick dug into his ass. “You know I’ll—ngh! You know I’ll do whatever you say.”

Sephiroth gave a pleased hum, then grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. Cloud’s mouth opened readily, to submit to the invasion, as the man’s tongue rolled forcefully over his.

He didn’t like being suddenly grabbed on the street and ordered around, but being near Sephiroth for any length of time had an intoxicating effect on him. No matter how insane and dangerous his rational mind knew Sephiroth was, Cloud’s body always wanted him so badly he could taste it.

That raw, animal desire was even more intense now, away from his workplace, and without the context of a professional transaction. He was already fumbling to undo his own trousers and yank them down around his thighs, as they kissed feverishly. He heard steel buttons jingle faintly behind him, then that huge, heavy dick slotted into the cleft of his ass. 

“My bag,” he panted, licking his kiss-bruised lips. “There’s lube.”

Keeping a hand on his hip, Sephiroth reached down and picked up the bag. Cloud dug out the bottle of lubricant, which he squeezed all over his hand, then reached back to slick the thick, hard, veiny shaft. That was all the preparation Sephiroth had the patience for. He pushed the big, blunt head against his hole, still pink and swollen from Reeve, and impaled him, in one long slide, clamping a gloved hand over Cloud’s mouth, to muffle his moans. 

Once he was all the way in, he set a ruthless pace, showing no tenderness, whatsoever; thrusting hard and deep, pounding Cloud into the cold bricks. The way Sephiroth fucked was always pretty rough, but this felt different. Possessive and domineering, with a hostile edge. Like he was trying to fuck Reeve out of him (despite the fact that Reeve was a gentleman and hadn’t come inside, and Cloud had already showered, anyway). 

Just then, a wave of Sephiroth’s aromatic, masculine scent, like leather and cedar smoke, washed over him, and made Cloud’s head spin like he was drunk. He let go and lost himself in the unhinged lust and brutal intensity, radiating like heat from this monstrously strong and preternaturally gorgeous man. 

That massive shaft was drilling into him, thrumming over his prostate, making his dick so hard it ached, and was leaking like a faucet. He wanted to come so badly, he didn’t care about anything else, let alone the fact that they were outdoors, in a public alleyway, only a few meters from a busy street.

Biting his bottom lip, he looked over his shoulder at Sephiroth, and grabbed hold of his leather coat, tugging him closer, urging him to fuck him harder. 

Sephiroth’s slit pupils dilated visibly in his pale, blue-green irises. He clamped his hand over Cloud’s mouth again, and with a low snarl, he bared his sharp teeth and bit into his neck, so deep it broke the skin. 

Cloud went rigid, screaming hoarsely into Sephiroth’s muffling glove, while he came hard, spurting against the wall, in hot, rapid pulses. Sephiroth came at the same time, with a strangled groan, hips stuttering, as his big, thick shaft pulsed, pumping a molten hot flood into Cloud’s convulsing hole. 

The gloved hand released his mouth. Cloud’s head lolled forward and he let his sweat-damp forehead rest on the cold brick, enjoying the soothing coolness, while he caught his breath. Sephiroth was breathing hard too, still holding him pinned, but more gently, now, pressing what felt like apologetic kisses to the badly bruised spot on his neck. 

When he pulled out, he held Cloud open with his thumbs, to watch the semen trickle down his thighs, which seemed to please him immensely. Cloud wrinkled his nose in annoyance, but he was facing the wall still, so Sephiroth didn’t see. 

It really was incredibly rude of him to come inside, considering Cloud still had to ride the train for an hour to get home. He was thinking irritably about that and zipping up his pants, when the roar of a motorcycle engine filled the air, amplified by echoing off all the walls in the small alleyway. 

“Come,” a much subdued and unusually lucid-looking Sephiroth said, holding out his gloved hand. “I’ll take you home.”

Kadaj was waiting on the street, astride one of the gang’s huge, black motorcycles. When he saw them step out of the alleyway together, he dismounted and stood there sullenly, looking at the ground. Sephiroth threw his long leg over the saddle and Cloud climbed on, behind him. Without so much as a glance at his younger brother, Sephiroth instructed Cloud to hang on tight, then gunned the engine and sped away, down the street.

Kadaj lifted his pale-blue eyes and glared venomously after them, his fists clenching and unclenching, at his sides, till they faded from sight. Then he turned and walked away, in the opposite direction. 

Atop the roof of one of the many brownstone residential buildings, that filled this area, another figure leaned out and peered down the street, in the direction Sephiroth and Cloud rode off, then the direction Kadaj went. Then it also vanished into the night.

When they pulled up in front of the Honeybee, Cloud clambered off the bike, and hung his arms around Sephiroth’s neck, while they shared a slow, lingering kiss. Even after they drew apart, Sephiroth gazed at him for a long time, tucking his hair behind his ear and stroking his face, like he was reluctant to let him go. 

Cloud’s cheeks got hot and his stomach fluttered. He’d never felt so much like Sephiroth was actually looking at him and seeing him, before. There was something lonely and longing in the man’s eerily beautiful eyes, that made made Cloud’s chest ache. 

His own eyes began to sting with impending tears. Then all at once, it was as if a wall of ice snapped up between them. The catlike eyes glittered and the line of that perfect mouth hardened.

“Go,” Sephiroth said, turning away. “Don’t forget to do what I told you.”

Cloud stood there looking dazed, as the motorcycle roared away, down the narrow street. Then he shook himself and hurried inside. He almost ran face-first into Nero, who was standing directly in the doorway, for some reason. 

“What the hell!” Cloud said crossly. “Why are you always blocking every door I go through!”

“Who was that man, on the chopper?” Nero asked. “It can’t be…does our little bimbo have a boyfriend?”

Cloud wanted to tell him to fuck off, but asshole or no, Nero worked here, now. He should know about the hazards he might encounter. “That was Sephiroth, the leader of the Remnants biker gang. He’s psychotic and dangerous as fuck and I don’t want to die, so I do whatever he says. If he comes here, we all do whatever he says, and don’t give him an excuse to kill anyone. You can ask Andrea, if you don’t believe me.”

“It didn’t look like you were scared for your life, just now. It looked like you were kissing your boyfriend goodbye.” Nero sniffed the air and smirked. “And you smell like you just fucked in an alley.” 

“How could you possibly smell an alley?” Cloud retorted. “You’re just saying any shit you can think of, to be insulting.”

Nero arched a black brow. “Am I wrong?” 

Cloud blushed guiltily and scowled to cover it up. “It’s none of your business! Why are you even talking to me?”

“Andrea wants you. He said to bring you to his office, when you got back.”

Cloud slumped. He was sticky and grouchy and exhausted, having spent the past several hours having sex with two men in a row, and then riding on a motorcycle all the way from the upper city, clinging to a madman for dear life, the entire time (which was still more than half an hour, despite Sephiroth’s kamikaze style of navigating traffic). But Andrea was the boss, so he dragged himself to the elevator, pointedly ignoring Nero, who followed him in, looking infuriatingly smug. 

“Cloud, you’re here,” Andrea said, beckoning them into his office. “Your client has confirmed that trip, he mentioned. You’ll be leaving Friday afternoon, and returning the following Friday.”

Cloud nodded, unable to suppress his smile, upon hearing that he really was going to Wutai with Vincent. And for a whole week! 

“That’s why I called you both in,” Andrea went on. “Nero, this means you’ll be filling in for Cloud, for the first time, Saturday night. It’s a big responsibility. The Honeybees will be counting on you to carry the show.” 

Nero’s crimson eyes flashed eagerly. “I won’t disappoint you, boss.” 

“Good! That’s what I like to hear,” Andrea said, looking pleased. “Cloud, you have a few days before your trip, so I want you to spend them helping Nero prepare for the headlining spot. That’s your top priority. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Cloud said glumly, his Wutai excitement severely dampened by the prospect of having Nero stuck to his side for three days.

When the two left the office, Nero’s hands were shaking with adrenaline. This was the moment he’d been waiting and preparing for. He was going to see Vincent Valentine, face to face. Finally, everything would be set in motion. Cloud noticed his agitated fidgeting, while they were riding the elevator, and misunderstood.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said. “It’s not much different from the Friday night shows.”

Nero didn’t correct his error. “I heard all the VIPs come to your Saturday shows, though. That’s a lot of pressure.” 

“They’re just bored, old, rich guys. They’re not scary,” Cloud assured him, as the two disembarked, on their floor. “The only one we absolutely must keep happy is Vincent Valentine, and he won’t be there, so there’s nothing to stress about.”

Nero’s heart stopped. “What…he won’t?”

“Of course not,” Cloud said, as if he should have known. “I’m going to Wutai with him. That’s why you’re covering for me, in the first place. See you tomorrow.”

Nero was still reeling from the emotional whiplash, as Cloud walked away, and their rooms were on opposite ends of the hall, so he had no excuse to follow and probe for more information. His initial disappointment quickly gave way anger, at the little blonde who was blithely ruining all his plans. Under a black cloud, he stalked to his room, slammed the door, and threw himself on the bed. Weiss flipped down from the headstand push-ups he’d been doing, and came to sit beside him. 

“I’m covering the bimbo’s show Saturday,” Nero said, before he had a chance to ask. 

“That’s exactly what we wanted,” Weiss pointed out. “What’s wrong?”

“Vincent Valentine won’t be there! He’s taking the bimbo out of town, and that’s why I’m covering for him! It’s like that little rat-faced eyesore exists just to get in my way!”

“There will be other opportunities. Don’t get upset, you’ll make yourself sick,” Weiss said, spreading his arms. “Come here. Let me hold you.”

Nero turned his back and curled into a sullen ball. Undeterred, Weiss dragged his stubborn little brother into his lap, to wrap him up in a tight embrace. Nero wriggled and kicked petulantly, but only for a moment. Then he surrendered and burrowed into his brother’s bare chest, taking deep breaths of his scent, to soothe himself. 

“I hate him, brother,” he pouted, peering up at Weiss from beneath his long, sooty eyelashes. “Kill him, for me.”

Weiss smiled adoringly, smoothing the silky, black hair back from his pallid face. “Soon, my love. We must first fulfill our purpose. Then we will have leisure, to bathe in the blood of our enemies.” 

“But who knows how long that’s going to take,” Nero huffed. “I want to kill him, now.”

Weiss chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his broad ribcage. “Have patience, little one. When all is done, I will bring him to you, and we will take our time with him. I wonder how long we can keep him alive.”

Nero pushed him onto his back and straddled him, sliding his hands up and down his ridiculously muscular torso, his crimson eyes kindled with a deranged light. “Tell me, brother. Tell me what you’ll do to him. I want to hear it, so I can imagine every single detail.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

MY SAD MURDER-BABY SEPHIROTH SOMEONE BE NICE TO HIM