guiltyred (guiltyred) wrote in areyougame, @ 2009-07-30 19:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | *final fantasy vii: cc, author: guiltyred |
Unjust Rewards, Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core (Zack and Sephiroth)
Title: Unjust Rewards
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Jenova
Word count: ~1250
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Zack and Sephiroth: role switch – Zack as the bad guy, Sephiroth as the good guy.
Summary: When Jenova enters the picture, loyalty is a good deal more than skin deep.
A/N: This is the other fic.
Everything was beginning to make a horrible kind of sense; the implications towered over him like a thunderhead. “Jenova Project… ‘S’ series… Jenova Project ‘G’? What the hell were they thinking?”
His nerves singing with tension, Sephiroth bared steel and set off to find the Jenova chamber, to see once and for all the source of all this madness. He’d watched his closest friends try to break free from ShinRa’s hold, though they were slaves by blood all along. One had died in the throes of mutation, spared the final agony by his most trusted student; Zack’s report had been a rending read, but Sephiroth had forced himself to study each word in honor of his lost friend.
The other…
What had Genesis known, and when had he learned it? How far did the rot truly go? Not the damage to his friend’s flesh – that went through to the bone and the brain and likely would claim his life within the year – but the damage to the sense of honor and pride within SOLDIER.
Had they all been Hojo’s playthings the entire time?
No, Sephiroth reminded himself. Not just Hojo. Hollander and Gast were far from innocent, if the journals were to be believed. There had been too much at stake: ShinRa’s war with Wutai, the science department’s uncertain funding, and egos too large for their human hosts to manage. All these things had led to this moment, this revelation.
What next?
Sephiroth paused, a portion of his awareness taking in an unexpected noise outside, a roaring as of a vast storm. He frowned; something was not right.
But he knew that he must confront Jenova, find out what it was that had been the basis for the SOLDIER program. He doubted at the gut level that she was actually Cetra; he’d heard legends and folktales, and what he’d heard didn’t fit with the image of a carefully-bred killing machine. Though the wings…
Fancy, the lot of it, he decided. Angeal and Genesis could have mutated into winged forms for any number of reasons; he didn’t think they had been modeled after Cetra any more than they’d been modeled after moogles. Besides, he didn’t have any wings –
They were Jenova Project ‘G’.
He was Series ‘S’. What might he have going on within his body at the cellular level even now, unknown and unfelt, waiting to burst through his skin with monstrous new life?
Fighting down the rising bile in his throat, Sephiroth set foot on the top step before the chamber with the name J E N O V A engraved above it like a crypt marker. “It ends here,” he hissed through clenched teeth, then forced the door.
Sephiroth didn’t know what he’d expected to see, but whatever it may have been, this was not it. A great sarcophagus concealed the contents of a decades-old mako tank. Hoses and pipes led to and away from it like a massive vascular system.
Heart pounding and mouth dry, Sephiroth resheathed Masamune and gripped the statue. It pulled free easily enough, dropping to the floor with a crash.
Behind it, inside the mako tank, floated Jenova.
He struggled to make sense of what his eyes were telling his brain; for a brief moment, he congratulated his sanity for having such a hard time with the task. Scales and tentacles – or were those intestines? – and one rotting wing – or was that hair?
“I see you’ve found her.”
Sephiroth tensed, hands braced against the glass. “Go away, Zack. This is not your place.”
Zack strode casually toward him, swinging Angeal’s sword in a lazy circle. “Oh, but it is. I’ve been waiting for you to figure this out. I’m surprised it took you so long.”
Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. “What about it?”
Zack shrugged. “Part of the theory says she’s telepathic, with some kind of control over those who share her DNA. Didn’t you read that section?”
“No, I did not.” He watched Zack pace back and forth. “What does this have to do with you, or with me?”
“Plenty,” Zack answered with a smile. “Tell me, what’s your plan here? Now that you know, what are you going to do about it?”
“I should think that the townsfolk won’t be happy to learn about the experiments and vivisection that have been carried out here. I intend to do what Angeal and Genesis would have done, if they had had the opportunity. ShinRa must be challenged. The SOLDIER program must not be continued.”
Zack shook his head and murmured, “They’re all dead, General.”
Sephiroth felt as though the ground had opened up beneath his feet. “What?”
“Sterilization protocol. Just like Banora.”
Sephiroth searched Zack’s eyes for some sign of emotion.
He only found flames.
“No,” whispered Sephiroth, drawing his sword. “I won’t let you.”
“It’s already done,” Zack stated. “There are no witnesses, out there or in here.” He paused, listening. “Well, one possible witness, but he hasn’t found his way up here yet. And he’s completely loyal to me. He’ll accept my account as the Goddess’ own proclamation. I am sorry, sir. We really thought you’d hear…”
“‘We’ who?” Sephiroth demanded, advancing on the other man.
“Hojo, and…” He gestured toward the tank.
The blood drained from Sephiroth’s face. “You hear it?”
“Her,” Zack corrected mildly. “At least, her last form was female. She can feel you, Sephiroth, but for some reason you can’t hear her.”
With a grim smile, Sephiroth whispered, “But you can.” He struck mid-sentence, hoping to catch Zack off-guard.
Their fight was violent and brief; Zack had never sparred with Sephiroth, couldn’t adequately defend against the older man’s speed and training. Satisfied, Sephiroth turned back toward the creature in the tank.
He was studying it, searching for the best way to dispatch it for good, when a shock of pain blasted through his awareness. Angeal’s sword protruded from his abdomen.
The point had pierced the tank.
“Gods, no,” Sephiroth hissed as the sword was withdrawn, dragging liquid mako and alien matter through his lacerated flesh. The burn turned his vision green.
“Sorry, friend,” Zack whispered, raising the sword to strike again. “If you don’t hear her now, you die here.”
An insistent murmur had settled between his ears, a constant droning command: Give me back this planet I have conquered!
Sephiroth closed his eyes. “I hear nothing.”
Zack cut him down like weeds.
Drawing in a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his body and the burnt-metallic rasp of mako-charged air in his throat, Zack broke open the mako tube and severed Jenova’s head. He secured it against Sephiroth’s bare chest, wrapping the dead man’s arms tight around it, then rolled man and infectious agent into the living mako. “There,” he whispered as he turned to go, “you’re free now.”
Downstairs, a mortally-wounded trooper lay dazed and dying on the steps. He would die knowing only that he’d followed his commander there to stop the rogue General and had failed.
Zack dropped down on the steps near the trooper. His vision blurred to gray. Wouldn’t matter if he died here; he’d done what Jenova had asked him to do, so all was well. Besides, there was still a chance that Hojo would show up in time to revive him.
And if that was the case, Hojo was sure to reward him in a manner befitting his sacrifice.
Outside, Nibelheim burned.