By: Mags

Mattias Rachwell sat at his desk finishing up some last minute paperwork for the Executive Meeting that was to be held tomorrow. He grumbled as he looked over the expenses his company had wasted on those ungrateful bastards in the domes. He was tempted to send in handfuls of his Special Agents and just have them wipe some of them off the face of the planet. That’d teach them to gripe and complain.

He smiled at the thought, but he quickly pushed it out of his mind. He had no time for such pleasant thoughts; he had to concentrate on the business at hand. Business before pleasure, he always said, turning back to his paperwork.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he muttered, without looking up.

The door creaked open to reveal one of his day guards.

"Mr. President, sir, we’re leaving now. Your night guards should be here any minute now, all right?"

"Fine, see you tomorrow," grumbled the President, and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. President, sir," the guard replied and slipped back out the door.

Mattias listened as the guard’s footsteps faded, quickly joined by another set coming towards him.

"Must be the night guards," Mattias figured, going back to his paperwork.

His concentration was broken by the sound of gunfire, and a blood-curdling cry that he recognized as belonging to the guard that he had just spoken to. The other guard quickly joined the other soldier’s unknown fate. The footsteps continued towards his door, stopping right in front of them.

He sat in nervous silence, his hand ready at the small red button on the underside of his desk that would summon an entire squadron of his best men.

The door slowly began to creak open.

He pushed the button.

The door slid open enough to reveal a tall, slender man cloaked in darkness.

He began rapidly pushing the button, a sweatdrop running down his forehead.

"Where the hell are those guards?" he wondered.

The man walked forwards slowly until his face came into view of the President.

He was a young man with long, flowing silver hair, bright green eyes and a wicked looking sword.

"Who are you?" he demanded, regaining his composure.

The man remained silent, continuing his slow pace towards the President’s desk. His face remained emotionless, his eyes unreadable.

"State your business with me or get out!" he screamed.

The man stopped, giving the President an odd look, then smiled. He reached down and drew his sword.

"You are killing my planet, so I will kill you," he stated.

"What?" the president cried his face a mix of fear and curiosity.

"My name is Sephiroth. I am the rightful heir to this planet. I am your death."

With that, he leaped high into the air and brought his sword down on the small of the President’s back.

The President cried out in pain as the sword ripped through skin and bone with equal ease. The President slumped down onto his desk, pinned down by the weight of the gigantic sword. A small trickle of blood began to flow from the corner of his mouth, and a low groan escaped his lips. He attempted to raise his head to look at his assailant but had to settle for raising his eyes.

The man who called himself Sephiroth had returned to his emotionless state. He gripped the hilt of the sword and began pulling it out of the President’s back with a sickening crunch, causing him to cry out in pain again.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall towards his room. He hoped that it was his squadron of soldiers but then he saw his daughter’s head poke through a crack in the door.

He wanted to yell to her to get out, to run as fast as she could, but the words came out as only a guttural groan.

Minerva gasped and Sephiroth turned his head towards the source of the noise. Minerva boldly stepped through the door and walked not ten feet from where Sephiroth stood.

"You killed the President, you bastard!" she cried.

Sephiroth looked at her for a minute then finished pulling his sword out of the President’s back. He tested his grip on his sword’s hilt for a second and turned his attention back to Minerva, who stood her ground.

He raised the sword in a battle stance, and Minerva backed up a bit and whimpered in fear. Sephiroth gave her a cold stare, then laughed. He sheathed his sword and turned his back from her, opening a window and flying out into the night sky.

Minerva ran to the window in time to see him disappear into a dark cloud that masked the pale white glow of the moon.

The President’s groans snapped her out of her daze and she rushed over to him.

He motioned for her to come close to her, and she complied, bringing her ear close to his mouth, feeling his hot breath tickling her ear.

"Min…erva," the President gasped, "Get my… men. I can… still make… it…. if you … hurry…"

Minerva jumped back like he had just asked her to do something horrible.

Slowly, a malicious grin crossed her otherwise perfect features. Her eyes flickered with evil intent and she reached into her inside jacket pocket.

"Don’t worry father, I will take good care of you," she replied.

She pulled out a small pistol, and without another word, put a bullet right between her father’s eyes.

She returned her pistol to its place and walked over to the President’s phone. She picked it up and dialed his secretary.

"What is it, Mr. President, sir?" Ms. Kravitz, the President’s night secretary, asked.

"Not Mister!" Minerva answered back. "Missus."

"Oh… Miss Rachwell. What can I do for you?" the kindly lady asked.

"Make a memo for everyone who works for us. The President is dead, I’m in charge now!"

With that, she hung up leaving a shocked Ms. Kravitz with a dial tone buzzing in her ear.

"What do you mean you don’t know where he is?" Vincent demanded, still tied to the pillar, watching as Malcolm frantically searched the all over for any sign of Sephiroth’s whereabouts.

"What do you think I mean, you insufferable idiot? I mean that he was here and now he’s not!" Malcolm snapped back while checking under a small boulder. Aeris was on the other side of the room looking outside the shattered windows at the balcony.

"Well, do you at least still have the Black Materia or the Masamune?" Red inquired.

Malcolm ran into the other room and ran back, sweat dripping from his brow.

"Uh… not as such…" Malcolm stammered.

Morrigan stifled a laugh and all eyes turned on him.

"Am I the only one that finds this incredibly comical?" Morrigan laughed.

"YES!" everyone roared simultaneously, causing Morrigan to shut up and sink deeper into his bonds.

"You do not seem to acknowledge the direness of the situation here. With Sephiroth on the loose, especially in this day and age what with his revered status in society and all, should word get out that he has been revived, all hell could break loose. Not to mention the fact that if he summons Meteor I’m not going to risk my neck to save your pathetic asses. I am going back to my nice, quiet cave and laugh my ass off as you all finally realize how weak and helpless you humans really are."

"Point well taken, uh… Red was it?" Malcolm responded, "But we are more powerful now than you could ever possibly imagine. If my Sephiroth has indeed regained his memories and attempts to summon Meteor, I can assure you we will be completely ready for him."

"I hope he eviscerates you, because it would save me the trouble," Red growled in response.

"Well aren’t we the feral beast in the morning?" Malcolm mused, causing Red to grumble obscenities under his breath.

Malcolm checked his watch and gave an overexaggerated gasp.

"Oh dear," he said, putting a hand on his cheek, "It would appear that my time has run out and I must go. Ta ta, suckers. It’s been real!"

With that, he and Aeris ran out onto the balcony and without a moment’s hesitation, leaped off the ledge.

"I hope they get caught in the fuselage of an airplane," Red muttered under his breath.

A moment later, the roar of a helicopter could be heard and Morrigan caught a glimpse of Aeris and Malcolm hanging onto a ladder that was extending from the door of a company-issued war helicopter. In a minute they were out of sight.

"Now do we do?" Morrigan asked.

"We escape," Vincent replied, struggling against his bonds.

"And how do you propose we do that?" Karen shot back, struggling against hers as well.

"Be patient," Vincent replied, fire in his voice.

"Patience is not one of my strong points," Morrigan responded.

"Shut up!" Vincent yelled, an edge in his voice almost as though he were in pain.

A red aura surrounded him as he continued struggling against the bonds.

A low guttural growl escaped Vincent’s lips as his struggles increased.

Morrigan looked over at Vincent in shock.

Vincent turned his head in agony towards Morrigan, and Morrigan caught a fleeting glimpse of a pair of crimson embers where his eyes had been. Vincent’s brow had furrowed and his skin was becoming darker. His muscles began ballooning out of his arms, his clothes shredding around them, and a moment later the bonds as well.

Vincent gave a feral cry as white-hot pain ripped through his entire body. His bones snapped, his muscles rended, giving rise to his superior form. His head split open, revealing a horrible visage from the darkest depths of man’s nightmares. Dark maroon spines that ran up and down his largely increased neck replaced his hair. His teeth fell out, giving rise to gleaming pointed daggers. His hands became twisted and distorted, his fingers growing to impossible lengths, his fingernails growing into talons.

Vincent’s cries were joined by Morrigan’s and Karen’s, who began clawing at their bonds in an attempt to get away.

Soon, Vincent’s new form stood complete, the Galian Beast stood before them and let out a battlecry.

It did not expect a response, but it got one.

The cry rang out throughout the building, seemingly shaking the very walls themselves.

The Galian Beast turned its attention to the source of the noise. A spilt second later the wall opposite where it was standing was knocked down by a large reptilian creature that resembled a small dragon. It towered over the Galian Beast by at least five feet.

The creature’s front was snakelike in appearance and bulbous in the back. Its vertebrae lined with vicious spines. It sat perched on two pair of muscular legs, a third pair raised in the air, its entire body tensed and poised for striking.

It launched a quick attack with its head.

The Galian Beast recoiled, and ran up to the creature, launching a deadly combo that left vicious crimson streaks in the creature’s thick, leathery skin.

The creature stared at the Galian Beast in curiosity for a minute, apparently never having faced such a powerful opponent before. Its daze did not last long, but long enough for the Galian Beast to press its momentary advantage.

With brutal accuracy, it launched a blazing series of slashes, a purple haze to Morrigan, who was pressed up against the pillar as far as he could be praying to god he wouldn’t catch either of the creature’s attention.
Bestial eyes glared hatred, and fiery embers flashed defiance as the two creatures stood their ground, withstanding each others attacks with seemingly little effort.

They paused for a minute, glaring into each other’s eyes.

The pause was all that the Galian Beast needed.

It closed its eyes and began concentrating. Embers began to gather in the air, forming small fiery spherules.

With a bestial cry, the Galian Beast launched the pyrospheres at the surprised creature, reducing it to a pile of smoking bones and charred flesh in a matter of seconds.

The Galian Beast stood among the wreckage, bellowing with triumph.

A minute later it began to morph again, back into the familiar frame of Vincent Valentine. Curiously, he appeared fully clothed, but that was the last thing on Morrigan’s mind, taking a back seat to about a million other questions that were currently racing through his mind faster than he could ever memorize them.

"Looks like I missed all the fun," Vincent mused, kicking the charred corpse that lay before him, snapping off a smoking rib with the toe of his boot and watching it disintegrate before it hit the ground. His eyes still retained their bloodlust-y glare, but Vincent, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be back to normal.

"Would you mind untying us?" Red snapped, breaking Vincent out of his daze, the glow disappearing from Vincent’s eyes.

"Of course," he stammered, quickly snapping the bonds that held his companions.

"That’s better," Red purred, stretching himself.

"That was quite a show you put on, Vincent. Mind telling me how you pulled that one off?" Morrigan asked.

Vincent frowned and looked at Red. "Which one, Red?"

"Galian Beast," Red replied.

Vincent nodded.

"That was my weakest form, too," he mused.

"Did you say weakest?" Morrigan cried. "I’d hate to see what you consider your strongest form, then."

"Don’t worry," Vincent smiled, an odd glint in his eye, "I’m sure you’ll run into Chaos somewhere along the line."

"Chaos?" Morrigan inquired, raising an eyebrow. "What does he look like?"

"You’ll know him when you see him. It’s hard to miss a ten foot tall winged hell demon," Red explained to a wide-eyed Morrigan, whose color was draining out of his face as he spoke.

"So that’s how you escaped from the Asylum," Morrigan thought aloud.

"You’re a quick one," Vincent replied. "Now, are you done playing twenty questions with me, yet?"
"For now," Morrigan answered. "Right now I need to figure out what I’m missing. There was something important going on today that I need to do, but I can’t remember what it was!" Morrigan rubbed the back of his neck, and silently cursed his faulty memory.

Suddenly, it came to him.

"Holy shit! The Executive Meeting is today and it starts at 11:30!"

Morrigan began panicking and ran out to the balcony to make a phone call.

Vincent checked his watch.

"Hmm, it’s about a quarter to 11 now."

"Well, he’s certainly screwed." Red mused.

"Yup," Vincent agreed, sighing.

Morrigan ran back into the room.

"All right everyone, a chopper from the Kalm vicinity will be here in about 15 minutes so get your crap packed and ready. Anyone who’s not ready gets left behind." He gave Red a warning glance, who looked away innocently. "So if you have some… ahem …business… to take care of then DON’T WAIT UNTIL WE’RE TAKING OFF!"

Red stifled a laugh, but conceded and ran off to a secluded corner.

Vincent and Karen began gathering the things that Malcolm had left behind, while Morrigan waited out on the roof for the pilot.

After about a twenty minute wait, causing Morrigan to start sweating nervously and begin attempting to pull his hair out, despite Karen’s best attempts to soothe his shot nerves, the sleek black form of the chopper finally broke the cloud line and came into view. Five minutes later it had landed and Morrigan hastily threw their few belongings in, and shortly after that, his companions, and finally, himself.

"How long to the Needle?" he demanded, shouting over the chopper’s spinning blades.

"About half an hour!" the pilot shouted back.

Morrigan threw the pilot a pack of twenty-gil bills, which the man pocketed.

"Now how long?" Morrigan asked.

"About half an hour," the pilot called back, a wide grin on his face.

Morrigan’s face went bright red and he slumped down into his seat next to Karen, who had both hands clamped over her mouth to keep from laughing. It was ultimately a futile effort, and she, joined by Vincent and Red, succumbed to the laughter that they had sought to retain.

Morrigan just muttered obscenities and thought dark thoughts, looking out the window as the chopper took off again, the ShinRa building slowly fading into the distance.

A thought came to him and he tore his view from the window and over to Vincent.

"Hey V…er… Cole," Morrigan asked, catching himself at the last second.

"What is it?" Vincent sighed.

"What did you mean when Red said that you had found the wrong one?"

"He was referring to you," Vincent explained.

"Wrong one what?" Morrigan inquired.

Vincent sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, giving a heavy sigh.

"Thousands of years ago there was a prophecy that foretold the destruction of the human race at the hands of an ancient warrior. The events that transpired such a catastrophic event were said to have been brought about by a man who wields the power of history in his palm. Tell me that you don’t see how I could have easily mistaken you for that man, seeing as how you’re the Executive President of the Rachwell Archaeology Department. However it was obviously speaking of Malcolm and his talent for cloning. We will understand if you would like to just forget this whole ordeal and just go back to your normal life."

"What? You’re gonna let me go just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Well, I must admit it is a rather pleasing offer…" Morrigan murmured, prompting an elbow in the ribs from Karen.

"But we’re too far in to forget about it. We will stick with you guys and try to save the planet!" Morrigan hastily added.

"Commendable courage, but I can assure you now that the road to victory will be long and arduous and there is a good chance you might not come back," Vincent explained.

"And forget about getting any credit for it! Don’t even expect your name in the history books!" Red growled half aloud, half to himself.

"We are not doing this for fame and fortune, we are doing this because we are the only ones who can," Karen interrupted, before Morrigan had a chance to say anything.

"Then welcome aboard," Vincent smiled.

______________________________________________________________________

"Gentlemen, we have much to discuss," Minerva Rachwell stated as her Executives took their respective seats, noting that the only seat empty was the one for the President of Archaeology. She remembered him, the cute guy that her father had given a raise to the other day.

"Oh well," she sighed. "Power and authority is not an excuse for carelessness incompetence."

"The first topic on today’s list is the exact same reason that I stand before you instead of my father. Last night, a man forcibly entered my father’s office and killed him, along with two of his personal guards."

"Was he caught?" Dilbert Adams, the President of Security and Defense, asked.

"No," Minerva replied, facing Adams and giving him an icy glare, "He escaped!"

"But how is that possible? Our defenses are state of the art!" he cried.

"Apparently state of the art just isn’t good enough. I have a video of the man who did this to my father," she explained. She reached into her briefcase and pulled out an 8mm tape, which she punched into a small VCR that was embedded into the wall behind her. She walked over to the far wall and turned off the lights as the tape began rolling.

The screen flickered to life, bathing the group of men in black and white light. It was a picture of the President’s back while he was sitting at his desk doing paperwork.

There was a knock at the door and the camera angle switched to a view of the door.

"Come in," the President muttered from off-screen.

The door creaked open to reveal one of his day guards.

"Mr. President, sir, we’re leaving now. Your night guards should be here any minute now, all right?" the guard that entered the room asked.

"Fine, see you tomorrow," replied the President.

"Thank you, Mr. President, sir," the guard replied and slipped back out the door.

The guard’s footsteps were joined by another’s and slowly faded out of the camera’s range of hearing, but were quickly joined by another’s coming towards the camera.

Suddenly, there was the sound of gunfire, and a blood-curdling cry belonging to the guard that the President had just spoken to. The gunfire continued but soon the other soldier’s cries were silenced and the unidentified footsteps continued to the door.

Slowly the door creaked open and a figure cloaked in blackness entered the room and walked off-screen.

Th camera angle switched to an over-the-shoulder shot of the President, the unidentified man standing in front of his desk, the President busily tapping the small red button on the underside of his desk.
"Where were you on that one, Adams?" Minerva demanded, flashing him a steely glare.

Adams just stammered, sweating profusely despite the mild temperature of the room.

They turned their attention back to the video, where the President had engaged the man in conversation.

"You are killing my planet, so I will kill you," the unknown man declared coldly.

"What?" the president cried, sitting up in his chair.

"My name is Sephiroth. I am the rightful heir to this planet. I am your death."

With that, he leaped off-screen and landed back on screen behind the President, bringing his sword down on the small of the President’s back.

The President cried out in pain and slumped down onto his desk, pinned down by the weight of the gigantic sword. There was a gasp from off-screen.

The camera view switched back to the doors, a shot of Minerva poking her head through his doors, then wandering up to him, off-screen.

The camera switched views yet again, to a side angle shot that reached from the area Minerva had walked out of to the edge of the President’s desk.

"You killed the President, you bastard!" the Minerva on-screen declared.

The man on-screen calling himself Sephiroth leaping off the desk into the camera’s line of sight, finally bringing the man into full view.

He swung his sword, and raised it into a battle stance, causing the Minerva on-screen to back up a few feet and give a whimper that was barely audible to the camera’s mic.

Sephiroth stared at her for a minute, then gave a cold laugh and sheathed his sword, the relief obvious on Minerva’s face. Sephiroth began to walk off-screen, the camera following him.

Sephiroth stopped at a window behind the President’s desk and opened it. Without a moment’s hesitation he jumped out into the night, flying off.

Gasps and murmurs were heard from several men as the video feed ended and Minerva switched the lights back on.

"Anyone want to tell me how the hell he got into the building?" Minerva shouted.

The doors to the room flew open.

"He’s Sephiroth, that’s how," Malcolm explained, walking into the door with a few others trailing behind him. "Nothing is beyond his power!"

"Malcolm! What the hell are you doing here?" Professor Prescott demanded. "I figured that you’d be dead by now! Where’s Doctor Morrigan?"

"Shut up, Prescott!" Minerva hissed, "If he knows something, then I want to hear about it!" She turned her attention to Malcolm. " Please, explain it to those of us that are in the dark, won’t you, Dr. Malcolm?"

"Certainly," he replied, sitting in the empty seat reserved for Morrigan. "As Prescott well knows, I went on a reconnaissance mission into the Midgar ruins to find Dr. Morrigan, who had wandered in there for reasons that at the time were known to him alone."

"Did you find him?" Minerva questioned.

"Yes, but not in time," Malcolm replied.

"Please explain," Minerva requested.

"Certainly. As you may or may not know, not long ago, Dr. Morrigan had several hundred ancient texts brought in from a secret basement hidden under the ShinRa Museum. Well, I got to take a look at those books not to long after Dr. Morrigan left for the Canyon Excavation Site. Well, I found that in an ancient spell book, he someone had removed a resurrection spell. Coupled with the fact that I found a journal belonging to Sephiroth among the tattered ruins of some of his clothes while we were in the jungle, I deduced that he was going to attempt to resurrect Sephiroth."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather book and tossed it onto the table. Minerva picked it up and flipped through it. She closed it and tossed it back down onto the table.

"Its authentic," she declared.

"Anyway," Malcolm continued, "When we finally arrived at the ShinRa building, we discovered that Morrigan and his team had already beat us there, despite our hasty progress."

"How did you figure that out?" Minerva queried.

"The power in the building was on and there were recent footprints in the thick layer of dust that caked the floor."

Minerva nodded, signaling for him to continue.

"Anyway, we reached them just as he was summoning Sephiroth’s spirit from the abyss. Our team confronted them but they were too powerful and despite our best efforts, we were just able to escape with our lives. When I say we, I mean myself and my partner in peril, Aeris," he explained, pointing to the petite girl in white that was standing silently in the corner.

"And the rest of the team?" Minerva asked.

"Between the assault by a decimated throng of Hoppers early on and the attack by Morrigan, they were completely wiped out," Malcolm replied smoothly.

"An unfortunate loss," Minerva thought aloud. "Were you at least able to capture them?"

"We did actually manage to subdue them with knockout gas, but Sephiroth somehow disappeared during the night and in the chaos looking for him in the morning, they escaped."

Minerva frowned. "Well at least we know that their objective is. As for the Sephiroth problem," she stated, turning to the General of War, Colonel Brutus Dexter, "See to it that all men at your disposal are primed and ready for another attack, just in case."

"Yes, ma’am!" the Colonel replied immediately.

"And Adams," Minerva said coldly, "See to it that defense is bolstered 150% in the entirety of the building."

"Uh… yea…yes ma’am," Adams stammered.

"Oh and one more thing," she added quickly, "See to it that the red button under the President’s desk is repaired immediately."

"Yes ma’am," Adams repeated.

"Next order of business," Minerva continued without pause, "Is appointing a new President of Archaeology…"

She was interrupted by the doors to the room once again flying open, this time Morrigan, now fully clothed, flew into the room, several papers hanging sloppily out of his briefcase.

"Dr. Morrigan, how nice of you to join us. We were just talking about you!" Minerva said, looking up at him.

Morrigan panted heavily and walked over to his seat.

"Get out of my chair," Morrigan ordered Malcolm, who remained seated.

"It’s not your chair anymore," Minerva interrupted, "Its his."

"Since when?" Morrigan fumed.

"Since now," Malcolm answered, grinning up at Morrigan.

Several men entered the room and pinned Morrigan’s hands behind his back.

"What is the meaning of this? I demand to speak with the President!" Morrigan screamed.

"I am the President, you dolt!" Minerva responded icily. "Sephiroth killed my father!"

"Sephiroth was here?" Morrigan cried, his eyes almost bugging out of his head.

"As if you didn’t know," Minerva replied. "Take him away and clean out his office and room," Minerva ordered the men.

"Yes ma’am," the men replied, dragging Morrigan out of the room, despite Morrigan’s best efforts to fight them.

"Well that was an amusing diversion," Malcolm mused, interrupting the silence that echoed throughout the room after Morrigan was removed from the room.

"Indeed," Minerva sneered. "Anyway, now that that is out of the way, we have to formally make Dr. Malcolm the President of the Archaeological Department. Welcome, doctor."

Malcolm stood up and shook Minerva’s hand. The men other men applauded, save Professor Prescott.

"This can’t be allowed to happed. He doesn’t even hold a position in the Archaeological Department, he works in the Science Department!" Prescott argued.

"Are you questioning my judgement?" Minerva challenged.

"No, but…" Prescott stammered.

"Then sit down and shut up!" Minerva interrupted.

"Actually, my first official position as head of the Archaeological Department is to lobby for position as head of the Science Department, as well," Malcolm stated.

All eyes were drawn to him and the room went silent. Minerva broke that silence.

"I’ll hear you out, but this is a very odd request. I don’t think that anyone has ever been the head of two departments before."

"Adams is in charge of Security and Defense," Malcolm commented.

"True, but those two are closely related fields. Science and Archaeology aren’t that too closely related, despite occasionally having to cross paths."

"Still, it has happened."

"Yes, it has," Minerva sighed. "Now, do you have any proof for us that you would be the proper person to replace Professor Prescott? I mean, I don’t think that we’ve ever had a President of the Science Department that wasn’t at least a Professor."

"I assure you I came well prepared. Aeris and Seth, bring forwards exhibits A and B."

The two people that had entered earlier with Malcolm approached the table, each carrying a medium-sized cage with a white cowl draped over them. Odd noises could be heard from within them. They placed each cage side by side in front of Minerva, who gazed at them as though attempting to peer through the sheets to the hidden treasure that lay behind them.

"What are you trying to accomplish?" Prescott demanded.

"I believe I already stated my intent," Malcolm replied calmly, giving Prescott a half-grin that made Prescott’s blood boil.

"I present to you Exhibit A," Malcolm declared to the group that sat before him. He pulled the cowl off of the first cage, revealing a medium-sized green serpent curled up inside.

"What is this?" Minerva asked, moving in closer to get a better look.

"That would be an infant Midgar Zolom," Malcolm beamed.

"What? Those things have been extinct for over seventy years since their habitat was destroyed by industrial expansion and over-pollution!" Prescott yelled. "That cannot possible be what he claims it to be!"

"It is what I say it is," Malcolm shot back.

"And just how did you come across an infant Zolom?" Prescott queried.

"I cloned it," Malcolm replied.
The room remained deathly silent for several minutes, the only noise a few low whispers among the men in the room.

"You what?" Prescott demanded. "That’s impossible! The technology to clone extinct species does not exist!"

"And how would you know?" Malcolm challenged.

"I’m the goddamn President of the friggin’ Science Department! Of course I’d know!"

"No you wouldn’t, because you ignore me. I have been working on this for a course of several years, completely overlooked by you. Or are you going to try to deny the fact that you completely ignore me except when completely unavoidable?"
"What? Well…I…uh…" Prescott stammered.

"Face it. The tech to clone existed right under your nose and you didn’t even notice," Malcolm sneered. "Which brings me to Exhibit B…" Malcolm continued, yanking the cowl off of the second cage, revealing two small creatures. One a white ball of fluff and the other a yellow ball of fluff.

"What you see before you are two other formerly extinct creatures whose homes were destroyed by our ancestors, the Chocobo and the Moogle."

There were several murmurs amongst the men, and Prescott sunk deep into his seat. He was finished and he knew Malcolm knew it. Malcolm was almost literally beaming with pride as he took in the impressed eyes that fell on his creations.

"I’m sure that Prescott would be more than happy to verify the authenticity of these creatures for you," Malcolm added, his half-grin expanding across his face as his eyes fell on Prescott.

"Eat me," Prescott replied.

"Sorry, I already ate," Malcolm mused.

"This… is incredible," Minerva exclaimed. "Have you attempted to clone humans yet?"

"I don’t think that we have the resources or the technology to do so just yet," Malcolm lied.

"I’ll double your budget. Will that help?"

"Undoubtedly," Malcolm grinned.

"Then welcome aboard!" Minerva proclaimed, shaking his hand violently.

"Thank you," Malcolm replied. He turned to Aeris and Seth and with a wave of his hand, they removed the creatures from the table while he walked around the table to where Prescott sat. He glared at Malcolm with red, bloodshot eyes, a vein popping out of his neck.

"Get out of my seat," Malcolm ordered. He had wanted to say that for a long time.

Prescott grumbled and slowly rose out of Malcolm’s seat, and hurried out the room without another sound. Malcolm slowly lowered himself into the plush leather seat, reveling in how good it felt. The way he had gotten it made it all the more comfortable.

"I guess we don’t need that seat if you’re sitting there," Minerva said, motioning to the empty seat reserved for the President of Archaeology.

"No, my assistant can sit there," Malcolm stated.

"Your assistant?" Minerva queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Seth, take a seat," Malcolm barked, motioning to the empty seat across from where he sat, the closest seat on that side to where Minerva sat.

The man that had brought one of the exhibits to the table stepped out from the shadow of the far corner of the room and took his seat.
"Gentlemen, and Miss President, this is my assistant Seth Voder, who will be aiding me in my management of my two departments."

Seth gave a quick bow, and turned to shake the President’s hand.

Minerva was overwhelmed by the stoic presence of this new man. He was tall and thin, with bright blue eyes and unkempt blonde hair. He was decked in a normal white scientist’s outfit, but looked much better in it than any other men she had seen dressed in it.

"Miss President," Seth said, interrupting her train of thought. He extended his hand to shake hers.

"Oh… of course," she stammered, "Welcome aboard, Seth."

She reached out and took his hand. His handshake was so firm, she thought.

The other men in the room pretended not to notice the President’s blatant attraction to him, but Malcolm was paying perfect attention.

Phase two of his master plan had been completed without a hitch, and Phase three was going smoothly, as well. If everything went as smoothly as they were now, his ultimate dream would be realized within a few short years. He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table as the President regained her composure and continued on with the rest of the meeting. He didn’t bother paying attention.

Adrian Work, along with five of his other friends, huddled around a fire that he had been able to start in a barrel using some splintered chairs, some alcohol, and a broken oil lamp.

The heat was just enough to make his life bearable. He could get lost in the flickering light for hours. He had forged a home for himself in some rubble near the edge of the dome. He thought that his life would never change, that he would live and die in this god-forsaken dome. He was about to get a wakeup call.

His life was abruptly ripped from its normal, everyday routine by a blood-curdling scream from a technician outside the dome. One of the many that came by every few days to fix any torn or dirty panels. His lifeless body was thrown with incredible force through the dome, tearing a large hole in the dome’s side. Adrian stood in shocked silence at the decimated halves of the technician, a look of horror etched into his lifeless face. He was even more shocked to discover fresh air coming in through the hole that the tech had fallen through. He motioned to his friends and they walked over to the hole to investigate.

He stuck his head through the hole and inhaled deeply. The sweet scent of fresh air invaded his nostrils. He stood there for several minutes, never having imagined that breathing could be so enjoyable. His breathing was interrupted by a dark shadow that fell over him. He looked up, coming face to face with a large man with long silver hair and a large sword. There was only one person, living or dead, that matched that description.

"Are you… are you Sephiroth?" Adrian stammered.

"Yes," the man replied coldly.

Adrian’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe it; Sephiroth had come back to them to save them, after so long they would finally be free. He threw himself at Sephiroth and encased him in a giant bear hug.

Sephiroth was taken aback by the man’s odd actions. He paused, unsure of what the proper course of action he should take.

Adrian yelled back to his friends.

"Quickly, go tell everyone you see! Sephiroth walks among us!"

His friend’s joined his cries.
"What? Did you say Sephiroth?" one cried.

"At long last, our suffering shall end! Look how the air is purified in his presence!" another called out. Soon the whole city was buzzing with the news.
Sephiroth was in awe. Even in his own time he was never revered with such a passion. He wondered if it was the same in all of the domes. He saw no reason not to assume so.

A malicious grin crossed his lips as a devious plan began formulating in his mind. He could use this throng of blind worshipers to his advantage. "Yes," he thought, "That would be a perfect plan of action."

He walked down one of the empty streets of the city. All of the others were outside reveling the fresh air. For the first time in what he guessed had been too long a time, a fresh breeze blew in the streets of Kalm. A newspaper landed at his feet and he stooped over to pick it up.

"Minerva Rachwell takes over following death of President Rachwell" read the front headline. Beside the article was a color picture of Minerva. Sephiroth crumbled the paper in anger and threw it to the ground in disgust. He recognized the girl as the one he had let live after he had offed her old man. He would not let this new company cause him as much annoyance as Rufus had after Sephiroth had decided not to go and kill him. It was a folly he did not intend to make again. He leaped into the air and flew up towards the heavens, his only obstacle the top of the dome. A quick combination of slashes from his sword easily shredded the dome and as he flew off towards NEO-Junon once again, he watched as the dome collapsed, covering the entire city.

"So they got you too, eh?" Morrigan asked Red, Vincent, and Karen.

"No, we actually escaped! We just came back to visit you but we accidentally got locked in," Red responded, his voice gruff with sarcasm.

"Shut up, Red," Vincent warned, interrupting Morrigan before he could get a word out in response. "This is neither the time nor the place to start an argument and my tolerance for anyone who tries is beyond nil."

"So then now what do we do?" Morrigan asked, sighing and leaning his head back against the cold metal wall of the cell.

"You mean besides waiting for them to come and get us to kill us?" Red asked.

"Yeah," Morrigan sighed.

"We wait," Vincent answered.

"Brilliant plan, Sherlock," Red growled.

"Shut up, Red!"

"Hurry up and get ready, Laura! He’s going to be here in a minute or two," Minerva exclaimed.

She watched as her lookalike quickly changed into her normal business clothes.

"No one but you and a few others know that I am going out tonight, and I intend to keep it that way!"

The buzzer at her door rang and she ran to open the door. In stepped Seth, decked in a white business suit and a black collared business shirt with a red tie.

He extended his hand, offering the small bouquet of flowers that he had brought. He took one of the more exotic ones, a vibrant blue flower with frayed petals with magenta tips and purple vertical stripes, and gently placed it behind her ear.

"You look beautiful, he said warmly, a rare display of emotion for him.

Her eyes shimmered as he took her hand and led her out of the room. Her lookalike quickly ran to the other side of the room, to the Presidential Elevator. She quickly punched in the number for the President’s room and sat back in the small couch as the elevator lifted her up to the top floor.

About three minutes later the bell chimed that she had reached the top floor. She staggered out of the elevator, propping herself up against the wall, and yawned.

"Probably shouldn’t have stayed up to watch the late night movie last night," she thought.

She threw open the double doors and marched into the room, anxious to get to her plush, comfy chair.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the floodlights that were positioned outside the large windows behind her desk, illuminating the far side of the room and casting long shadows on everything else.

She yawned and walked across the large space that separated the desk from the doors, filled only by a few small ferns positioned in cervices in the wall.

She stopped dead in her tracks halfway to the desk and listened. At first she heard nothing but silence, but as she continued listening, her ears detected the faint sound of someone breathing.

"Who’s there?" she called, looking around the room.

Ever so slowly, the chair began to spin towards her. In it sat the same man that she had heard killed the President yesterday. Sephiroth!

"I was a fool to allow you to survive the first time," Sephiroth stated, unmoving from where he sat.

Laura’s mouth fell open as she attempted to regain her powers of speech.

"But don’t worry little one, I will quickly remedy my error," he assured her.

With that, he vanished.

Laura whined in fear as she looked around the room. She slowly made her way to the desk.

"Where do you think you’re going?" came a voice from behind her. Before she could react, two powerful hands grasped her arms, holding them at her sides. She was stuck.

"You don’t really think that I’m going to let you get away again, do you?" Sephiroth asked. "If so, you are quite mistaken."

Laura whimpered again, whispering a prayer to herself.

"So the prey chooses to pray. How fitting," Sephiroth mused.

Laura, with a fit of fear, broke free from his clutches and spun around, flailing her fist at his face. Without even flinching, he caught her petite fist in his gloved palm and with a single quick motion, crushed it.

She cried out in pain and swung her arm at him, her broken hand flapping wildly. Completing the motion he started with her fist, he grabbed her arm and twisted it towards her back, the tendons snapping like rubber bands as the bone ripped through them. When he released his hold on her arm, it fell limp at her side. She screamed and ran for the desk, diving for the button.

Sephiroth materialized right in front of her, grabbing her by the neck and lifting her up into the air. She grabbed the phone with her good hand and brought it down on head with a crunch.

Sephiroth didn’t even blink. A small stream of blood trickled down between his eyes from a cut on his forehead. He reached up to wipe it from his face with his other hand and licked the blood off of his glove. He glared at her, reveling in the fear that was emanating from his prey.

"Ouch."

He flashed her a devilish grin and with one quick motion snapped her neck like a twig. She sputtered and coughed for all too brief a second, but the life quickly faded from her big green eyes and she fell to the floor in a heap. Her green contacts fell from her eyes upon hitting the floor. When Sephiroth shifted his feet he crunched them. Curious, he bent down to examine them, then the body. What stared back were lifeless brown eyes.

He growled.

He had killed her doppelganger. But she might yet be in the building; he would just have to see how much bloodshed it would take to draw her out.

As he bent back up, he noticed the glowing button on the underside of the desk. He guessed that that was what she had been diving for. That would mean that it would be some sort of security measure. He pressed it and a moment later; the room was swarming with guards, over thirty, each with their weapons pointed at Sephiroth.

He grinned.

Even if none of them knew where the President was, he was at least going to have some fun. He drew his sword.

Morrigan was still awake when the lights flickered out. Morrigan paid it no heed. He had grown accustomed to such trivial things. He waited for the backup generators to kick in. He was puzzled when they failed to do so. The entire room was deathly quiet. Even the snoring of the guard posted outside their cell had ceased. He sat in blackness, listening to the slow breathing of his companions. Vincent lay in the top bunk of the beds opposite him. Red had opted for the lower bunk because if it collapsed under his weight he didn’t want to crush anyone.

Karen had fallen asleep propped up against him, her cheek snuggled up against his shoulder.

He got up, prompting Karen to fall on her side, hitting the pillow at the end of the bed. She fluttered back into consciousness.

"Rob? Are you there?" she called.

"Shh!" he hissed, "Something’s going on!"

"What is it, do you know?" she asked.

"Not a clue," he responded, pressing his back up against the side wall, looking out the small slit in the door. He saw nothing, the only thing he could make out were the other cells with the help of a small row of lights that ran along the hall floor that hadn’t gone out because they weren’t connected to the main power generator.

"Something funny is going on here. The power’s out and the backup generator hasn’t kicked in."

He could never have guessed that it was out due to the fact that Sephiroth had so recently shoved three guards, in varying positions, into the mammoth gears that operated the generator.

"I’m going to see if I can get us out of here," he finished.

She nodded and watched as the dark figure with Morrigan’s voice got a grip on the opening in the door and attempted to slide the door open. He was only able to get it to budge an inch or so.

"Come over here," he instructed Karen, "And give me a hand. Between the two of us, as long as the power is out we might be able to get ourselves out of here!"

Karen nodded, and quickly, but silently, moved over to where Morrigan was standing.

She took hold of his waist and when she felt Morrigan tense up as he pulled; she began pulling on him.

At first nothing happened, but soon the smell of metal against metal drifted into the room and with terrible metallic screech that sounded like it could raise the dead, the door slid open enough for them to squeeze through.

Karen slipped out see what was going on while Morrigan roused Red and Vincent.

"What the hell do you want?" Red growled as Morrigan shook him violently.

"We’re out! Let’s go," he commanded, prompting Red to jump out of bed and bound out of the cell.

Morrigan reached for Vincent, but a clawed hand grabbed his wrist.

"I know," Vincent spoke, jumping down from the bed and walking out the door, leaving a puzzled Morrigan alone in a dark cell with a sore wrist.

Karen screamed.

He ran to where she was standing, and pushed past Red and Vincent to see what was wrong. On the ground lay their guard, or rather, what was left of him.

His body was split almost symmetrically in two. His guts had spilled out onto the rugged floor, leaving a dark stain on the carpet that spanned a twenty-foot perimeter from where he lay.

"What could have done this?" he wondered out loud.

"Sephiroth was here," Red answered.

"Sephiroth? Are you sure? I don’t even think a human can make these kinds of wounds," Morrigan stated, the anguish etched on the man’s face had been carved into his brain. He couldn’t get it out of his head.

"Sephiroth isn’t exactly what I would call human," Vincent replied.

Morrigan had a grim look on his face.

"Well lets get going. No need to stick around here any longer," Red barked. Then he began muttering to himself. "They weren’t kidding when they said history repeats itself."

"Apparently not. I didn’t expect it to be this identical, though. I wonder what surprise he visited upon the President."

"Well, we’ll have to find out, won’t we?" Morrigan proclaimed, "Especially since the only way to get outta here is with a plane and the planes are kept in a hanger above the President’s office.

"How many floors is it to the President’s office?" Karen asked, tearing her view from the dead guard’s body.

"Doesn’t matter. The elevators should still be functioning because they run on the same backup generator as those lights over there," Morrigan explained, pointing to the rows of lights that lined the edges of the long corridor.

"So what’re we waiting for?" Red cried, "Let’s go!"

Without another word, they ran to the nearest elevator, quickly piling into it.

Morrigan punched in the number for the President’s floor and with a chime, the doors closed and the elevator quickly began to rise.

"This’ll take a while," Morrigan explained, "The holding cells are several levels below ground. We’re going to have to wait at least twenty minutes before we get to the surface, then another fifteen minutes to the President’s office."

"Damn," Red cursed, wishing that he were still sleeping, but not giving his opinion voice.

So they waited… and waited… and waited.

After they cleared about the 73 floor, a thought came to Morrigan.

"Say Vincent, Alistair told Karen that the sword was in the tallest manmade structure on the planet. Isn’t the Needle taller than the ShinRa HQ?"

"Midgar is on a hill, so it looks taller. Alistair wasn’t too bright," Vincent replied.

"Oh…" Morrigan thought.

He went back to waiting.

Finally they reached the 85 floor.

"Finally," Red purred, stretching again.

"Let’s get to the helipad, then!" Morrigan called, already halfway to the doors.

Red bounded after him. When Morrigan reached the doors he found that a pool of dark red liquid had gathered under the door. He had a pretty good guess what it was, too.

"Are you just gonna stare at the door or are you going to open it?" Karen cried excitedly.

"You might want to cover your eyes for this," Morrigan warned.

"Just open the damn door!"

"All right," Morrigan replied, mentally bracing himself for whatever he might find.

He was ill prepared for what greeted him. Karen was not.

For starters, the entire room smelt like a slaughterhouse. The reason for that being the fact that decimated carcasses of freshly killed Rachwell troops littered the floor. Each seemed to have had its own personal death; no two soldiers killed the same way. One had had his own gun shoved through his head and fired. Another had been impaled on Sephiroth’s long sword. Yet another had turned into a bead bag when Sephiroth shattered seemingly every bone in his body. He saw out of the corner of his eye a soldier that had been nailed to a wall with his own Survival Knife, stabbed through his eye. The blood hadn’t even turned brown yet. It was too fresh. Morrigan could feel the bile coming up from his stomach, and rushed over to the wastebasket to vomit, only to discover another soldier’s head cluttered among various crumble papers. The head received a shower of green and brown bile as Morrigan’s stomach pumped out what felt like everything he had ever eaten.

When he was finally done, he lifted his head, bile still dropping from his lips, and looked up at the group.

"Let’s get going," Vincent suggested, carefully stepping over a dead solider whom had been forced to rip out his own heart.

"A novel idea. This stench offends my senses," Red agreed.

Morrigan walked over to the door on the far side of the room, the wall adjacent to the back wall, and opened it, revealing a long, winding staircase leading upwards.

"Its three flights of stairs to the roof," Morrigan stated.

Without another word, they ran up the stairs just as Minerva and Seth came up the elevator.

"I had a good time tonight," Seth said as Minerva led them down the hall to her office.

"Good…" Minerva muttered, lost in a near-hypnotic trance induced by Seth’s deep blue eyes. She didn’t think that anything could ruin such a perfect evening.

Then she opened the door to her office.

Morrigan could hear the scream as he entered the plane hanger three stories above her.

She raced up to the lifeless body of Laura, who still lay by the desk where Sephiroth had left her; the dead bodies of various soldiers laid out around her, but none near her.

She reached out to shake her hand in an attempt to revive her, but recoiled in shock and fear when she discovered her hand to be soft as a beanbag, all the bones powdered.

She cursed silently.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Seth standing over her, a frown on his face.

She took his hand and he lifted her to her feet and embraced her. She looked into his eyes, his bright blue eyes, and found that they as cold as they always were. She pulled away from him, but the cold look faded, replaced by warmth. He pulled her to him and they embraced again. She put a hand to his cheek and they kissed. After she broke the kiss, she began sobbing on his shoulder.

Seth just rubbed the back of her head soothingly.

A grin slowly formed across his face. Everything was going according to plan.

Morrigan, Red, Karen, and Vincent hopped off the chopper that they had hijacked from the Rachwell Building.

"You didn’t tell me you knew how to fly a helicopter," Morrigan stated, looking at Vincent.

Vincent shrugged.

"You didn’t ask."

"You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?" Morrigan muttered.

"I’m a veritable jack of all trades," Vincent beamed proudly.

"All right then, jack, why’d you bring us to this old waterfall?" Morrigan queried.

"It’s our hiding spot," Vincent explained, "Until the heat dies down."

"Until what heat dies down? We haven’t done anything!"

"But they don’t know that. For all they know, we killed those men."

"All right, assuming your right and that they’re out looking to put our heads on pigpoles as we speak, how is hiding in plain sight of any surveillance scout going to help us any?"

We’re not hiding out here, we’re going inside!" Vincent explained, walking over to the waterfall and disappearing behind it.

"Things are not always what they appear," Vincent called from inside the cave, "I though you realized that by now!"

The others quickly followed. It took Morrigan a moment to realize that he was standing alone in the dark.

"Hey, wait up!" Morrigan called, running into the waterfall after them, "What about the chopper? You think that eyesore won’t attract some attention? Just what do you intend to…"

Morrigan was cut off by a large explosion from the outside as the chopper exploded, sending a large fireball racing to the heavens but falling short. The remaining pieces of the chopper teetered on the edge of the cliff and plummeted into the water, sinking to the bottom of the lake, out of sight.

"Oh that’s just *%&$ perfect!" Morrigan cried. "How the hell are we supposed to get anywhere, now?"

As if to answer his question, an animal sound came from the room Vincent was standing in. To Morrigan, it sounded like the animal had just said ‘Wark’.

As Morrigan entered the main body of the cavern, the sight of Vincent preening a giant bird with a shiny golden plume greeted him.

"Say hello to Goldfeather," Vincent said, looking up at Morrigan.
"Is that a Chocobo?" Morrigan asked, approaching it cautiously.

"In the flesh," Vincent replied, stroking the golden crest of feathers that ran down the mammoth bird’s neck.

"I thought that they were extinct."

"For all intents and purposes they are. Goldfeather is the last of his kind," Vincent explained. "He doesn’t have much longer to live, either. But he’s still the fasted thing on two legs, aren’t you, boy?" Vincent asked, scratching the bird’s underbelly. The Chocobo cooed in response.

"These things are the fasted creatures that ever lived. These can cross the mountains faster than any machine Rachwell produces," Vincent explained.

"Incredible," Morrigan muttered.

"Right now what we need is a plan of action," Red commented. "Sephiroth doesn’t even know that we exist, so its not like we can expect him to come to us."

"Even if he did, we are too weak to do much else than annoy him," Morrigan added, earning him an icy glare from Vincent.

"You don’t seem to get the idea, do you? We aren’t doing this because we want to, or because we’re positive we can stop him! We’re doing this because we care and that we are the few in this world who are not blind to the threat he poses! Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Morrigan assured him.

"Good," Vincent replied, returning his attention to his Chocobo.

"Now, about that plan of action…" Red began.

He grinned. His plans were finally coming to fruitation. His dream would be recognized, his goals would be achieved, and his enemies would fall. They would fall at his hand, a personal one-way ticket to hell. The young President had escaped him this time, but he could always go back. He chuckled as he thought of the look on her face when she saw the present he had left her in her office, both the fates of her soldiers and her doppelganger.

He had really enjoyed the doppelganger.

His face was bathed in black light as the large sphere of blackness flared to life. He concentrated, and in his mind’s eye saw a large asteroid ¼ the size of the planet itself entering the solar system on its usual 345,000 year orbit around the universe. It would suit his needs perfectly. He called to it and it answered, altering its orbit to a collision course with the planet.

He grinned.
Now all that was left was to sit back and wait.

Somewhere in the mantle of the planet, creatures stirred. Eyes as large as full-grown humans blinked in the darkness. Their mission was simple. Visit destruction to all those that would harm the planet. The WEAPONs were awake and heaven help any that might be on the receiving end of their wrath…