Title: Floor Sixty-Six
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core
Characters: Cloud, Angeal/Zack
Rating: R
Word Count: 1916
Notes: A help_japan auction fic for![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
slower_pen.
Prompt: Something with Angeal, Zack and Cloud.
Cloud had drawn the short straw. His time was nearly up. The other cadets gave him wide berth and whispered behind his back. Some of them cast a sympathetic look his way. Others looked grateful the cup had passed them by.
Third watch, sixty-sixth floor patrol. Cloud had heard the talk. Word was somebody had died up there long ago, wailing in agony, and even now the restless spirit roamed the halls, refusing the peace of the grave. The worst of the lot claimed it had been a SOLDIER who had met his end there, run through by something terrifying and large in the dark hours of the morning. If you passed by at the right time, you could still hear the echoes of his dying scream.
Cloud put it down to pure hazing. People were always trying to scare the new recruits. Some hackneyed ghost story would just be the latest thing. But now that he was actually facing it, gearing up and checking his rifle at minutes to midnight, it didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore. The halls were empty during third watch. Even people who worked late were long gone by then. The company dimmed the lights to save power. Running a solo patrol on any floor was creepy enough without an alleged haunting thrown into the mix. The elevator dinged. Cloud’s fingers tightened around his rifle. The door slid open.
Nothing. Cloud let out a heavy breath and stepped out. The lights were dim. Some of the old bulbs flickered along the way, casting a sickly mako glow. Tall shadows arced up on either side of Cloud. He shook off his worry and stuck to the path. Stupid, really, for a Nibelheim boy to worry about ghost stories. They had a haunted mansion of their own, right there at the edge of town. Any number of country boy rites of passage involved getting as close as possible before nerves gave out.
One pass east, one pass west, lather, rinse, repeat. Nothing to it. Cloud shouldered his rifle and began to march. He was careful and quiet about it. There was nothing lurking around the corner, absolutely nothing, but still, it wouldn’t do to tick nothing off. By the third pass he had found his groove. The tall shadows became familiar. His eyes adjusted to the light. The sound of his feet on the floor was a comfort, marking off the seconds in a steady marching beat.
A heavy rumble had him swinging his rifle. A cold gust on the back of his neck told him it was the air conditioning cycling back on. Cloud glanced from side to side and shrank himself back into patrol position. He wanted to laugh at himself but the first hint of a chuckle echoed too loudly down the hall and the rest of it withered away.
Cloud swallowed and resumed his patrol. It was only a touch of nerves, he told himself, that made Floor Sixty Six echo more than all the rest. Ears that were straining to hear every sound might pick up quite a few things that were not actually there. That was how he missed the first groan.
He caught it again as he passed the restrooms. He put it down to bad plumbing and turned in place to march away. A human cry came at him from the door. Cloud marched on with escape on his mind. He was not ten feet past the door when training set in. It was duty to investigate anything strange. There were threats to the company more real than ghosts. His hand slid to his belt, checking for his radio. He could sound an alarm or call for assistance if he needed to.
He slid along the wall and steeled himself at the doorway. It was not a ghost, he told himself, not a ghost. A sharp cry froze him in his boots. Not a ghost at all, he thought. It was probably something very ordinary, like corporate spies, or terrorists.
Would spies be crying the bathroom, though? Cloud did not have a SOLDIER’s hearing yet but high pitched sounds tended to carry and the little gasps and mewls were unmistakable. It sounded like pain. Cloud blinked. Maybe someone had been in there all along, waiting for the dead hours. Executives suicided sometimes, didn’t they? Cloud shoved the door open and ran in.
Nothing.
Nothing apparent anyway. There was no one at the mirror, no one bleeding over the sinks. The blood rushing in Cloud’s ears took over as he glanced under the stalls. No feet. The doors hung at a very slight angle. Not a one was locked.
That was meaningless. There were ways to hide in a bathroom stall. Cloud pushed the first door open, then the next. “Sir?” he asked. “It’s okay. I can get help.” Mindless patter, for his benefit as well as theirs.
But when the last door swung in to reveal and empty stall, when Cloud knew he was truly alone there, no words sprung to mind to make him feel better. The hairs on his neck stood on end. Cloud wanted to be back in the hallway, wanted to have his avenues of escape, wanted to be anywhere but stuck in a restroom with a disembodied voice and only one way out.
One step back. One to the side. He could force himself to move. He would get out. He would get away from this place and finish his patrol. If he stuck to the main hallway in front of the elevator no one would ever know.
One more moan resonated down from above. Cloud slammed his back against the wall, rifle before him in defense. He felt his hands shaking and wondered when that had started. He doubted he could pull the trigger. Just as well. You couldn’t shoot ghosts, could you?
One more groan came at him, less sharp than the others. The low timbre stirred Cloud in ways the others had not. He stood shivering against the tiles, lost and confused. The sounds continued to pour down from above, eliciting a metallic shiver from the ducts overhead.
Cloud blinked. It was in the vents? That had not been part of the rumors he had heard and it didn’t make sense either. If it was in the air vents it could go anywhere, on any floor. Why stay here?
Unless, Cloud thought, this really was the place it had died. It was not hard to picture, a SOLDIER working his way about the shafts in the line of duty, intent on his task and letting nothing stand in his way. Maybe someone had shot him, or stabbed him through the metal. May that was why he lingered, straining to complete his mission long after injury had claimed him. Cloud felt the fear leave him. The company was safe. Maybe that was what kept this SOLDIER here, the unfinished business that bound him to this side of the earth.
Cloud looked up at the ceiling. There was a vent there. It looked big enough to poke head and shoulders through. He could take a look around. He gathered his Nibel nerve and stood. If he stood on the toilet, perhaps, he could just reach it. It might take a boost off the toilet tank to really get up in there, but if he was short he was at least light too.
He got moving before he could change his mind. The sounds were coming steadily now, interspersed with little cries. “I’m coming, buddy,” he whispered and wondered if it was okay to address a SOLDIER that way. The grate came off with little effort and soon he was inching his head up into the space. He squinted into the dark, almost afraid of what he might see.
Nothing. But the voice was definitely coming through the ventilation shaft. Cloud tossed his rifle in ahead of him and hauled himself up. It was dusty in there, and roomy for an air vent but when Cloud tried to picture spending all eternity in a narrow box, he shuddered. He grabbed hold of his rifle and began to crawl. There was light around the corners. Cloud followed the sounds. The sound carried so clearly inside the vent. Cloud crawled and crawled but did not find anything. He wondered if he could. Nobody had ever accused him of having second sight.
The cries were faster now, more desperate and pained. Cloud wondered if that was what dying sounded like. He hurried onwards. A keening wail made him stop. It had not echoed like the rest. It was close. It wasn’t in the shaft at all. Cloud inched toward the next patch of light. There were no more cries. Cloud felt as if something heavy had been thrown over his heart. Had the SOLDIER died? Did it relive its death night after night? The stripes of shadow and light on Cloud’s hands began to blur.
“Oh, Gaia, ‘geal, we have got to do this again!”
Cloud turned his head, blinking his eyes dry. There were people in the conference room! Two of them and they didn’t look the least bit transparent. He froze immediately, not wanting to draw attention. SOLDIERS. They were SOLDIERs, still in uniform. Well, mostly. One of them was completely lacking pants. The older one was zipping his. Cloud recognized that one from the news. He had the distinct feeling that he should have stayed in the bathroom.
“Here.” General Hewley reached down and picked a pair of chocobo print boxers off the floor. “Yellow today, eh?”
“It’s a classic,” said the young one, rising from the table. Cloud did not recognize him. Lower ranked, probably and had not made a name for himself yet. Cloud hoped they did not run into each other on missions too soon. He would have a hard time looking that one in the eye without blushing.
“So can we, Angeal?” the young one asked. “Please?”
Hewley sighed. “If you really want, pup,” he said, ruffling the young man’s hair. “But there are plenty of other opportunities to stamp your scorecard in the building, if you catch my drift.”
The young man bounced, giving Cloud a prime view of his assets. “Better than the conference table?”
General Hewley smirked. “Lazard’s desk?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Not at all. Genesis was the first, of course, and now it’s something of a secret SOLDIER tradition. I thought maybe it’s time we joined the club.”
The young one gaped. “But what if the Director finds out?”
“I think he knows.” The smirk became a grin. “The man’s very generous to his top performers, in his own way.”
“You don’t say.” The Third finished pulling on his boots and wrapped his arms around the General’s waist. “Can we go home now? The table was fun but it’s not snuggly.”
Hewley put an arm around his lover’s shoulders and kissed the messy hair. “Sure, pup, let’s go home.”
Cloud stayed where he was till the door slid shut. He strained his ears till he heard the elevator ding. He waited until his breathing was the only sound around. Half his shift was done. He crawled back the way he had come and put the grate in place. He stayed in the bathroom stall for a long while. Then, rifle shouldered and uniform straight, he began to patrol again, determined to take Third Watch in as many places as he could get it.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core
Characters: Cloud, Angeal/Zack
Rating: R
Word Count: 1916
Notes: A help_japan auction fic for
slower_pen.Prompt: Something with Angeal, Zack and Cloud.
Cloud had drawn the short straw. His time was nearly up. The other cadets gave him wide berth and whispered behind his back. Some of them cast a sympathetic look his way. Others looked grateful the cup had passed them by.
Third watch, sixty-sixth floor patrol. Cloud had heard the talk. Word was somebody had died up there long ago, wailing in agony, and even now the restless spirit roamed the halls, refusing the peace of the grave. The worst of the lot claimed it had been a SOLDIER who had met his end there, run through by something terrifying and large in the dark hours of the morning. If you passed by at the right time, you could still hear the echoes of his dying scream.
Cloud put it down to pure hazing. People were always trying to scare the new recruits. Some hackneyed ghost story would just be the latest thing. But now that he was actually facing it, gearing up and checking his rifle at minutes to midnight, it didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore. The halls were empty during third watch. Even people who worked late were long gone by then. The company dimmed the lights to save power. Running a solo patrol on any floor was creepy enough without an alleged haunting thrown into the mix. The elevator dinged. Cloud’s fingers tightened around his rifle. The door slid open.
Nothing. Cloud let out a heavy breath and stepped out. The lights were dim. Some of the old bulbs flickered along the way, casting a sickly mako glow. Tall shadows arced up on either side of Cloud. He shook off his worry and stuck to the path. Stupid, really, for a Nibelheim boy to worry about ghost stories. They had a haunted mansion of their own, right there at the edge of town. Any number of country boy rites of passage involved getting as close as possible before nerves gave out.
One pass east, one pass west, lather, rinse, repeat. Nothing to it. Cloud shouldered his rifle and began to march. He was careful and quiet about it. There was nothing lurking around the corner, absolutely nothing, but still, it wouldn’t do to tick nothing off. By the third pass he had found his groove. The tall shadows became familiar. His eyes adjusted to the light. The sound of his feet on the floor was a comfort, marking off the seconds in a steady marching beat.
A heavy rumble had him swinging his rifle. A cold gust on the back of his neck told him it was the air conditioning cycling back on. Cloud glanced from side to side and shrank himself back into patrol position. He wanted to laugh at himself but the first hint of a chuckle echoed too loudly down the hall and the rest of it withered away.
Cloud swallowed and resumed his patrol. It was only a touch of nerves, he told himself, that made Floor Sixty Six echo more than all the rest. Ears that were straining to hear every sound might pick up quite a few things that were not actually there. That was how he missed the first groan.
He caught it again as he passed the restrooms. He put it down to bad plumbing and turned in place to march away. A human cry came at him from the door. Cloud marched on with escape on his mind. He was not ten feet past the door when training set in. It was duty to investigate anything strange. There were threats to the company more real than ghosts. His hand slid to his belt, checking for his radio. He could sound an alarm or call for assistance if he needed to.
He slid along the wall and steeled himself at the doorway. It was not a ghost, he told himself, not a ghost. A sharp cry froze him in his boots. Not a ghost at all, he thought. It was probably something very ordinary, like corporate spies, or terrorists.
Would spies be crying the bathroom, though? Cloud did not have a SOLDIER’s hearing yet but high pitched sounds tended to carry and the little gasps and mewls were unmistakable. It sounded like pain. Cloud blinked. Maybe someone had been in there all along, waiting for the dead hours. Executives suicided sometimes, didn’t they? Cloud shoved the door open and ran in.
Nothing.
Nothing apparent anyway. There was no one at the mirror, no one bleeding over the sinks. The blood rushing in Cloud’s ears took over as he glanced under the stalls. No feet. The doors hung at a very slight angle. Not a one was locked.
That was meaningless. There were ways to hide in a bathroom stall. Cloud pushed the first door open, then the next. “Sir?” he asked. “It’s okay. I can get help.” Mindless patter, for his benefit as well as theirs.
But when the last door swung in to reveal and empty stall, when Cloud knew he was truly alone there, no words sprung to mind to make him feel better. The hairs on his neck stood on end. Cloud wanted to be back in the hallway, wanted to have his avenues of escape, wanted to be anywhere but stuck in a restroom with a disembodied voice and only one way out.
One step back. One to the side. He could force himself to move. He would get out. He would get away from this place and finish his patrol. If he stuck to the main hallway in front of the elevator no one would ever know.
One more moan resonated down from above. Cloud slammed his back against the wall, rifle before him in defense. He felt his hands shaking and wondered when that had started. He doubted he could pull the trigger. Just as well. You couldn’t shoot ghosts, could you?
One more groan came at him, less sharp than the others. The low timbre stirred Cloud in ways the others had not. He stood shivering against the tiles, lost and confused. The sounds continued to pour down from above, eliciting a metallic shiver from the ducts overhead.
Cloud blinked. It was in the vents? That had not been part of the rumors he had heard and it didn’t make sense either. If it was in the air vents it could go anywhere, on any floor. Why stay here?
Unless, Cloud thought, this really was the place it had died. It was not hard to picture, a SOLDIER working his way about the shafts in the line of duty, intent on his task and letting nothing stand in his way. Maybe someone had shot him, or stabbed him through the metal. May that was why he lingered, straining to complete his mission long after injury had claimed him. Cloud felt the fear leave him. The company was safe. Maybe that was what kept this SOLDIER here, the unfinished business that bound him to this side of the earth.
Cloud looked up at the ceiling. There was a vent there. It looked big enough to poke head and shoulders through. He could take a look around. He gathered his Nibel nerve and stood. If he stood on the toilet, perhaps, he could just reach it. It might take a boost off the toilet tank to really get up in there, but if he was short he was at least light too.
He got moving before he could change his mind. The sounds were coming steadily now, interspersed with little cries. “I’m coming, buddy,” he whispered and wondered if it was okay to address a SOLDIER that way. The grate came off with little effort and soon he was inching his head up into the space. He squinted into the dark, almost afraid of what he might see.
Nothing. But the voice was definitely coming through the ventilation shaft. Cloud tossed his rifle in ahead of him and hauled himself up. It was dusty in there, and roomy for an air vent but when Cloud tried to picture spending all eternity in a narrow box, he shuddered. He grabbed hold of his rifle and began to crawl. There was light around the corners. Cloud followed the sounds. The sound carried so clearly inside the vent. Cloud crawled and crawled but did not find anything. He wondered if he could. Nobody had ever accused him of having second sight.
The cries were faster now, more desperate and pained. Cloud wondered if that was what dying sounded like. He hurried onwards. A keening wail made him stop. It had not echoed like the rest. It was close. It wasn’t in the shaft at all. Cloud inched toward the next patch of light. There were no more cries. Cloud felt as if something heavy had been thrown over his heart. Had the SOLDIER died? Did it relive its death night after night? The stripes of shadow and light on Cloud’s hands began to blur.
“Oh, Gaia, ‘geal, we have got to do this again!”
Cloud turned his head, blinking his eyes dry. There were people in the conference room! Two of them and they didn’t look the least bit transparent. He froze immediately, not wanting to draw attention. SOLDIERS. They were SOLDIERs, still in uniform. Well, mostly. One of them was completely lacking pants. The older one was zipping his. Cloud recognized that one from the news. He had the distinct feeling that he should have stayed in the bathroom.
“Here.” General Hewley reached down and picked a pair of chocobo print boxers off the floor. “Yellow today, eh?”
“It’s a classic,” said the young one, rising from the table. Cloud did not recognize him. Lower ranked, probably and had not made a name for himself yet. Cloud hoped they did not run into each other on missions too soon. He would have a hard time looking that one in the eye without blushing.
“So can we, Angeal?” the young one asked. “Please?”
Hewley sighed. “If you really want, pup,” he said, ruffling the young man’s hair. “But there are plenty of other opportunities to stamp your scorecard in the building, if you catch my drift.”
The young man bounced, giving Cloud a prime view of his assets. “Better than the conference table?”
General Hewley smirked. “Lazard’s desk?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Not at all. Genesis was the first, of course, and now it’s something of a secret SOLDIER tradition. I thought maybe it’s time we joined the club.”
The young one gaped. “But what if the Director finds out?”
“I think he knows.” The smirk became a grin. “The man’s very generous to his top performers, in his own way.”
“You don’t say.” The Third finished pulling on his boots and wrapped his arms around the General’s waist. “Can we go home now? The table was fun but it’s not snuggly.”
Hewley put an arm around his lover’s shoulders and kissed the messy hair. “Sure, pup, let’s go home.”
Cloud stayed where he was till the door slid shut. He strained his ears till he heard the elevator ding. He waited until his breathing was the only sound around. Half his shift was done. He crawled back the way he had come and put the grate in place. He stayed in the bathroom stall for a long while. Then, rifle shouldered and uniform straight, he began to patrol again, determined to take Third Watch in as many places as he could get it.
