Gritting his teeth, Private Cloud Strife hauled the next batch of laundry over to the giant washing machine and started the load, making sure to put in the right soap for the SOLDIERs uniforms. He paused momentarily to wipe the sweat off his forehead and wished that his group had been assigned to clean out the chocobo pens instead of laundry in the hot and humid laundromat that week.
‘Of course, in a week it shouldn’t matter anyway,’ hoped Cloud as he turned to drag a load that was done out of the dryer and hauled it over to the large tables where various clothes were being folded and stacked. Cloud was on week seven of the eight week “introduction”, where the new recruits were tested and trained before being divided into the different divisions that made up the Shinra military, and he hoped that his application for the SOLDIER program was approved. It was the one thought that had made the last seven weeks of torture bearable.
Rude laughter cut through his thoughts and Cloud looked over to find Franklin, Thompson and Jenkins standing on a table as they glued various boxers to the ceiling of the laundromat. The three of them were almost as large as a SOLDIER and built like brick walls with the brains of bullies. They had practically terrorized everyone else in the trainee group and had delighted at picking on Cloud with his smaller size all while bragging about how they were going to be in the SOLDIER Program while everyone else was going to be their personal servants. Cloud shook his head as he hauled another basket of laundry, doing his best to ignore the thick humidity from the driers, and wondered who was going to get blamed for this prank this time.
“AttenHUT!” barked the sargent entering the laundromat, and Cloud snapped to attention with the rest of the room, laundry lying forgotten for the moment. The sargent was a grizzled man who looked like he could turn a tree into a toothpick by hitting it with a fist, and while he had a sense of humor, it wasn’t in tune with the pranks Jenkins, Franklin, and Thompson, something the three had paid for in the past.
Just as the sargent reached the first table, a pair of white boxers fell on top of his short gray hair with a wet plop, and Cloud resisted the urge to groan as a few snickers echoed through the room before they were caught. Hard brown eyes swept around the room, and Cloud stiffened, hoping to ward off the sargent’s questions by looking as serious as possible.
“So you girls think that’s funny, do ya?” the sargent growled, and Cloud joined in the chorus of “No Sir!” that went up. Sneering, the sargent reached up and dragged the wet boxers off his head as he stalked farther into the room, glaring at each person as he passed. For once, Cloud was grateful for his short stature because it meant that there was no way he could have glued *anything* to the ceiling even standing on the tables.
There were more wet plops as the rest of the boxers fell from the ceiling like a strange sort of Summons, and with each noise, the sargent’s scowl got darker.
“For the past seven weeks, ladies, you have been under *my* command,” he growled, prowling through them like a Kalm Fang waiting for the right chance to pounce on unsuspecting prey. “During that time, there have been numerous pranks and jokes played that some little girl has thought to be humorous. While I may have a sense of humor, I have *yet* to find any of the past events even remotely funny. If *any* of you think that you could possibly make SOLDIER with a sense of humor like that, then you’re in for a surprise.”
Suddenly, the sargent was in Cloud’s face. “Who glued the clothes to the ceiling, Private?” barked the man, and Could answered automatically.
“Jenkins, Franklin and Thompson, sir!”
He froze as he felt three glares boring into his back even as a smirk twisted the older man’s face. “And I suppose they have been our entertainers, Private?”
“Yes Sir!” agreed Cloud, and the glares got hotter as if they were trying to silently cast a Fire spell to incinerate them.
The sargent nodded before turning to the three perpetrators. “Congratulations girls. You’ve just earned the right to clean the SOLDIERs latrines. The rest of you, get back to work!”
“Yes Sir!” barked the recruits again, and Cloud turned back to the laundry, trying to ignore the three brick walls as they followed the sargent out of the laundromat.
It was going to be a long week.
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Groaning softly, Cloud collapsed on his bunk and tried to stretch the crick out of his back from carting heavy baskets back and forth. The rest of the day had gotten a bit easier since no one had to look over their shoulder to find out what prank Jenkins, Franklin and Thompson were going to play next, but now everyone else was avoiding Cloud, not wanting to get caught in the pay back those three were sure to dish out on the small blond. Now, it was minutes before curfew and the three were not back yet, probably still cleaning the toilets, and Cloud closed his eyes, trying to relax.
Suddenly, the lights went out in the barracks, and Cloud rolled to his feet, every sense on alert for possible trouble. This wasn’t normal for “lights out” and part of him had to wonder if it was some attack on Shinra’s military or just a short in the fuse box. He had taken a step away from his bunk when a blanket was thrown over him and a fist rammed into his gut, forcing the air out of him. Gasping, Cloud’s legs collapsed as he tried to catch his breath, but strong hands grabbed him, trapping him thoroughly in the blanket before he was scooped up.
“Congratulations, Private, you get to find out what it means to rat out a SOLDIER,” sneered the familiar voice of Jenkins, and Cloud started struggling in the firm grip that had him despite his winded condition.
“Damn brat wiggles worse than a worm,” growled Thompson, tightening his grip on Cloud’s legs.
“Then if he wants to be a worm, let’s feed him to the birds,” chortled Franklin and the other two laughed in agreement. After a few minutes, Cloud had to stop struggling to catch his breath when stars started dancing across his vision, and that was when he heard the familiar sounds of chocobos.
They were taking him to the stables, and were going to dump him in, forcing him to walk back after curfew to get into trouble.
“Now which stall to dump this brat into,” mused Franklin as the scent of straw and greens penetrated the blanket.
This time the laughter was harsher. “What about that black beastie over there?” offered Jenkins. “Heard it doesn’t like *anyone* in its stall.”
“Let’s rough him up first. Bet the scent of blood will really get that thing’s feathers up,” chortled Thompson. Before Cloud could struggle, the blanket was whipped off of him and his arms were painfully twisted behind his back as two sets of fists started working him over.
Bright lights flashed behind his eyes as a solid fist connected with Cloud’s jaw and the second punch to his face crunched against his nose, causing blood to stream from the broken cartilage. He coughed, choking on some blood that dribbled down his throat, and whomever held his arms yanked back, causing one of his shoulders to pop with a sickening crack. Unable to stop himself, Cloud cried out in pain as agony flared through his shoulder and arm, but that seemed to spur the fists on until the only part that had not been beaten were his arms and his feet.
“Okay, let’s dump ‘em,” announced one voice, but Cloud couldn’t make out who it was through the pain in his head. The rough hands were back, dragging him across a dirt floor and sending fresh flares of pain through his battered body before they stopped There was a fumbling sound and then the swish of feet on straw before he was dropped, jarring another moan out of his battered body.
“Let’s get outta here before...” the voice trailed off in a loud rustle of feathers as something large loomed in the shadows. Cloud managed to lift his head as fierce green eyes glittered out of the darkness to peer down at him before the largest black chocobo he had ever seen emerged from the darkness to stand between the three bullies and the door leading out of the stall. They shrank back, clinging to each other as they stared at the powerful chocobo as if it was about to rip them to shreds, but surprisingly, Cloud felt safer in the stall than he had in the barracks themselves.
With that last thought, unconsciousness enveloped him, carrying him beyond pain in her gentle embrace.
@@@
Sighing with relief, SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair slid off of Loki and gathered the red chocobo’s reins in one hand. “Come on, boy, time to get you bedded down for the night before I go do all that cursed paperwork.”
The chocobo let out a soft “kweh” before nibbing on Zack’s hair, and he chuckled as he led Loki into the barn. There had been a pack of Kalm Fangs that had decided to take part of the wasteland surrounding Midgar for their own so it was up to the Shinra military to deal with the beasts, but they had found out that the Fangs were too strong for ordinary troopers and the pack too big. Which led General Sephiroth into assigning Zack to go out and deal with the Fangs.
That had been two days ago and he had been on the constant move since then, tracking down the beasties and making sure that none of them bothered either Midgar or Shinra again. Now, all Zack wanted was a hot meal that wasn’t rations, a hotter shower, and his bed in that order and hopefully he would get it before sunrise.
“Wark!” cried Loki before dashing down an aisle that was *not* towards his stall and Zack swore as he stumbled after his bird, forcing his tired body to move. As he drew closer, Zack realized two things; he was heading for Odin’s stall and there was the scent of blood on the air.
“Damn it, Seph! Hope your bird hasn’t decided to take a piece out of another idiot. You have enough paperwork to deal with,” grumbled Zack, quickening his pace. When he reached Odin’s stall, he blinked in surprise at the scene that greeted him.
Fenrir and Baldur, a black chocobo with gold eyes and a yellow with blue eyes, had their necks arched over their stalls to occasionally snap at the three cadets who were cowering in the back corner while Odin and now Loki simply blocked their way out of Odin’s stall. Freya, a gentle pink chocobo hen with green eyes, had gotten out of her stall and was fussing over something she was sitting next to with concerned clucks and warbles.
Something in a bright blue cadet uniform that was stained with blood while an equally bloodstained blanket lay nearby as if abandoned after uncovering its gruesome prize.
Carefully, Zack eased his way into the stall and crouched down next to Freya who warbled at him before returning her attention to the injured boy. Dark circles had already formed around the boy’s eyes while his swollen nose spoke of its broken state, but his breathing was shallow and a bit rattling, as if he was trying to breath through liquid. From the bloodied streaks painting a macabre design down the bruised face, it was obvious that the boy had inhaled some blood from the busted nose. The one shoulder was swollen, straining against the fabric that contained it, and Zack started swearing when he felt the heat radiating through the blue uniform. Grabbing his PHS off his belt, he dialed a number from memory, realizing in an instant what had happened here.
“Someone had better be dying,” growled Sephiroth, his voice heavy with sleep, and it was only then that Zack remembered how late it truly was.
“Three someones might be if you don’t come restrain your bird,” stated Zack as he dug around in the saddle bag Loki still wore hunting for his potions. “Cause frankly, right now I’m willing to let Odin use these three for scratching posts.”
“What is happening?” Now Sephiroth was more awake, and Zack closed his eyes, not wanting to tell his friend and commander but not having a choice.
“A bully beating.” That had been the term for what happened to a cadet four years ago. He had been set upon by bullies who had beaten him and then dumped him to be found later. Only, the cadet hadn’t survived the beatings, leading Sephiroth to create new regulations for such things if only to try and prevent other young boys from being killed in such a manner.
“I will bring a medical team with me. You alert the perpetrators’ superior.” With that, Sephiroth hung up and Zack’s fingers closed around a familiar vial. He yanked it out of the bag and turned to kneel next to the battered cadet as he shoved the PHS into his pocket. Carefully, he slid an arm under the cadet’s shoulders and cradled him against his chest as he thumbed open the potion. A moan slipped out of the boy as bruised eyes fluttered open slightly to reveal hazy blue.
“Hey there, got something here that will make you feel a bit better for now,” soothed Zack, holding the potion in front of the blue gaze. The kid made a noise in the back of his throat as if he was trying to talk but it came out like a soft chirping, and combined with the blue eyes and riotous blond spikes, made him seem like a chocobo chick. Carefully, Zack poured a bit of the potion down the boy’s throat, and a sigh of relief slipped out of the boy before he relaxed into a healing sleep. He hesitated a moment before lowering the boy again, being careful not to jar the shoulder too much. Too much time had passed for it to be easily popped back into place by someone who only knew field medicine, and it was just better to let the professionals handle it.
Zack capped the potion and slipped it into a side pocket before standing to face the three cadets who were huddled in the back of the stall, his easy demeanor being replaced with the Second in Command to General Sephiroth as he folded his arms across his chest. “Who is your commanding officer, cadet?”
“Sargent Saunders, sir,” gasped out the brunet with brown eyes and a face that looked like he had used it to batter down a wall. His two buddies looked torn between saluting and trying to make it out of the stall past Zack who was pulling out his PHS again, but a cold glare from the SOLDIER First Class had them shrinking back.
He kept his glare on them as he dialed a second number and waited for security to pick up. “This is Commander Zack Fair. I need you to find Sargent Saunders and escort him to the stables.”
One of the bullies moaned low in his throat as he realized just how much trouble they were in, and Zack slid the PHS back after getting the security guard’s assurance that they were on their way. Freya clucked as she settled back down next to the boy and softly crooned as she started preening his spiky blond hair in a soothing gesture. Occasionally, she would glance up at Zack with a “wark” before returning her attention to the boy, and Zack leaned against the stall next to Fenrir to wait after spreading his blanket over the kid to keep him from losing too much body heat.
After several minutes, half of the lights snapped on in the stables, causing the three cadets to jump while Zack only blinked as his eyes adjusted and the sounds of multiple footsteps echoed through the stalls. Sweeping around a corner in black leather and silver hair, came Sephiroth, every inch the Silver General as a team of three medics were swept along in his wake. A few steps behind them came eight security guards in the general Shinra blue with a grizzled sargent that had a dark glare on his face, twisting rough features into something only a mother could love.
“General Sephiroth,” greeted Zack, tossing off a quick salute to the man, and Sephiroth’s materia green cat eyes narrowed at the gesture. He never really saluted the silver haired man except to tease him or in serious situations where they couldn’t be anything other than general and commander.
“Commander Fair, report,” requested Sephiroth staying outside the crowded stall with the other new arrivals.
Zack relaxed back against the wall as he talked. “Sir, I had just returned from a two-day mission and was bringing Loki in to be bedded down for the night when he yanked the reigns out of my hand. When I followed him here, Odin, Fenrir and Baldur had these three trapped in the stall and Freya was hovering over the beaten cadet.” He gestured as he talked, and Freya pinned the new arrivals with a firm green eye before going back to her clucking over the cadet. “After contacting you, I gave the cadet a bit of potion to ease some of his pain before covering him in the blanket and contacting security to bring Sargent Saunders as the commander of these three cadets.”
“And your opinion on what happened here?”
“From the bloodied blanket, it is apparent that these three ambushed the cadet in his barracks by throwing the blanket over him before hauling him out here where they proceeded to beat him thoroughly while he was still encased in the blanket. Then, deciding that was not enough, they manhandled him into this stall probably hoping that the occupant would finish the job for them only to become trapped when Odin took sides against them.” Zack chuckled slightly and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “And then your mount decided to get others to help him defend the cadet.”
A small smile touched Sephiroth’s lips, nothing more than a twitching of the corners, but Zack saw it if no one else did. “Sargent Saunders, do you know the motive behind this attack?”
The grizzled man slipped into the other stall and peered down at the sleeping cadet. “Yes sir, I do,” he growled, dark eyes hard as he glared at the perpetrator. “For the last seven weeks, the new cadets have been victims of pranks, everything from laces being knotted together to one boy being shaved bald. These three, meanwhile, have been strutting around, bragging how they were going to be in SOLDIER. Earlier today, while on laundry duty, Franklin, Thompson and Jenkins decided to have a bit of fun and glued several pairs of wet boxers to the ceiling. When questioned, Cadet Cloud Strife named them as the guilty party for both the boxers and the previous pranks, and these three were punished with latrine duty.”
“I see,” purred Sephiroth, his hands clasped behind his back before gesturing to the security guards to retrieve the three cadets. Six of the guards slipped into the stall and easily removed the three bullies under the watchful eyes of the four chocobos before Fenrir and Baldur pulled back into their stalls, apparently uninterested in anything that was happening now. Loki glanced around with a bored “kewh” before settling in a corner with Odin, but Freya remained unchanged, clucking and crooning worriedly over Strife. Sephiroth entered the stall and knelt next to the rose chocobo, laying a hand on a ruffled wing. “Will you allow the human healers to assist the young one, Freya?”
Freya cocked her head at him, studying the general with serious green eyes before chirping and moving back to allow the medics access to Strife. The three medics hurried in and started documenting the various injuries before one turned to accept the potion that Zack held out. “I used this on him, but it was full when it was opened.”
The medic nodded, and together they carefully lifted the boy onto a stretcher but Strife groaned at the movement. The medics froze as those blue eyes flickered open and that battered face smiled slightly as he gazed up at Sephiroth and Zack.
“Gonna be a SOLDIER...” he mumbled before drifting off to sleep once more, a small smile on his face, and Zack couldn’t help but chuckle.
He followed the medics out of the stall with Sephiroth trailing close behind, the bloodied blanket clenched in a leather encased hand, and they stared at the three kneeling prisoners who had their arms shackled behind their backs. “As for you three, you will spend the rest of the night in the brig until I have had sufficient time to review your crimes.”
Snapping his fingers, Sephiroth turned to Sargent Saunders. “When you have time, please deliver a full report on their behavior and their jackets to my office. Also, I would like to see Cadet Strife’s jacket as well.”
“Yes sir!” growled Saunders and Zack was beginning to realize that was the normal tone for the man, similar to the purr in Sephiroth’s voice. Tossing off a quick salute, he turned and stomped off, and Zack reentered the stall long enough to swipe his saddlebags and saddle off of Loki before hooking the door behind him.
“I’ll be back when I wake up to brush you down,” he said around a yawn even as he draped the saddle over a nearby rack. “Sorry I can’t do more.” He tossed a tired grin as Sephiroth. “Don’t worry, I’ll write up the report on this before I fall asleep, but that means you’re gonna be waiting for the mission report.”
Sephiroth smiled, that twitch of the lips again, before escorting Zack out of the stables. “I believe I can wait for more paperwork,” he remarked, turning the lights out as they closed the doors behind them.