Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
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year 5, quarter 3
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"So the mighty Sephiroth can't handle a fight without others doing the work for him."
Sephiroth glanced to his left, eyebrow raised. Somehow the swordsman had avoided his magic -- more or less at least. He was skilled. Enough even for SOLDIER, perhaps, but what he had in talent, he lacked in discipline. He’d let the stress of the fight affect him. Taunts like these were a weakness.
Sephiroth hadn’t asked for the support. He would have much rather done without it, in fact, but he knew how to adapt to it as easily as breathing. There was no weakness in teamwork, and romanticized ideas of masculinity were among the first that Sephiroth sought to extinguish in budding SOLDIERs. They would inevitably lead to defeat.
He didn’t say this, however. The taunt was nothing more than a distraction. He returned it with only a smirk.
The man attacked. He had a surprising speed that would have taken Sephiroth off guard had he been acting with his mind. Instead, he moved on instinct, eyes sharp and stance rooted. The man left him little room for a counterstrike, but as relentless as his offensive became, it lacked precision. The man’s eyes burned with hatred, frustration, and anger. Sephiroth’s remained collected. He moved without waste or flourish -- blocking each strike with nothing but a flick of his sword. He had faced far worse than this.
”Will you slay them? Like you did to your puppets? Like you did to us?”
Sephiroth’s eyebrows raised. It was revenge then. He could have guessed as much though the words were strange. Puppets? He had slain so many lives that the accusation hardly phased him, but had he ever slaughtered those beneath him in rank? Odd. The man spoke nonsense.
His assailant pulled back as quickly as he’d come. Sephiroth let him happen, lacking the interest to take the offensive himself. The Turks were unpredictable, and even as one of their helicopters crashed, he couldn’t say what other tricks they’d pull. The man sheathed his blade -- a useless show of confidence -- and held his hand at its hilt.
”I'll expose the darkness in you that Genesis protects. You will pay for all you've done.”
”Genesis?” Sephiroth felt his eyes prick with curiosity. How the man knew the state of Sephiroth’s relationships was beyond him, but that phrasing…
The darkness that Genesis protects. What was it that Genesis was hiding?
The man pulled his blade. There was the glint of cold metal, the prick of magic in the air, and then a shockwave like displaced air. Sephiroth’s eyes widened. He had been wrong about the man’s limitations. He was more versatile than he seemed.
His body moved of its own volition. He hopped back lightly, wing outstretched and hovering in the air. The magic exploded in the space he’d left, but Sephiroth hardly had time to take measure of it. Another shockwave came as quickly as the first, and he threw himself sideways. He was less agile in the air -- less precise -- and he felt the shockwave cut so close that his hair rippled with the force. His eyes darted from street to rooftop to the man’s sword.
Sephiroth would be given no time for counter spells. The shockwaves kept him defensive. Sephiroth could no longer stand by. He twisted in the air, wincing as a burst of magic sliced his cheek, and then he fell.
He hit the ground lightly, rolling into a forward dash. The roof’s angle would block the shockwaves. His assailant would need the slightest moment to readjust his aim, and in that moment, Sephiroth cleared the distance between them, lightened his weight, and lept to the man’s height, hovering there long enough to return the attack with a slash of his own.
Eight of them to be more specific, all placed with pinpoint precision. His blade glinted in hardly visible flashes of steel. His assailant may have been fast, but in that moment in the flurry of his sword, Sephiroth was faster.
[attr="class","momoPNotes"] My foes [break] They can't destroy my body
[attr="class","momoPBody"] Asael’s initial attacks didn’t inflict any wounds on his enemy, which was to be expected. They were merely intended to pressure Sephiroth to reveal any openings. It was successful to a degree. He defended himself well enough and even managed to dodge the temporal slashes. However, the winged man’s evasive maneuvers were more limited once he was in the air. Asael found the weak point he was looking for.
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Unfortunately for the clone, Sephiroth managed to land back down on the ground and regained his footing. Asael would have to find another way to force his nemesis to be airborne again, but was unable to do so due to Sephiroth’s oncoming attack.
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His arrogance was his downfall. Sephiroth lunged at him with a flurry of attacks and despite Asael’s blade being sheathed from his previous attacks, he managed to draw it once more to defend himself. The attacks were lightning fast and relentless, making it nearly impossible to defend himself. If eyes could see how fast the duo moved, they would see Asael’s panicked motions, which were almost like wild flails.
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Both sword and sheath were used in an attempt to parry the strikes. Although he had never learned what his blade was made of, Asael did know that the lightweight and durable metal was also used in the creation of his scabbard. It survived the barrage, but not without taking damage. Small chips were taken out of it each time Sephiroth’s mighty weapon struck and it would likely not last another round in this condition, but that would not matter. The weaker copy of the elite Soldier could not protect himself from them all. Each strike forced him to stagger back; Eight attacks, five of which were blocked, and three found their marks from partially successful parries. A deep laceration caught him across the abdomen, likely meant to disembowel the clone, and the other two cut far enough into the meat of both arms to practically render them combat ineffective. Just like how fast the battle began, it was now over.
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Blood dripped on on the concrete below Asael while the pain radiated from his wounds. He staggered back further as the anger inside him continued to burn. “You…”
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Eyes of malice stayed locked onto his enemy and bloodied arms hung at his sides with only enough strength to hold onto his weapon and sheath. He had every intent of fighting to the death because taking Sephiroth’s life was the very meaning of his existence. But that only made this failure even more painful. His blinding hatred created this situation and it would come one final time to pull him from the situation unwillingly.
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As a final step was taken back, Asael would only realize that he was on the edge of the roof after the misstep was taken. Gravity yanked his body backwards as he fell off from the side of the building hastily towards the ground. In seconds, he would feel, and hear, the splat of flesh smacking into concrete. Except—
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Unknown to the combatants, the guards that had been slain were the ones responsible for keeping the area free of civilians. And while reinforcements were only now coming on site, the people of Sonora still had their daily errands to run.
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Sonora was a modern city and modern cities needed modern management, especially for its waste, such as transportation and disposal of its garbage via large collection trucks. One such truck had entered the combat zone while the battle was ongoing and only now passed where Sephiroth and Asael had been fighting.
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As if some kind of divine intervention was called for that specific moment, rather than the splattering of his body onto the street, he instead landed onto piled of trash in the back of the waste disposal truck. Soggy bags of god-knows-what softened his impact, to a degree. While some of it was soft and squishy there was also glass and aluminum in the bags. The glass that shattered when he fell created new wounds in his body as it sliced into his flesh. They were shallow and added to his pain, but not as painful as the concrete ground would have been if he survived.
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As the truck drove off, the distant image of that warzone gradually faded, as did the figure of the man he hated so much. With what little strength he had left, Asael swore he would find the might needed to overcome his mortal enemy. And with that, the swordsman’s eyes closed to welcome the dark unconscious state that enveloped him.
She tried not to look like she was in pain as she climbed back into the helicopter. She had to be the foundation for the Turks now, and she felt any show of weakness in the open would crumble that foundation. But damn, did she hurt. Even with the magicite’s healing abilities, it just didn’t mend everything. Her shoulder was killing her, and her wrist was on fire from her previous antics. But she ground her back teeth and looked at her not dead Sonoran guard.
Her PHS buzzed and lit up with messages. Cissnei reached into her pocket with her good hand and proceed to read Freyra’s messages with an impressed expression on her face. Sometimes the colorful language Freyra was able to incite from her imagination certainly was nothing less than awe-inspiring. It also let Cissnei know that the lady Turk was okay.
Her eyes turned back out to see where the fight was supposed to be. However, it ended quicker than she could follow. But, as she was trying to spot Freyra, she first spotted Asael falling off the building into the back of at truck. She huffed silently at this development. She was hoping that he had learned his lesson that people did not like to be turned into sashimi. Or perhaps he was dead. She would have to figure that out later. Either way, Sephiroth did what she needed him to do. It was still a mission success. At least on the surface.
She was once more distracted by Freyra’s texts. And she gave yet another sigh much like a disappointed mother. It felt like neither of her Turks could keep the Sonoran guard alive. One would think it wasn’t too hard to minimize casualties. She turned to the guard on the helicopter. “I think we’re done. Tell reinforcements to stand down for now. Civilians should stay away until cleanup of building debris is removed. Guards should remain alert until confirmation of the suspect’s condition is confirmed…” Cissnei honestly had no idea if the guards would do as she asked, but passing the orders made her feel she had some semblance of control left.
Instead of texting back, Cissnei found it easier to just call the woman. “Freyra! I’m on my way. Don’t move.” She spotted the woman and she gestured for the pilot to land on the roof near Freyra. Cissnei rushed down the rickety emergency exit. It shook and rumbled as she clambered and hopped to the ground.
“Yikes. You look like you had a fun day.” Cissnei teased her gently to try to get Freyra’s mind off the pain. “Let’s get out of here. Can you walk? Are you breathing ok?” Cissnei studied Freyra and gave her the remnants of her blue tcoat to keep her warm. She would check over the Turk here, but it would probably best be done outside of the cold. She found a scooter with a side car attached to it. Time to commandeer the vehicle. Cissnei went to Freyra’s side and slid an arm under her’s to help support her to the scooter. “Need you to bear with me a little longer. Seems I owe you one for all the trouble I put you through."
His sword met flesh -- too shallow to kill. He struck carefully. Strategically. He followed the first (partially diverted) with two disabling his arms. His assailant staggered backwards, eyes burning with the hatred that had driven him to death. Sephiroth watched him coolly. Should he demand explanations? Would it matter?
He never had the chance to decide. In his carelessness, the man made the choice for him.
Sephiroth saw the man’s misstep. He saw his eyes widen, not even able to throw out his arms for balance. Then he saw the fall.
Sephiroth did nothing. The situation had taken care of itself.
He heard a muffled crash and the shattering of glass. A moment later, a truck drove from the point of impact -- a truck that reeked of stale garbage. Sephiroth’s lips twitched with a smirk. Would the man die? Most likely if not given immediate medical attention. Should he survive, he had at least suffered humiliation. Perhaps his arms would never heal. No good decisions were ever made on emotion alone.
With that done, Sephiroth’s gaze wandered to the sky. Only one helicopter remained, blades buffeting pulses of wind. Cissnei.
”Hmph.” Sephiroth closed his eyes, smirk widening. The transaction was finished. He had met her mysterious client and seen her work done. The helicopter descended upon one of the broken rooftops, and he saw her hop down, hair wild in the wind. She approached another form clad in black. The Turks never worked alone.
Sephiroth lightened his weight and took to the sky, wing outstretched. He landed silently on the roof’s edge, sword still in hand. He fixed the Turks with a cool look. ”Explain.”
When it became clear that she wasn't going to make it very far on her own with her injuries, Freyra decided to just go ahead and stay put where she was. She had a feeling that Cissnei would either come running to her rescue her, or send someone else to do it on the chance that she was too busy to do so herself. Sure enough, she received a call from Cissnei a few minutes later that she was on her way over. Freyra wasn't quite sure where she had landed, so she instead opted to give Cissnei a brief description of her surroundings to hopefully give Cissnei an idea of where she'd landed. From there, all she could do was wait and hope she didn't take too long to get there. Mercifully, she didn't.
She couldn't help but let out a small laugh at Cissnei's comment, which she immediately regretted as a sharp pain shot through what felt like the entirety of her right side "Oh god...please don't make me laugh...just breathing hurts like hell right now." Of course, she still maintained her playful tone, if only so Cissnei would (hopefully) worry worry less about her. "I'll be okay though...I've definitely had worse than this..." She was even making a point of forcing herself to breathe a little heavier than normal despite the pain in her ribs. Last she she needed was to risk a potential infection due to not breathing properly. As one can probably imagine, it's not a lot of fun. Especially for someone like Freyra who gets bored easily and can't sit still to save her life.
Regardless, Freyra didn't have much trouble walking so long as she had someone to support her. She and balance weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment, especially with how much pain she was in. Her shoulder, on the other hand, was a mess. Even with healing materia, she was going to have trouble lifting her arm for the foreseeable future. Regardless, she let Cissnei take her to the scooter, and smiled at her comment. "Heh...just put on a sexy nurse outfit while you take care of me, and I'll consider all of this to have been well worth it." She lets out a small chuckle, immediate followed by another groan of pain.
Cissnei gave a small smile when Freyra laughed. All this trouble would be worth it if she could see it again. It was these small moments with her comrades that made her feel more at home again. She tried to show her worry less, but she would fuss over them until both were healed. And she could already tell that Freyra’s breathing as still a bit labored. She let Freyra lean into a little more, acting as a cushion of balance for the woman.
She carefully reached for the side car’s door and helped Freyra slide inside. Hopefully the extra space in there would help her lean in ways to make breathing a little more comfortable. Cissnei’s face reddened at Freyra’s comment as she was little flustered, but she quickly recovered with an annoyed huff. “Sexy nurse outfit? I don’t think you could handle that.” And to emphasize what she meant, Cissnei provided her some tough love by poking the girl in her injured ribs, before closing the scooter door. “Be careful what you ask for.” She teased, pulling her trench coat over Freyra’s a little more securely.
She went around to the other side of the scooter and pulled the front panel out with a rough tug. She then went to work disconnecting some of the wiring, not unlike what she used to do for ShinRa security bots that went haywire. As she was beginning to hotwire the ignition, she heard Sephiroth’s one-word demand from above. She huffed a silent laughter that came out as a cloud in the air, but she didn’t turn to look up at him. Oh. She knew there was multiple was to answer his demand. Explain what just happened. Explain who that man was. Explain the military information. Cough up the information she promised him.
Ah. But answering vague questions was a dangerous pitfall. Instead, she decided to keep working on what she was doing and once the wiring was done. She moved to the side of the scooter and threw one leg over. She looked up at Sephiroth meeting his gaze, and giving a slight shrug. “Explain? You don’t know what a sexy nurse outfit is?” She gave his best innocent impersonation, something that seemed to work well on soldiers in the past. “Or perhaps, you’re injured and in need of one?” She looked him over. Despite taking the brunt of the attack, he seemed to have come out fine. “I’ll meet you in the pub from earlier. I have an errand to complete.” And with that she revved the scooter and kicked up snow.
Cissnei didn’t pay him much attention. In fact, she hardly seemed to notice him at all as she continued tending to her fellow Turk. Sephiroth’s eyes pricked to the woman at her side. Did he know her? Maybe. She sparked the same sense of familiarity as Cissnei had though it would take some time to place it. Time and perhaps a better sense of circumstances than this. It seemed she was wounded, and rather badly at that.
Sephiroth considered the use of his Cure materia, but he doubted it would be welcome. Turk business was Turk business, after all. Cissnei seemed to have it more than under control.
When Cissnei finally cared to notice him, it was with nothing but a dry wit. “Explain? You don’t know what a sexy nurse outfit is?”
Sephiroth raised his eyebrows. That sounded like something Genesis would say. He couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not.
“I’ll meet you in the pub from earlier,” she went on. ”I have an errand to complete.”
He said nothing at first. He doubted she needed anything said. She started the engine of her scooter, injured ally in tow, and Sephiroth considered her once again. She didn’t fear him. That was a rare thing for only the strongest of wills. Would the other Turks have responded with the same cool eye? Tseng came to mind. It wasn’t an unpleasant association.
Sephiroth smirked, humming softly in laughter. She didn’t fear him. He decided that he didn’t mind.
”I’ll be waiting,” he said. He brandished his sword, flicking the blood from it before sheathing it again. Beyond him, the sirens continued to wail. The dead were cool in the fallen snow, and flames flickered from the wreckage of Cissnei’s broken office. Tomorrow, the news would broadcast a citywide emergency. The dead would be mourned. The citizens would pan over the images in shock and fear.
It was nothing new.
Cissnei shot down the street, leaving a mist of snow behind her. Sephiroth’s eyes drifted to the sky. He did not have his answers. In fact, he had more questions than ever before, and yet he felt his anger cool as quickly as the dead below. He would learn the truth soon enough. For now, there was only himself, his thoughts, and the gunmetal sky. He relished it.
