-Slave to the Forsaken-

FIC - COLOUR OF SIN - CH 4 CURSE OF AWARENESS

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 14:08:48 GMT

Crisis Core – Colour of Sin
Author: j_cae
Chapter Title: Chapter IV: Curse of Awareness
Rating: R
Pairing: Genesis/Angeal, hints of Genesis/Lazard
Warnings: Language, violence, yaoi, bad moral example, and dark Angeal
Disclaimer: Don’t own CC, but own the time spent writing this.
Summary: Monster, Shinra. SOLDIER, traitor. Angeal, Lazard—fighting on opposing ends but compelled into sin by a shared loss. This is Angeal and Lazard’s story.

Previous Chapters
Prologue
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III

COLOUR OF SIN
By J CAE

~SIX MONTHS BEFORE CRISIS CORE~
GENESIS

Genesis saw his own face plastered onto three things floating in mako green.

Like wax statues, like those he had seen downtown Midgar with every eyelash and skin pore in place but still lacking vital essence. He heard a while ago that they were building a Sephiroth replica, and he had gone to see it to sate his curiosity. He decided there could not be a more humiliating experience, having a manikin look-alike smiling dumbly while menacing fangirls and boys took photographs with their hands where they should not be.

Now, grey with sleep, the three repeated creatures in the large mako tank were barely alive, except for the occasional scratch of air bubbles that escaped from their nostrils. They had his facial structure. They had the same coloured hair. They were like what he would have been if he spent six months bloating in mako. One of them furled a single grey wing from the left shoulder, feathers coated in a thin membrane.

“What are these?” Genesis asked. Pride chose his response. He could have lapsed into mindless fear. What are these what are these are they me how did it happen am I the real one how many of them are there? But he did not. He told himself he had walked into something crazier—like Wutai—and walked out laughing. He would not lose his head over this...

“Copies made from your cells,” Hollander said with a smile and a hand lurching to touch Genesis on the shoulder. Genesis shrugged away before he made contact. “Aren’t they marvellous?”

Genesis wanted to find something to blotch out their faces, but they would never fade from his head. Instead, he stepped closer to the tank to take in what he was seeing. The three monstrosities seemed to share his inquisitiveness. They seemed to wake, and swimming in mako they righted themselves and pressed their faces together as close to Genesis as they could get. Their eyes were the same colour behind a thin milky film.

Hollander appeared to be puzzled by their strange gravity, remarked he should record this finding. “Maybe if you could stay a while,” he suggested. “I could look at their…”

“No.” Genesis turned, breaking contact with the triplets. “I’m going to kill you and every one of them.”

The doctor took a full second to grasp his threat, and realized that he had the power to deliver what he promised. “But this is…this is going to help.” As he spoke to reassure Genesis, he backed away towards the door. “See, if I can test the cure on them to find out how well they cope, I will be able to give you the right medication for your condition.”

The pair of automatic doors behind Hollander opened when he approached. Genesis shoved him outside and short-circuited the wall electronic panel with Bolt.
The doors shut.

The copies responded to him. He found he could influence them and make them look where he wanted to see. He willed the winged anomaly to turn around and let him examine the feathered growth. The other two copies swam around to admire the wing up close. They were a four-way mirror now out of sync. He was not certain he should speak to them, so they did not speak back either.

Then, the other two creatures spread their wings in unison, pouring black feathers from a split on their skin. Genesis felt a knife slash deep in his spine and he crashed to his knees in pain.

He did not have a wing, but the copies were pressed against the glass, studying him in his agony now. He was the anomaly. They could feel he was not like them.

Connection…there surely was a connection between them. Their telepathy was two-way. They could influence him too. Maybe he was studying them, not because he was interested in them but the other way around.

He broke away from them. He backed away, trusting in the safety of physical distance. They pounded against the glass, longing to come after him. He could hear Hollander meshing the panel on the other side of the door, trying to get back in. This lab was their world. Not his.

He should leave.

~*DAY FOUR SINCE ANGEAL WENT MISSING*~

Outside the cavern and back in the land of childhood fantasies, all that remained of his and Angeal’s history were stilled corpses strewn across their path. The only things that moved were crows and Genesis copies with crow wings, feeding bits off the bodies for pleasure.

It was all symbolic, really.

Built for carnage, the copies were unleashed bloodlust, bred to tear through anything that moved. Genesis had not stopped them from exacting their talents on the Banora villagers. Since he did not remember agreeing to let Hollander take his cells and make copies out of them, the villagers’ deaths were not on his hands.

He and Angeal were going home.

The crows and copies eyed them with some longing. Genesis looked back in cold apathy, restraining his fears for them, containing the accusations of cruelty he heard in his head.

“Angeal,” he called.

Angeal was still there, one step behind him. Saying nothing at all.

Genesis whispered, “They are not me. I didn’t do what they did.”

CHAPTER FOUR: CURSE OF AWARENESS

LAZARD

Ninth floor of the Sector Five offices was vacated with the ongoing renovation work. Dinah put the air-conditioner on low to freeze the scent of thinner and paint.

The two grunts had been waiting in the office for a while. Lazard could tell by how ice-cold their hands felt when he shook them. Maybe it was hope that warmed their manners as they accepted his apology for being late. He did not even have time to go through their service records, but he knew they both served Shinra for seven years in the army without cutting it close to being in SOLDIER. What else could happen when they were summoned to a meeting with the Director of SOLDIER? Lazard regretted he could not deliver what they might have expected.

“I am Lazard Deusericus,” he said to the two hopefuls who were invited to sit across from the large teak desk. Dinah must have extracted the furniture from another floor. “It was brought to my attention that you both have great potential. I have reviewed your evaluations and found you suitable to be promoted to Third Class SOLDIER.”

“Really? Oh man! Finally!” exclaimed the one named Kyes. He looked different from his portfolio photo—seven years older—but the genuine wide grin reduced him to almost a child again.

The other one named Samuel shook Lazard’s hand again. “Thank you sir! What is our next mission?”

“Thank you sir,” Kyes added, belatedly.

These two—Lazard did not doubt they were decent people. Good people. They earned their keep and lived their pride and their paths would never have crossed under normal circumstances. They might have had a couple more decades of boring patrol duty. Now, they had Genesis and the Turks to thank for their altered course.

Lazard told them, “We have two excellent First Class SOLDIERs who also came from Banora, as you did.”

“Genesis and Angeal, sir,” Kyes said. His eyes danced with excitement. “They are our local heroes. We are friends from back home. We look forward to working with them in the future.”

“You will see them.” Lazard picked up two contracts and a pen his aide left for him. “If this arrangement is acceptable to you, I need you to sign the paperwork for me.”

“Of course we will. This is…so much honour.” Samuel took the letter and signed his name. Kyes snatched the pen out of his hand before he was even done. They pushed the signed contracts back to Lazard without reading through it. Not that it would have mattered very much.

“I will ask Dinah to give you a copy of these,” Lazard forced himself to smile. “Welcome to SOLDIER. I do apologize we are quite short-handed, and you are needed in a mission right away. My aide Dinah will explain your objectives in detail when you meet her at the basement car park at 13:00.”

“Of course sir. Yes sir.”

Lazard gave them the last respect of a proper look in the eyes before sending them off.

“I thank you, SOLDIERs.”

The unsuspecting Samuel and Kyes walked out of the office, each clutching a brown envelop with their contract copies still warm from the printer. Lazard instructed Dinah to wait until called up a few friends and family to relate the news. The pair might have tried to contact Angeal or Genesis, but of course neither would have picked up the call.

At 13:00, they headed to the car park where Dinah waited for them beside a black van with shaded windows and a single sliding door. Dinah was a tall woman with black hair and black eyes, pretty in a full suit like a Turk. She told them she would brief them on the way and sent them both into the back seat. Samuel and Kyes eagerly strapped themselves in, too ready for their first mission as SOLDIERs.

Dinah pulled out her gun from her belt harness and fired one bullet each into their heads.

“It is done,” she said.

She returned to Lazard’s Sector Five office and saluted. She never looked him in the eye. It was not the first time she had been ordered to kill her ‘guests’, but Lazard knew the circumstance was different this time. She shot two Shinra employees who had done no offence except to have come from the wrong hometown. Lazard knew the conflict—that was why he could not ask any of his SOLDIERs to carry out this order for him. It had to be done by someone not directly associated with the department.

“It is unfortunate,” he sighed.

It was the Turk who suggested this transfer and the President authorized it. SOLDIERs were top confidence sector. There was no way for the public to find out the whereabouts of a SOLDIER operative. A SOLDIER could disappear as if he never existed. It was the quickest way to secure the operation in Banora while air forces were already on their way to obliterate the village.
At least it made everyone happy for a while.

“Heidegger called again,” Dinah informed him. “I told him you were busy. He didn’t sound pleased we by-passed him on the pair of transfers. He still wants you to return his call.”
Persistent. Lazard already had to light the torches to another war against Heidegger before he could complete his one with Genesis. There was no going back. Honestly, he did not know if he had enough reserve to win it, but he took consolation from the thought he still had some.

“If he calls again,” Lazard instructed, “Direct his call to Tseng.”

ANGEAL

Home.

Back in the kitchen to find that mother with whom he had not spoke for days—always there, silently working to ensure the family was in comfort even after Father died. Now, though her shell remained rigid in a chair at its heart, she was no longer there.

“Mother.”

Startled, she dropped the glass of water in her hand. It shattered on the table. Out of reflex, he approached to help but as she rose from her seat she avoided his eyes. He noticed for the first time where her shawl fell out of place, there was an odd discolouration on her shoulder.

She put the glass fragments into the garbage and erased the spill with a towel. Everything was normal again.

He pressed a shoulder against the wall. “Do you think the stagnant mako could cure him?”

“Angeal, please.” She cast the towel aside with a sigh. “Maybe you can’t help Genesis anymore.”

Angeal knew where the conversation was going, that Genesis changed—full of uneven rage he walked a path of only destruction. But she would never know the deeper truth to his decisions.

“I saw…” she gestured to the window, to the dropped blinds that blocked out the light, “what happened outside. The massacre. Those creatures that wear Genesis’s face. The cries the children made when…” Her voice cracked. She pressed the back of her hand under her nose but she refused to weep. “…when they died. I can’t understand it. It’s not about revenge—if it is revenge, it should have been against Hollander and I. Against Shinra. Not these innocent people.”

Righteous justice, Genesis had called it—what he did to his parents and the villagers. The killings were what Shinra allowed by creating Project G and the copies. If they never did. the carnage here would not have happened.

Still…

Gillian broke the silence that encased them. “Did you…ever give Hollander your cells?”

Of course he had. Hollander asked for his blood claiming it might be a cure for Genesis. That was before Angeal learned about Project G, before he had any reason to believe in but good intentions from the doctor.

Angeal only told Gillian, “I won’t have to, if you could tell me how to save Genesis. Hollander is our last resort.”

“Angeal, why? Genesis killed his own parents. He killed Simmons and now…this.”

Why? Because he could not lose Genesis to this sickness. Angeal would then be the last of Project G, the last of his mother’s monstrosities.

Because the marred and bruised skin was still beautifully warm to the touch and…he pressed his lips against the bandage on Genesis’s left shoulder still leaking rusty red. The bitter taste of guilt. In little circles he fingered the dents of the neck, sliding down slow and agonizingly to the spine, to the unexplained wound pouring black feathers on the back.

Genesis said, “I still don’t know what they did to me.”

To find out each day that there was something else they did not know, their bodies giving responses that they could not understand. Complex, complex fear.

Pride would get him no answers. His mother was still determined to keep to her self-inflicted rules of what was honourable, but he could not care anymore. “Then save me. I am not degrading yet, but I don’t know if I will. Why am I not dying?”

Gillian said, “Because you were never injected with my cells.”

“How do you mean?”

“The other Project G children received my altered cells when they were in embryo
form—too late for genetic modifications. Normally we would have to work with stem cells or unfertilized eggs, but we took a gamble on the viral nature of the J-cells. But you already know the injection triggered a violent response from the immune system instead but caused little genetic recombination.”

Gillian closed her eyes, “But you were convinced after I already had the J-cells. You were exposed to J-genes directly before you were in embryonic stage.”

“What you’re saying…I was the only one successfully modified?”

“It was intended to be that way.” Gillian admitted. “But I couldn’t do it. I took medication to strengthen my immune system. When you were born, you were tested to be normal.”

Born normal. Human? He wondered why that word brought such reassurance when it would change nothing about his current situation. But there were gaps in her story and he needed to know. “Why did you take the medication? If the genetic modification has to occur before embryonic stage, you couldn’t even know you had me.”

“I have the degradation too,” she said. “Do you remember I was always sick when you were small?”

Yes. That was true. She was often ill in bed when he was a child. It was likely why he was allowed to stay over at Genesis’s place back then. “But you got better.”

“I am still here…because Genesis found the mako cave. I used to go there when you were at school. I did not want you to find out, so I would only go there ten minutes each day. It is true that some component in the cave helped to stabilize my condition—whether or not it is the stagnant mako.”

This trip back home—Angeal hoped it would serve some purpose and it had. But they could not stay now, not among maggots and crows. Genesis had murdered Banora. Angeal could only hope the doctor would find out what helped soon enough and replicate its effect.

But Gillian spoke again. “It can’t undo the damage that is already done internally. Whether Genesis can live will depend on how his condition is now.”

To have his hopes dashed again...“But would a longer exposure help? If you had been in the cave for hours a day, do you think you would have been cured?”

“Angeal, listen to me. I know Hollander. The Project will always come first for him. He will try to use you and Genesis’s desperation to get his goals. You have to decide that what he asks is not something you’ll regret.”

Angeal wanted to say something to prolong the conversation they were having while Gillian was willing to answer questions. But she withdrew. “And Genesis too. He has a more manipulative side. He might try to play you for guilt and use your friendship. But you can’t help him anymore. You have to leave him.”

“No.” He turned away from his mother. “You can’t ask me to do that.”

Before she could answer, there came a cry and two gunshots rung out. A string of curses. Footsteps thudded into the kitchen. Three men rushed in with machetes in their hands and blood specks over their clothes. They looked familiar but the shock and hate on their faces were not. They were no threat to Angeal but he realized they came in through his bedroom, where Genesis was drugged and asleep within.

“Gen?” Angeal called out. There was no response.

“Go. Go. Put him down!” cried Nate. Tom and Jacob swallowed hard and charged. Angeal knocked two of them down and kicked the other one. He reached for his Buster Sword.

Gillian pressed her hand on his. Her hands were small and bleeding but the strength in them was great. “Don’t do it.”

Another gunshot from the room.

“Genesis!”

Angeal shoved his mother aside. The three villagers threw themselves in his path. Jacob and Tom grabbed his left and Nate tried to stab him from the right. Angeal knocked the knife out of his hand and rammed Nate into the wall. The other two men managed to push him against the wall but he punched Jacob in the face and sent him crashing back. Tom managed to graze his arm while he was occupied. Even though Angeal could have bested all three of them unarmed, he needed to get to Genesis fast. He drew the Buster Sword and severed Tom at the waist.

“Damn you, Hewley! Damn you to hell!” Nate yelled. He retrieved his weapon and made another lunge at Angeal. Angeal grabbed a handful of his shirt and dashed him against the wall until he left a red smear. Jacob with his face now bloodied charged at him in some last hopeless offence. Angeal took off his leg with a forceful swing. He left the three bodies and rushed to Genesis.

There was blood everywhere in his room, on the walls, on the floor. Two more dead villagers lie across his path but he did not recognize them—one had his face blasted apart. He breathed in relief when he saw Genesis rising from crouching position, examining a third dead villager in a corner. He appeared still groggy from the medication but otherwise unharmed. Angeal gathered him into his arms.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Someone shot them before they got to me,” Genesis gestured at the opened window—where their visitors must have found their ways in. The curtain slapped against the pane. “Go after him.”

Angeal pushed the curtain aside and saw a black figure running away—that would be their mystery rescuer. He leapt out of the window and gave chase. Whoever he was, whether he was on their side or against them, Angeal would have no more surprises. He had a feeling it was the same man he saw burying Genesis’s parents, but he had to know for sure.

He would certainly not make the same mistake he made and let down his guard again.

TSENG

With the network outage in Banora, Tseng was worried he could lose communication once he landed, but Cissnei’s call came through strong and clear.

“We terminated the Third Class SOLDIER from Banora. On Lazard’s order, Dinah also took care of the other two Banora employees.”

Not the best of news, but Tseng accepted it.

“I crosschecked with Corel aerial traffic control. Harg’s registered dragonfly did land in North Corel day before yesterday and it arrived in Midgar a while ago. I don’t see him, but I found hair samples of Dr. Hollander in the transport. He’s returned to Sector Five labs. I tried to gain access inside to investigate, but I do not have enough clearance.”

“And Ard?” The pieces of the puzzle were coming into place.

“Ard called in very, very sick. I went to his apartment and he’s not there.”

“Thank you, Cissnei.”

Lazard. Lazard was in this too deep. Tseng refused to jump to conclusions but he liked what he found less and less.

He hung up and eyed Zack who had trekked ahead to look around Banora. The boy SOLDIER started to look like a perfect tool to get Tseng killed in action. It did not take long to find out the boy was not the brightest. He was intuitive, restless and he had a good heart, but Tseng did not hear him asking any questions at all about his mission—and it was worrying.
Tseng had no intention to be killed though, even if Zack left much to be desired.

Heck. It was going to be a long day.

The Solidor Brothers - Final Fantasy XII Fanart

Mon, 20 Oct 2008 16:12:26 GMT

Been a while since I drew anything at all.

FIC - CRISIS CORE - COLOUR OF SIN - CH 3 ARK OF DELUSIONS

Sun, 07 Sep 2008 16:53:20 GMT

Crisis Core – Colour of Sin
Author: j_cae
Chapter Title: Chapter III: Ark of Delusions
Rating: R
Pairing: Genesis/Angeal, hints of Genesis/Lazard
Warnings: Language, violence, yaoi, bad moral example, and dark Angeal
Disclaimer: Don’t own CC, but own the time spent writing this.
Summary: Monster, Shinra. SOLDIER, traitor. Angeal, Lazard—fighting on opposing ends but compelled into sin by a shared loss. This is Angeal and Lazard’s story.

COLOUR OF SIN
BY J CAE

*CRISIS CORE ~ DAY FOUR SINCE ANGEAL WENT MISSING

LAZARD

The Turk assigned to head the Banora operation was young, soft-spoken. The features were Wutaese, sleek black hair pulled back. Those incredible brown eyes. Even without an introduction, Lazard knew the man by his fast-rising reputation—the name was Tseng.

Lazard was well aware Turk involvement meant the façade was wearing thin. The president was taking matters into his own hand and would keep Lazard under watchful eyes. In a way, this minor inconvenience proved positive when the Turks registered the difficulty in dealing with Genesis—with his copies. The operation in Banora was no longer simply about retrieving the two stray Firsts.

“The villagers have already seen the copies,” Tseng explained. “Our top priority is to contain the knowledge of their existence from public interest. We’ve kept air and sea traffic quarantined and sabotaged all telecommunications.”

True irony was when the Turks positioned in Banora went offline the previous afternoon and failed to return contact. Disrupting the old-fashioned local network should not have affected Shinra GPRS frequencies. It could have been a problem with the satellite signal. It was up to Tseng to explain to President Shinra what happened—an unsavoury position Lazard found himself in but weeks ago. Tseng promised to be physically in Banora to sort out the case within the next twenty-four hours.

“The president has authorized to send in an air-strike to hush up the breach of information,” the Turk went on. “I will need from you a figure of employees in your unit who have connections in Banora so that we can quarantine them for the time being.”

It failed to surprise Lazard that carpet-bombing was the president’s answer to the copies problem. Easier to rebuild from scratch than to take out weeds in a field. The undertone in Tseng’s words was that civilian casualties were expected—desirable. There would be no way to estimate the length Shinra was willing to go to cover up this ‘breach of information’.

“I’ll give you the details,” Lazard said. “But what happens to Hollander and my two Firsts?”

“I can give you twelve hours to get them out before the air-strike,” Tseng said. “The president has authorized us to terminate the two Firsts should you fail to apprehend them, but that would hopefully remain our last resort. We will assist in any way we can to return them alive.”

Lazard realized he had been looking up at Tseng across his desk for the better part of their briefing. “Would you take a seat?”

The Turk almost looked confused. Then, he lowered himself onto the chair opposite Lazard. They met at eye level at last. Lazard crossed his arms.

“Could you give me some background on the staff you will send to engage the Firsts?” Tseng inquired. As the eyes and ears of the president, it was natural he would want to know what was in Lazard’s mind. The director tossed him a bound folder which he opened, paused, and looked up. Lazard knew what he found. There was only a single profile.

Tseng admitted, “I was of the impression you would send Sephiroth.”

“He won’t go, unless the president makes that an executive order.”

“Won’t he?” Tseng tilted his head and waited for further explications.

“Sephiroth is currently the hero who just led the Wutai victory. Why should he consent to turn villain by going on an operation that will end in napalming civilian houses? And besides, he is associated with the Jenova Projects. If this is what triggered Genesis to go rogue, I would not risk the general running off too.”

“I see.” Tseng nodded. “But Hewley?”

“Would have joined Genesis regardless of my orders. They were childhood best friends.”

Tseng scanned through the rest of the profile in his hands which only had a few pages. “Hewley’s protégé. Eighteen years old. Second Class. Would you think he’s too inexperienced for this undertaking?”

“The president has occupied a number of mine at Fort Condor and Junon. With the mass desertion, it has become impossible to meet the demand for more experienced staff. Zack Fair is a reasonable choice.”

“Because he is good, or because he is expendable?” Tseng’s was a matter-of-fact question. His tone was anything but pressing.

“If you have issues with my judgement, you can take this up with the president.” Lazard rarely had to pull the intimidation gene, but somehow he found it active and at work against Tseng. He had no doubt Tseng knew what he was talking about. Few people knew his identity, but if anyone, this Turk would know.

Tseng did not push the matter too far. “Apologies. I seem to have overstepped my bounds.” Yet he got his point across well enough.

Tseng did not give Lazard time to respond before he flipped his phone on.

“SOLDIER Second Class Zack? Director Lazard wants to see you. Go to the briefing room.”

TSENG

There were issues with Director Lazard.

He had always been careful—that was how he managed to become Director of SOLDIER at such a young age. If Tseng had not known he was the president’s blood, he would still have been convinced by Lazard’s own merit. Unlike Rufus who declared university was a waste of time when he could inherit his father’s company and enjoy life as a multi-billionaire, Lazard’s credentials were solid. He graduated from Shinra Military School in the top 1%—a notoriously difficult achievement Tseng was proud to say he shared. Knowing Lazard’s identity helped to simplify things—Tseng was spared the trouble of having to look too closely.

But the Director’s hostility was plain at their meeting. He almost cracked when their discussion came across Zack Fair. Lazard would think Tseng was there to pick out his faults and put him in the ground but it was quite the opposite. Tseng was sent to ensure he would stop making mistakes that would force him out of office. Other eyes were watching, waiting—Heidegger and Scarlet. Rufus. Lazard was in a more vulnerable position than he would care to admit, especially with Genesis and his platoon of SOLDIERs gone.

Tseng was unfamiliar with SOLDIER before taking up this mission, but he now had a clear idea how the power divided. Sephiroth was the president’s jurisdiction—Lazard could control him if he needed to but he hesitated to involve the general unless it was necessary. The SOLDIERs who inclined towards Sephiroth were kept close—only Thirds were sent to assist Fort Condor far away from Midgar. Seconds and Firsts were kept at Junon or at base.

Genesis was completely Lazard’s man. Those who followed him were trusted to Wutai and Fort Condor, but Genesis himself was never too far away from Midgar. Sending him to Wutai was unexpected—Tseng doubted it would have happened if Genesis was not diagnosed with degradation. The president only spoke of ending the SOLDIER’s contract and sending him home, but the next morning, Lazard issued the memorandum and Genesis went to Wutai to lead the fateful operation.

The Director might have honestly wanted to shelter Genesis from the fall, but what cruel repayment he received in return.

While waiting for the boy SOLDIER Zack to retrieve his forgotten materia and meet him on the helipad, Tseng made a phone call.

“Cissnei, need you to do me a favour. I know you’re very good at this.”
“Don’t, Tseng. I’ll feel the pressure.” Cissnei chuckled. She was her usual self, laid back tone, but mind already racing.

“Lazard has three aides who are working for him outside SOLDIER department. Dinah and Ard should be in Sector Five office. Harg is, for some reason, on business trip to North Corel.”

“I’ll find out if they are where they are.” Cissnei asked, “I wonder what’s going on lately? Lazard is making mistakes all over the place. This isn’t like him.”

“Give him a bit of leeway. He looks like he hasn’t slept in months.”

“Hmm.”

“Keep me posted.”

“I’m on it.”

CHAPTER THREE: ARK OF DELUSIONS

GILLIAN

“Six years ago, Genesis was assigned to me for his medical assessment before receiving SOLDIER mako treatment. I found a high concentration of stagnant mako already in his blood. At the time, the department debated whether he needed the standard enhancement. I was of the opinion he didn’t, but we administered it to him in the end.”

Hollander sat down at the kitchen table opposite Gillian. In a few days, he had already familiarized himself with her kitchen and even offered to make her breakfast—which she did not think she could stomach.

“We’ve seen degradation in every Project G child except Angeal. I believe Genesis’s is a pre-existing condition that began to affect him in childhood. However, the reserve of stagnant mako could have acted as a deterrent to the sickness. Now that I think back on it, it could have been the liquid enhancement that changed the nature of the mako reserve and upset the delicate equilibrium.”

Gillian could not deny that possibility. The flaw in the genetic design took away every one of the Project G children. An autoimmunity defect—the immune system failing to recognize J-genes as part of the body and started to break down cells containing the strain. The first two specimens to perish were babes of five months, followed by the third at six months—those little failures. She was still feeling Angeal kicking in her womb when the third babe breathed his last in her embrace, and she had been truly afraid for their future then.

Genesis was one of their stronger specimens. The oldest of the batch, he was crawling all over the place whenever they let him out of the crib. She examined him for signs of deteriorating the day after the third child died. A careless assistant had nicked his blood vessel while taking a sample, but the bruise healed clean in a few days.

She remembered Genesis’s attentive eyes as they watched her work, hovering over him. They were a pale shade of blue, the colour of innocence.

“Tell me,” Gillian interrupted Hollander. “How are you treating Genesis now?”

“You pretend you don’t care, but you want to save him too.”

“I’ve watched him grow. I…” She sighed. “Never mind.”

“Hydrocortisone,” Hollander offered the answer. “I put him on medication that suppresses his immune system so that his antibodies would stop attacking his own cells. But you know I can’t keep him on the treatment forever.”

She had seen the scars along Genesis’s arms. “The treatment could be deadlier than the disease. His body loses the ability to heal and fight infections.” He could die if his wounds inflamed. He could die from a minor flu. The medications would also cause Genesis to become extremely sick—nausea, muscle pains, bruising, headaches. Eventually, they would wear his bones thin and waste his muscles. The ailment and the treatment that combated it would inflict the same abuse.

“Yes,” Hollander admitted.

She said, “He shouldn’t be out here. It’s too dangerous. He should be hospitalized.”

“I’ve been keeping him on liquid mako to boost his adrenal level,” the doctor explained. “It helps a little, but not in the long run. If we can get him back into the equilibrium state, we can get him off the drugs and let his body do the healing. I’m hoping we can use the stagnant mako in the cave here. That’s why we’ve come.”

“I’m not surprised if the cave holds the answer. All these years I have observed Genesis, I would say he has a strong intuition. It seems he’s found what he needs to survive, even if he didn’t understand it then.”

It was almost a pleasant discussion, the two of them sharing knowledge to save a life. But this was not why Hollander had come. Thirty years ago, it was Hollander’s ambition that attracted her. Now, it was still the most prominent strength in his character.

“After discovering Genesis’s condition, I obtained a sample of Angeal’s blood and had him tested for degradation too. He shows no sign that he’s infected. In fact, he seems of a different genetic composure. Gillian, what have you done to him?”

“You know I won’t answer that question.”

“I know. But despite all that we’ve done it’s like Angeal isn’t part of the project at all. I had such high hopes for him.” Hollander went on, not bothering to wait for her confirmation. “I’ll admit our J-gene theory was weak. It was not the element that made Genesis and Angeal strong. But what I don’t understand is this: Genesis demonstrates an extraordinary aptitude in materia use. Perhaps it is his natural talent, or maybe it is something else. Angeal has never shown anything quite as promising. He is a strong SOLDIER, but his combat abilities are not far beyond that of an ordinary human SOLDIER. I think it is the stagnant mako…”

The sound of gunfire outside interrupted their conversation. Gillian shuddered. Someone began to wail.

Angeal and Genesis told her nothing of what happened the day before—nor would they. But something was definitely wrong when they returned to the house. Genesis had blood soaking the front of his shirt. He retreated for the rest of the evening. Angeal remained, looking helplessly shaken—it was plain he need help, though she knew he would never again turn to her for it.

The low weeping came again, a pitiful sound.

Gillian eyed Hollander, but he had a holed rabbit look on his face. She looked away—should have trusted her own decision long ago that she would never need anything from this man again.

Genesis had given instructions to keep all the shades and curtains in the house down but he did not forbid taking a peek. Gillian went to the window and lifted the blinds with her fingers. No matter which angle she tried to look, she could not see the injured person, but the crying continued on until rattling shots cut it short.

She withdrew from the window.

Five minutes later, there came knocking on the door.

She did not think Angeal or Genesis was in the house. It had been awful quiet all morning. She would hear them if they were here, even if they were not speaking. Wherever they were, she hoped they were safe. She hoped she would live to see them again, even if they both hated her.

The knocking came again, more urgently this time.

“Mrs. Hewley?”

The voice was anything but hostile. It belonged to the old gardener, Mr. Simmons, who lived next door. Gillian would sometimes have tea with him and his wife. “Mrs. Hewley, are you all right?”

But the gunshots still echoed in her head. Simmons should not be out here alone if he had heard the gunshots. Perhaps he had been employed to trick her to open the door. If she did so, maybe troops would storm into her house. Maybe they would gun her down. She did not mind dying, but she would never let herself be taken back to Shinra again.

“Mrs. Hewley, are you there?” Simmon’s concern, however, seemed genuine enough. “Are you alive?”

Was there a reason for his particular worry?

The person who was shot and killed—was that a villager? Someone they knew?

“Mr. Simmons, I am,” she called from behind the door. “I was just feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Thank Gaia,” Simmons was relieved. “I saw all your shades down and I was worried. Are you all right? A lot of people have gone. They’ve been taken.”

“Taken?”

All this happening outside her house and she thought Hollander was the greatest threat to her. She unlocked and opened the door. “What do you mean?”

“There were armoured SOLDIERs coming to take everyone away. I thought you were gone too.” Old Simmons extended a hand. “Come with me. We have to leave before they…wait. Who is that man inside?”

Hollander started to stand, perhaps to explain himself. Gillian was certain he could not have moved so fast, but someone shoved her out of the way and forced the door to close. Simmons jammed his foot in the way to keep it open but the one behind it was unrelenting.

“Genesis!” Gillian tried to help Simmons but of course she could not match strength with a First Class SOLDIER. “You’re going to crush him!” She did not know Genesis was still in the house.

The young SOLDIER did not seem as if he cared. Simmons was the old gardener who tended to the Rhapsodos’ beautiful apple orchard for the last twenty years, who had helped get Genesis out of trees when he climbed too high as a child.

“Genesis Rhapsodos…” the old man rasped through his pain and anger. “What happened to your parents?”

Genesis did not answer.

“You thought burying them could hide your sins?”

Gillian shuddered at the accusation. The tension between Genesis and Angeal the day before—had it been about the Rhapsodos’? Was Genesis so far gone?

“I did not bury them.” There was no disguise in Genesis’s reply.

Simmons shouted, “They loved you!”

Genesis opened the door and Simmons almost fell forward. The SOLDIER grabbed a handful of the old man’s clothes and tossed him out before slamming the door shut. Gillian thought she saw the gardener hit his head on the ground and left a dark smear.

“Don’t hurt Mrs. Hewley!” Simmons cried weakly. “Don’t touch her.” But he did not get up. He did not come to pound at the door again.

Genesis locked the door.

Gillian turned upon him too quickly before she could analyze the dangers of provoking him. “You didn’t have to do that! Simmons is an old man!”

“It seems ironic you are teaching me about morals, Mrs. Hewley.”

“Did you kill your parents, Genesis?”

His eyes held hers for a long moment. They were shockingly blue, clear of guilt as if he was that child staring back at her in the mako cave when she asked for his trust.

“You know I couldn’t have,” he said. “I don’t even know who my parents are.”

GENESIS

Where had Angeal gone?

Genesis did not like leaving Gillian unsupervised especially given Simmons’ intervention, but they were pressed for time. Scattered Shinra forces already arrived in Banora, mostly scouts and a few operatives. At the moment, it would seem they were more interested in hunting down local villagers. Genesis could not be bothered to understand their motive, but the sooner he was done with Banora, the sooner he could leave.

Genesis took Hollander to the mako cave. There would not be enough time for them to simulate a stagnant mako treatment. They did not have the luxury of days. Instead, Hollander would collect crystal samples and take them to Midgar to analyze them—Banora mako was said to contain impurities, and Hollander wanted to study its component to decide what else might be used for the cure.

While the doctor drilled and dusted the crystalline walls, something made Genesis feel sick. He wondered if it was only the stifled air in the cave or the associations. This place was where he always visited when he was unhappy. Its rough cold walls lined with guilt never did make him feel better. Rather, it was the time alone that allowed him to reflect and see his way more clearly.

Sometimes, Genesis could not help the feeling the doctor was playing with his hopes. If the answer had been at his childhood place all along, why would he need Hollander? Why should he kill Hojo when he could just sit in the cave until he felt better? But Genesis wanted to believe they were making a huge progress in locating the cure, so close to uncovering the secret element that preserved his life. Besides, it would be nice to think he could trust someone for once.

A sharp pain contorted the muscles on his lower back, like a stab wound. He tried to ignore it until it would not let him. He fell back against the wall. Why? Why would his back hurt when the Daggers Turk only gave him an injury to the front?

The doctor had been so taken by his work it took him a full minute to react. He came over with his hands full of dirt. “Are you all right?”

Yes would have to be Genesis’s answer. The moment he said no would be his death.

“Is it the mako?” The question Hollander had been most concerned with.

Genesis shook his head. Not the mako. It could have been the wound. Or the fever that came with it. Maybe it was because he had not had breakfast. Anything but the mako. The mako here was supposed to make him better, not sicker.

“Just carry on. I’m all right,” he lied. If he were, he would have tried to stand by now.

The doctor did not believe him, but there was little else he could do other than to finish what he had been doing. Genesis sat and listened to the sound of his own shallow breathing.

At last, Hollander clutched at the bag of crystals he collected. “I’m finished. Can you stand?”

Genesis pulled himself up still leaning against the wall. The pain was less intense—something he could manage now. “There is a helicopter in the quarry rigged to get past the Mideel radar zone. You can go back to Midgar first, as we planned.”

The doctor looked worried—but whether for Genesis’s health or for his own fate, his doubts were unfounded. The former was something that was entirely in his hands. The latter—nobody associated with Shinra would dare try to harm a commissioned scientist.

Angeal finally came, probably after he realized Hollander was scheduled to leave Banora and he was running too late. He found Genesis still slumped against the wall.

The words formed were so familiar. “I’m fine,” Genesis said before he was even asked.

“No. You’re not.”

Angeal eased up Genesis’s shirt, fingers leaving ice trails on fevered skin. The cut Genesis received was mended with a healing spell, but the tear was still bleeding beneath the surface, forming a giant black bruise. Genesis did not tell him it was not this cut that was paining him—Angeal’s expression was already terrible to look at. Guilt. “I should have taken care of you.”

Genesis only scoffed lightly. “When have you ever taken care of me?”

The truth was blunt as truths should be, but they had known each other too long for polite disguises. Angeal had always been protected, shielded from the ugly facts of life by a careful mother, spared from harm by a sharp-tongued best friend who picked up most of his fights. That had always been their arrangement—Genesis was older, stronger in his personality, keener to meet competition. There had never been any need for Angeal to develop that edge. Even as a SOLDIER, Angeal was never before tested by the darkness that wreathed Shinra. He had that ignorant country boy mentality, the simple-minded trust that Shinra was every dream that was noble. But Genesis stood beside Lazard and tackled true darkness. He had been used as a weapon of politics. Telling Angeal the truth about their births was never an attempt to relieve his own burden. Rather, it made things more difficult because now Angeal depended on him, broken, confused as if he was in a haze of blind pain. Angeal could never be the one who could take away his cup, but Genesis could not bear to keep him deceived.

Angeal shrank back from his words with baffled hurt that had nothing to do with being an excellent SOLDIER, that had nothing to do with being a grown man. Genesis might have smiled as he drew Angeal’s forehead to his lips. Then, at last, Angeal’s response was no longer that of a child. He tilted his head and sealed his mouth over Genesis’s. The raw heat of need burst like a revenant dream. They both missed this closeness. Genesis missed the flavour of being needed. He let Angeal take from him.

The cool hand still on Genesis’s skin began to stir, creeping around his waist, crawling up his spine. Angeal pulled away from the kiss but their bodies were pressed closer together.

“Let’s go home,” Angeal said.

A/N: If you’re still reading at this point, I thank you for your support. I’m off to write smut. Ha.

FIC - CRISIS CORE - COLOUR OF SIN - CH 2 DEATH OF DREAMS

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 16:34:21 GMT

Crisis Core – Colour of Sin
Author: j_cae
Chapter Title: Chapter II: Death of Dreams
Rating: R
Pairing: Genesis/Angeal, hints of Genesis/Lazard
Warnings: Language, violence, yaoi, bad moral example, and dark Angeal
Disclaimer: Don’t own CC, but own the time spent writing this.
Summary: Monster, Shinra. SOLDIER, traitor. Angeal, Lazard—fighting on opposing ends but compelled into sin by a shared loss. This is Angeal and Lazard’s story.

CRISIS CORE – COLOUR OF SIN
BY J CAE

GILLIAN

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

Genesis ran away from home.

A rebellious ten-year-old with some pocket money could have been anywhere in the world. He could even have left Mideel on a ship to the central continent if it crossed his mind. The villagers organized a search but returned empty-handed. It had been three days.

Gillian shared the Rhapsodos’ distress and promised to interrogate Angeal for anything he might know about his wayward friend.

Angeal claimed he did not know what Genesis’s plans were, but he was never any good at lying. Gillian had made certain the habit never formed. She hated to frighten Angeal too because Genesis’s disappearance was not his fault. She could only explain the possible dangers Genesis could have been in if they did not find him soon enough.

“I’m very worried for him,” she told Angeal.

“He…he made me promise not to tell,” Angeal started to stammer, distressed that he would have to make a choice between his mother and his best friend. But at last, he was about to reveal what Gillian suspected he knew.

“Angeal, trust between friends is very important, but you must also protect Genesis. What if he is hurt? What if he is in trouble? If you don’t tell anyone where to find him, we won’t be able to help him.”

Angeal seemed to make up his mind. “I know where he is.” And with a bowed head, “I have been sneaking food and water to him. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No, don’t be.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Since you gave him your word you won’t tell anyone, I promise I won’t let him find out you told me.”

Angeal took his mother to the quarry. Gillian never dreamed of finding Genesis hiding in the abandoned mines. No wonder the search team missed him—no one ever came near this area where Shinra left their mess.

“He is inside,” Angeal pointed at an opening in the rocks.

Gillian crouched and held Angeal by both shoulders. “Thank you. I’ve made you a promise, and I won’t tell him. Go home first, okay? I’ll get Gen.”

She climbed into the mako mine. As darkness closed in on her, she wished she had brought a torchlight. No going back now. If the boy could survive down here in the dark for three days, so could she. She felt her way with her hands.

But deeper into the cave, it became brighter. There was a radiance from its centre—the whole cavern was lined with mako crystals.

“Genesis?” she called. “Gen?”

There he was, peeping out from a castle crudely put together from shimmering rocks. The boy made waist-high walls and left a gap for a doorway. He rubbed his eyes with his hands. When he looked at her, his eyes glowed. Mako eyes.

“Why are you hiding here?” She got down so that she could see him through the gap. It was too narrow for an adult to pass through but she could speak to him there. “Your Dad and Mom are worried sick for you.”

“I hate them,” he growled with loathing disproportional to his childishness. “I hate them both.”

“Why?” She crawled halfway through the entrance. The boy did not withdraw from her—it was his trust she needed. “Did you get into another fight? Would you tell me what it is about?”

Earlier in the month, Gillian heard Genesis had been tossed out of school for throwing a huge tantrum. His mother took him home and Gillian could hear Genesis screeching and cursing and breaking things all the way from her house. She could hardly make out a word of what the argument had been about, but maybe it did not matter because Genesis soon resorted to shrieking on top of his lungs. Mrs. Rhapsodos tried in vain to calm him and more things were smashed. Gillian did not know how the ordeal ended—it was none of her business. But she wondered what had made Genesis so troubled and angry lately.

“No.”

“Come on. Tell me.” She thought of a way to bribe him. “I could convince your parents to let you come sleepover some time?”

That seemed to move him a bit.

“Can you keep secrets?” the boy asked. He had many secrets to keep.

“Of course I can.”

He boy’s shoulders sagged. He sat with his back against crystals behind him. “Mom and Dad are not my parents. Not really.”

Of course she knew that. But how could she comfort him? “What makes you think so?”

“I just know it.”

Or had they said something to him already? Mr. Rhapsodos should have mentioned it when he sent off the search party.

“How?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Genesis rubbed his eyes again. This time, his voice cracked like he was crying. “They both have dark hair and dark eyes. But I don’t.” Could that have explained the shouting, the throwing things and the tantrums?

“Stop rubbing your eyes, honey. The residue of the crystals will get into them.”

He complied.

“Who told you they can’t be your parents?”

“No one. I figured that out myself.”

“It doesn’t really matter as long as they love you, right? And I know they do very much,” Gillian assured him. “If you come with me, you can see. They have looked everywhere for you and called everyone they know to help. They’re so anxious to see you safe again. They care for you, and that’s what matters.”

“What happened to my real parents then?” Genesis asked. “Why didn’t they want me? Are they dead? I want to find them.”

Gillian had answers—she only wished she had the courage to give them. Not now. Some day. “I’m sure your parents loved you. And if they don’t, you know that I care about you very much.”

She stretched out a hand, close enough for him to touch. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

He took her hand, and she led him outside, back to his house. He seemed to search for something or someone in the dark—perhaps for Angeal. But she kept her promise and Angeal was nowhere to be seen.

Genesis’s mother wept with relief and thanked Gillian profusely for returning the boy. Gillian avoided questions of where and how and stated only her concern for Genesis’s health.

“Those crystals are mako in high concentration,” Gillian explained to Mr. Rhapsodos. “It is dangerous and could have caused poisoning. Take him to a doctor for a check-up.”

“I think it’s a better idea that we seal the mines so other kids won’t venture into them,” Mr. Rhapsodos said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Mrs. Hewley.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“How…how did you know about the mako?”

It was a question she was afraid he would ask. “I used to work for Shinra.”

“I’d like to ask you a bit more about the mako.”

Mr. Rhapsodos came to visit her a week after Genesis was recovered. “What effects does it have on the body? There are some things that even the doctor can’t understand.” His face was scrunched with worry. “His eyesight is undamaged, but the glow is still there in his eyes. I thought it was something that will go away in a few days, but apparently not.”

“The glow could be permanent, but it’s not harmful,” Gillian explained. “Have you…heard of mako treatment?”

“No.”

“Shinra issues soldiers with mako solution to enhance their strength and speed. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t and they get poisoned.” She knew she could not say more. Those were Shinra secrets. If she said too much and breached the terms she signed, it could cause her to lose Angeal. “I’m not an expert on this. I can’t give you an accurate measure of what mako level Genesis has been exposed to, but three days in the cave is pretty significant.”

“So what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. The mako soldier project was still in experimental stage when she left Shinra. All she knew was that they had only ever treated soldiers in dilute liquid solutions. She did not know concentrated mako crystals could have the same effect without killing a child.

Gillian’s own husband sealed the cave. Parents were warned, but were asked not to tempt their children with the information of a forbidden adventure place. Gillian knew Angeal never went back again. His eyes never gained the glow until many years later when he joined SOLDIER.

But there was another secret kept.

Gillian returned to the site and discovered another entrance to the cave. She was certain Genesis had found his way back into his covert playground somehow. Sometimes, she would find his diary lying among the crystals. Sometimes she found poetry. She told no one about this, but for the years that followed she kept him under close observation.

CHAPTER TWO: DEATH OF DREAMS

*CRISIS CORE ~ DAY THREE SINCE ANGEAL WENT MISSING

GENESIS

A memory of childhood mischief: From Angeal’s bedroom window, Genesis could monitor his parents’ movements about the house. When he was small, he would sneak out on sleepless nights to wake Angeal, and the two of them would share tales by flashlight. Sometimes, his parents would discover he was missing. He always knew it was time to go home if the lights went on in their room.

Only, his parents were not searching for him now.

It was already late morning and Genesis’s father was still at home dozing with a book in his lap. He never missed a day of work even if he were sick—he would call that a waste of time. Genesis’s mother had her best dress on. She seemed unable to sit still and kept flitting from one room to the next, tidying the already-tidy desks or shelves.

An innocent enough picture, until he saw his mother offer tea and sandwiches to someone next to the window while his father was in another room. His parents were not alone.

Genesis let the curtain fall back in place, and Angeal’s room was dim again. Those agents better not be Turks. Genesis hated Turks with a passion.

He declared, “I’m going in.”

Angeal’s expression said he did not approve. “That’s what they expect you to do.”

Genesis retrieved his rapier and went outside. He knew Angeal would not let him go alone.

There was no point in keeping up their masquerade now that the enemy was aware of their presence. Genesis changed into his red leather coat to make sure the agents would see him. There could not be too many of them—his house could only hold so many people and he did not see anyone from the window. Even if they were Turks, they should be nothing his SOLDIER training could not handle.

But if Lazard had the foresight to swarm him with a team of Firsts, well, it would be hello again, Shinra.

Or hello, lifestream.

Either was better than simply wasting away.

With that thought, Genesis felt cheered. He put on an innocent show to match theirs as he pranced down the dirt road and went home for the last time. Angeal followed like a sombre ghost.

“Mom, Dad. I’m home.”

His parents did not come to him, so he went to look for them. He found his mother on the edge of their living room couch. When she saw him, she jumped to her feet and waved her arms in protest. “Nooooo! He’s my son! Please don’t hurt him! Please don’t hurt him”

She had given him ample warning before an agent in a black suit emerged from behind the couch to restrain her. Genesis drew his rapier and impaled the second assassin who lunged at him from behind the door. The assassin attempted to aim his shotgun but Genesis dispatched him with a gash to the throat. The first agent abandoned his mother to offer belated aid to his team member. Angeal barred his path and dashed his head against the wall.

Ha. They were too fast for these simple assassins. Genesis doubted they were even Turks—Turks did not have the reputation of going down this easy.

Genesis’s mother covered her mouth as she edged away from the two black bodies soaking up her white carpet. She had expected to see death, but apparently not of the agents. Oh, her faith was touching. She must have forgotten she sent her darling boy off to become a SOLDIER.

Genesis asked her, “How many of them?”

“Genesis, are you…are you…they—”

“How many of them?”

“Genesis, please.” That was not an answer.

He had wanted to be reasonable with her. No temper. But she was inciting. “You fed them. You know how many are here.”

She sank back into the couch. She buried her face in her hands, stalling and wasting his time trying to dodge his accusation. If she made him ask her a fourth time, he would… “Six,” she finally said. “I think, six.”

“Did you love me, Mother?”

“What?” She lifted her head. Stunned. As if that was the last question she expected from him after he killed a man in front of her eyes. It was the first time he ever asked her this question and she hesitated too long before she said, “Yes.”

“Then why did you let them in? There are six of them and one of me.”

“Genesis…”

He did not expect she would be able to answer that.

“There are no dreams,” he said. “No honour remains. The arrow has left the bow of the goddess.”

If Shinra could afford to put six agents in his house, Genesis could wager there were more of them in Banora to back up their operation.

How did they get here so fast? Genesis’s plans did not cover Shinra finding out he had left Wutai so soon. He thought he would have more time to work out things out in Banora. He hated to speculate, but one of his companions must have been in contact with Shinra. Hollander needed too much from him to turn on him—there was the matter of Hojo and the stagnant mako. Angeal was all sympathy but… Was he such a horrible person to doubt his oldest friend over some old kook who would murder to become head of science department?

The bottom line was this: He would never forgive Angeal if he tried to take him back to Shinra.

“Let’s split up,” he said to Angeal. “You search upstairs.”

There were two black suits in the kitchen with his father. One of them was a man with long hair and a thin frame. The other was taller, more robust and had a crew cut. His father was sitting on a high stool between the two.

“I think you should go back with them,” his father said.

The proposal was so outrageous it took a few seconds for him to catch up with the logic. “Why?”

“They can help you.”

Genesis sent a spell through his rapier. “These two can’t even help themselves.” The Turks reacted and stood prepared for combat but neither drew their weapons.

Father’s eyes were sad but Genesis could no longer believe the sorrow was genuine. He would not stand with the child he raised. He would not even listen to the other side of the story before deciding Genesis was at fault and should crawl back to Shinra.

“Put away your sword,” father said with a shake of his head. “They told me everything, about your sickness. I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is happening. But you must trust the Company. They will help you if you go back. They will heal you.”

It was bad enough to be denied, but his father actually considered him a fool as well! “What did you think they were planning when I was diagnosed with this degradation? They would terminate my life-contract so they would not have to waste resources on a dead person. I am done with Shinra!”

Lazard. It was Lazard who caught wind of this and immediately sent him off to Wutai leading a special taskforce. Even the president would not dare knick a gil from a general leading his major victory. The director saved him from total disgrace, but he could not worry about Lazard right now. The director was just one of Shinra who wanted to own him.

He raised his sword. His father dropped to the floor and crawled away as the long-haired agent opened fire. Genesis deflected the shots with a Protect spell but the crew cut Turk rushed forward and brandished twin daggers. A dual-wielder—that was more like it. Genesis would have been disappointed if Shinra sent staff only fit for surveillance duty.

Daggers put up a real fight. He was physically strong—difficult to block and left no openings as he moved. Genesis was faster, but Daggers had help from his partner who kept demanding Genesis’s attention. Turks were not always versed in magic, but this gunner knew how to wear down a Protect spell. He fired on kitchen utensils around Genesis, sending glass shards and debris flying into his shield.

Genesis snaked behind Daggers and kicked him behind a knee. The Turk stumbled to the floor. Gunner grabbed the rack of knives on the counter and tossed it at Genesis, forcing the SOLDIER to step back. Genesis flung a dark energy spell at them both.

Daggers charged at him with renewed ferocity. The Turk was stronger when matching strengths, and he had two weapons. When Genesis parried, he trapped the rapier with both daggers, but shifted one quickly to thrust at Genesis’s side. The SOLDIER just managed to avoid a killing blow but the gash hurt so badly. Genesis grabbed the Turk’s shirt with his free hand and burned a fire spell into his chest. One taken care of, at least. He let Daggers drop to the floor.

Killing the second Turk made short work. He finished him off with another spell.

The wound under his rib cage began to darken his shirt. Not a fatal wound to a healthy SOLDIER, but unfortunately he was not a healthy SOLDIER. He cast Cure—Hollander already explained healing spells closed wounds only on the surface but could not repair tissue damage or stop internal bleeding. If his body was not going to mend by itself, Cure was no help and might make him underestimate the injury. But Genesis still had unfinished business here. He could not afford to bleed all over the place and pass out before he was done.

His father pulled himself out from behind the cabinet where he had been hiding. Genesis did not know if his father intended to go to him, but a larger shape entered his sight anyhow.

“Genesis.” Angeal’s eyes were on his bloodstained shirt.

“I’m fine.”

Angeal did not ask anymore. He looked around at the dead Turks. “That should be the last of them. I took care of the others. I think only these two are Turks. The rest are regular staff not even trained for combat.”

Rapid footsteps clacked on the tiles and they both turned with their hands on their weapons. It was only mother who ran to father’s side to see if he was all right.

“You both betrayed me,” Genesis said.

His father pulled his mother close to him and the two held onto each other like frightened children. A happy family reunion, was it not? They were alone together now with no Shinra between them.

Father shook his head. “Genesis, I didn’t mean the words I said.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Genesis replied. “You were willing to say them.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Father indicated Daggers lying on the floor.

“I forgive you.”

Genesis left their bodies next to each other.

ANGEAL

Genesis did not murder his parents. He executed them.

There had been no torture, no sadness, only a clean insertion of his sword behind their necks, down through their spines. His father first, and then his mother. Instant deaths. It was almost logical.

Thanks to Shinra’s delicate arrangement, this was not even patricide.

The feeling of shock started to come to Angeal when the mother tried in vain to crawl to his feet after her husband died. She did not beg for Genesis to stop. Instead, she appealed to Angeal’s last shred of humanity. “Please help me, Angeal! Please!” She was on her knees, a hand outstretched. That moment of her life had been entirely in Angeal’s hands. He could have said something or drawn his sword to block the finishing stroke. But he did not.

First, there was guilt when her eyes widen and her body slacken. Then, there was rage, this incredible, powerful rage that should not be there. Not directed at Genesis, not at himself, but at the helpless woman who hit the floor with a thump. She was guilty of betrayal—how dare she pass her guilt onto him with her pleading eyes and bloodied mouth? Why had she expected him to help? Him?

“I forgive you,” Genesis said before turning to leave. There was nothing left for him here.

Angeal almost envied Genesis. Always so in touch with his desires. He always knew what he wanted to do. Angeal never had the same clean-cut decisiveness. Too many dreams, too many regrets. That had always been one of their differences and one that attracted Angeal.

Even now, when the parents’ blood was cooling off Genesis’s sword.

They returned to Angeal’s house. Depressive, dark little cottage. They kept all the curtains drawn and the doors locked from the outside.

Gillian was sitting at the kitchen table with her hands clasped. Angeal asked himself if he was tempted to put a sword through her spine. He did not imagine she would plead for her life. She would be accepting of her fate. She would agree to pay the price of betrayal.

Not yet. He had not forgiven her yet.

There was a brief moment when Gillian held his gaze. He could almost see the questions in her eyes she was afraid to voice and he was afraid to answer. But their contact broke when Genesis cut between them. Angeal’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Genesis retching in the kitchen sink.

Angeal wanted to go to him, but he stood shell-shocked by the display of human weakness. Genesis had both hands pressed on the sink ledge, shoulders hunched, heaving gasps. Angeal did not know how he could help. He did not feel he had enough inside him. He stood on the side and waited for Genesis to feel better, for the tremors to stop, for him to pull himself straight.

“I’ll go find Hollander,” Angeal offered. The least he could do.

“No.” Genesis whispered when he could speak again. “I’m fine.”

Angeal watched him walk away. Moments later, he heard Genesis run the shower.

Angeal found Genesis collapsed in his bed.

A cocktail of pills was strewn over his desk. Angeal did not want to mix them up so he left them where they were.

Genesis must have been exhausted. The exertion of the fight, the emotional trauma and the wound he refused to discuss must have drained him. Angeal had no way of knowing how degradation felt. Hollander seemed to think Gillian already cured him of the disease. But what if he was wrong? What if Angeal could somehow contract it from Genesis?

Then, they would die together. It would be the best possible ending.

Angeal felt shocked.

He should not have given in to that thought. He should have found ways to save them both. He should have been strong for Genesis, not the other way around. But he was the one who needed much guidance, needed more consolation, the one who felt so small.

“…I can’t…”

Can’t go on, was what he would have say, but he did not even have the right to say it. He was not ailing. He was not in mourning. He was not the one who could not be free from Shinra. Courage was regrettably so out of proportion to the fortunes he still had.

Angeal inhaled deeply to let the oxygen filter the thoughts.

Spilled pills on the desk. He wondered if Genesis ever felt the same way.

Genesis’s cheek was cool and smooth, lips hot and soft by contrast. Reassurance. Comfort drawn. Powerful as that. Genesis was strength that Angeal was not. Angeal heard his own breath hitch as his fingers lingered on the petal soft mouth. Then, there was shame of his taking from Genesis, needing so much.

Angeal sighed. He withdrew his hand. “I should have been taking care of you.”

*
Nightfall, at last.

Banora was nothing like Midgar. Banora slept after the sun went down and its nights were very long.

Angeal waited until the sounds died down before returning to the Rhapsodos house to take care of the bodies. Now that Genesis made his presence in town known, his parents’ misfortune would have been linked back to him. Angeal could not allow that to happen.

He slipped in through an opened window in the living room and the sight took him aback. The blood-soaked carpets would have been a nightmare to clean but they were spotless—replaced. The blood flecks were painted over and the house still carried the faint smell of varnishing. The bodies were removed. With his hand on his weapon, Angeal made his way to the kitchen with the same miracle. The broken things were swept away and the overturned furniture were put back in place. The corpses of the Rhapsodos and the two Turks were gone.

There were professionals already at work.

Something told him—SOLDIER’s sense—that they left not long ago. Angeal took to hunting their trail.

He went outside to search for clues and found someone beneath the bent apple tree. Two black suits. They were quiet as they worked. They had just finished burying the bodies and soothing out the soil with their shovels. They did not realize Angeal was there until he was close enough to hear their controlled but laboured breathing. When they turned, they saw him with the Buster Sword drawn.

“We are not Turks,” the leader of the pair indicated. “We are not with them.”

“Who sent you?”

“You don’t ask that question, SOLDIER. You will have no answers.”

Angeal searched the black suit’s face. He had a feeling he had seen this man somewhere before but the memories blurred from there. In the Midgar headquarters—that was all he recalled. He did not remember why and how.

The other agent looked around with cold calmness. “The Turks will arrive soon. We must go and we advise you to do the same, SOLDIER.”

“Why are you here?” Angeal interrupted. “Why are you crossing the Turks?”

“Perhaps we will speak another time. This is neither the moment nor the place,” the first agent said.

“If you don’t give me answers now, we will never speak again.”

The agent sighed. “We were never even supposed to meet. But we are only acting in your best interest—”

“And what is that?”

“That you and Genesis stay free from Shinra.”

“Genesis will get sicker on the run without proper medical treatment.”

“Did you really think Shinra would wine and dine you when you return?” the agent’s question was painfully blunt.

Point taken. No. “They’re probably going to execute us both.”

“No, of course not. You are both extremely costly investments and they will make the most of their money. You won’t be First Class again. But you will be specimens of study for the production of future generation SOLDIERs. Who do you think is going to be really happy about your return?”

Have they reopened Project G? Gillian had asked.

Not officially, they have.

Hollander.

“Your point?”

The agent had a look of impatience on his face that oddly reminded him of Genesis whenever Angeal was slow to catch on something. “Do you really have to make me say it?”

Angeal finally began to understand. It was a proposition, from an opponent of Hollander. “Who do I have to jump hoops for this time? Who do I have to kill in exchange of our freedom from Shinra? But no, you’ve said nothing about letting us go free.” Angeal locked gazes with the agent. “So what is your price?”

Dangerous questions. Dangerous to answer. The agent chose his words carefully. “I demand nothing from you. I act according to my orders.”

“What do they entail? Will you help us evacuate Banora? Or are you going to kill Hollander and bomb the science department?”

“I will do whatever is required of me.”

“In other words, you are just saying I cannot trust you.”

“That would be up to you,” the agent said.

Angeal was done. He turned to leave.

“How is Genesis’s health?”

Angeal paused. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing. Just concerned.”

The agents walked away.

FIC - CRISIS CORE - COLOUR OF SIN - CH 1 COLOUR OF SIN

Sun, 20 Jul 2008 16:37:52 GMT

Crisis Core – Colour of Sin
Author: j_cae
Chapter Title: Chapter I: Colour of Sin
Rating: R
Pairing: Genesis/Angeal, hints of Genesis/Lazard
Warnings: Language, violence, yaoi, bad moral example, and dark and violent Angeal (If you’re expecting fluffy, harmless Angeal, I should have to suggest you look elsewhere).
Disclaimer: Don’t own CC or lyrics, but own the time spent writing this.
Summary: Monster, Shinra. SOLDIER, traitor. Angeal, Lazard—fighting on opposing ends but compelled into sin by a shared loss. This is Angeal and Lazard’s story.

A/N: Just a clarification—I compacted the timeline of the plot because it does not make sense Lazard responds to Genesis going rogue ONE MONTH AFTER. Mass desertion is not something that can be kept from the President and/or the Company’s powerful intelligence network for one month. Besides, Lazard is a young director in a position of power unparalleled to his experience and probably courted a lot of distrust and jealousy. With Genesis gone, this is like the golden opportunity for the ambitious--I’ll give Lazard one week.

COLOUR OF SIN
By J CAE

“I’m sorry. I cannot let you take the mission.”

“He’s my best friend since we were four years old. I need to find him. Please let me go.”

Three days before his disappearance, Angeal stood across from Lazard’s office desk with a medley of hurt, confusion and rage behind dark eyes. The SOLDIER usually came across as a proud man, sparing in conversation and never acquainted himself with Lazard beyond the need of duty. But here he was, close to pleading, asking to be sent on the mission to recover Genesis.

Lazard kept Genesis’s disappearance closely guarded. Only Sephiroth and a handful were privy to the information. How Angeal came by the news was not important, but Lazard had no questions why he was in his office. The SOLDIER already decided he would head to Wutai. He was only asking for Lazard’s blessing to sanction his venture but he certainly did not require it.

Lazard understood the need to do something, the need to be there looking for a missing friend. While he would like to help relieve Angeal’s pain, he saw the imminence of losing the second of the G-type SOLDIERs.

Perhaps less subtly than he would have it, Lazard said, “He may have been your best friend but you know very little about him as a SOLDIER.”

Angeal turned to leave. They both knew what would happen once he stepped through the door. Angeal would vanish too, lost in Wutai. But perhaps there would be a way to change the outcome, to keep him from deserting.

“Zack Fair.” Lazard said just as the SOLDIER wrapped his hand around the doorknob. “I will send your student to substitute for Genesis’s mission. You may go with him as his mentor and evaluator.”

Angeal turned. His face lightened with relief, but only a little. “Thank you. I owe you a favour.”

Lazard stood and met his gaze. “Stay with Zack. That’s all I’m asking.”

Angeal’s hesitation was answer enough. Then, he averted his eyes and nodded. “On my pride as a SOLDIER.”

CHAPTER I: COLOUR OF SIN

You never notice the colour of sin
Just as the storm clouds close in
It’s dark
L’Arc~en~ciel – Cape of Storms

*CRISIS CORE ~ DAY TWO SINCE ANGEAL WAS REPORTED MISSING

ANGEAL

Angeal became aware of a searing heat against his cheek.

A persistent motor noise hammered into his skull. He tried to shut it out, but the clattering was too close. Irritable. He forced his eyes open and saw only a white flare of sunlight.

He had fallen asleep with his face against the sun-cooked helicopter window while two spectators watched. Genesis said nothing, but Hollander had a pitying smile that was almost fatherly. “Tired, huh?”

Angeal ignored the doctor as he righted himself. He tried to regain his bearings, to recall why the three of them were sharing a helicopter, flying over intervals of verdant patches and barren cliffs—a landscape he finally recognized even though he had never seen it from the air.

Banora, at last.

Home.

Banora was a graveyard of Shinra failures.

At first, Shinra came in search for mako. They cut a quarry out of the hills to harvest the crystals formed within the caves. But they closed down the project when they discovered it cost too much to purify the crystals into a useable form. They pulled out of Banora but left behind the scars they made on the land. They took their equipment but left their empty promises.

Then, they began to dump their waste in this place—their abortive aspirations, their former employees, their babes from unsuccessful experimentations. Under the guise they were providing a haven for life after the Company, Shinra buried them here to forget about them.

Angeal understood now why he could not remember his true history.

Genesis had his copies move Hollander’s machinery into the factory where they would use as their base. The villagers gathered to watch as they worked, curious why a Shinra taskforce would find interest in this dull, unadventurous place again. Angeal followed Genesis’s advice and donned a standard-issue helmet for anonymity. The two of them SOLDIERs returning home with a bunch of creepy imitations would be cause for upheaval—something they could not afford while they attempted to outrace Shinra.

The villagers slowed their advance with questions—what they planned to do, how long they were staying, if they had any news about their boys who went off to join Shinra. Genesis’s mother was among the crowd. She seemed to have more questions than most. Angeal now knew she was of no import, only a stranger arranged into their lives.

With savage impatience, Genesis hissed in Angeal’s ear, “These townsfolk are in our way. We have to do something about them.”

Angeal only followed as his partner strode ahead in a flurry of SOLDIER uniform and long grey coat.

He still could not say it was sensible to betray the director with both the funding and the army, but he understood fully when Genesis declared, “I won’t be used.” There had been no questions whose side Angeal should choose. Unfortunately, this decision proved anything but simple.

Behind them, Hollander was unused to long hikes but he observed Angeal’s threat to leave him should he hold them up. The doctor should not have left Midgar. Lazard had him closely watched for the part he played and his departure would be indication for his change of heart. Lazard would follow him, of course, and Hollander would lead him straight to where Genesis was.

Genesis was not particularly concerned despite Angeal’s warning. He insisted Hollander’s participation was absolutely necessary. Considering Genesis’s state of health, Angeal did not argue. They would have to act fast. They would have to be done with Banora by the time Lazard’s forces arrived. That meant they would have to complete the two tasks they came to do immediately—to lead Hollander to what he wanted and to confront the doctor’s former protégé and partner in Project G.

“Your mother’s maiden name was Gillian Sancta, was it not?” Hollander said but a day ago when he joined their operation in Junon. “She was my student. I have worked with her on Jenova Project G.”

Angeal saw her photo on her staff profile from thirty years ago—a young intellect, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her blue eyes burning with pride. He studied the papers she submitted to the science department—Project G had been her entire life then. She even used her own body to prove her thesis. Was this her true face? Was she always someone like Hollander who befouled life, who played god in the name of science? He read the contract she signed with the Shinra Company when she resigned. That was the final straw. Angeal had accused Hollander of trying to tamper with his mind. He had hoped to believe in coincidence, in unfortunate mistakes, but he knew the truth in his heart when he read the agreement terms.

“We are the proof of the Project’s existence.” Genesis reasoned. He and Hollander were predatory animals trying to trap him with their logic, to gnaw through his heart with their truths. “If your cells are not useful to me, why should Hollander try to obtain them from you?”

Angeal learned the essence of their plan. Hollander would provide a cure for Genesis and in exchange, Genesis would help him dispatch Hojo so that the doctor would be elected head of science department. To cover their operation costs, they involved Lazard who diverted a generous portion of SOLDIER revenue into the research. Whatever profit Lazard saw in this Genesis did not know, but once they received the funding, they turned against the director.

Angeal asked Genesis, “To be used by Hollander, to be used by Lazard—where’s the difference?”

Genesis considered the question and gave his answer. “I’ll die if Hollander refuses me.”

Angeal turned to the doctor, “Can’t I just pay you for this?” He knew as he asked that his question was too late. The betrayal was already underway and Shinra was not known to forgive those who turned against them. He only wished Genesis had told him everything sooner. They could have discussed this before.

“There is no known cure at the moment. I have to keep researching, and these tests I run, these equipments I operate—to put it bluntly, you cannot afford it.” The doctor turned up his palms. “And besides, what good would it do me if Hojo is still around?”

Angeal could tell Genesis did not want to take Hojo’s life. Hojo was nothing to him. It was Hollander who caused his grief in the first place, yet it would be Hollander whom he would help place in charge of all other hapless specimens like himself and Angeal. The conflict was obvious, but Genesis convinced himself that he did not have a choice. “If killing Hojo means I’m going to get the cure, I’ll do it.”

“You wanted to be a hero once,” Angeal said, but he immediately regretted his words.

It was the way Genesis lowered his eyes that broke Angeal's heart.

“But I can’t.”

They set up their equipment in the factory. Hollander coaxed two of the copies into the pair of mako tanks they brought with them. Mako showers helped contain the degradation, but it was not a viable solution in the long run when they were about to come up against the mako monopoly. Besides, Hollander insisted the key to curing Genesis was the slow release of concentrated stagnant mako, not in the dilute liquid enhancement issued to SOLDIERs. He came to collect crystal samples from the abandoned mine.

Angeal did not like the idea of Hollander intruding their childhood place, the only sacred memory he had left of Banora. His reluctance to show Hollander the cave was shared by Genesis who told the doctor “Not yet” when prompted. Genesis knew the cave like the back of his hand. He used it as a secret playground when he was a child. It was also the place he ran to whenever he was upset. Incidentally, Hollander believed his continuous exposure to the crystals in his early life could have been the reason he survived to adulthood while all other specimens from Project G died from the same degradation in their childhood.

It was decided then they would go to Gillian first.

The dirt road leading to Gillian’s house had been travelled often, but it had never seemed as long and strewn with difficulty. The house was not the same that Angeal had grown up in, although it was in the exact location. He used his SOLDIER’s pay to build his mother a new cottage so she would not have to run and fetch every bucket and container in the house to catch the leak whenever it rained. The incessant dripping of rainwater used to fascinate Genesis as a child. He never lived under a leaking roof before.

Genesis and Hollander were waiting for him at the door. He turned the lock with his key.

There was a time Angeal was convinced nothing in the world could startle his mother. She was always so composed and reserved. He was close to seeing her break when his father died—just that once. But she was quickly back to her resilient self when she saw Angeal needed more comfort than she had.

But he watched her change when Hollander reappeared in her life, in the middle of her house. Her face grew pale and then livid. She gripped the handles of her armchair and pulled herself up.

“You!”

Hollander said her name, almost affectionately, but she as a trembling mess of rage. She stared past Angeal and Genesis still in their masks and uniforms and marched straight at the doctor. There was only pure acid in her tone. “I thought I made myself quite clear. There are no more ties between us.”

“Gillian, listen.”

She cut him off. “Leave! Now!”

“I came here with—”

“Now!”

Angeal’s fists convulsed. He saw a face he had never seen before—not his mother, but his creator. The one with the wounded pride. Hollander’s partner who fell out with him when the funding for their project was cut.

Genesis chose the moment to pull off his helmet. Gillian stepped back in shock. She turned her eyes upon Angeal now with recognition—with horror. He refused to acknowledge her, still undecided between facing her or sparing himself the indignity of a lying mother. He chose the former when she said his name in a plea. He let his helmet crash to her floor.

“Mother, why don’t you tell me if it’s true—what Hollander told me about Project G? All you said about carrying me under your heart, feeling me grow inside you, and…and you just gladly used me for your experiments.”

“No, Angeal. It is not that way.” Gillian shook her head. Angeal would admit their confrontation was too intimate even for Genesis’s ears, but he was beyond caring. Let her attempt to explain herself in their audience’s presence. Let them hear her admit she bred her son for the tests and she knew no honour.

But she said, “I never experimented on you. I admit I was arrogant. I thought I could re-create an Ancient from the child of my body, but you have no idea the shame that filled me when I first held you in my arms. You were so tiny, so beautiful—how could I possibly think I can perfect you? Because of you, I left Shinra. I came to Banora to raise you.”

“They gave you a contract.” Genesis interjected with mirth in his expression as if all he had heard were amusing. “Page eight, paragraph two: Dr. Gillian Sancta is to accept one point five million gils for her long-term service, as well as an accommodation in Banora.”

“I did not take the hush-money.”

“Appendix A, paragraph nine.” Genesis recited more of the agreement terms from memory. “She petitioned for the legal adoption of one of her specimens from here on known as Angeal. President Shinra approved of her request under the condition she paid the company two point seven million gils and would resign Angeal to military service upon his reaching age eighteen.”

Angeal always thought joining SOLDIER had been his own free will. The day he left home for Midgar, his father pressed the Buster Sword into his hands while his mother urged him to reconsider and choose the right course. What was the right course when the path was already set out for him since birth? It hardly mattered Gillian had him playing at choices. Eventually, he would be coerced to walk down the same road to meet the same end.

There was a bittersweet satisfaction in watching Gillian’s defeat. She might have been an elite scientist with the power to create enhanced life forms. She might have thought she could change the future and conceal the past. But she could not lie her way out of what she had done now when he already knew the truth.

“Angeal, look at me, please.” She reached to touch his face, reaching for him the only way she had left when the distance between them could never be bridged again. He allowed her only a moment before drawing away. “There was no other way. I paid them everything I had to take you away, and they told me it’s not even enough. But you are my son. I couldn’t leave you. I couldn’t live with that. I had to agree to whatever terms they gave me so long as they let me take you out of Midgar. But if you had said you didn’t want to join the army, I would have done anything I could to stop that from happening. I was prepared to help you run away.”

“Why couldn’t you trust me with the truth?”

“Angeal, I love you, very much. The mistake I made in the past is not a burden I could ever ask you to take.”

Their gazes touched, the same deep shade of blue shadowed by the same black hair. He believed her. He believed her. There were no words so poignant when they were spoken with the eyes and time and memory.

He believed her until he heard Genesis scoff. All these years, Genesis was almost a family member at their house. Angeal knew Gillian’s betrayal hit him just as hard when he found out the truth. But Gillian was not bound to him by blood. It was easier for him to make up his mind.

“I do not deserve forgiveness, but all I wanted was for you to have a normal life away from Shinra.” Gillian swept her gaze to include Genesis. “For you both to live normal lives.”

“If only we could.” Genesis slid off his grey coat. His left shoulder was bandaged but still bleeding under the linen—the damage Angeal was responsible for causing six months ago. Bruises marked along his thin arms. There were also pale patches on his skin, a worsening case of vitiligo when his colour pigments began to break down. “It began with the wound in this shoulder,” Genesis told Gillian. “It never healed, and this corruption started to spread through my body.” He had too much pride to ask for help, not directly anyway. But his message was enough.

Pity and pain were obvious in Gillian’s expression. She, of course, recognized the symptoms of the deterioration that killed her Project G. But she made no move to go to Genesis even as he opened his arms to show her the fruits of her sin. Instead, she turned her gaze to the doctor, the unwanted guest. “Tell me, Hollander. Have they reopened Project G?”

Angeal wanted to ask what that had to do with anything.

“I can’t tell you that.” Hollander said. “It’s classified information.”

“You seem to need my help.”

Hollander shifted his weight to another foot. “Well...Not officially, they have.”

Gillian took a long moment to consider her response. She closed her eyes and whispered something too soft to hear but Angeal thought it was a plea for forgiveness, or a prayer perhaps. Then, she looked at Hollander and gave her answer. “I have already paid my debts when I left the Company. I no longer have any obligations to Shinra or Shinra property.”

“Shinra property? Mother!” Angeal was so stunned by the effect of her blunt words. She might have bought Angeal off from Shinra but she left Genesis behind. He was still owned by the Company. Shinra property. She would refuse him based on this. How could she? She mothered Genesis through her knowledge and ambition too. How could she deny him and let him die?

“Gillian, I only want to help Genesis,” Hollander said. “This has nothing to do with Project G and I’m not trying to pull you back. But you knew how to help Angeal. He isn’t deteriorating and I know you have done something for him. Tell me what it is.”

“No.” She was unmoved. “If I help you cure a G-type SOLDIER, I will give you the means to create more of them. This goes against the vow I made when I left Shinra. I have to refuse.”

Genesis pulled on his coat, concealing his scars out of sight. Angeal knew the empty way he smiled. Gillian could pretend she was noble, but she had no right to sacrifice him for her morality. Angeal heard everything he needed to hear. He placed his hands on Genesis’s shoulders and Genesis allowed himself to be led away—a small change, a little sign he was tired of fighting his disappointment. He had been fighting too hard to keep up a strong appearance but Angeal could see right through that.

“I’m so sorry, Genesis,” Gillian said as she watched them go. “I hope you understand why I have to do this.”

If Genesis had the capacity to accept her apology, Angeal certainly did not.

Genesis sat hunched over his book for the better part of an hour on the floor of the factory. Almost inhuman now, changed, weak, and hurt, but the essence of his being still remained, a certain naiveté. The same way he seemed confident Hollander would keep to their bargain, he accepted Gillian’s refusal as something final. All Angeal could do now was to sit with Genesis against the same wall a few paces away, an equal partner in silence.

“My mother—” Angeal started to say. “I didn’t expect she would refuse.”

Flipping of a page.

“I’d speak with her again. Maybe I can turn things around when we are alone and calm.”

Genesis gave no answer, but Angeal knew he must have heard because his hands went rigid around the spine of his book.

Hope. Sometimes hope cut deeper than the lack of it.

Of all the things Genesis could have said, of all the blame he could have shoved at Angeal, he only stood and brushed the dust off his coat. “I’m tired,” he said, “even though all I did was wait.”

As he headed out of the room, Angeal did not ask where he was going. He simply followed.

FIC - CRISIS CORE - COLOUR OF SIN - PROLOGUE

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 15:41:54 GMT

Crisis Core – Colour of Sin
Author: j_cae
Chapter Title: Prologue
Rating: R
Pairing: Genesis/Angeal, hints of Genesis/Lazard
Warnings: First post :D, language, violence, yaoi, bad moral example, and dark and violent Angeal (If you’re expecting fluffy, harmless Angeal, I should have to suggest you look elsewhere).
Disclaimer: Don’t own CC, but own the time spent writing this.
Summary: Monster, Shinra. SOLDIER, traitor. Angeal, Lazard—fighting on opposing ends but compelled into sin by a shared loss. This is Angeal and Lazard’s story.

COLOUR OF SIN
By J CAE

PROLOGUE

*CRISIS CORE ~ ON THE WUTAI BATTLE FRONT

LAZARD

There was something stale on the Wutai wind.

Lazard knew the reek as the omen of a losing battle. It was not Wutai he was thinking of—Wutai was already within his grasp. All he had to do was to unleash SOLDIER and it would be over. But there was another war waging, more discreet, far darker.

Six months ago, he pulled his SOLDIERs out of Wutai and Heidegger had been losing men faster than a punctured bucket could bleed water. Lazard was not so heartless to enjoy power play while lives were spent on the fields, but the president must be made to recognize SOLDIER for what they were. They were stronger, faster and better trained, but they needed to eat and their operation costs had to be offset. Lazard held his SOLDIERs back until the president granted them extra resources.

Naturally, he kept his side of the bargain. He sent Genesis Rhapsodos with a platoon of Second and Third Class SOLDIERs back to Wutai to finish the war—yet another arrangement to settle old debts. The battle went well, the end was in sight, and Lazard looked to days when he could finally sleep easy.

But he made the mistake of assuming Genesis was uncomplicated.

When they met, it was the first year with SOLDIER for them both. Genesis was so young and smart and aggressive but his intents were always upfront. He had an undisguised hero complex and ran a bit of a rivalry with Sephiroth which Lazard found convenient. He kept Genesis closer than most—as long as the young SOLDIER wanted to be a hero, he was not so likely to backstab his superior, and he would keep an eye on Sephiroth. After six years of close but professional affiliation, Lazard realized he had let Genesis into more of his strategies and confidence than anyone.

He knew everything there was to know about Genesis. He knew about Project G before Genesis did. He knew about the degradation and how the SOLDIER responded to the big revelation. Lazard acknowledged the decision to send him to Wutai was made with his heart—Genesis was dying and dependent on medication at this point. But Genesis wanted to be a hero all his life, so Lazard let him go.

Going M.I.A. was never part of the plan.

At first, this had the smell of Heidegger over it. Heidegger was still a loyal hound to the president, but he had his eyes on SOLDIER which the president had refused to grant and instead entrusted to a no-name kid with null field experience. The president did not have to explain his decision, but Heidegger could not abide by the rejection and was determined not to make life easy for Lazard since. Turning Lazard’s favourite against him was but one of the things that he could try—after all, Jenova Projects were really an extension of Heidegger’s control. Lazard was always cautious Sephiroth might cross to the side of power—why not Genesis too?

But when Heidegger displayed genuine ignorance over Genesis’s disappearance, things went from bad to worse. Lazard was concerned this would eventually bring down an investigation on the SOLDIER department. There were a few things he would find difficult to explain, including a portion of hard-bargained SOLDIER funding that went to Dr. Hollander to research a cure for Genesis. If Genesis decided to betray Shinra, Lazard would be implicated in that way.

Lazard stalled for time by securing Hollander—Genesis would have to go back to the doctor for treatment. There was no need to question Hollander—whether he was an accomplice would make no difference to Lazard’s condition. The only thing he had to do was to recover Genesis and make sure he stayed. He hoped there was another explanation than treachery. Lazard did not enjoy the thought he might have to kill Genesis.

The Wutai night was hauntingly muted even with all the activity that transpired. Shinra’s bastion was alive with doubt, with blame, and still so quiet.

Three choppers were sent to scout over the ink forest canopies. Once airborne they grew smaller and smaller until they were only red blinking lights amidst the stars. Lazard retreated inside their military complex—what intended to be a temporary structure turned out to be a testimony of the eight-year battle.

Sephiroth was there to ensure operations were smooth but even the Silver SOLDIER looked drawn. He twice attempted to have Lazard out of the way while he took over the commands but the director refused to be sent off to rest. The time was 01:22, but there was no chance anyone could sleep tonight.

Lazard pulled his suit jacket tighter to him. What he planned as a short field trip took up the whole day and more, and he had not the insight to bring a change of clothes. He felt filthy in this compound stench of gasoline and death. But it was true what the veterans said—he would never understand a SOLDIER until he saw their war. This place must have been what changed Genesis’s heart, what made him not want to be a hero anymore. In the past, whenever he came to Lazard’s office in the headquarters, he was always so pallid and clean and groomed. It was hard to imagine him, in another reality, covered in blood and grime and sweat like the rest of the SOLDIERs here.

A conductor who monitored the radios reported to Sephiroth—while the general was there, no one seemed to pay much mind to his superior. Lazard knew he was still a stranger in the barracks and a neophyte in the battlefield. He forgave them for forgetting him, but crossed the room not to be left out of their discussion.

“Sir, the first of the Dragonflies is coming back.” The conductor told them both, “Negative so far.”

Lazard heard without hearing. “Keep trying.”

“This won’t do, director. They can’t see a thing in this darkness.”

Sephiroth’s sigh was audible but he said, “Tell them to make another round.”

“Yes, general.”

Sephiroth waited for news with crossed arms. He said nothing but his body language showed he did not expect the result to come back any different. Perhaps what the conductor said was true, that it was already too dark for a search and they should desist until morning. But Lazard could not rest until he was certain.

What could have been half an hour later, one of the helicopters requested to come in as it was low on fuel. After a brief consultation with the general, Lazard relented and gave the order to bring the choppers back. He met the crew outside in the brown barren spot sheared out of the forest as a makeshift helipad. The men saluted him. “Executive!”

“Report.”

“Still negative, Sir. We have made three rounds on our assigned routes, but did not find Commander Hewley.”

Lazard sighed. Aside from Genesis, he now had another stray SOLDIER to deal with. He thought he already knew the why.

He’s my best friend since we were four years old, Angeal Hewley had said. I need to find him. Please let me go.

“Very well. We will resume search at daybreak.”

Birth Month Meme

Mon, 27 Aug 2007 04:01:32 GMT

From gehdra
- Pick your birth month.
- Strike out anything that doesn't apply to you.
- Bold the five-ten that best apply to you.
- Copy to your own journal, with all twelve months under a lj-cut.
~~- Tag 12 people from your friends list.~~

OCTOBER:
~~Loves to chat.~~ Loves those who loves them. Loves to take things at the center. Inner and physical beauty. Lies but doesn't pretend. Gets angry often. Treats friends importantly. ~~Always making friends.~~ Easily hurt but recovers easily. Daydreamer. Opinionated. ~~Does not care of what others think~~. Emotional. Decisive. Strong clairvoyance. Loves to travel, the arts and literature. Touchy and easily jealous. Concerned. Loves outdoors. Just and fair. Spendthrift. ~~Easily influenced~~. ~~Easily loses confidence~~. ~~Loves children~~.

JANUARY:
Stubborn and hard-hearted. Ambitious and serious. Loves to teach and be taught. Always looking at people's flaws and weaknesses. Likes to criticize. Hardworking and productive. Smart, neat and organized. Sensitive and has deep thoughts. Knows how to make others happy. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Rather reserved. Highly attentive. Resistant to illnesses but prone to colds. Romantic but has difficulties expressing love. Loves children. Loyal. Has great social abilities yet easily jealous. Very stubborn and money cautious.

FEBRUARY:
Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent and clever. Changing personality. Attractive. Sexy. Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom. Rebellious when restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily hurt. Gets angry really easily but does not show it. Dislikes unnecessary things. Loves making friends but rarely shows it. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizes dreams and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the inside not outside. Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show emotions.

MARCH:
Attractive personality. Sexy. Affectionate. Shy and reserved. Secretive. Naturally honest, generous and sympathetic. Loves peace and serenity. Sensitive to others. Loves to serve others. Easily angered. Trustworthy. Appreciative and returns kindness. Observant and assesses others. Revengeful. Loves to dream and fantasize. Loves traveling. Loves attention. Hasty decisions in choosing partners. Loves home decors. Musically talented. Loves special things. Moody.

APRIL:
Active and dynamic. Decisive and hasty but tends to regret. Attractive and affectionate to oneself. Strong mentality. Loves attention. Diplomatic. Consoling, friendly and solves people's problems. Brave and fearless. Adventurous. Loving and caring. Suave and generous. Emotional. Aggressive. Hasty. Good memory. Moving. Motivates oneself and others. Sickness usually of the head and chest. Sexy in a way that only their lover can see.

MAY:
Stubborn and hard-hearted. Strong-willed and highly motivated. Sharp thoughts. Easily angered. Attracts others and loves attention. Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. Firm Standpoint. Needs no motivation. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). Loves to dream. Strong clairvoyance. Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. Good imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. Loves literature and the arts. Loves traveling. Dislike being at home. Restless. Not having many children. Hardworking. High spirited. Spendthrift.

JUNE:
Thinks far with vision. Easily influenced by kindness. Polite and soft-spoken. Having ideas. Sensitive. Active mind. Hesitating, tends to delay. Choosy and always wants the best. Temperamental. Funny and humorous. Loves to joke. Good debating skills. Talkative. Daydreamer. Friendly. Knows how to make friends. Able to show character. Easily hurt. Prone to getting colds. Loves to dress up. Easily bored. Fussy. Seldom shows emotions. Takes time to recover when hurt. Brand conscious. Executive. Stubborn.

JULY:
Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people's feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable. Moody and easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets. Dislikes nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying. Loves to be alone. Always broods about the past and the old friends. Likes to be quiet. Homely person. Waits for friends. Never looks for friends. Not aggressive unless provoked. Prone to having stomach and dieting problems. Loves to be loved. Easily hurt but takes long to recover.

AUGUST:
Loves to joke. Attractive. Suave and caring. Brave and fearless. Firm and has leadership qualities. Knows how to console others. Too generous and egoistic. Takes high pride in oneself. Thirsty for praises. Extraordinary spirit. Easily angered. Angry when provoked. Easily jealous. Observant. Careful and cautious. Thinks quickly. Independent thoughts. Loves to lead and to be led. Loves to dream. Talented in the arts, music and defense. Sensitive but not petty. Poor resistance against illnesses. Learns to relax. Hasty and trusty. Romantic. Loving and caring. Loves to make friends.

SEPTEMBER:
Suave and compromising. Careful, cautious and organized. Likes to point out people's mistakes. Likes to criticize. Stubborn. Quiet but able to talk well. Calm and cool. Kind and sympathetic. Concerned and detailed. Loyal but not always honest. Does work well. Very confident. Sensitive. Good memory. Clever and knowledgeable. Loves to look for information. Must control oneself when criticizing. Able to motivate oneself. Understanding. Fun to be around. Secretive. Loves leisure and traveling. Hardly shows emotions. Tends to bottle up feelings. Very choosy, especially in relationships. Systematic.

OCTOBER:
Loves to chat. Loves those who loves them. Loves to take things at the center. Inner and physical beauty. Lies but doesn't pretend. Gets angry often. Treats friends importantly. Always making friends. Easily hurt but recovers easily. Daydreamer. Opinionated. Does not care of what others think. Emotional. Decisive. Strong clairvoyance. Loves to travel, the arts and literature. Touchy and easily jealous. Concerned. Loves outdoors. Just and fair. Spendthrift. Easily influenced. Easily loses confidence. Loves children.

NOVEMBER:
Has a lot of ideas. Difficult to fathom. Thinks forward. Unique and brilliant. Extraordinary ideas. Sharp thinking. Fine and strong clairvoyance. Can become good doctors. Dynamic in personality. Secretive. Inquisitive. Knows how to dig secrets. Always thinking. Less talkative but amiable. Brave and generous. Patient. Stubborn and hard-hearted. If there is a will, there is a way. Determined. Never give up. Hardly becomes angry unless provoked. Loves to be alone. Thinks differently from others. Sharp-minded. Motivates oneself. Does not appreciate praises. High-spirited. Well-built and tough. Deep love and emotions. Romantic. Uncertain in relationships. Homely. Hardworking. High abilities. Trustworthy. Honest and keeps secrets. Not able to control emotions. Unpredictable.

DECEMBER:
Loyal and generous. Sexy. Patriotic. Active in games and interactions. Impatient and hasty. Ambitious. Influential in organizations. Fun to be with. Loves to socialize. Loves praises. Loves attention. Loves to be loved. Honest and trustworthy. Not pretending. Short tempered. Changing personality. Not egotistic. Take high pride in oneself. Hates restrictions. Loves to joke. Good sense of humor. Logical.

More or less an accurate picture of me, except for the first and the last bit. I don't like spontaneous conversations. I type a lot in emails and blogs, but I don't chat. And I don't love children. I think babies are cute, but children are a bother, especially those who know enough to argue back.

Spendthrift--of course I am. I hardly even spend money beyond my necessities (i.e. food, travel, tuition, bills, tax, medical/dental, paying insurance). I hate aimless shopping.

I guess a lot of things depend on the situation though. I'm definitely a literature and arts person and a daydreamer. But whether I'm easily influenced or whether I get angry depend on the subject matter.

If you were reincarnated, would you want to come back as a man or a woman ... and why?

Thu, 02 Aug 2007 01:39:26 GMT

(This is the featured question on Xanga--much more engaging than the LJ "Writer's Block" prompts, IMO. How are you supposed to blog about the "nicest thing you've ever done for anyone" anyway?)

I think I'd be happier being a man. In fact, I don't even know where I went wrong and became a woman, cuz if you look at my personality (with a "Star Wars nerd" stamp across it and I'm more often spotted waving a "please don't make me go shopping" sign), you'll find it conforming more to male stereotypes.

Genes (we're talking reincarnation, right?) would determine that I'd be good-looking and pretty darn smart, and I've seen the options weighed between being a good-looking man and a good-looking woman. They both get the attention, they both can charm their way out of a job interview, but good-looking men have a much less chance of a rape threat. Besides, there are less good-looking men than good-looking women out there--rarity could somewhat guaratee opposite sex interest at all times.

(That being wistful thinking, of course.)

The other reason I'd choose to come back as a man is that I can shave my head without drawing stares. I mean it's summer and it's frigging hot thanks to global warming yadda yadda, and I have a lot of hair. If I get a crew cut like my brother (which I suspect would actually make us look like twins), I'd save a lot of time and money on shampoo, conditioner, oil and hairspray. I haven't shaved my head now cuz I can bet you I won't get by one day without comments like "Ooh has she gone mad?" or "Is the poor girl having chemo?"

But still, if I were reincarnated as a woman yet again, I won't complain. I'm used to having fun proving to people just how wrong they are about me! So far, I've surprised a count of six people who thought I sucked at sports because I shuffle in high heels at work with a "Victorian" air. Oh, were they surprised when they figured I'm a blackbelt in taekwondo and was part of my high school tennis team.

So what if I'm a nerd?

Tue, 31 Jul 2007 15:22:16 GMT

http://www.beowulfmovie.com/

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!

Not sure about Angelina Jolie's role, but I'm still excited.

Strength in my heart

Fri, 29 Jun 2007 02:43:17 GMT

http://hotzone.yahoo.com/b/hotzone/blogs37033

I cried reading this article. The scenes are so vivid in my head and the pain is too real.

I wonder if there is a God watching over this world, how He let this could happen to anyone? How could he just let these lives and dreams be taken away? And what is the meaning of these victims' suffering?

It's easy for you to say that through their torture they could find God and some peace of mind and all that crap, but I have trouble believing any of it. What is the meaning of finding God if God can't save them now?

But maybe people can.

This is what makes me want to quit the meaningless job and join World Vision to really try and make a difference in the violence-torn, underprivileged world. If not make a difference, then at least ease the pain of some of these people.

I know I have that strength in my hands--if only I have strength in my heart as well.

I'm afraid for my own safety to go in there--and you can tell me I'm a coward only if you're not one bit scared to go with me. Sometimes I wonder why I weren't a robot impervious to bullets, rapists and disease so I could actually succeed at making a difference.

MAD

Thu, 28 Jun 2007 12:48:59 GMT

COMPUTER VIRUS = 1
JEN = 0

I'm sooooo mad. I can't even get my laptop running. It always arrives at a black blank screen of doooooooom @*@$#*&%$ WTF BBQ???

I'm sure my 24M warranty does not cover software--none of them ever does, which means I'm gonna hafta try and grab a software guy from somewhere. I don't like the idea of leaving my laptop with someone.

AAAAAAND ESPECIALLY WHEN I HAVEN'T BACKED UP EVERYTHING, *ESPECIALLY* WHEN I'VE BEEN WORKING ON MY EXOTIQUE ENTRY PAINTING FOR PUBLISHING!!!!

GARRRKKK!!!

HATEZZZZZ!!!

Prison Break Season 2 in 3 days - Kellerman is not dead!

Wed, 02 May 2007 15:05:31 GMT

Yup. Watched Season 2 of Prison Break in 3 days and I still had to go to work (if I didn't it would probably only take 2 days). That was intense.

[SPOILER ALERT!!!]

While I love the fact that season 1 has quite a focused theme i.e. the science guy vs. dull grey prison, season 2 opened really well and we're seeing some colours at last that are not only grey (yellowish grey walls), green (grass) and blue (CO and PI uniform). I was really excited getting into Season 2 even though it's too "Hollywood" with all the guns and car chase...but towards the end it was rather disappointing. It's like this thing is never gonna be over.

Reynolds and Steadman? I guessed it. That's for having read George R. R. Martin, not it's really related. It just wasn't a surprise for me.

Pad Man...urm, I don't really know what to make of him. I thought he was the president who got poisoned at first when his face was still in the dark and he was holding up these white notes. Apparently he's someone else.

Really confused about the whole Sona thing, but I guess that's how the writers wanted us to be. I kinda agree with everybody else they shouldn't even think of making Season 3 and they should have ended on that boat with a lot of money for the good guys. *sigh* I guess I will still watch some time in the future, but I don't think it's gonna be this good.

Sad thing is, here I am sitting and reading up on what forumers have to say about Sona and coming across theories how Kellerman is NOT DEAD. According to the opinions of 12-year-old Wentworth fans, because we didn't see Kellerman's corpse blown apart by those ski mask dudes, he's alive and he's gonna come back in season 3!! Writers aren't afraid to show gore. They showed Abruzzi and Tweener ridden with bullet holes. They didn't show Kellerman so he must be alive and he's gonna come back (and date Sara).

Come back to what? I think Kellerman is done here. Plot wise, he doesn't have any use, having been the bad guy, having realized that sweet Caroline used him, having saved an innocent Sara from jail. I don't really care if he's dead or not. But I just thought his death scene (yeah I'm on the side that thinks he's dead) was well done, how they didn't show his bloodied corpse. It was really unnecessary. He deserves a dignified death. Abruzzi and Tweener's deaths are different. They didn't die dignified deaths. Tweener probably deserves better and his brutal murder was totally uncalled for. But Abruzzi and honourable death? Nope. Kellerman, *after he testified*, really deserved better than to be shown dead in his own puddle. Well done scene.

(And I think the ski masked gunmen are members of the Company.)

On a side note, I actually did like Mahone all along (what's with PB FBI agents? They're all insane!), but I didn't like Michael's new conscience crisis in the finale. In fact I think the finale was the worst episode out of all of them. Yeah, I know Michael's supposed to be a good guy and all that, but him getting all moody over T-Bag running free in Panama and leaving Linc alone as fodder for Mahone? OOC. It's like the writers rushed to get the job done. E.g. Christina Rose tattoo--it's just a lame plot point to get Mahone to Panama. Who needs to tattoo his mom's name to his arm? 617 I can understand, but Christina Rose, I think he should need no reminder.

And T-Bag, part with $20 and get a new bag would you please? You're a very wealthy man. Why carry the same camper bag when EVERYONE knows what's inside? I mean you can walk down the streets and get a random girl to your room, why not just get out there and buy a new bag?! Plot flaw.

For the record, I hate T-Bag *SO MUCH* I fast forward all his parts except if Michael and/or Linc are in the scene. He makes me sick.

Oh, and I don't think I need to engage in the Michael/Lincoln debate, but I'd say Michael is hotter and Linc should consider buttoning up his shirt more often if he doesn't want to be taken for a felon at first glance--but Dominic Parcell is the better actor. So there.

Pointless, pointless...

Mon, 02 Apr 2007 08:19:33 GMT

Your Language Arts Grade: 100%

Way to go! You know not to trust the MS Grammar Check and you know "no" from "know." Now, go forth and spread the good word (or at least, the proper use of apostrophes).

Are You Gooder at Grammar?
Make a Quiz

Here's something I thought I should show off XD.

Ganked from Kuni:

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and it's eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works. It's okay. I understand.
Drama Nerd
Musician
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Social Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Anime Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

So true!! I'm the bookworm!!

Haha...I don't know where the drama queen come from, although yeah, I was in the Drama Team in high school but I was mostly backstage (cuz I was the costume designer/coordinator).

Brainless meme

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 01:56:23 GMT

From Kuni

One j_cae's too many, and a hundred's not enough.

Which movie was this quote from?

Kotor Fan Media plagiarism

Mon, 11 Dec 2006 13:16:33 GMT

Please tell me I'm delusional but I know I'm *exceptionally talented* when someone blatantly plagiarizes me for the *THIRD TIME*.

I hate the internet.

There was no more new writing online since long, long ago. And from now on, there will be NO MORE NEW ART in any un-"friend-protected" web spaces.

I'm too old for the internet, entirely too old to be chasing teenage wannabes around to stop them from taking liberties with my work. My paintings, Chrissake, are ridden with anatomy flaws--but I suppose if you think it's cool to copy off me, you have an extremely poor judgement of anatomy, or art in general.

Fortunately, I DO KEEP WIPs for my paintings, and possibly my Xanga entry date will prove my claim of originality. Or why should I even have to try to PROVE anything???

Okay. I'm done whining. The plagiarizer can rest easy that I've grown up, and I'm not as emotional as I was before. I won't be chasing after her with a hot tong this time.

Do beat your kids!!

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 11:13:09 GMT

http://www.stoptherod.net/cgi-bin/sign_devices_petition

Corporeal punishment does not equate torture or abuse.

My parents used to hit me with a stick too when I was a kid--but they let me know that they love me and explained what I did wrong, it DID NOT leave a permanent trauma to my soul.

Oh, and if corporeal punishment is wrong, what would you say about shouting at your kids? Words cut too, so maybe those fragile souls can't take it. Why not ban-the-shouting too?

And who knows. Maybe a generation later, we're going to have a frigging lot of spoiled children running around.

Something I found really amusing on this topic:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzKHQX59Wso

Though, of course, excess violence is always wrong.

Computer and Games

Thu, 09 Nov 2006 16:12:23 GMT

Time for a new computer (I'm serious this time), and HP and Dell are my top picks. I swear to God I'm never ever going to get another Fujitsu in my life cuz of how maintainence treated me the two times when my machine broke down.

Actually, I just need a computer that runs Elder Scrolls: Oblivion, and of course, my beloved Kotor.

And after I get it I guess I'm going to need more games. Open to recommendations, except MMO of any kind.

And come to think of it I kinda miss Warcraft III...now where's that disc?

Wed, 01 Nov 2006 06:47:33 GMT

I can't live in Hong Kong.

It's artistically suffocating. It's too much pollution. It's crowded. Life here is too much tension, as if stopping just for a moment is a serious crime. I feel foreign in the city. I don't understand it, and it doesn't understand me. I've gotten more depressed than I've been in months.

And shops don't carry the English version of Final Fantasy XII.

In fact the guy at Toysrus just told me they don't import any English games.

WTF.

So hear from me soon, sweet Vancouver. I should never have left.

Halloween!!

Sun, 29 Oct 2006 06:36:24 GMT

How can the Queen of Undead Love miss Halloween? I don't think I'll play dress up this year, since I'm gonna be at work and my company frowns upon immaturity etc. But I'll just show that spirit with a speed paint.

2 1/2 hours, PS5. Know it could be better--the eyes don't look the same size but what the hell?

Boo...

What a retard does on Sunday mornings...

Sun, 15 Oct 2006 15:29:50 GMT

Jen is recording her own singing XD XD XD.

Me, da bday gal.

Tue, 10 Oct 2006 11:01:34 GMT

This is the last day ever I'm going to be 21. Ever.

And I'm gonna miss it.

Leek!

Thu, 28 Sep 2006 15:21:52 GMT

Yeah, I know I did something I'm not supposed to. I listened to the Evanescence leak like a "true" Evanescence fan. Don't go bananas on me. It's been almost four years and I'm drawn to potentially good music like a hungry vampire is drawn to blood.

The least I should do is to give the band a brief review of each of the songs I listened to. I didn't listen to Weight of the World, Like You and Lose Control for the obvious reasons that I couldn't find them. But that's ok. I think I've heard enough to sum up my Evanescence experience tonight.

Just one question for the band: WHY THE ELECTRIC GUITARS?

IMHO they're absolutely unnecessary and they make me really tired after listening. I'm getting too old for rock, and I'm only 21. I've listened to the acoustic versions of some of the songs, and they're more than enough to touch me. So why the blaring guitars and cheap pop rhythms when Amy's voice alone is good enough???? I thought that My Immortal (the original version, not the guitar blaring version) and Hello on Fallen were absolutely beautiful, and a necessary break from the deafening cheap sound of electric guitars, and from my impression, the Open Door seems to be lacking a few soft ballards.

Songs not in any particular order:

1. Call Me When You're Sober: Yes, the song that's on the radio anywhere. It was the first song among those on the new album that I listened to. And God, that didn't sound like the Evanescence I remember at all!!! Can't say that I liked it. It's too 'pop' for my taste, but I'm open to a change of style and a few bad songs on the album. I was hoping that this would be one of the supposedly more approachable ones, some kind of commerical decision to draw more non-Goth/metal audience to the band. The MV is absolutely spectacular though, and the guy is handsome. Amy's vocals is great as usual, but the song itself...I'd give it 3/5 for the reason that it's too far from what I expected.

2. Cloud Nine: The most horrible song on the album--even though I haven't listened to all of them. I actually got bored the first time listening to it.

3. All That I'm Living For: I heard the acoustic version first and it was too beautiful, that I couldn't go through the rock version. It's a good song, beautiful lyrics that I can relate to in some ways. But I think it deserves to be a ballard.

4. Sweet Sacrifice: A good thing they started the album with Sweet Sacrifice. I wouldn't say that it's my favourite song, but it's defeinitely one of the better ones where Amy gets to show off her beautiful voice. It's haunting and powerful in a good way. I've been hearing people compare it to Going Under on Fallen, and I think yeah, the songs are similar in their message, but Sweet Sacrifice is stronger.

5. Lithium: Again, only found the acoustic version, and I'm in love with this song. I hope the rock version isn't horrible. I can't describe how much I love Amy's voice.

6. Lacrymosa: I think it's one of Mozart's compositions in the background. It's an interesting arrangement, although I found the song a bit too busy for my taste. The lyrics didn't touch me too much. I'm partial to this song.

7. Good Enough: Again, acoustic version. I found it nice that it has a jazzy touch to it. I'm not sure I like it completely, but I guess I can work my way around that.

8. The Only One: Excuse me while I rephrase myself. I think this is one of the ballards on the album. It's quite nice, but still something is lacking...maybe I just haven't listened to it enough now. I'm still open to a different opinion, that maybe the next time I hear it I'd feel different about this song.

9. Snow White Queen: This is in fact the most interesting song on the album and my absolute favourite. It starts off off-key and weird, but I guess that's just me and my love for unusual stuff. I really liked it, how the song builds up. I can't quite put a finger to how the lyrics should make me feel, but it's definitely cool.

10. Your Star: Also an interesting song. I also liked the arrangement and the weird melody. I don't have much to say about this one, cuz after listening to ten songs I've pretty much forgotten how it sounded :P.

Well, I think I've heard enough. I'll give those songs a chance to grow on me. It's never a good idea to dose myself on too much Evanescence in one night I start to feel like a zombie. Just to say that I still love the band, but I'm not sure I support the direction that they're veering. I miss Ben Moody.

But that being said, I'm being extra harsh coming down on Evanescence's quality, whereas I'm not so picky when listening to Meja or whoever, just cuz I <3 Fallen and I sort of expect Ev's second album to exceed the first (although that rarely happens in the music industry). I just hope that they'd scrap the guitars and include a few more ballards before I go deaf or neurotic.

Guess I'll hold off buying their album for now.

Edit to add: Something just made me feel like painting green eyes. Must paint green eyes when I get off work tomorrow...

Exotique 2

Thu, 28 Sep 2006 10:02:00 GMT

http://www.ballisticpublishing.com/books/exotique_2/

That's so worth the money, as opposed to Exotique 1 that turned into a show of pixel underwear models somewhere in the middle.

Bored...Meme

Tue, 26 Sep 2006 15:19:01 GMT

Ah hahaha :).

And then I realized how sad my life is that I'd find this shit amusing :P.

Your LiveJournal Destiny

LiveJournal Username

What is your favorite fruit?

Can you taste the rainbow?

What RPG class would you be?

Mm... Donuts...

Su mama.

Which is the scariest?

How many hours a day do you spend online on average?

Do you fear the random?

Your future job:

IRS Agent

This person will be your assistant in your job:

vinfinity

You will make this much money:

$45,987

Suddenly, a rip in the space-time continuum opens and out pops:

kazamaceo

Unless you help them, the world will explode in this much time:

To save the world, you need to:

Light the four elemental lighthouses

The evil villain who tries to stop you is:

doppelgrammar

The chance you succeed is:

80%

This Fun Quiz created by Lynn at BlogQuiz.Net

Gemini Horoscope at DailyHoroscopes.Biz

Who died and...

Tue, 26 Sep 2006 01:25:04 GMT

Who died and put the Conservatives in office?