Streams of Consciousness. – Chapter 1: Winds of Fate
Chapter Summary: Sephiroth is resurrected once more… but no one had plans for what happens.
Author: Illusor Meaneld
Rated M : For Extreme Violence. No cussing, No pairings, No Adult Situations.
Disclaimer: I did not create, and do not own the characters from Final Fantasy 7 or Hellsing. They are owned by Square-Enix and Kouta Hirano respectively, and I am simply borrowing them for my own (and hopefully your) enjoyment.
The air was thick and musty, the darkness swallowing the details. One pair of glowing eyes hovered amidst the stillness. Featureless grey stone walls disappeared into the distance. The eyes blinked once, slowly, Moving forward silently unconcerned by the foreboding silence. A whisper of air caused the gaze to widen, the soft hum of magic thrummed gently through the empty building. Dust sifted lazily from the ceiling as power rustled through the air. The strange figure broke into a run, feet padding soundlessly on the ground. A door passed on his right, but he ignored it, another door and another, finally he halted at the fifth one, one gloved hand shot forward twisting the knob and throwing the door open in one movement. Light filled the hallway suddenly, illuminating the cloaked figure in a myriad of colors. High-pitched chanting filled the corridor quickly reaching a crescendo in pitch and power. A thin, middle-aged man stood in the center of the broad room, facing the door that had just opened. There on the floor between the two people an enormous circle, painstakingly painted with a peculiar greenish liquid, Sporting elaborate runes, symbols and intertwining diagrams. A pentagon touched the edges of the ring and at each point of the star sat a glowing Materia of a different color. The Older man, garbed in a flowing black robe continued his incantation, his spell almost finished. The intruder braced, taking three steps forward before a shockwave of iridescent energy blasted from the speaker and his magic circle, effectively throwing the newcomer across the hallway. Raising his arms towards the ceiling the sorcerer screamed the last arcane words, ignoring the form trying to rise just outside the door. His cracking high-pitched laughter echoed through the abandoned building as the circle filled with brilliant light.
"You are too late Valentine!" The mage cried triumphantly, "You cannot stop me now!"
Vincent Valentine pushed himself up from the wall watching on in morbid horror as the luminance solidified into a tall vaguely humanoid figure. The ex-AVALANCHE warrior straightened, flicking his tattered red cloak behind him, a determined frown marring his smooth face as his right hand tightened on his three-barreled gun. Suddenly the radiant glow exploded into glittering sparks, the light dying from the room more quickly than it had come. Vincent's red eyes peered into the darkness, but he didn't need to see to know that his nemesis stood before him.
"The bane of the planet, the child of JENOVA, … risen once again to conquer the world!" The Sorcerer cackled, Vincent could practically feel the smirk twist onto the face of the newly summoned Young man.
"Sephiroth…" Vincent whispered.
"No Cloud to greet me?" The arrogant tenor sneered.
"You will destroy the foolish humans great General!" the old man laughed sadistically. Vincent's eyes had quickly adjusted, and he watched as the green eyed SOLDIER turned to regard his summoner with mild disgust.
"I take orders from no man." He snorted. The Wizard whirled suddenly, sputtering in outrage.
"You are mine to command!" He shouted, Sephiroth chuckled,
"Oh really?" he mocked, his left hand stretched out, green light momentarily lit his face as his precious Masamune materialized in his hand. A moment later a shot rang out, Sephiroth leaped backwards just dodging the bullet as he whirled to glare at Vincent. "You think you're a match for me?" He scoffed, leveling the Masamune, its point directed at Vincent's heart.
"It doesn't matter." The gunman muttered softly, raising his Cerberus and dragging back the hammer with his thumb. "You will be stopped regardless." The sorcerer's indignant shriek was ignored as the two figures clashed, the bright flashes of gunfire lighting the room sporadically, the sparks of metal as Sephiroth's blade dashed across the golden surface of Vincent's Gauntlet. So focused were the two warriors that they didn't notice when the circle began to glow dimly once more, It's pale green light slowly casting eerie shadows in the wake of the two battlers. The old sorcerer, who had slunk behind a few empty crates, peered out in some concern at the new illumination. His shriek of shock effectively snagged the attention of the other two men, who paused just long enough to glance at him, one in annoyance, the other in confusion. Both were still standing on the enormous circle, it's circumference spanned nearly the entire room. The brightness increased and both figures looked down in almost the same motion. Twin pairs of eyes widened as a blast of light enveloped both of them. The old man cried out again as the blinding light forced him to turn away. Then suddenly the room was drenched once again in darkness. Fumbling his way forward the aged wizard groped for the lamp he had dragged with him, flicking it on with one finger, he gazed out into the room. The summoning circle he had painstakingly created was no more than layers of dust, The JENOVA cell infused liquid he had used wasted. But even more importantly the room was empty except for himself. The silence was deafening. Snarling with outrage the man hurled his lamp, listening without satisfaction as it crashed against the far wall. In the darkness his sobs echoed softly, though no one but himself was there to hear them.