Streams of Consciousness. – Chapter 2: Till Death do us part.

Chapter Summary: Of SOLDIERs, Vampires, and massacres.

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.

Vincent stared blankly at the featureless white haze that filled his vision, there was nothing to smell, or hear, nothing to feel, it was just … EMPTY. It reminded the gunman rather disconcertingly of his coma-like sleep, and yet… he knew he was not sleeping. His eyes blinked again. He could move a little it seemed, but when he experimented with the rest of his body he could manage nothing more significant than a twitch of fingers or toes. For all intents and purposes he was paralyzed. He also realized he wasn't breathing, and somehow, he didn't need to. Another venture proved he actually couldn't, wherever he was there was no air. Vincent simply couldn't find it in himself to panic, he hardly seemed to be experiencing any detriment from his lack of oxygen, in fact… his heart wasn't even beating at present, which brought to mind questions as to why his brain was actually functioning at all. He blinked again, for the first time noticing that the blank white field was actually darkening, tingeing in grays and soft pinks. Another couple bats of his eyelids and the foggy surroundings solidified further, vague details picking themselves out and slowly sharpening under his focus. It was like experiencing a white-out on slow rewind…

After a few moments he found himself standing in a room, sound floated to his ears for several seconds before he made sense of them. The dusty featureless "abandoned" looking room was almost the mirror of the one Vincent had tracked the sorcerer into. Upon glancing down the red-eyed gunman had the strangest sense of vertigo as he found himself standing in the middle of an enormous magic circle, only this one was painted in red … in blood, He noted, wrinkling his nose at the coppery smell. Another glance showed this circle had runes in place of Materia, the sharp scent of decay was also one that had been lacking in the previous room, As Vincent's gaze picked it's way around he observed unhappily that he was not the only occupant of the circle. His eyes narrowed at the visage of Sephiroth, Vincent's hands, still stiff from their strange teleportation, slowly clenched on the handle of Cerberus. Sephiroth gazed around the room in annoyance, but much to the gunman's relief, seemed no more capable of movement than he. The SOLDER's eyes landed once on Vincent and then drifted back to the rooms other two occupants. The gunman followed the stare, his eyes widening in shock.

Standing just outside the sorcerous enclosure were two men, both sporting crimson eyes almost identical to Vincent's own, the one on the left was dressed in a suit of grey, but the formal affect was ruined by copious amounts of blood staining the sleeves and front. His brown hair hung un-kept around his face, despite the well-trimmed appearance of it. His partner was blonde, a rough bandana held his hair from his eyes, and a Zippered sweat-shirt parted to reveal casual shirt and jeans. This one twisted his lips in a smirk, flashing fangs at the two warriors. Vincent stared back, unusually fascinated by their eyes, and their smell! … he resisted the urge to furrow his nose again.

"You serve us now." The well-dressed man sneered, his eyes traveled from Sephiroth to Vincent, hesitating on the gunman's red eyes before inspecting the SOLDIER again. Suddenly Sephiroth started to laugh.

"I serve no man." He stated again, "And certainly not a dead one." Vincent gasped in shock, his gaze turning to the two figures once more.

"You have no choice," The same undead figure scoffed, A few words were muttered under his breath and the air before Vincent and Sephiroth shimmered, chains materialized around them, it only took the gunman a few brief moments to realize the magical bindings had been there the whole time. He had never been paralyzed… just restrained. Frowning he glared at his captors. Sephiroth sniggered,

"Is that it?" The silver-haired man taunted, both of the vampires scowled. The SOLDIER didn't wait for them to answer but instead flexed his arms against his bonds, the metal groaned, the chains bending outward, and the well-dressed man gasped, pressing one hand to his head. Sephiroth smirked, leaning forward into the restraints, his left hand still held the Masamune, and he pressed the blade slowly into the sorcerous chains. Vincent felt warnings go off in his head, if Sephiroth managed to break his strange bindings Vincent would still be immobile, easy prey for the agile Swordsman. Taking his hint he wrestled against the detaining bands,

"Stop that!" The first vampire shrieked, the second one snarled and drew a small pistol, leveling it at Vincent. The gunman paused raising one eyebrow, how was HE the greater threat?

"Cu' I' Ou' righ' now!" The punkish vampire shouted glaring at Sephiroth, "Or I'll kill your frien'!" This actually did cause Sephiroth to hesitate, but not for any reasons the vampires supposed, He looked from the gun, to Vincent, then to the vampire. The SOLDIER threw back his head and started to laugh. Vincent groaned, he really hated that sound.

"We're not friends." The gunman muttered,

"Go ahead!" Sephiroth interrupted grinning madly, "Just do it slowly, I'd like to watch." Vincent fell silent; the vampires glanced at each other, visibly reconsidering their choice of actions.

"We don' have time for this…" The second man whispered to his partner, "The Hun'ers will be here soon." Vincent and Sephiroth could both make out the sounds, there were certain advantages to Mako infusions.

"I can control them!" The well-dressed man hissed back.

"Jus' le' them go and le' Hellsin' deal with them!" A rocking explosion interrupted their arguments. The walls shuddered with the force, dust and cobwebs filtered to the ground. The sounds of gunshots somewhere else in the building reached the four people's ears. A string of curses slipped from the Second vampire's lips,

"I can control them!" The first on insisted again.

"Forge' i'!"

"I won't!"

Sephiroth watched the two of them indifferently, and after a few moments decided they were unlikely to do anything proving entertaining. He pressed against his chains again, levering the sharp blade of Masamune, the magical metal bending away from the legendary sword. The well-dressed vampire cried out in pain, grabbing his head with both hands.

"I OWN YOU!" The undead cried shrilly, wincing at the headache brought on by Sephiroth's struggles. Whether it was his shouting that had attracted attention, or simply that the invading forces had reached this far another thunderous clap sounded, the door behind the two vampires exploded, sending rocks and rubble cascading into the room. The punk-ish vampire shouted a curse whirling to aim his small pistol through the smoking Passage. Another small detonation and the undead flew backwards, dissolving into dust before he even reached the ground. The ashes scattered across the floor quickly soaking up the moist blood that made up the sorcerous circle. The runes blurred and the diagram distorted. Suddenly the chains holding the two Warriors in place exploded, the 'shrapnel' dissipating into harmless smoke. Sephiroth was the first to move, crossing the distance between himself and the Vampire who had 'summoned' him. Before the man could even cry out he was decapitated and stabbed thoroughly through the heart. It was strange to see someone dissolve into ash. Vincent decided as he pulled himself out of his reverie. Sephiroth turned to face him, a smile still gracing his lips.

"Not as satisfying…" The silver-haired man grunted, gesturing to the remains on the floor. "I much prefer splatters." Vincent raised his gun smoothly, Sephiroth widened his stance, for a moment a sense of Deja'vu passed over them, they stared at each other down their weapons, a vast painted mystical circle under their feet, the room dark and full of dust. The feeling passed and their staring contest was interrupted by a room-shaking blast. Both men leapt backwards as an explosive round the size of a fist shot between them into the far wall. Sephiroth glanced at the still-smoking breach, the sky just visible beyond it, and then past Vincent and into the corridor from whence the cannon shot had come from. He tossed a smirk at Vincent and suddenly sprinted to the gaping hole in the far wall. Vincent whirled, unhesitant in giving chase, another explosion behind him sent Vincent stumbling forward, his gaze lifted just in time to see Sephiroth disappear. He leapt to his feet, but whirled around at the soft clicking sound behind him. Instinctively raising Cerberus Vincent found himself staring down the triple barrels at a slender young woman, dressed in a form-fitting blue uniform, her wild strawberry-blonde hair spiking out around her face in a manner that immediately brought Cloud to mind. Most importantly, her Crimson eyes glared at him over the top of a cannon almost as big as she was.

(( I think I forgot to mention in the previous chapter, but this one is an 'Art-Trade' ficlett, A request, so it will have no bearings on my other Final Fantasy storyline "It's Good to be Alive!". One of my readers for that story expressed some disappointment at the lack of 'Evil' Sephiroth. So this is for him. ))