General Chaos

Rating: PG
Category:
Pairing(s): Pre Zack/Sephiroth
Warnings: Worms
Summary: Zack shows his evil streak.
Notes: If there is one thing I have learned, it is that most great military minds are nut cases. Take Alexander the Great. Conquerer of a vast empire, he was apparently quite short and fond of dressing up like Hercules. People frequently mistook his taller lover Hesphaestion for the guy in charge.

Then there’s Field Marshal Rommel. Arguably one of the greatest military minds of the 20th century, he would also apparently photograph anything within range. Tents, troops, vehicles, rocks, animals, clouds, and once, as a SPECIAL treat for his wife, a screaming Australian soldier leaping over the edge of a foxhole, bayonet raised and aimed directly at the photographer.

Frau Rommel was not amused.

I figure since insanity is often an integral part of greatness, and Sephiroth was a great general and hero, he must have had some truly monumental quirks…

You can blame this fic on my friend mirien, who inspired it with her short Crackfic about Sephiroth blowing a gasket in the dentist’s office. Do yourself a favour and check it out, it’s fabulous.

It was raining.

That was alllllllll Zack needed to know. He opened his eyes, heard that soft patter of fat falling drops, and knew that most of his morning was going to be spent getting the Great Sephiroth out of his tent. He growled as he heard Sephiroth’s orderly come running into his tent.

“Major Fair?”

“Yes, Hargove, I hear it.”

“The general won’t…”

“I know, Hargrove…”

“And they’re due…”

“Hargrove go get me some coffee. If you want me to get General Persian Cat into the icky nasty rain, then you are going to have to first give me caffeine.”

“Yes Major.”

Hargrove ran off to do as asked, and Zack slowly sat up, managing somehow to whine, growl and pout simultaneously. He picked up a dirty sock and tossed it onto the head of the sixteen-year-old corporal serving as his own orderly.

“Strife, get your ass out of bed!”

Cloud slowly sat up, picking Zack’s sock distastefully off his face. “But we have another two hours before we have to be up!”

Zack nodded. “I know. Hear that?”

Cloud listened. “All I hear is rain.”

“You’ll learn to dread that sound. C’mon. You have to help me with something.”

Cloud did as he was told, dressing in his uniform and following Zack out of the tent. Zack was met by Hargrove with a cup of coffee, and they squelched their way across the mire and mud to Sephiroth’s tent. With the sort of premonition that came with long experience, Zack pulled the tent flap open and deftly stepped aside. Before Cloud could even ask himself why he would do that, he was clonked on the head with a boot and knocked onto his ass in the mud. Zack peered down at him. With his wild hair silhouetted in the pre-dawn light, he looked for all the world like an inquisitive chocobo.

“Gotta be faster than that around here,” said Zack.

“Remind me why I joined SOLDIER.”

“You’re a moron who believed the recruitment slogans about seeing faraway lands, meeting new and fascinating people, and killing them.”

Cloud slowly got up, and followed Zack into the tent, only to find Sephiroth in full snit.

“The NERVE of these people! The unmitigated gall! They want ME to come meet them at THIS hour, in THIS SHIT!? They can just go FUCK themselves, and I have a few suggestions as to what they can USE!”

Cloud, Zack and Hargrove ducked with prefect military precision as a masamune blade swung, making an ominous sound as it cut air where their heads had been moments ago. Zack straightened up and walked towards seven feet of pissed-off war hero, still in his shorts, his mane of white hair askew and frizzing beautifully with the humidity.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that,” said Zack, gently taking the sword out of his hand and setting it aside before Sephiroth levelled the camp.

Cloud winced as Sephiroth spun to face Zack, half afraid his friend was about to be torn in two, but Zack was completely unafraid. He simply picked up a brush and some gel and set about smoothing down the white hair while Sephiroth continued to rage.

“The RAIN! They want me in the RAIN! Do you have ANY idea what is OUT there at this hour when it’s wet?”

“I know, I know, it’s utterly unconscionable,” said Zack, calm and collected, brushing the long, silken hair.

“What am I, their valet? I’d like to know where they were when Hill 83 was overrun and I had to go in and liberate our supplies and soldiers!”

“I know,” said Zack soothingly. “They have no class.”

“And where were they when I had to go into Wutai and put down the resistance? Do they think I just danced in there and..?”

“That was Mideel.”

“What?”

“Mideel. We were in Mideel. Not Wutai.”

“Well who cares, it was a burg! It’s not like I was ever asked to invade anyplace warm and dry!”

“I know,” said Zack, still all tranquility and sympathy.

He brushed down the famous cow lick, which stayed down for roughly twenty seconds before popping back up with a near-audible poink! He went to get Sephiroth’s clothes while Hargrove and Cloud laid out breakfast. Cloud was more wet than dirty from his fall, though he suspected he had a bruise forming in the middle of his forehead. He had been extremely glad to be transferred to Zack’s unit since Zack was his only real friend, but being near Zack meant dealing with Sephiroth, and Sephiroth was a mass of idiosyncrasies. Still, it beat being the short lonely oddball, which is what he had been in his last unit.

Cloud stepped back and noticed something on the floor. He bent and picked it up, watching as the truly enormous night crawler squirmed in his hand. Sephiroth had a fit.

“GET THAT MONSTER OUT OF MY TENT!”

Cloud blinked. “It’s just a worm, sir. See?” He held up the great purple wiggling monstrosity.

Sephiroth lunged for his blade. Cloud tossed the worm out into the mud, and Zack sighed, having to start all over, brushing hair, quieting the greatest warrior of their time, arguably of all time.

“It’s just a worm, nothing for you to get upset about. There, there….”

“It’s NOT just a worm it’s some heinous disgusting slithering demonic abomination! And they’re probably everywhere by now! This is my reward for all my years of service? Worms and rain and wet and wake-up calls at four-thirty in the morning when my unit is supposed to be resting? Why IS that fat pompous snot-wad we laughingly call President invading my peace, anyway?”

Zack had managed to get Sephiroth dressed and groomed while he ranted. Currently Zack was kneeling before him, buckling on the thigh-high boots.

“Photo-op, sir.”

Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Photo opportunity. He’s bringing the press down to get some cute pictures of you and he fishing. Thought it would look good in the newspapers and boost morale.”

Cloud and Hargrove unconsciously reached for each other, hugging one another in fear as a strange, ozone scent began to exude from Sephiroth. Zack buckled one boot and set about buckling the other.

“Fishing?!” Sephiroth snarled.

“Yes sir.”

“Fishing. In the rain. In the mud. With worms.”

“Yes sir.”

Sephiroth stared down at Zack, disbelief fading to comprehension, and finally rage. Zack stood up and smiled, looking into Sephiroth’s green eyes. Outside the smooth sound of a well-maintained military vehicle pulling up before the tent could be heard.

“I believe that’s them, sir.”

Cloud and Hargrove cringed as there came a brief, silent pulse of white light, and suddenly a huge and frighteningly dramatic pair of black wings unfurled from Sephiroth’s back, filling the tent. He made a noise like a bull preparing to charge, and Zack passed him his sword, all bright eyes and innocence.

“Your sword, General.”

Sephiroth took the sword, then turned and stalked out of the tent. Seconds later they heard screaming, and the unmistakeable sound of a jeep being cloven in half. People fled in all directions, and the jeep was quartered. Zack sat down at the table and began helping himself to Sephiroth’s breakfast, while Cloud and Hargrove just stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re not going to go out there?” said Cloud as a man ran by screaming, pursued hotly.

“Not on your life.”

“But…!”

Zack arranged a plate for himself. “Look, my orders were, and I quote; “in the event of rain, get Sephiroth up and dressed and out of his tent at 04:30 hours for a photo shoot and we don’t care how”. Well he’s up and dressed and out of his tent, isn’t he? It’s not my fault I was mistaken about the fishing and the worms. Pass the syrup, would ya Cloud?”