A Final Fantasy VII Fanfic
All characters, settings, and objects are copyrighted of Squaresoft Inc.

There is no sky.

I never realized how the lack of a sun, of a blue sky, no matter how faded the both of them were, would disturb the setting of a place.

My empire lies in ruins now, but that is a small setback. I may have been raised on money, but I know how to keep it, and how to earn it back. Not like my so-called father, a man who thought anyone could be bought by the little pieces of credit called Gil. I have learned that people are bought at a much cheaper price.

Their lives.

I am the devil despite that many regard me as an angel. PR saw to that, and those who were not swayed by my PR's honey and roses words, they were convinced by the Turks weapons.

The Turks.

Like Shinra, they too, were once mighty. Now, look what remains? A measly group of three. Sure, they are strong, and deadly, and I would not wish to get in a fight with them, but they are used to taking commands. Their leader is dead, what will they do now?

Apathy.

My father's apathy has brought down my empire. He was, and is a fool. Did he honestly think that if we kept draining the planet, no one would notice?

The lack of sky disturbs me.

Above the plates, the sky is a brown-blue, the sun an unrelenting mistress. The clouds bring only storms, storms that slash at the beautiful houses. But when the storms drain, it rains below the plates, washing away Upper Midgar's dirt. It is interesting to stand and watch a mud storm.

I heard the rumors the other day. I am dead, they say. In the crib, when I was an infant, I was fed with diamond bottles. Now it seems, the world believes those Diamonds have killed me. Almost poetic. Born to diamonds, killed by Diamond.

But I still breathe.

I hide below the plates, in the slums. There are many that would swear I would die before I forced myself below the plates. They know nothing of me. I hide, yes, and I stay in these slums, but I will return to my throne, eventually.

These are pretty thoughts, thoughts that take my mind from the pain in my chest. Crimson blood flows there, covering my once elegant gray suit. I did not escape from the building unharmed, shrapnel fills my lungs now. The pain courses through me again, and I let my mind go back to my pretty thoughts.

I was born to diamonds, and it seems, diamonds will in fact, kill me.