As of 07/20/08, this chapter has been revised slightly. I'm actually pretty content that, two years later, I kind of like the progression of this story. Unfortunately, the only reason I'm coming back is I'm bored at the moment and need to polish up on my writing. Update ahead! Enjoy!

NOTES -
Artistic liberties are being implemented as I take over plot and conflict in due time. The direction this story was meant to go is going to change a little bit. Mind you, it still retains its alternate universe and bizarre, acid-laced concept of rock stars and other mangled perceptions of the world we've come to know and love. And, because I've finally seen AC, this new version takes recent revelations into consideration.

Pairing - MVO, a.k.a. Multiple Vague Ones
Summary - AU; Obsession, love, distress, and rock stars compile the motley students of the prestigious Shin-Ra Academy.

Warning - Severely AU. Unrequited (?) slash and your regular programmed heterosexual relationships. Exaggerated drama, movie references, etc.

LOVE PANIC
paranoia complex

Operation 01: An Eccentric's Guide to Local Living 101

-

Yuffie Kisaragi could only slump her shoulders, as she stared at her dreadfully lanky frame in the mirror. It was of utmost importance to mention that this was a fault caused by her good-for-nothing father, who felt it best to transfer her to an internationally well-known boarding school at such late notice. It inevitably resulted in her late discovery about impossible dress code policies. She had rightfully assumed that her standard sleeveless tops and shorts were passable, but, much to her dismay, such 'revealing' clothing was strictly prohibited.

So she stood in front of her condescending reflection, entertaining her mental bleeding and emotional trauma with homicidal re-enactments of her good-for-nothing father. After stealing his most prized possessions, of course. And kicking him in the shins.

Her staring contest ended abruptly, as she sighed in defeat.

For Leviathan's sake, the bloody uniform just sagged over her body. Not only was this quite possibly a socially destructive way of representing oneself, it was also very, very unbecoming. In other words, she looked rather frumpy.

A frumpy grape, to be exact. And to add insult to injury, she was an ugly frumpy grape, which was hardly helpful to her ego in a critical time of teenage angst and fragile self-fortitude against other like-minded young adults that were bound to pose as obstacles. She looked about as desirable as –

"You look like a shriveled raisin," a voice suddenly interrupted. She stiffened. It was somewhat squeaky and raspy, somewhat an embodiment of a shrimp-sized pipsqueak with an attitude.

Yuffie spun on her heels, glaring at the boy who conveniently invited himself into her sacred room.

Shake.

Oh, how she would have loved to shake – pun intended – the living daylights out of him. And a couple more brain cells. Not that he had any more to lose. She reached over her bed and, before he could be given any chance to react, picked up her nearly full suitcase and flung it at his head. Death By Suitcase, she thought grimly. It would have made for a very entertaining headline in her village. She watched as he fell down in a satisfying dull thud, and she swore she could have heard an echo. Somewhat expected of someone whose head was full of absolutely nothing.

"I am not a raisin!" she declared, defiantly.

"Are you sure? Because you're lacking a healthy dose of curves, and you've got terrible wrinkles around your fa-

"When I'm finished with you, you won't be able to breathe through your face!"

In a matter of moments, the Kisaragi Manor shook with early morning riot, erupting in full-fledged wresting, yelling, and the waste of a good breakfast.

-

-

Yuffie stepped off the train, muttering under her breath as she was volleyed around by moving bodies, simply because she was a little on the petite side. Honestly! If the little beast hadn't interfered with her packing, not only would she have been able to bury him alive, she would have had some time to pack some of her handy weapons in her knapsack. To throw. Particularly at people's faces who dared to think they could just move her around from one end to another like a rag doll. She was no pushover.

I'll show you all, she thought determinedly. And when I do, I'll-

"And when you do, you'll what?"

She blanched, involuntarily squeaking in surprise. Had she said that aloud?

She turned around and blushed bright red when a young man with flaming crimson hair looked down at her, expensive sunglasses resting atop his distinct mop of ruffled and bedraggled appearance. She might have correlated his mussed up hair with a satisfying physical life (Shiva forbid she actually mention that term to describe the action of tangled limbs and unspeakable extremities) if it weren't for the fact that, upon seeing his hair, she was instantly reminded of volcano lava. Erupting with a fury. Much like her temper was for being eavesdropped. Nevertheless, before she could properly chastise this stranger on social etiquette, her gaze traveled to his face. It was pale and smooth, eyes a brightly colored aquamarine, and his lips were tugged in a cool, highly infuriating smirk, a cigarette dangling from the side. She studied the rest of him, then, noticing that his posture left a lot to be desired. And his clothes! Untucked shirt, wrinkly white oxford, et cetera. Didn't his parents teach him anything about being presentable? To her, he was like a swaggering pirate left stranded for days on an island with a rum fetish and on the verge of falling left-of-center.

"Little girl, if you stare any harder my clothes may actually combust." He nodded and looked pensive, then shook his head as if he decided that whatever it was he was thinking would not be smart to vocalize.

She huffed, "Hey, buddy, I am not a little girl!"

The strange young man laughed, gaining the subtle attention from other passersby in the process but mostly ignored. Random pedestrians moved on with their lives, leaving the two stranded in their odd conversation about absolutely nothing. Or something, maybe. Boy and girl alone on a sidewalk, quarreling over something, was always about one matter or another.

He leaned forward and looked straight into her eyes.

"No, I guess not. Though your looks could use an improvement. More importantly, that uniform. Have it stitched, modernized ... tighter, even." He suggested with a grin.

Yuffie fumed. What a pervert.

"This was the smallest size they had." God, I'd love to punch your face in and hope to Ultima you die in a pool of your own blood.

He touched his chin, thoughtfully. "'They'. Judging by your spectacular choice in outfit, you're going to Shin-Ra Academy."

She snorted. "I'm glad you have eyes. I don't suppose you go there?"

The young man shrugged in response and bobbed his head, allowing his sunglasses to fall in front of his eyes. Slick, but not that impressive, she thought. He raised his arm, checking the securely wound wristwatch on his arm.

"Maybe." He said, absently, whilst turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction. "See you later, Pintsize."

"Get– Get back here, you creep!"

-

-

"You really should stop daydreaming; you're beginning to drool."

Elena sipped a bit of her Krakka Energizer. It tasted foul for the average non-vegan individual, maybe, but it was a divine element in her dietary schedule. She watched her friend shake her head, as if to reawaken herself from a daylong slumber. As much as she prided herself in knowing said friend was an intelligent and spiritual human being, Aeris Gainsborough was certainly an interesting – a term she used loosely – person in her own right. Her head, as much as it was full of knowledge, was also full of clouds and dreams and air. A lovely person to be around but hardly a conversationalist unless she put her mind to something. Or someone.

Aeris exhaled a contented sigh and looked at her blonde friend.

"Do you think it's unusual?"

Elena raised one brow. "Do I think what's unusual? Your nonsensical infatuation with Cardinali, of all parasites to choose from the entire school? Why, yes, I do believe so."

Aeris looked affronted.

"Reno is not a parasite!"

She scoffed, "He might as well be. He hovers around like an annoying insect whenever you least expect him. And unfortunately, there is no known repellent for that evolutionary specimen we have come to loathe."

"We loathe nothing. You loathe, I love. Although I do have to disagree and say that that is what's so great about him."

"... that he's an annoying insect?"

"No! That he's there whenever you least expect him." Aeris smiled. "It's just so like him, and it's a pleasant surprise every single time. It makes me feel special."

Elena rolled her eyes.

"I hate to break it to you, but ..." Elena trailed off as Aeris continued to smile, tilting her head in curiosity. Was it really necessary to let her know that that was how all estrogen-ridden individuals felt special around him? Nah. She did, however, continue. "First of all, define pleasant. It's such a vague word. Second, do you really like being teased so mercilessly? It's so – so objectifying! He's verbally abusive, Aeris. Of course, not that you would take it as abuse since you're blinded by what we normal people call misdirected infatuation. What you're feeling is cutting off blood circulation to your brain."

"Hey!"

"And last, but certainly not least, your brother wouldn't take the issue of you and one of his friends cavorting around behind his back."

"What, Rufus? Technically speaking, he's my stepbrother. There's a big difference that you can't even deny. Besides, of what business is it that I'm interested in one of his friends. He wouldn't even notice. He's really another power-hungry, egotistical, manipulative and hormonal Shin-Ra male. Like his father."

Oh, while Elena wanted to disagree, she felt it best to humor her friend for the time being. Contrary to Aeris' delusional belief that her stepdad and stepbrother were maniacs in search for power and glory, they were really quite compassionate human beings. They were simply determined to a fault. Which, in the real world, was highly regarded as a useful trait.

"Well," she started, "Rufus would find it incredibly disturbing to discover that one of his minions –

"Reno is not a minion!"

Ignore, ignore.

"– is dating his sister. Two things could happen, then, assuming you defied the laws of natural logic and, Shiva forbid, date that thing: one, Rufus will lose his dear bodyguard because Reno, in his flawed mind, has theoretically chosen you over his friend; or two, Reno might insist you tag along with them on their merry adventures. Your stepbrother's still protective of you, regardless of whether you're blood-related or not, but Rufus would be disinclined to agree with these two options, leaving you with ... nothing." She finished with a flourish.

"True."

"This is all theoretical, of course."

"Theoretical," Aeris repeated, fondly. "Right."

-

-

Yuffie heaved a sigh of relief when she found her dormitory number. Truthfully, although she was loathe to admit it because the Kisaragi clan would be shamed, she was shocked (only slightly) to discover that she was lost several times within the grand building. It really wasn't her fault, what with all the twists and turns, wings, and flights of stairs to remember. Furthermore, the directions that had been given to her were convoluted, confusing, and she had wondered whether there was a minimum intelligent quotient required in order to navigate the school. One had to be a super genius to understand all of the junk written out to her on paper. She was hard-pressed to believe that this establishment was a school. Instead, she was more convinced that this place was a labyrinth meant to torture incoming students such as herself because the headmaster hated life and decided to dump all his woes on the shoulders of the doe-eyed creatures with growing minds and bodies.

Probably hated kids, in general. Ate them for dinner, even.

Making a mental note to find the headmaster later, she focused on opening the door to Wing C, Room 202. She was ready to unpack her things and take a long, well-deserved nap. It had been a relief to find out that the move-in dates had been on a weekend, giving her ample time to rest before school started.

What surprised her upon entering her new dormitory was the elegant décor and the group of young students lounging in what she assumed to be the dorm's shared living room. She counted eight different people. Eight. Last time she checked, she had only two roommates and coed boarding was nothing she was informed.

"Hey, new blood. Stop gawking and either come in or get out."

Yuffie looked for the origin of the voice and saw it in a regal-looking young man with long, impossibly beautiful hair and sharp, aristocratic features. His voice was silky and lacked the enthusiasm and warmth – comparable to a black hole, really – as he greeted her. Or 'greeted'. Hard to say. His eyes glinted as they studied her weak appearance. She looked down at herself and frowned at her clothes. Really now, had she known that uniforms weren't a daily requirement – as also proven by the run-in she had with several students prior to her room discovery – she certainly wouldn't have worn it on her first day settling into her dorm. She felt like she was a microscopic study, every inch of her being scrutinized under this man's calculating gaze.

Of course, she soon noticed that all eyes had fallen on her, inspecting, all suspicious. Like darts, their gazes, ready to stab her if she so much as moved. Unnerving. Creepy. Just plain weird.

The red-headed girl stared at her, openly. She wore camouflage pants and a black tank top, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked ready to kill her. Yuffie considered bolting on three. One, two –

"You're not allowed in here." Her voice was firm, direct, authoritative.

Three? Run, stupid girl, run!

"Unless," the other girl interjected, "you're Yuffie. We're waiting for a Yuffie Kisaragi."

It was then she felt relieved. When she had barged in, they looked about ready to kill her with their eyes. Not that they hadn't already; she already felt violated as it were. The lot of them appeared stony, immaculate human beings – not like the boy she had met earlier upon exiting the train.

"That's, uh, that's me."

The young woman who had last addressed her smiled and waved her over. With caution, Yuffie approached the group, who now seemed less tense and ready to pounce than just seconds earlier. Even the evil man with the silver hair looked less dangerous. Sort of. His face looked permanently affixed to scare people away. Poor children.

As soon as she was close enough, the woman spoke, gesturing to herself before continuing down the row on her left.

"I'm Tifa. This is Jessie, Cloud, Vincent, Biggs, Wedge, Zack, and Sephiroth. Sephiroth isn't very civilized, so I apologize on his behalf for the way he reacted earlier. He can be a little intimidating at first glance."

Coolly, he replied, "I am always intimidating."

In the background, there were several coughs and choked laughter. Thankfully, they had gone unnoticed. Yuffie feared that had he witnessed his friends' disagreement, he would have hacked them limb from limb.

Tifa laughed. "Not when people realize you are the queen of melodrama under all of your so-called intimidating layers."

"Don't you mock me, woman. If this new blood starts warming up to me because you've given her reason to think I might have a soul underneath, I'll have your head."

She shook her head and looked up at Yuffie. "Ignore him. He has a social impediment."

"How dare you insult me!"

This time, Yuffie couldn't hold back a smirk, one that erupted in full-fledged roaring laughter. The rest of the group followed suit and only silenced as Sephiroth looked ready to kill.

Yuffie could feel her right eye twitching.

Sephiroth was definitely and evil, evil man. She could swear that if it weren't for Tifa, he would skin her alive and prod her off a cliff for imminent death. And laugh as she fell and went pancake on all of them. He was a freak. But in no way, come hell or high water, would she say that to his face. She was scared to think of what might follow that sort of confession.

"Well, we really need to get going," Zack announced. "The fair's this evening and we haven't even practiced my solo."

"Solo?" asked Yuffie.

Sephiroth stood up, massive at his six feet and a couple of inches, glaring down at her. She felt lucky for her big clothes; she felt like she could just shrink and hide into them.

"You haven't read the Shin-Ra pamphlet have you, new blood?" he sneered. "Pathetic. Aren't new students given this information before entering this school? Highwind is going to hear from my mother. Or instead, maybe I should go and spear him for being unworthy to rule the campus. All the man does is smoke and drink tea."

"Highwind?"

"Lockheart, would you please be so kind as to educate your roommate about school procedures and officers and any similar information? Mother forbid she continues to ask stupid questions the next time I see her – and hopefully, that's in the very distant future." Annoyed, Sephiroth turned on his heel and left the dormitory, followed by the rest of the boys, who said their goodbyes on their way out.

Jessie pointedly looked at Yuffie.

"You really should have read that pamphlet. Not that you're obligated to, but it would be to your benefit if you want to avoid his seemingly never-ending wrath. Sephiroth has little patience for people, especially after discovering his musical talents." She scoffed. "He thinks he's god-like now that nearly every girl in school salivates over him. It's like watching a committee of vultures clamoring over a piece of dead meat. It's actually very disgusting."

Tifa restrained herself from laughing. It seemed to Yuffie that there was an inside joke among them regarding the subject of their discussion.

"Zack, Cloud, Sephiroth, and Vincent formed a band called the One-Winged Angel." Tifa clarified. "The name's a bit contrived, but I'm sure you can guess who came up with it. Highwind is our headmaster – or Cid Highwind, to be precise. As a precaution, I urge you not to call him 'Mister' or any other respectful titles. He says it makes him sound old, so calling him 'Cid' is fine."

"What about Biggs and Wedge?" Yuffie inquired.

"Biggs and Wedge help transport their instruments from place to place. Tifa and I keep the band in line." Jessie grinned.

Tifa continued, "We manage them, although Sephiroth tried to fight for a line of soldiers instead." Jessie rolled her eyes at this. "Because of what we do, we have a tendency to be overbearing and wary with strangers. There are some crazed ... fans ... out there, who think OWA is real. Which they're not."

"Sephiroth would like to think otherwise." Jessie added. "He thinks he's the real deal. We, however, would oblige to contest to that."

Yuffie nodded, absorbing the new information.

One-Winged Angel was an infamous pretend band, locally; Cid Highwind was her master who smoked and drank tea and still liked to retain his youth; and Sephiroth was potentially hazardous to her health. It wasn't much to go from, but she was sure that nothing about this school would surprise her.

Maybe.

Afterthoughts:
I can't tell whether the length of this chapter has remained the same. Whatever. It's still weird, and it's going to get even weirder. I can't take this story seriously, as you can clearly see. There are subtle parallels to the game and to AC but nothing more than referencing certain events, etc. Anything else is mostly creative license kicking into gear.

More editing up ahead, and then update. Or not. I keep saying things that never happen because that's the way I roll.

(And yes, Reno is half-Italian, because I said so.)