Disclaimer:Not my characters (aside from the OC's)
AN: Something I wrote quickly for a friend!
Summary: Not everyone is born a monster. Sometimes things happen which make them become monsters.
Warning: Violence

Sephiroth never forgot how he learnt to kill. His third kill was how he learnt, not counting his so called 'mother's' suicide, or the man he killed when he followed orders, not knowing what the pill would do. That man had deserved to die, because he had disobeyed Shinra. What he didn't forget was the first time he had killed deliberately.

"Jenova Project Mark III?" The silver haired boy looked up at the man he was meant to call father, his six year old eyes filled with hatred for the scientist. He nodded obediently, reminding himself how much stronger he had gotten in the last few weeks. A faint smile hung on his lips as he imagined the day he could be a hero, the day he didn't have to listen to Hojo anymore.

The scientist clicked his tongue sharply, snapping the boy's attention back to him.

"We are going to continue your training today. Meet Damien." He ushered a small brunette boy, a couple of years younger than his son, into the room. "You are to play with him today." An evil smirk hung on his lips as he saw the experiment's obvious joy at having someone to play with, a real friend. He closed the door behind him, leaving the children to their own devices.

Damien looked up at the Jenova Project awkwardly.
"Hello" he whispered, smiling a shy smile through gapped front teeth. "You have very nice hair." He stepped forwards, hand raised to stroke the shoulder length silver locks.
"Hello." The Jenova Project replied. He closed the gap, letting the younger boy stroke clumsy fingers through his hair. He smiled back when the child started to relax. The Jenova Project didn't like his hair being pulled, but he let it happen because Damien didn't mean to hurt him.

Damien didn't really understand what was going on. He knew his daddy and mummy were in lots of trouble, and that the nasty SOLDIERs had dragged all three of them from their home, and he had been hit and hurt. He'd been afraid and crying, and one of the SOLDIER had pointed a gun at him. Then that scientist walked over and pulled him away, saying something to the SOLDIERs. They had let him go, and now he had someone to play with.

The Project listened to his story with concern, awkwardly patting the young boy on the shoulder. He wasn't used to dealing with situations like this. He found the boy a tissue to wipe away his tears.

He waited until he'd calmed down, then got out two of his wooden training swords and challenged the boy to a fight. They had fun with that for a couple of hours, even though the project got annoyed when Damien asked why he didn't have any real toys. They made up quickly though, Damien even giving the Project a special present.

"I don't think Jenova Project Mark III is a nice nameā€¦ I think Sephiroth is a nicer one." Sephiroth was the name of Damien's older cousin and he was always friendly to him.

Just as the two of them were beginning to want their dinner, Hojo walked back in.
"Jenova Project." Obedient as always, Sephiroth walked over and stood by Hojo as he crouched down to explain what he wanted him to do. "You are to feed him this pill." Sephiroth's eyes widened and he shook his head from side to side frantically.
"NO!" It was the same kind of pill as he had been told to give that other man. He wouldn't do it.

Hojo frowned, glaring at him.
"You dare to disobey me?" Sephiroth paused for a moment, thinking of his new name and how much fun he had with Damien. He nodded. Hojo sighed, disappointed with his pet project, and withdrew his gun from his lab coat, aiming it at the brunette four year old. He fired off a single shot, hitting him in the shoulder.

Damien fell to the floor, clutching at his arm and screaming at this new and alien agony. Sephiroth watched with pity. He knew that it hurt, but it would heal soon. Hojo held Sephiroth against him, making him watch as the pool of blood got bigger and the boy grew weaker and weaker before falling silent and still. Sephiroth stared in confusion which slowly faded into horror. He'd always been able to recover from gunshot wounds, but Damien wasn't going to. It was just like the pill all over again. When he understood that, he started to scream.

Hojo lead him from his room to punish him, throwing him into his small cell, where sometimes he was locked for weeks at a time. Two days after, when he was released, he had decided he'd obey in future, and he wouldn't scream any more. He had never realized that an ice materia could hurt so much when pressed against his skin. He looked up at his father with broken eyes, apologizing for doing the wrong thing.

The next time was three days later. It was a girl this time, Sara, who was the daughter of a suspected member of AVALANCHE. Sephiroth didn't know this. All he knew was that he played with her all day, and they became friends. In the evening his hand shook as he bit open the cyanide pill which he was immune to, and pressed his lips against hers, his face was wet with tears. He still followed orders, cradling the child in his arms as she died.

The fourth time he did it, another boy this time, Edmund, he didn't even cry. It tore him up inside, and he wanted to sob and scream until it all went away and Sara and Damien came back, but on the outside he looked totally calm. He had learnt to follow orders completely, even when it hurt.

Hojo made a mistake though. He was determined to carry on training the boy, even after his goal had been achieved. He gave Sephiroth more 'play dates' with whom to spend his time before their death.

It was the tenth kill that did it. He was never quite sure of the name. Leonardo, or something equally precocious. He'd given up caring what their parents had done wrong. He spent the day just pretending to be there friend, smiling and giggling, looking forwards to the time he could ram the cyanide pill down the other child's throat. When he did it, he squinted, pretending that the boy was his father. That it was him with whom he shared the fatal kiss. When the body fell back, lifeless, it felt good. Better than he had ever felt before. This was what it was like to have control, how it felt to destroy people. He began to look forwards to playing with them, winning their trust only to destroy them.

When he was older he would use the same technique in boardrooms, simpering at the President's command whilst looking forwards to the moment he could force the masume through him.

The experiment had succeeded, and they had created the perfect killer. A man who could betray all of them whilst still playing the perfect loyal subject, who could win their trust whilst plotting their death. They had created a monster. He would be their downfall.