In the land of Gaia, where chocobos roam and the Mako energy pulsates with life, there was a warrior whose spiky hair defied gravity and whose muscles rippled with the strength of a thousand Behemoths. His name was Cloud Strife, a man with the physique of an Adonis sculpted by the Planet itself, and a posterior that could put the finest dwarven craftsmanship to shame. One balmy afternoon, after an arduous battle defeating a particularly nasty Tonberry King who just wouldn't stop stabbing, Cloud found himself wandering through the mystic forests near Nibelheim. His armor felt like a prison of sweat and steel--he longed for liberation, for the caress of a gentle breeze upon his battle-worn skin. As he ventured deeper into the woods, a glimmering pond appeared, hidden away like a precious materia orb. It was serene--a liquid embrace waiting to soothe the simmering heat within his boots. With a quick glance to ensure the privacy only nature could provide, Cloud began to strip away the layers of leather and metal that clung to his chiseled frame. Finally, au naturel, handsome as the gods and shameless as a Cactuar, he stepped into the pond's embrace. His muscles glistened like dewdrops on a Blade Grass as the cool water enveloped him. Slowly and gracefully, Cloud submerged himself up to his neck, resting his arms and chin on the edge, exuding the tranquility of a sleeping Leviathan. Each facet of his sculpted back shifted and settled against the pool's edge, drawing attention to his rear--two rounded hillocks of perfection reflecting on the water's surface. So fine was his derriere that even Aphrodite would divert her gaze from her heavenly abode to bestow it with a glistening nod of approval. As he marinated in the tranquility of his damp sanctuary, the tension that knotted his muscles began to unravel. The world's chaos muffled against the comforting lap of water against the shore. In this rare moment of peace, a feeling of blissful release swelled within him. Caught up in the purity of relaxation, Cloud didn't resist the urge--a natural call resonated from the depths of his being. And so, with an expressive look of ease, he let out a prolonged, bubbling fart that echoed through the serene forest like a robust chorus of brass horns heralding the arrival of a lost king. The bubbles cascaded against his pristine glutes, tickling the very essence of his soul. Cloud couldn't help but chuckle, rejoicing in the feeling of utter relief as a playful smile graced his lips. But alas, the inhabitants of the pond weren't nearly as appreciative of this natural occurrence. The offensive onslaught was a potent brew of unluckily fermented elixirs and one too many Gysahl Greens. The few fish that had been lazily stroking by were suddenly floored--belly up, they rose to the pond's surface, victims of the noxious cocktail that invaded their innocent gills. Underwater, the aquatic scenery turned apocalyptic, a blitzball team's worth of fish floating lifelessly to an audience of curious yet horrified squirrels. Above, Cloud continued his repose, blissfully unaware of the aquatic genocide his derriere--an epilogue to their lives--had so cruelly composed. And as the last bubble broke the surface, silence returned. Cloud, the hero unwittingly turned pond villain, laid there, his muscular physique basking in the sunlight, as innocent as the day he was born--save for the gentle motion of the lifeless fish rocking in his wake.