Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Ice Redux ❯ Created Human ( Chapter 29 )

Thanks to my reviewers! And Vailea especially!

Warning: There is both rape and torture in this chapter!

Chapter 29: Created Human

“That voice?” Vincent murmured, widened crimson eyes searching the cavern. They fell on cracked, jagged rocks and flourescent light. A cold shiver wracked his thin frame when he finally caught sight of the ghostly figure, standing on what appeared to be a dais and looking every inch like the woman that had stolen his heart thirty years ago.

“It can’t be…” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. “Lucrecia…?”

The apparition responded, the voice sounding soft and sensual at the same time managing to reverberate throughout the room. It was the same timbre he had always remembered, striking a tone of familiarity through him.

“Vincent…?”

“Lucrecia!!̶ 1; Vincent exclaimed, hope surging so quickly in his heart he nearly gasped from it. He took a step forward, fully prepared to return to her arms. For the moment, all that had happened since he had awoken, disappeared from his mind. Cid faded away in the light of her eyes, those beautiful orbs of brown that had captivated him from day one.

Yet, her face twisted with a strange expression. “Stay back!!” she ordered, her hand snapping up immediately, as if to ward off his approach.

He paused instantaneously, uncertainty creeping up on the edge of his thoughts. A slightly pained expression took over his face, though it was difficult to see behind the covering folds of his crimson cloak. Behind him, Cloud and Cid could do nothing but watch, knowing it wasn’t their place to interfere. Even if Cid wanted to run in there and demand to know what the hell was going on, anything to stop the look of almost naked pain he had caught on his lover’s face.

After a moment, Lucrecia spoke as if she had finally found the words she was searching for. “You... you let him take my son from me,” she whispered, sounding lost and alone... desperately afraid as if such a thing were possible.
Vincent paled, all the blood draining from his face. His memories were so blank, he didn’t know what she was speaking of. “W--what are you talking...” His words were nothing more than a stutter. Son? He remembered nothing of a son.

And then the pain came, racing across his mind like a lightning strike, bringing with it all the images that had lain buried. He gasped, his hand coming to his head as his eyes slammed shut. His veins pumped a sluggish rhythm, and it took all of his concentration to simply remain on his feet, knees buckling beneath him.

Of Lucrecia, talking about Hojo’s and her decision to perform experiments on her unborn child…

Of Vincent trying to convince Lucrecia to run away with him, and her flat refusal…

Of one lone Turk going to confront a mad scientist with no weapon as back up, having promised the woman he loved he wouldn’t need it…

Of Hojo cackling evilly as he shot Vincent twice, a manic gleam in his eyes as he took the Turk’s life as if he were nothing more than a beast...

Of Vincent feeling as if he were dying and indeed believing it were true until he woke up in his current deformed shape…

He choked on a breath, face draining of all blood as his body thrummed with horror. “T--this body is the punishment that’s been given to me,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else as the memories stabbed at his conscious. “I was unable to stop Professors Gast and Hojo and Lucrecia,” he paused on her name as if repeating it over and over in his mind. “I was unable to stop them. All that I was able to do was watch. That is my punishment.”

Sucking in a breath to somehow ease the agonizing twisting inside of him, Vincent raised his head, locking eyes with the woman he had loved.

“You’re alive…”

She shook her head, seemingly oblivious to his obvious joy. “I wanted to disappear.” Lucrecia choked, beginning to sob quietly. Silvery tear marks left a faint trail down her cheeks. “I couldn’t be with anyone. I wanted to die but the Jenova inside me wouldn’t let me die.” Her tears were flowing more freely, falling down her face in salty trails of agony.

“Lately, I dream a lot of Sephiroth,” Lucrecia began again, after regaining her voice. “My dear, dear child. Ever since he was born I never got to hold him, even once, not even once. You can’t call me his mother. That is my… sin.” She broke into disjointed sobs again.
Vincent took a step forward, arm reaching out to comfort her only to recoil when her eyes flashed angrily and she thrust out an arm towards him, dangerously close to striking him in the chest.

“Back!! Stay back!!” she screamed. He froze and looked at her, the pain evident in his own eyes. Her features softened and her eyes became pleading. “And yet, Vincent, won’t you please tell me?”

The gunman took a deep breath. “Anything.” As always, when it came to her. There was nothing he wouldn’t give, no request he would deny. His heart still pattered when he saw her, guilt clenching in his chest. Whatever she asked of him, he would supply, even if ached or broke something that was already desperately trying to heal.

“Is Sephiroth still alive? I heard he died five years ago. But I see him in my dreams so often and I know that physically, like myself, he can’t die so easily. Please, Vincent, tell me, does my child still live?”

Vincent was at a loss. He couldn’t bear to tell Lucrecia the truth, even if it meant that he would bear the burden alone. “Lucrecia…” he began slowly. He paused and appeared to gather himself before telling possibly the hardest lie in his life. “Sephiroth is dead.”

“So I see,” Lucrecia responded in a tone that was more dead than alive. Her hands, clenched in a pleading gesture, fell limply at her sides. “Then I have failed him after all.”

“No,” Vincent denied vehemently. He sliced his hand through the air for emphasis, daring to take one step closer to her. “It is I! I, who failed the both of you! I should have protected you, seen it sooner.” He shook his head, hair flopping into his face. “Were it not for my pride, I would have taken you and ran!”

Somehow, she managed a smile through her tears. “That is why I loved you, dear Valentine. So kind beneath that cold exterior. I loved you once, long ago.”

“I love you still,” Vincent declared emphatically, his voice the epitome of his anguish.

Her eyes saddened as she looked at him. “No, you do not. Your heart belongs to another. I only wish that I had listened before…” she trailed off before continuing. “Did you know that Sephiroth had the most beautiful grey eyes, like granite stone, before Hojo started applying the mako?”

Vincent sucked in a deep breath, remembering his own looks before all the tests and the injections. “W--what are you saying?”

“I am not saying anything. I just wanted you to know.”

The gunman paled even further, vaguely resembling a ghost and seeming to waver on his feet. “Is Sephiroth… is he…” No matter how much he tried, his lips wouldn’t form the words and he licked his lips, eyes darting around wildly. He couldn’t seem to gain a hold of himself.

He was hazily aware of the eyes on him, two pairs of eyes that watched every move and word spoken between he and Lucrecia. But his own gaze was only for her, for the woman he believed to have failed. For the very woman that he harbored guilt.

Lucrecia shook her head, taking a step backwards. “Now that he is dead it no longer matters. And I... I must go to join him,” she whispered, her body beginning to fade as if she had never really been there at all.

“Wait! Lucrecia, you must tell me!” Vincent yelled in exasperation. He ran towards her, hoping to grasp a hold of the brunette before she disappeared. Yet, the scientist shook her head, tresses flying as she blinked her eyes slowly, a quiet stream trailing down her face. Her figure was near transparent now, hardly anything left of her.

“Dammit!” Vincent cursed as he stumbled towards the upraised stone where Lucrecia had been standing. “Don’t you leave without telling me, dammit!”

But she was already gone.

With a heaving sob, Vincent sank to his feet, angrily striking the floor. It hurt, sending jarring stabs of pain up his arm but he ignored it. The agony was nothing compared to having to watch her walk away again.

“Why?” he cried, striking the floor once more, the strength of his claw enough to cause the stone to splinter beneath him. “Why can’t I remember!?!”

‘Do you want to remember?’ Chaos’ booming voice echoed in his ears, slithering across his brain like some foul serpent. It was so loud Vincent almost believed that the Death demon was standing right beside him. He looked up through tear-streaked lashes at the place where Lucrecia once stood.

And for once in his meager return to existence, he begged. “Please,” Vincent whispered. “I need to remember.”

Galian Beast laughed mockingly. (It won’t be fun, and it won’t be pretty.)

The gunman angrily shook his head, fingers curling into fists as his claw scraped at the floor. “I don’t care,” Vincent snapped. “I want to know the truth.”

“Uh, Vince?” He heard Cid’s voice asking him tentatively if he was okay. He ignored him. His relationship, his dalliance, his whatever with the pilot was the last thing on his mind right now. He had to know.

(He says he wants the truth, Chaos? Should we give it to him?)

Chaos snorted derisively. ‘He is our master after all,’ the demon retorted with a touch of sarcasm to his voice. ‘Show him.’

They gave him no warning before Vincent suddenly felt like he was falling from a far distance, every muscle in his body going limp. Despite the fact that he knew he was kneeling on a hard surface, his entire body felt suspended. In truth, he had only blacked out and to Cid and Cloud, it seemed as if he went unconscious, his body slumping to the ground where...

...Everyone, scientists and ShinRa soldiers included, were struggling to unload medical supplies and equipment off of a transport truck. One in particular seemed to be having trouble carrying a rather large and bulky box. She tripped over a rock, or perhaps it was her own feet, and swayed. Destruction and breakage was imminent until a tall, well-dressed man swooped in to aid the girl. He grabbed the box and held it for her, while she struggled to gain her balance.

The brown-haired scientist smiled up at him as she gingerly felt her ankle. It wasn’t swelling, but it still hurt.

“I’d rather think that you should carry something a bit lighter,” the man commented, his voice deep and smooth as his grey eyes flashed warmly.

“Oh, Mr. Valentine, I should think not!” the girl responded with a cheery smile. “I can’t let all you men think us females are weaker!” She reached for the box but he moved it swiftly out of range.

Dark hair fell into his face, courtesy of a balmy breeze. “I will carry it for you, Dr. Lucrecia,” he intoned, grey eyes guarded but still managing to be somewhat warm. “You are hurt.”

She waved a hand in dismissal before moving back towards the truck and grabbing another box, albeit a much smaller one. “It’s nothing. C’mon I’ will show you where to put it.”

And so went their first encounter. Vincent was immediately attracted to the constantly smiling young scientist but fought to push his feelings down. He was one of the top Turks, it was completely unprofessional of him. But her cheery demeanor was intoxicating. It managed to break through his walls of ice and encouraging him to be more open, to laugh.

To make him want things he had never even considered before. He was even...

...Lost in the touch of her skin, the warmth and the silky smooth texture. She moved so beautifully beneath him, as if they were made for each other. As if they were meant to be one. And her eyes glinted, with feelings, adoration and kindness. Vincent felt as if he had stepped into some romantic and a part of him wished that he would never wake up.

He had spent so long trying to ignore what he was feeling, clinging tightly to his Turk rules and decorum. Even Raven had told him he was acting wrongly, had warned him against the ShinRa scientist. But Vincent couldn’t stop himself it seemed. She was beautiful.

She made him feel. She made him want to settle down, to marry... kids even. She made him think things he had never thought before. He thought he loved her. He thought he was...

... in the living room, sipping on some red wine in a glass as he stared into the fire, losing himself in the flames. For some reason, fire had always fascinated him. The gentle dance of the blaze, the consuming heat--

“Mr. Valentine?” Lucrecia’s sweet voice pierced the blackness of his thoughts and Vincent turned from the fire. As much as the flame intrigued him, he would rather turn his eyes to more beautiful things.

He shook his head, a smile creeping into his usually impassive features. “I thought I told you to call me, Vincent,” the Turk responded, though his voice was warm and gentle.

“You did, but it is hard to get used to.” Lucrecia smiled as well. No, she wasn’t just smiling, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat, as if she had the biggest secret in the world.

He tilted his head to the side. “Why are you so happy?”

“Oh, Vincent!” the scientist exclaimed, clapping her hands together in glee. “It is so wonderful!! Hojo has asked me to marry him!!”

His eyes widened before he could stop himself. “W--what?” he stuttered, feeling a bit lost. “But, I had thought--” Something started to clench inside of him, going cold... death. Lifeless.

Lucrecia giggled as if his emotional confusion were all a joke. “Oh, silly, I thought we talked about that.” She smiled as she enveloped Vincent in a hug. He was too stunned to return it. “You knew that I was in love with Hojo.”

“Yes, but…” Ever the articulate one, for once Vincent Valentine found himself at a loss for words. She was the only one who could ever make him that way.

The scientist pulled away from the embrace and looked up at him. Hurt was evident in the grey eyes, but Vincent quickly shielded that emotion, putting up his recently torn walls with a speed that surprised even himself. He could just hear Raven murmuring ‘I told you so’ in the background and suddenly, all those petty one-night stands, all those meaningless relationships came back to haunt him.

Karma was a bitch.

She shook her head. “I knew I never should have given in…”

“Don’t bother,” the Turk muttered, already withdrawing from her. “I’m a big boy; I can handle it. Congratulations.” He pulled away from Lucrecia, and snapped up his suit jacket from the back of the couch, intent on going for a walk or something, anything to get away from the pain. Something was shattering inside of him and he knew that he had long ago lost the glue to heal it.

“Don’t be like that,” Lucrecia murmured. She reached out and grabbed Vincent’s arm, trying to stop him from leaving. “Please don’t go back to the way you were. You can’t stop smiling.”

He rudely jerked it free. “Spare me your romantic drivel,” Vincent muttered with his coldness, dredged up from a past of impassivity he had thought he’d forgotten. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Lucrecia’s eyes filled with tears as her hands fell to her sides. She looked at him for a moment before running out of the living room, the echoes of her sobs leaving in her wake.

He watched her exit with a breaking heart, nearly frozen in place until Vincent sighed and sunk down into the couch. His head fell into his hands. Why should it have surprised him? To her, science had always come first. Always. And Raven had warned him. Why hadn’t he listened?

“Very, very amusing,” A cold and calculating voice echoed from one of the shadowed corners of the room.

Vincent felt a chill race up and down his spine. He jerked his head up, eyes immediately locking on the far corner. “Hojo,” he hissed.

“Very perceptive of you, Mr. Valentine.” The scientist stepped out of the shadows, glasses reflecting enough light to give him a slightly malevolent aura. “I always knew the little slut was running around on me. I suppose I should have guessed it would be you. Tell me, Mr. Valentine, do you make a habit of touching things that don’t belong to you?”

Vincent gritted his teeth and clenched his teeth in anger. “Don’t talk about Lucrecia in such a disrespectful manner.”

“Oh?” Hojo cocked an eyebrow. “And what are you going to do about it?” The scientist sauntered towards Vincent and glared, despite the fact that the Turk was at least a half head taller. “Absolutely nothing because I own her now. She belongs to me. Get used to it, Valentine. I win.”

Laughing loudly, Hojo strode from the room, leaving behind a very angry Turk. Vincent gnashed his teeth together, body trembling with rage as his...

.... voice was harsh and echoing in the utter stillness of Lucrecia’s bedroom. The cheery curtains and bedspread did nothing to lighten the darken tone of the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he demanded, his voice echoing in the silence.

“I didn’t think it was important,” she snapped in response. She forcefully yanked her wrist from Vincent’s grip and wrapped her arms protectively around her waist, curling against the bed.

“Not important,” he snarled, grey eyes flashing. “The child could be mine!!”

She pursed her lips, face hard and determined. “Even if it was, it wouldn’t matter. We have already made our decision!”

He sucked in a deep breath, nausea coiling in his belly at just the thought of it. “To experiment on your own child?” the Turk exclaimed incredulously. “What kind of monster does that?”

She narrowed her eyes. “It is for the betterment of society, I think that it is an acceptable risk,” Lucrecia answered stubbornly.

“No.” Vincent shook his head. “I can’t... I won’t let you do this!! That child may be mine and nothing of my flesh and blood will come anywhere near to Hojo’s dirty hands!!” He slashed his hands through the air, ignoring the subtle darkening of Lucrecia’s features.

She immediately recoiled from him, pulling back even further. “Don’t forget,” Lucrecia hissed. “It is those dirty hands that touch me as well. I love Hojo, and I am going to marry him. We are going to have it, and it is going to be the subject of our research.”

“What has he done to you!” Vincent demanded, striding forward and grabbing her by the shoulders. He forced her to look him in the eye. “The Lucrecia I knew would never have allowed this. She was kind and always smiling…” His words trailed off, remembering how her eyes used to sparkle with kindness. Now they were hardened by the truth of her decision.

“He has done nothing to me,” the scientist growled, viciously pulling away yet again. “You are relying on a fraudulent memory. This is what I want.”

He clenched his teeth. “Fine. Do whatever you want with your life.” His voice became low, dangerous even as he narrowed his gaze on hers. “But you are not harming my child.”

“You don’t even know if it is yours,” she spat.

Vincent shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Please, Lucia, reconsider. You could die as well. This Jenova creature still isn’t understood, and Mako is rather unstable. Just come with me. I promise… we can have a life together.” He was desperate. He didn’t care if she never loved him in return, but his feelings for her were so strong, so real that he couldn’t bear to think of her in Hojo’s arms, or his child for that matter, if indeed the babe was his.

But it seemed she was deaf to his pleas. “Why can’t you get that through your thick military brain? I love Hojo and not you, Mr. Valentine. And you are going to have to realize that before it’s too late. Now get out.” Her voice was cold and final, as she pointed a finger towards the door, one arms still wrapped protectively around her waist. As if he would ever harm a child.

He sighed. “Fine. I will go. But please, promise me this one thing. Think about it… just think long and hard about what you are consenting to do.” His tone was nearly pleading and hearing such an unusual note, she almost gave in to his words.

Her face softened. “I will think about it. But I doubt I will change my mind,” Lucrecia said, looking away swiftly. “Now leave... please.” The last was more of a plea, as if it hurt her to see Vincent.

He stared for all of a moment before abruptly turning on his heels and heading for the door. He paused with one hand on the knob. “I love you, Lucrecia.” He didn’t look back as he spoke, but turned the knob and walked out, closing the door gently behind him, only to come face to face with the object of his deepest hatred.

“I see you still haven’t learned to keep your hands to yourself.” Hojo smirked.

“What have you done to her?” Vincent growled, hands balling into his fists at his sides. He wouldn’t strike the scientist, no matter how much he wanted to. That would be playing right into Hojo’s hands. He could hear Raven cautioning him against rash decisions in the back of his mind.

“Do you honestly think I need drugs to keep her near me or are you really that brainless? I told you I would win.”

“That could be my child,” Vincent ground out.

Hojo shrugged. “Yours. Mine. It doesn’t make a difference. Either way, I have my test subject.”

Grey eyes flashed as he unconsciously took a step towards the arrogant and merciless scientist. “You bastard!!” he growled.

“Tsk tsk,” Hojo warned, wagging a finger at the Turk. “Wouldn’t want to do that. You might upset Lucrecia. And in her condition, it wouldn’t be wise,” he simpered.

Vincent snarled and stormed off, knowing and hating himself for that fact, but realizing that the bastard was right. His boots stormed down the hall as he sought out his best friend and partner, needing to share his anger with someone. In his ears, ringing like the sound of his own doom...

...Lucrecia was crying as she lay weakly upon her bed. Only eight months along and still the child was draining all her energy or strength, more like a parasite than a baby. However, the scientist was certain that it was the fault of the Jenova cells. No other normal pregnancy was supposed to be like that.

Vincent paced back and forth across the floor, concern evident in his tone and gaze. “Look at yourself, Lucia!! You are wasting away! Whatever Hojo is doing to you and the baby is not healthy! Are you going to die for him?”

She coughed weakly. “I love him, Vincent. Why can’t you accept that?”

“This has gone too far,” the Turk whispered, his broken heart feeling as if it had been stomped upon. “I never should have left you to think your way. And it’s all Hojo’s fault, damn him.” He balled up his fists. “I am going to stop him before he kills you!”

“No!” she exclaimed, nearly leaping out of the bed in her desperation. She dangled precariously on the edge, latching onto the Turk’s arm with what left she had of her meager strength.

“I don’t care what you say anymore. I am making the decisions now,” Vincent declared, carefully helping her back into the bed.

Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I love him, Vincent. Please, dear Kami, don’t hurt him. I love Hojo.” She was babbling now as she clung to the Turk’s arm, soaking his sleeve with her tears. He looked down at her, pain evident in his features. He was caught in the prison of his own love for her.

“Fine,” the Turk acquiesced with exasperation, rubbing a finger across his suddenly aching forehead. “I won’t kill the bastard but I am going to make him stop these experiments if I have to burn that laboratory to the ground.”

She sniffed, calming down with a rapid switch of emotions that left him reeling. “Leave it here then. Or you might hurt him.”

He frowned, confusion filling his face. “What?”

“Leave the gun here. Or I won’t let go.”

Vincent sighed. “I don’t need it to handle him anyways.” He unbuckled the holster from around his chest and laid it on the dresser, checking to make sure the safety was on. The gun glinted all too unnaturally in the lamplight and for a moment, Vincent felt a stab of uncertainty strike him. His intuition flared with indecision.

Once Lucrecia saw that he was listening to her, she released her death grip. He swiped his suit jacket off of a chair and swung it back over his shoulders. His gaze flickered back to her. She had sunk into the bed, exhausted and sweating. She had paled even further, having exhausted her strength in trying to protect Hojo.

He sneered. Damn his foolish heart for still caring!!

Without another word, the Turk stormed from the room, heading for the secret entrance to the basement lab. He palmed open the door and climbed the twisting stairwell downwards, his stomach twisting with the realization that he still wasn’t sure what he was about to do. Why didn’t he just take Lucrecia and run?

He should just kill the bloody bastard, but then he would risk losing Lucrecia’s heart to him forever. However, if he couldn’t change Hojo’s mind, then his Lucia was sure to die anyways.

Vincent stormed through the cold and dank tunnels, ignoring the lingering cobwebs and the discomfiting bead of tension to the air. He set his eyes on the door at the far end, dark grey metal gaining his ire as he burst into the laboratory with little ceremony.

“Hojo!” he growled furiously. “Damn you Hojo! Your wife is dying!”

The damned scientist didn’t even bother to look up from his paperwork, frowning only slightly at the disturbance. “Do you mind, I am quite busy,” he muttered, pen scribbling continuously over the parchment in front of him.

“What have you done to her?” Vincent demanded, slamming his hands onto the desk and scattering the papers to the floor. “Those experiments are killing her!”

The scientist shrugged, not impressed. “I cannot help that her body is not strong enough to withstand the treatments. Perhaps I shall need a stronger carrier next time.” He frowned, shifting backwards in his seat to dig into his desk for another pen.

Vincent growled and reached across the desk, grabbing Hojo by his collar and shaking him violently. “She is dying,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

“Tsk, tsk, temper, temper.” He placed one hand on Vincent’s and easily pried himself loose with strength he should not have had. “You really should learn to respect your elders,” Hojo snapped as he flung Vincent away from him.

The Turk stumbled several steps backwards, surprised by the sheer force of Hojo’s blow. The scientist idly brushed his white lab coat off and moved from behind the desk, coldly eyeing Vincent with his hands clasped behind his back.

Vincent instantly wished that he hadn’t left his gun behind with Lucrecia. The look Hojo was giving him was almost predatory and most certainly threatening. He wasn’t completely defenseless yet... a part of him was very uneasy. His eyes flickered to the door before returning to the scientist.

“She loved you. She trusted you,” he hissed coldly.

The doctor laughed. “And still does, too. Stupid little whore.” His hand dipped into his pockets and in a move too fast for the Turk to react, he produced a hand gun, firing with no warning. The Turk jerked as the bullet passed through his left shoulder and left behind fiery pain. It hurt like a bitch and he immediately clutched at his arm to try and staunch the bleeding.

“How does it feel, Valentine? To be on the receiving end of the gun?” Hojo asked, eyebrow cocked. His finger thumbed the gun, cocking it for another shot. The click echoed in the still laboratory.

“Go to hell,” Vincent gasped, pain shooting through his entire room. The damned bullet had been coated in some sort of poison. He could already feel it working through his body, making his limbs twitch. “You fucking monster.”

Hojo’s eyes flashed, an eerie grin pulling at the corner of his mouth and making him appear demonic. “Monster? I? All the work I do for science, for the advancement of mankind, and you call me monster?” He shifted position, taking one threatening step towards the unarmed man. “By the time I am through with you, there will be a new meaning to the word.”

Another sole gunshot echoed in the laboratory as the bullet slammed into Vincent’s chest. His eyes widened in shock, not expecting that Hojo would so ruthlessly kill him. Blood gurgled up, spilling from his lips and dribbling down his chin before he stumbled. His knees buckled and he fell forward, lying face down on the floor in a bloody mess.

His consciousness started throbbing, his vision greying around the edges as he dimly registered the rest of the scientist’s movements. He could feel his blood sluggishly pumping from his body, staining the tile beneath him. And his body was twitching with the second dose of the unidentified poison. His death would be all too soon.

“Hmph.” Hojo dropped the gun on the desk with a loud clatter and picked up a syringe that he had been sitting there when the Turk had come storming in. “Now is as good as time as ever to test this out,” he commented to himself.

He knelt down beside the prone Turk. And as Vincent’s thoughts turned to Lucrecia, instantly feeling as if he had failed her, the needle was inserted into the Turk’s neck with an agonizing prick. Hojo smirked as he depressed the bubbling green and blue liquid, wishing he could hear the...

...piercing scream shattered the quiet and Vincent’s eyes shot open. His heart leapt into his throat as he recognized the voice. Lucrecia. She was in pain. He had to go to her. He wanted to move his legs to break free only to realize that he was bound. Trapped. Unable to even shift his position. A look of stark realization spread across his face.

Mocking laughter echoed around him. “Try all you want, Valentine, but not even you can break those bonds.”

There were so many things that Vincent wanted to call the insane professor, many of them unfit for tender ears. But all that managed to come out was a slurred yet angry, “Mph… ck….jo!!” It was really quite pathetic.

“I see your recent death has paralyzed your vocal cords. A pity.” Hojo frowned, striding over to sweep his gaze over his new test subject. “No matter… I should be able to hear your screams soon enough.”

Another blood curdling scream of agony echoed throughout the laboratory, though it sounded more muffled then the last time. Vincent’s eyes widened, lips moving in an effort to speak but nothing emerging.

“Oh?” Hojo questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Hear that, can you? It’s just Lucrecia. She’s gone into labor you see, and with the Jenova and mako... well, I cannot be sure that pain medicine will be effective. So, they haven’t given her any.” He paused, eyes glittering at the poisonous glare being sent his way. “Yes, she is rather loud isn’t she? Too bad I never got her to scream like that for me,” he mused. “Hm. No matter.”

The scientist reached out with slender fingers and pushed the bandages on Vincent’s shoulder aside, marveling at how quickly the wounds were healing. He poked a single digit into the bullet hole, reveling in the drawn out hiss that erupted from Vincent’s mouth. A few droplets of blood seeped out from around his finger before trailing off down Vincent’s skin.

Hojo smirked approvingly. “At least, you can still feel pain. Then I can start your second treatments. The Jenova cells did a marvelous job in restoring your life. It makes me wonder what else they are capable of.”

Hojo’s hand reached into one of his lab coat pockets as the other remained firmly embedded in Vincent’s wound. He twisted said finger around for emphasis, causing it to bleed further and the Turk to twitch in discomfort. He smiled sadistically as he pulled out a vial and a syringe from his lab coat pocket.

The crazed scientist removed his finger from Vincent’s wound and began preparing the syringe as his test subject watched with wide eyes. Hojo inserted the thin, sharp needle of the syringe into the glass bottle and drew out as much of the thick green liquid as he was able.

“Hopefully, this will hurt,” the bespectacled man commented as he leaned over the bound Turk and inserted the needle into the bleeding wound. He depressed the syringe and instantly deposited the green fluid into the squirming man.

Vincent’s mouth opened almost immediately in a silent scream, only able to squeak with his damaged vocal cords. A fire spread through his body, faster than was humanly possible. A million knives jammed into his nerves and a blaze was consuming him from the inside out. His skin was peeling, his eyes were bleeding, he swore it!

The crazed scientist had put mako into him. There was no other explanation.

“We’ll just let that settle in for an hour or so before I add more. Otherwise it will be ineffective. I can’t have my favorite plaything dying on me too early.” Hojo snickered as he walked away. Vincent continued to writhe on the table, every inch of his skin that was pressed against any surface feeling as if he had been put into a burning fire despite the chill of the metal.

Another scream bounced through the halls only to cut off abruptly.
.
Hojo’s gaze turned upwards as he frowned. “Hm. That bitch better not die before that baby is born!” He returned to his desk and sat down, picking up his pen to work on some more lab notes, ignoring the pain-filled screams of his birthing wife and the twitching body of the dark-haired Turk.

Such a pity Valentine still could not speak, he would have loved to hear his screams as...

...his eyes fluttered open slowly, accompanied by a low moan of exhaustion and pain. Grey eyes searched as much of the room as he could see, more than happy to find it vacant with not a sign of his tormentor. Mentally, he went through a systems check. All his limbs were still there, though throbbing painfully and aching terribly. Ankles and wrists were still bound to the table, since last night.

Vincent couldn’t decide which he hated more, the frosty, dark, and damp cell with loose dirt and mice, or the cold, hard restraining lab table. Either one meant torture in any shape or form, it was a decision between the greater of two evils.

He heard the door to the lab open with a distinctive squeak and unintentionally winced. It was a familiar sound that he had grown to hate. The squeak of the door was momentarily accompanied by the sound of a crying child that was quickly cut off as it slammed back shut. Vincent wondered briefly if that was Lucrecia’s child before shuffling footsteps announced that the person who had entered was getting closer.

It wasn’t but a few moments longer before a bespectacled face leaned over to look the shackled Turk in the eye. “I hope you are proud of yourself, Valentine,” the scientist muttered as he straightened and walked away from the table, heading for one of the others that held his instruments of torture.

“What the hell are you mumbling about now?” Vincent snapped, a bit of his old fire still strong within him. The insane scientist had yet to torture it out of him, mako treatments, beatings, whippings, and knives not enough.

Hojo did not answer at first, eyes wandering over his various instruments until he finally decided on one. He selected a medical saw and knife, among other things. The metal glinted teasingly in the flourescent, bright light.

“It is because of you that I am without a wife, and Sephiroth is without a mother. All your fault,” the scientist responded distractedly. He tested the sharpness of the implements that he had chosen, smiling sadistically when both managed to slice into his thumb with ease.

“Wha… what are you saying?” Vincent stuttered, fearing the worst. The name Sephiroth was unfamiliar but he couldn’t form the words to ask, not when his heart thudded painfully in his chest at the implications of Hojo’s words.

“Lucrecia, you idiot! She killed herself, and used your gun for that matter,” the scientist snapped. But he didn’t appear to be angry, more irritated. He turned away from his torture table and grabbed a stool, pulling it up beside the table on which the Turk lay with a loud screech.

Vincent shook his head angrily, a motion that made all the pain inside of him well up again and his stomach curdle. “No. You are lying.”

“You would like to hope so, wouldn’t you?” Hojo smirked “Rather stupid and irresponsible of you, to leave something as dangerous as a gun lying around.”

He moaned. “No.” But the denial was less strong as he relived the moment he had left his weapon behind with Lucrecia. He tried hard to fight back the tears stung in his eyes. He didn’t want the sadist to see him cry; he didn’t want to give the scientist that pleasure.

“Oh, yes.” Hojo nodded. “Big bloody spatter too, all over the wall and everything. It will take the poor servants days to clean up the mess. She made quite a problem for us, mess and all, and still, the body must be disposed of.” He shook his head as if it were some big mistake. “How inconsiderate of her.” He laid out his implements on the table next to Vincent’s body. They clattered loudly, causing the Turk to wince unconsciously.

“Bastard!” Vincent ground out, hoping his anger would supersede his grief enough that he could hold back the tears. He felt the cold, thin fingers on his arm but paid them no attention, his mind only recalling the last he saw of his dear Lucrecia. He still had illusions of escaping, rescuing his lover and her child, and somehow getting free, running far away, perhaps to Bone Village. They could live there happily, as a family.

His dreams were quickly shattered as a sudden and abrupt pain raced through his entire arm. It felt as if someone had taken a saw to his arm… Shit! Someone had!! Grey eyes looked down in wide surprise to find that Hojo was methodically cutting on his arm with no anesthesia. Another stroke of the saw and Vincent arched off the table in agony. It was so intense that his scream was caught in his throat and it wouldn’t come out. That was the last straw; his tears began to flow freely.

Lucrecia, his dear Lucia was dead, and Hojo was taking his dominant hand, the one with which he wrote, shot, and depended on. There was no escaping the madness; there was no mistaking the pain.

Hojo began to hum a tune that the Turk recognized and knew he would instantly hate for the rest of his life. It was Phantom of the Opera’s Think of Me. Another scrape of the saw against his flesh, the feel of warm blood flowing freely, and Vincent was lost within his mind. Tears snaked down his face and he screamed until his voice was lost.

“And by the way Valentine,” Hojo added, almost as an afterthought. “The child is mine.”

The tears came without pause, his brain short-circuiting and it all dwindled down into lunacy as...

... he woke to the strange feeling of being watched. But it wasn’t the same piercing and smirking gaze of Hojo, but instead that of curiosity. Vincent barely stirred on the table, his body exhausted beyond belief as he struggled to open his weary eyes. He first registered that it was darker than usual in the laboratory, which meant that Hojo was out.

There was silence around him. Except for the quiet, barely noticeable sound of a person breathing. The table beneath him was cold to his bare flesh and pain flared all too loudly in his left arm, but Vincent pushed past that, determined to locate the voyeur. With great effort, he tilted his head to the side, only to have his eyes widen in shock.

Mako bright eyes stared back at him, smaller than they would be for a man. Vincent was barely able to make out shining silver hair, the color of molten, spun silver and delicate, almost androgynous features. He was dressed in little more than a hospital gown, certainly too think to fight against the chill of the lab.

It was a child, barely more than three years old, he discerned. A child with mako eyes. Which meant that it could have only been one person.

“Sephiroth?” he rasped, hating how weak his voice came out and wishing he wasn’t tied down to a lab table, naked as the day he was born. He knew that he looked a mess, his body covered in blood and stains, having not bathed in days.

The child didn’t answer. Vincent’s heart throbbed at just the sight of him. With just one glance, he could tell that the boy was Lucrecia’s child. He had the same look to him, the same gentle features. He wondered if Sephiroth was his child, not that it would have mattered either way. Even if the boy had Hojo’s genes within him, he still wouldn’t wish such a fate on anyone.

“He said you killed my mom.”

The words pierced the darkness before Vincent was ready for them. He blinked. “I... what?”

The boy stared at him, unflinching. Even eerily unblinking. He repeated himself. “He said that you killed my mother. That you were being punished for it.”

His words were cultured, intelligent for a boy so young. Vincent couldn’t help but wonder what atrocities Hojo had forced his son to endure. The pain in those young eyes did not belong there.

Shame flooded the Turk’s face. He couldn’t deny Sephiroth the truth. “I did,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I loved her but I killed her.” He paused, sucking in as deep a breath as he could muster, though the sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs prevented in from fully breathing. “I truly loved her.” He felt tears prickle at the back of his eyes and he closed them, unwilling to cry in front of the child.

He could still feel Sephiroth’s eyes on him. There was a moment of silence.

“I don’t believe you,” Sephiroth suddenly declared, sounding very much like a child in that moment. “Why?”

Vincent choked, swallowing thickly. “Not on purpose,” he tried to assure the boy. “I wouldn’t have done it on purpose. Hojo... is a bad man.”

He jerked as the unusual sensation of a gentle touch slid along the wrapped arm pinned down at his side. His eyes flung open as Sephiroth regarded his mangled limb with an interested expression. There was knowledge in those young, bright eyes. Knowledge that was far too old.

“I know.” Sephiroth admitted quietly before raising his gaze to Vincent. “It hurts.”

Vincent couldn’t be certain if Sephiroth was referring to his own aches or Vincent’s. And he never got the chance to find out. In that moment, the light flickered on without warning and Sephiroth snapped his hand back as if he had been bitten. His gaze darted to the side, eyes widening almost imperceptibly as he took stock of the furious Hojo striding his direction.

“I told you not to leave your room, boy!” the scientist snarled, fury flecking from his lips. He stalked across the room and grabbed up the boy’s arm, shaking it roughly. “Didn’t I tell you about this man?” he demanded. “He is a murderer.”

“Stop,” Vincent rasped, unable to watch as Hojo shook the child so violently that he swore he could hear bones cracking. “You’re hurting him.”

Instantly, Hojo’s attention was turned towards him. He didn’t release Sephiroth, only tightened his grip enough to cause Sephiroth to wince in pain. “He is my subject. You, who are nothing, have no right to say anything to me,” the scientist hissed before abruptly turning on his heels and dragging Sephiroth with him. “Come boy, it is time for your treatment.”

Vincent didn’t regret his own weakness as much as he did in that very moment. He struggled against his bonds, wishing his limbs weren’t so very tired, wishing he had just the simplest bit of strength. It was unacceptable... it was cruel and yet, there was nothing he could do. He was only human and no human could break the metal clasps.

He collapsed against the table with a gasping breath and his body sweating from the fifteen second exertion. He screamed, a cry of rage escaping his mouth for his helplessness. It was his fault, his fault. He had failed all of them. He had failed Lucrecia and now... another life was going to be ruined and there was nothing he could do. It was as if...

...the low sound of hard metal striking flesh and bone echoed throughout the empty laboratory. It was a nauseating sound that made Vincent’s stomach drop even as he reeled from the pain. Hojo had taken a wrench to his head and he had no chance to avoid the blow.

Vincent reeled and crashed to the floor on his hands and knees, already feeling the blood beginning to trickle down the side of his face. It was warm, wet... sticky as he gasped. His left arm was still wrapped in bandages, not that they helped to contain the blood that continuously flowed through his wounds. The lacerated arm ached and throbbed and despite all attempts, he couldn’t distract himself from the pain.

“I said down on your knees,” the scientist hissed. “Have you grown deaf?”

Vincent groaned and struggled to rise, fighting against the repulsive throbbing in his head, the smell of blood so thick on the air, he could taste it. But his legs would not support him and he wobbled. His bared, pale skin seemed even more translucent under the flickering fluorescent lights of the secret laboratory.

His breath escaped him as he collapsed forward on the floor, landing heavily on his knees. His chin cracked onto the cold marble as his hands reflexively went to his stomach. Damn sadistic bastard had just kicked him in the ribs, and in one of his wounds from the games of the day before no less. Stars danced in front of his eyes and his vision was flooded with blood from his own head.

“What nothing to say? No snappy comeback? Have I finally broken the great Vincent Valentine?” Hojo demanded in a mocking tone. Vincent could hear the scientist shuffling around but couldn’t master the energy to look up and see what he was doing.

“Go… to hell…” Vincent managed, grunting out the words.

“I believe that is your destination… not mine. However, it does appear that you haven’t learned your manners, yet.”

The Turk sucked in a ragged breath, trying to push himself to his feet. His eyes opened blearily and he took in the drops of his blood on the cold floor beneath him. Such a startling contrast, the bright crimson against the sterile white--

He vaguely heard the sound of a zipper being undone before he felt the cold, thin hands on his hips. They jerked him violently backwards, making his neck whiplash. He heard a sickening wet snap and blinding pain shot through his neck and he struggled to keep himself up on arms that were trembling violently.

Nails dug sharply into his skin and something hard probed at his backside. Instinctively, he lashed out with one of his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his aching head or the feel of the fingers cutting into his skin.

He connected with something, unsure of what body part he had struck on the scientist. Vincent heard a sharp intake of breath moments before the same wrench from before cracked on his spine, sending him crashing loosely to the floor, dangling from a powerful grip. His head spun and he fought down the nausea that was creeping up on him. Blood filled his mouth and he spat onto the floor, his lip bleeding consistently now that he had bitten it.

“Why?” Hojo ground out raggedly. “Why does your pain become my pleasure?”

Through the haze of pain and numbness, the Turk barely registered the tightening of grips on his hip or the prodding hardness again. Hojo shoved forward, ripping him apart with no regard. There was no preparation, there was no lubrication, only sheer tearing as his back arched and a bestial howl of pain escaped his lips before he could stop it. It felt as if he were being split in two as Hojo gave him no time for rest, pounding into his body mercilessly. Blood coursed down the backs of his thighs, splattering garishly against the cold, tiled floor.

“Why do I hate you so much?” Hojo growled as he thrust violently, digging his nails deep into the flesh of his victim. “I want you to suffer! I want you to die slowly? Why?”

“AUGH!” The scream poured from his lips before he could stop it and his knees buckled. He was weak, his body beyond the brink of normal survivability. His mind remained active as he endured, his fingers scraping at the floor, nails tearing off in his frantic attempt to get away from a grip that was too strong for a normal scientist.

He grit his teeth, clamping down on any further cries, even if it meant biting off his own tongue. He vowed to himself that one day he would kill Hojo, even if it meant coming back from the dead. His mind separated from his body and he began to hide then, becoming someone, something else. He buried his thoughts and his sanity within the darkness as Hojo gleefully violated him.

And when the bastard spilled himself deep inside, Vincent vowed vengeance, even as Hojo pulled out and kicked his used and battered body to the floor. He had no strength to catch himself and his head smacked wetly against the tile-covered concrete. His entire body shuddered and he vomited when he felt the wet slime of the scientist’s release leak from his body.

“Perhaps now you will stop resisting…” Hojo growled, as he spat on the broken body. “But then again. It wouldn’t be quite so fun if you broke completely. Cackling the scientist walked away, leaving the Turk crumpled on the floor for a moment. “It’s always better when they fight back, despite the fact there is no hope. Humans are such predictable creatures.”

He laughed and his words echoed, like a mantra of sadism on and on within the Turk’s mind. He couldn’t block them out, no matter how hard he tried. He would never be able to forget the sound of Hojo’s voice as he...

... looked down at his prisoner. “Well, Mr. Valentine. And how are we doing today?” The rhetorical question was saccharine sweet, with a hint of madness. It made him shudder to the core.
Vincent was lying strapped to the lab table. His appearance had changed, skin almost like ivory, hair just past his shoulders. Though his eyes remained the same, granite grey. And now on his left arm, where previously there was flesh and blood, a metallic golden claw rested, the edges gleaming in the bright light. He didn’t respond to the doctor’s question, just stared at him blankly.

“Still as unresponsive as ever, I see.” The scientist held up a hand, four small round globes easily visible. They glowed in grayish-black tones and gave off a cold aura. “Do you know what these are Valentine?”

The Turk didn’t even blink.

He shook his head. “Of course you don’t. These are summon materia though they don’t look it. And a special type for that matter. Have you ever heard of the four demons of the Apocalypse?”

The silence was harsh.

Hojo merely shrugged and continued. He set the small materia orbs down on Vincent’s chest. The Turk’s breathing was barely perceptible and they didn’t even move. Hojo puttered about, continuing to talk to the unresponsive man.

“Chaos, Hellmasker, Gigas, and Galian Beast, these are the great demons set to bring about the world’s end. Unfortunately for them, they were bound into these four orbs to be locked away for all eternity.” The scientist snickered as he selected a few surgical tools. “And fortunately for me, I found them. In the Lost Grounds, no less.”

He grunted as he deposited the implements he had gathered and gave a smile of satisfaction as they clattered on to the table next to the half-dressed Turk. Vincent gave the slightest of winces, which only served to amuse the deranged scientist further.

“And now I think I have found the perfect host for them. My own little monster…” Hojo mused aloud, eyeing the body spread out on the table appreciatively.

Grey eyes widened subtly, just a bare twitch in his impassive expression. What else could the scientist do to him that he hadn’t already? He had taken away his pride, his freedom, his dignity, his love... there wasn’t much left.

Hojo reached out and snatched the four materia off the Turk’s chest with one hand, gently laying them down on the table next to his implements of torture. He carefully selected an instrument, hand stroking the cool metal lovingly as he pondered where exactly he wanted to place the summons.

He tapped each spot as he considered aloud. “Perhaps here?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, tapping the Turk’s right shoulder. “Or here?” A tap to the left leg. “Here?” Another tap to the abdomen. “Here?” A tap to the breast over the sluggishly beating heart. He could feel the Turk trembling faintly beneath him and couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face.

“Scared are we, Mr. Valentine?” When Vincent didn’t respond, the scientist’s face twisted into a sneer and he ran the edge of his knife over Vincent’s skin, raising up welts that bled freely. “I should think… here!” He suddenly drove the knifepoint down hard into the lower part of the gunman’s sternum, directly into the solar plexus.

Vincent’s back arched up from the table and his mouth opened in a silent scream, but he couldn’t breathe, it had been stolen from his body. With malicious glee, the doctor twisted the knife blade around in Vincent’s body. He waited a moment, watching the blood gush out, before removing the scalpel and setting it down on the counter.

Hojo grabbed up the four black materia and one by one, inserted them into the bleeding hole in Vincent’s sternum. He then picked up a syringe filled with a mixture of Jenova cells and mako, depositing the fluid into the wound.

“I’m going to make you the perfect weapon, my own little monster,” Hojo hissed.

Almost immediately the Turk could feel the effects of the materia. Still gasping for breath, eyes shut tight, and fists clenched at the sides, he struggled to control the convulsions in his body and the cold fire racing through his system. His attempts failed as suddenly his body began to flail about on the table, nearly breaking the restraints as the hole began to close.

He managed to draw in a shuddering breath only to release it in a keening scream that echoed around the lab, drawing a smile out of Hojo. His eyes fluttered and the scientist watched with rapt fascination as the brilliant granite grey was slowly overtaken by a crimson flood.

Stars burst behind his eyelids and there was pain, so much pain. An icy coldness settled in his limbs as voices started to whisper, in his mind, and in his soul. They called for blood and destruction, for the slaughter of all living kind. And then he realized that there had been one thing Hojo had not taken from him... his humanity, which was now drowning in a sea of blood-soaked talons.

There were eyes, burning scarlet and a clawed hand stained with blood reaching… reaching for him... He screamed.... Kami, help him, but he screamed.

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