Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Ice ❯ Created Human ( Chapter 25 )

This is a flashback chapter. The entire thing is so I am not going to bother putting up little flashback notes. There will be episodes of torture, rape, and all kinds of things associated with Hojo and Vincent so if that sort of thing disturbs you, I suggest waiting until chapter 26 comes out. This is really my take on what happened to Vincent and while it is important for understanding his character, you won't miss anything if you don't' read it. And trust me, I read back over this and it disturbed even me.

 

(This is Galian Beast talking)

THIS IS CHAOS SPEAKING

Events between - - - - are the actual past memories of Vincent.

 

Chapter 25: Created Human

 

Galian Beast grinned horrifically when it saw the look of surprise on Vincent's face. Apparently, the ex-Turk had not remembered too well the day that Hojo had shot him.

 

(And now we get to the good stuff.)

 

Chaos laughed. I DON'T SEE WHY YOU DISLIKED HIM SO MUCH. PROFESSOR HOJO SEEMS TO BE OUR TYPE OF GUY.

 

Vincent growled. “Shut up! Sadistic demons…”

 

(You think we're sadistic?) Galian questioned. There was a tone to his voice that the ex-Turk wasn't sure he liked. (Then be prepared for an eye-opener, because this human makes some of our demons seem like angels.)

 

There was a great rush of air and suddenly the scene abruptly changed. The air around the three became stifling and hard to breathe. A dismal black aura settled around them. Apparently, Vincent's emotions at the time had been dark and dreary.

 

The ex-Turk looked to find that they were viewing everything in the secret laboratory now. He saw his past self, chained at wrist and ankles to a flat metal surface and completely unconscious. Hojo was sitting at his desk, calmly going over some paperwork and lab notes as if he had not recently shot a Turk.

 

- - - - -

 

A piercing scream shattered the quiet and a pair of stone-grey eyes shot open. He recognized the voice. Immediately, he tested the strength of his bonds, desiring to get free. He had to go to her…

 

“Try all you want, Valentine, but not even you can break those bonds,” laughed Hojo.

 

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,” frowned Hojo, striding over to look over his new test subject. It appeared that the Jenova injection had worked. He was very pleased with himself. “No matter… I should be able to hear your screams soon enough.”

 

As if on cue, another blood curdling, piercing scream of pain echoed throughout the laboratory, though it sounded more muffled then the last time. Vincent's eyes widened at the sound, wondering what on Gaia was happening.

 

“Oh?” questioned Hojo, 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 smiled.

 

Vincent glared his eyes full of hatred.

 

“Yes, she is rather loud isn't she? Too bad I never got her to scream like that for me,” said Hojo musingly. “Hm. No matter.”

 

He moved over to stand near Vincent's head, checking out the wrapped shoulder and chest. He reached out with slender fingers and pushed the bandages aside, marveling at how quickly the wounds had almost completely healed. He poked a slender finger into one of the wounds, reveling in the drawn out hiss that erupted from Vincent's mouth. The pain wasn't excruciating but it was distinctly comfortable.

 

Hojo smiled broadly. “At least you can feel pain. Then I can start your second treatments. The Jenova cells did a marvelous job in restoring your life…”

 

Vincent kept his mouth shut, not wanting to attempt speaking and making another fool of himself. But he put all his anger and hatred into a look and gave Hojo a glare of death that was promptly and easily ignored.

 

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 again 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,” commented the bespectacled man 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 Turk.

 

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. It felt like every inch of him was burning and a million knives were continuously pressing into him.

 

Mako… that was what the crazed scientist had put into him… That damn poisonous substance developed by ShinRa scientists and used on SOLDIERs that made the cut. They were going to start implementing them on Turks soon, or so Vincent had heard. He remembered the tales of what the stuff felt like, and now recalling what the liquid in the vial looked like, he knew his assumptions were true.

 

“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.

 

Another scream bounced through the halls though this time it cut off abruptly as if someone had ended the life of its owners.

.

Hojo vaguely looked upwards and frowned. “Hm. That bitch better not die before that baby is born!” He made his way back to the 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.

 

- - - - -

 

Chaos was laughing again. A MAN AFTER MY OWN HEART, the Death demon commented.

 

Vincent closed his eyes as if he didn't want to watch anymore but Galian Beast shook him roughly.

 

(Open up, pretty boy! You wanted to know and I'll be damned if I took this little field trip for you to shield your innocent eyes!! Besides, we are getting to the really good parts…)

 

The ex-Turk forced himself to open his eyes. She… she suffered far more than him, he knew it. And there were others… other test subjects before he came along. For those reasons, and to know his past, know why he hated Dr. Hojo with a passion, he had to be strong and watch.

 

As crimson eyes slowly parted, a new scene was already developing. It was obviously taking place some time after the first. The Turk's hair was considerably longer and his body much thinner, with more scars.

 

- - - - -

 

Eyelids fluttered open slowly, accompanied by a low moan of exhaustion and pain. Grey eyes searched the room, 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 still bound to the table, since last night. Vincent couldn't decide which he hated more, the cold, 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 screaming child that quickly was cut off as it slammed back shut. Shuffling footsteps announced that the person who had entered was getting closer.

 

It wasn't but a few moments longer before a bespectacled face with a taunting grin leaned over to look the shackled Turk in the eye. “I hope you are proud of yourself, Valentine,” muttered the doctor 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?” snapped the Turk, 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.

 

“It is because of you that I am without a wife, and Sephiroth is without a mother. All your fault,” responded the scientist 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?” stuttered Vincent, fearing the worst deep in his heart.

 

“Lucrecia, you idiot! She killed herself, and used your gun for that matter,” snapped the scientist. 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.

 

“No…” denied Vincent, shaking his head angrily. “You are lying…”

 

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

 

“No,” argued the Turk yet again, though his denial wasn't as strong. He moaned the word, trying hard to fight back the tears that were now stinging 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,” nodded Hojo. “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 and looked at them happily, eyes shining.

 

“Bastard!” ground out Vincent, 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 and no wonder.

 

Another stroke of the saw and Vincent arched off the table with the pain. 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.

 

And Hojo hummed 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… the child is mine.”

 

- - - - -

 

Galian laughed. (Got to love a man with a twisted sense of humor. How's that for parting words?)

 

I HAVE TO ADMIT, TAKING YOUR DOMINANT ARM… THAT WAS PURE GENIUS. HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT IT, GIMPY? mocked Chaos.

 

Vincent sighed wearily. The demons were taking far too much pleasure out of his pain… then again they were spawns of evil and destruction.

 

“At least, I now know one truth… Sephiroth is not my son,” commented the ex-Turk.

 

(Oh?) Galian looked at Vincent skeptically. (How do you know that Hojo wasn't lying?)

 

“What would he gain from that?”

 

SEEING THE MENTAL ANGUISH ON YOUR FACE EVERY DAY FOR ONE.

 

“Tch. Is that all you have to show me then?” questioned Vincent changing the subject.

 

(And miss the good stuff? I think not.) Galian laughed, gesturing towards the scene before them that was already changing.

 

- - - - -

 

The low sound of hard metal striking flesh and bone echoed throughout the empty laboratory. It was a sickening sound that made Vincent's stomach drop even as he reeled from the pain. Hojo had taken a wrench, average size though it may be, and had used full force to strike the Turk in the head.

 

He reeled and crashed to the floor on his hands and knees, already feeling the blood beginning to trickle down the side of his face. He gasped with the pain, his left arm still in bad shape from Hojo's experimentation. It was wrapped in bandages, not that they helped to contain the blood that continuously flowed through his wounds. For such a small person, Hojo was surprisingly strong.

 

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

 

Vincent just groaned with the pounding in his skull and struggled to stand up. But his legs would not support him, feeling more like jelly than flesh and bone. His pale skin seemed even more translucent under the flickering fluorescent lights of the secret laboratory. This also had to do with the fact that he was no longer wearing any clothing. The Turk had woken up from a sedative induced sleep to find himself stripped.

 

Vincent suddenly found himself breathless as he collapsed forward on the floor, still slightly 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 seemed to turn red.

 

“What nothing to say? No snappy comeback? Have I finally broken the great Vincent Valentine?” questioned Hojo 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…” managed Vincent, grunting out the words.

 

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

 

Vincent took 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 white floor beneath him… such a startling contrast…

 

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 crack and wondered if the vertebrae had snapped. His arms shook as he struggled to keep upright, not wanting to greet the floor that closely again.

 

Nails dug into his skin and he felt something hard probing at him. Instinctively, he lashed out with one of his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his aching head or the feel of the sharp nails cutting into his skin.

 

He connected with something, unsure of what body part he had struck the scientist. Vincent heard a sharp intake of breath as if Hojo was in pain moments before the same wrench from before cracked on his spine, bowing him instantly downwards to the floor.

 

“Why?” he heard 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.

 

Despite that fact, the feeling of being entered superceded all that had happened to him so far. His body arched without his control, there was no pleasure… only sharp, stinging pain, as if someone was splitting him in two.

 

“Why do I hate you so much?” growled Hojo as he settled comfortably within the screaming Turk's body. “I want you to suffer… I want you to die slowly. Why?”

 

“A… Augh!!!” let out Vincent, unable to hold it in any longer. He was weak… not having eaten in the past few days. His body was beyond the brink of tiredness and sore, light from the loss of blood. But his mind… his mind was still active. He vowed to himself that one day… he would kill Hojo… even if it meant coming back from the dead.

 

He began to hide then… bury himself within his own mind to get away from the pain as the sadistic scientist continued to violate him in the worst way possible.

 

And when Hojo had come to completion, he pulled out quickly, with no warning and kicked the used Turk down until he lay on the floor, bleeding and shuddering horrifically.

 

“Perhaps now you will stop resisting…” growled Hojo, unable to resist the urge to spit on the Turk. “But then again,” he shrugged. “It wouldn't be quite so fun to break you completely, now would it?” Cackling the scientist walked away, leaving the Turk crumpled on the floor for now.

 

“It's always better when they fight back, despite the fact there is no hope. Humans are such predictable creatures.”

 

- - - - -

 

(What do you think you are going to do? Shoot a memory? What an idiot!!) exclaimed Galian Beast.

 

Vincent looked down to see that he had drawn his gun and was gripping the handle firmly, as if he could shoot Hojo and manage to hurt him. He hadn't even realized that he had put his hand on it in the first place. His whole body shook with anger and shame as he watched what was supposed to be his memory.

 

“I am going to kill him!” vowed Vincent yet again, repeating the same vow from the dream. “I will avenge Lucrecia and save the world from his madness!!”

 

Chaos shrugged. AS LONG AS THERE IS PLENTY OF BLOOD AND DESTRUCTION, WE DON'T PARTICULARLY CARE WHAT YOU DO.

 

“As if you had a say in the matter,” snarled Vincent.

 

(Don't flatter yourself,) said Galian Beast with a tone of nonchalance. (You may be our master but that is where it stops. Someday we will break free and you will be the one calling us King.)

 

“Dream on, demon,” snorted the ex-Turk. He finally released his white-knuckled hold on the gun and reholstered it. “Is there anything else?”

 

THERE ARE MORE MEMORIES FOR SURE. BUT THIS LAST IS SIGNIFICANT. BESIDES, WHEN YOU WAKE UP, IT WILL ALL COME CRASHING BACK ANYWAYS. Chaos sighed dreamily, a very scary sound coming from the Death demon. IF ONLY WE COULD SEE YOUR FACE WHEN THAT HAPPENS.

 

Vincent nodded slowly and turned back towards where the scene was quickly changing and fast forwarding to another time and another event.

 

- - - - -

 

“Well, Mr. Valentine, how are we feeling today?” smirked Hojo, looking down at his prisoner.

Said dark-haired man was lying strapped again to the lab table. His appearance had changed more, 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, seeing without seeing.

 

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

 

The Turk just stared at him, face showing no emotion.

 

“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?”

 

When Vincent didn't respond, Hojo merely shrugged and continued. He set the small materia orbs down on Vincent's chest. They didn't move as the Turk's breathing was barely perceptible. As Hojo puttered about, he continued to talk as if Vincent was really paying attention to him.

 

“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 then, grabbing up the instruments that he was going to be using. “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, amusing the deranged scientist even further.

 

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

 

Vincent's eyes widened in surprise. He wasn't sure what the scientist had planned, but recognizing the sadistic smirk present on his face, Vincent knew that it wouldn't be at all pleasant.

 

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

 

He tapped each spot amusingly 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 heart. He could feel the Turk trembling beneath him and couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

 

“Scared are we, Mr. Valentine?” he asked the dark-haired man, eyes searching the face. The Turk did not respond.

 

“Hmph,” muttered Hojo, running the edge of the knife over Vincent's skin lightly, making small cuts that hurt like a papercut, bleeding and stinging but otherwise harmless. “I should think… here!” With the utterance of the final word, he 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, the breath 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 implement 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,” hissed the scientist with glee.

 

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.

 

Hojo grinned as he stepped back to watch. From the outside, it didn't appear that anything was happening at first. Until Vincent began to buck up and off the table, pulling greatly at the restraints, almost breaking them. The wound in his chest began to slowly close.

 

Stars burst behind his eyelids as he struggled to breathe. There was pain… so much pain… and a icy coldness was settling in his limbs. The Turk was starting to hear voices… whispering in his mind… in his soul.

 

He drew 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 open and the scientist watched with rapt fascination as the brilliant granite grey was slowly being overtaken by a crimson flood.

 

“Hmm, interesting,” commented the scientist, taking a small notebook out of his lab coat and making a few notes.

 

But Vincent was far too gone to hear him, lost to the pain in his body. His limbs felt numb and disconnected, his mind disorientated. And now there were voices, four in the least, all different than the other.

 

And eyes, burning scarlet… with a clawed hand stained with blood reaching… reaching for him….

 

- - - - -

 

Vincent's hands were clenched at his side. “So that… that is how it happened? How you parasites came to invade my body.”

 

WE CAN NEVER THANK HOJO ENOUGH FOR THAT. FINALLY, A FREEDOM OF SORTS FROM THOSE BORING GLASS BALLS. Chaos grinned ferally and grabbed onto Vincent's arm.

 

Galian sighed. (And yet we are still trapped within your body, only able to come out when you are weak and helpless…)

 

PATIENCE. THERE IS STILL TIME. WE MAY YET-

 

(Shut up! Fool! Come, Vincent!) Hissed Galian. He too gripped onto the ex-Turk's arm.

 

With a great leap the two demons jumped into the air, dragging the dark-haired man with them.

 

“Where are we going?” asked Vincent, confused. He had thought that was the last memory they had to show him.

 

Chaos turned burning scarlet eyes towards the confused ex-Turk. FOR NOW, IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO WAKE.

 

* * *