Other Fan Fiction / Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Distorted Perception ❯ Chaos Released ( Chapter 7 )

Warning: RAPE

Chapter Seven

Chaos Released

 

“So, why's Vincent going that way?” Yuffie pointed down towards the floor of the Highwind's cabin, “When we're going this way?” With her other hand, she pointed upwards.

 

“Because, he's going to see if Hojo's in ShinRa's research facility,” Tifa answered with a huff. How many times did they need to have a single conversation in order for everyone to hear?

 

“Why'd go alone?” the ninja questioned.

 

“Because,” Tifa began with an air of impatience, “He's always been after Hojo. Hojo is like Vincent's Sephiroth. Though, it'd be nice if he helped us first,” she pouted.

 

“It can't be helped,” Cloud soothed. “We'll be fine without him.”

 

Aeris came up beside the spiky blond. “But, I wonder if he'll be alright without us,” she whispered her concern just loud enough for the younger man to hear.

 

“We can't solve everything perfectly,” the blond reasoned. “Sephiroth takes priority. Besides, the only person who needs to hear the truth is Vincent. Hojo's a coward. If a gun is pointed at his head, he'll have no chance of fighting back.”

 

“Cloud,” the brown haired woman said softly. She could tell their leader was upset about the decision. It was risky. “What if we just waited until after the battle?”

 

Mako blue eyes stared off, fiercely burning holes into the mountainside that flew past the window. “I can't make him fight if he thinks Sephiroth is his son. How could I make him do that?”

 

“But, Hojo's journals said-” Aeris began, but a harsh glare from the blond silenced her.

 

“Why would he believe that when he doesn't believe the rest of it?” Cloud reasoned. “I've already thought about this. Please just leave it.”

 

A worried expression pulled the kind woman's face into a frown. “There's no telling what'll happen if he's with Hojo again,” she whispered desperately, wanting to shout but not willing to instill concern in the others.

 

“If he's so weak then maybe he deserves it,” Cloud spat. The only solution was to have the madman reverse Vincent's conditioning. The ex-Soldier knew this. He knew after speaking with the pale gunman that the warped mindset was deeply ingrained, and could only be undone by the actual instigator. Yet, after growing accustomed to relying on the newest member for advice, he'd come to look up to the man. To find out that Vincent was actually being controlled like some puppet, to take it sitting down and even accepting it, it enraged the swordsman.

 

He was being selfish, but he couldn't help but feel anger not just towards Hojo, but Vincent as well. The red-eyed man had joined them, and all too quickly, he'd become infatuated by the man's mysterious past and unearthly beauty. Now, his heart and mind reached out to the gunman. But, in the end, nothing was easy, because Vincent was broken. It wasn't fair that he felt like this for someone like Vincent. After all he'd gone through, shouldn't he be attracted to someone like Tifa or Aeris? They would bring him happiness, whereas the gunman would simply refuse him on the grounds that it was all pity.

 

The inwardly focused members of the defending group were all startled from their internal reveries by the resounding slap given to their leader. Cid, Yuffie, Tifa and Barrett all turned with shocked expressions to stare at the spectacle.

 

Cloud's head barely turned, and he didn't even seem to have flinched from the action.

 

Aeris' eyebrows were creased with anger. “You sound like Hojo!” she yelled before turned and running from the large cabin.

 

At this remark, Cloud's eyes widened.

 

Cid's head turned to follow the movement of the mild mannered Ancient. Her footsteps echoed as she sprinted down the narrow corridor and out of sight.

 

“What was that about?” the pilot asked. Giving an impressed whistle he commented further, “I didn't know she had it in her.”

 

“Cloud just got slapped by Aeris,” Yuffie pointed out the obvious.

 

Barrett, who stood beside the small ninja, gave a grunt of acknowledgement. With a deep chuckle, he crossed his muscled arms and turned away. While the dark skinner gunner didn't know what Hojo would have sounded like, he assumed the incident had something to do with the spiky blond kid trying to make a move on the mature flower girl. No doubt the poor swordsman had failed miserably and botched it up. “Let's leave matchmaking until after we save the world,” he said in a baritone voice.

 

Yuffie began to giggle while Tifa scowled.

 

Cid however, gave an uneasy look from their leader back towards the now vacant corridor behind the helm. Barrett was right about one thing, they should leave all matters that didn't involve defeating Sephiroth until after the battle. “Where's Red?” he asked, trying to lessen the suddenly tense atmosphere.

 

All too soon for the pilot's peace of mind, the Ancient's footsteps sounded in hurried return.

 

“Nanaki's gone,” Aeris cried forth. Coming into view, she waved a piece of paper. Scrawled on it, the penmanship obviously unpracticed, were the tiger's words of good luck. “He's gone to take care of his own business,” she said earnestly, implying that she knew exactly what that business was. Nanaki left to see Hojo with Vincent.

 

Jaw set firmly, Cloud stared at the worried woman. Locking eyes with Aeris, he spoke resolutely, “We move forward.”

 

“But-” Aeris began, but Barrett cut her off.

 

“It'll only take three of us,” the burly man stated soundly, “If they left to go after that science guy, then it's all the better. We can't use them in battle if they ain't thinking straight.”

 

With an agreeing nod, Cloud turned on foot and continued to stare out the window.

 

The note clutched in her hand, Aeris sighed in defeat. At least, if the two of them were together, she could worry a little less about Vincent meeting Hojo. It was somewhat of a relief.

 

However, the wise flower girl now had another matter to burden her mind. Cloud's previously understanding and accepting manner towards Vincent had turned into something else. The swordsman obviously resented the fact that Vincent took the crazy doctor's words foremost.

 

It just went to show, everyone had his or her immature sides. Though the unanimously appointed leader had grown a lot, no longer cocky and foolhardy, he was still an ex-Soldier who had known little else aside from fighting. The fact that he remained completely oblivious to Tifa's affections was further proof.

 

With resolve, Aeris promised to help Cloud along after the battle. She'd already opened his eyes to his none too suppressed feelings for the gunman, now she had to help him cope with that. Left alone, those feelings of longing and want might turn into something that Cloud didn't understand or couldn't deal with.

 

 

**

 

Apprehension and fear filled Vincent as the doctor waited for him to obey. When those dark eyes showed impatience, he gave a small nod of understanding.

 

Hesitantly, the raven-haired gunman grasped the clasp on his cloak. It was odd that he should feel such distress over it all when he was obviously being helped. Hojo would control Chaos, and he wouldn't have to worry about hurting anyone or anything.

 

Still, even after looking at the reasonable side, he was unable to rid himself of these protesting feelings. He spoke up, “Why?”

 

“Because you're a monster, and the beast will take over soon! Now strip!” Hojo shouted, running a hand along the front of his tented pants.

 

Flinching back, Vincent gripped his cloak more tightly. He didn't want to do it. That feeling of exposure was all too similar to when he'd been strapped to the surgical table without clothes. But, that had been for his own good too, he had no right to feel this way.

 

Brows furrowed, the pale gunman slowly unbuttoned his cloak. The garment was almost like a safe haven, and the moment it dropped to the ground, he took an involuntary step backwards.

 

Vincent knew Hojo's words were true, because these feelings of disobedience were no longer coming from just Chaos. Even his sound mind, the part that knew he should be heeding the doctor, felt uneasy. Chaos must have been taking over, otherwise he wouldn't have been in agreement with the darkness.

 

At the prospect of losing control of himself and freely reining down destruction upon innocents, Vincent cringed and forced himself to continue.

 

`This is wrong,' the darkness in his mind cried out. `Kill him!' it ordered. `He lies, you've done nothing!'

 

The voice was growing louder. By the time Vincent dropped the last bit of his clothing to the floor, he had to press his hands against his ears and speak aloud to sooth the beast. “Quiet,” he begged, “I can't hurt anyone else. Lucrecia was innocent. No more, no more.”

 

“Does it speak?” Hojo asked earnestly, striding forward.

 

As the doctor stood before the bared form of his creation, his mouth watered. It had been far too long since he'd last taken the man. Such beautiful skin, it was pale like snow, the perfect contrast for spilt blood. Proportional and lithely muscled, Vincent Valentine was by far the best specimen he'd ever had the pleasure of observing.

 

“It cries,” Vincent whispered, eyes shut against the untamed beast within him.

 

There was a fleeting moment of fear in the doctor. If Vincent let Chaos take over prematurely, then all might be lost. Reaching out, he grabbed the taller man's slender neck. Squeezing tightly, he watched as crimson eyes stared at him in shock. “You'll do as I say,” Hojo ordered. “You must repent.”

 

With a strangled nod, Vincent complied. He must repent.

 

Dragging the gunman forward, he took the cautionary measure to leave all weapons out of reach. “To your knees,” the doctor whispered huskily, releasing the man's neck.

 

Staggering slightly, Vincent dropped to his knees. The air was cold against his bare skin. He felt so exposed after becoming used to wearing clothes again. He longed to wrap himself up in his cloak and defy the doctor, but he couldn't. Every breath became forced as Vincent fought against his unruly side.

 

With a grunt of approval, Hojo slid his hand along Vincent's sinewy back as he walked around the exposed figure. Fisting the long strands of hair in his other hand, he jerked the man's head back. Roughly, he grabbed the bandana that the gunman had forgotten to remove. Throwing it aside, he released his hold and shoved the pale man forward.

 

The gunman's nerves felt skittish, his muscles not working calmly with all the adrenaline that ran through them. Each second that passed he found it harder to comply. When his hands touched the ground, the cold flooring switching to the grated vents closer to the control panel, he caved into the desire to not go along.

 

“No, wait,” Vincent spoke. He wasn't certain what Hojo was going to do, but considering his naked and prostrated state, he could venture a fair guess. “What will this do?” he asked.

 

In all the times it had happened before, his mind had only thought to voice protests. However, now that he'd been talked into going this far, he needed a reason behind it. Otherwise, it would be no different than every other time the scientist had taken him. There must have been some scientific reasoning for Hojo penetrating him roughly and leaving behind seeping fluid. If Vincent were to finally understand it, then he might not feel so opposed. “Why do you have to do this?” he questioned again when his only answer was a pair of hands gripping his buttocks.

 

Vincent couldn't help it. His mind shut down and his body reacted on its own. Scrambling forward, he moved out of Hojo's reach. “Wait,” he repeated.

 

As much of a frenzy as his body was in, trying to move away while also trying to stay in place, his mind was in an even worse state. Frantically, he thought for some legitimate excuse. “I can be sealed again,” he stated, turning around. The vented flooring was the least of his uncomfortable worries.

 

“Sealed?” Hojo questioned with anger. The doctor was torn between the heightened lust at watching the pale man fall apart while fleeing and disapproval over such disobedience. When last he'd left this specimen, the ex-Turk had been well broken. The restraints he'd always used had hardly been needed, and that was while the man had harbored the want for revenge. “I'm afraid that won't do,” he said solemnly, stepping closer.

 

“But, it worked before. For thirty years I've thought about what I've done, and I couldn't escape,” Vincent's words almost sounded like he was giving the doctor a background for his resume.

 

“Ahh,” the lusting man hissed out in a scolding reprimand, “All those years, and yet you came here today in order to kill me. Left alone, your mind will start to believe terrible lies. How could you possibly think I would have hurt Lucrecia? You are so very twisted, my dear Valentine.” A throaty chuckle left him upon uttering that last bit in a sarcastic manner.

 

“I….” Curling into himself, Vincent meagerly covered what was so distressingly exposed. He couldn't think of anything to say. He had no excuses for the conclusions he'd surmised while placed under suspended animation. “I didn't know,” he mumbled, “I loved her.”

 

“Love?” Hojo barked incredulously. Striding forward, he bent down to the pale form. Grasping raven strands of hair harshly again, he yanked the gunman forward. “You aren't capable of it. It was greed and jealousy that made you lure my wife away. And then, you tried to do it with me!”

 

Vincent bit back a grunt of pain as his hair strained against its roots. “Please, let me go back to my coffin,” he pleaded. His body was betraying him, his lips forming words without consulting his conscience. His eyes strayed to his pile of clothing, in which his gun was covered. `Kill him!' Chaos screamed.

 

Though he knew he would regret it, that he'd feel all the more guilt ridden for it, he tried to escape again, to shift closer to his cloak and Peacemaker. However, as he struggled to tear his head from the fierce grip, the doctor yanked him back. Balance lost, he fell forward. His upper body was held aloft the ground by the hair in Hojo's hold.

 

The frantically mixed up gunman had no idea what to do. His body kept switching between two sets of orders. Chaos would not relinquish the idea of vengeance, even though he now knew such actions were wrong. And, his sane side, the part that knew right from wrong, was beginning to agree with the beast. It wasn't right, but he couldn't make his body listen.

 

No sooner could the gunman consider how best to fight back, his training as a Turk no use when his mind was in such disarray, than his face was suddenly pressed against the floor. The grated bars dug into his cheek. Immediately, he tried to push back. He managed enough to raise his head away, but the booted foot against the nape of his neck kept him from anything more. Gritting his teeth, he tried to push back harder, but it was futile. He let his head fall back, this time he turned to rest with his other cheek pressed to the grate. He could see his the open door, and his pile of clothes.

 

“Are you thinking of killing me again?” Hojo's voice questioned, thick with lust.

 

Vincent squeezed his eyes shut. Reaching a hand out he tried to stretch his arm closer, but he still fell short a good six feet or so.

 

Laughter filled the room, echoing off the high walls as the doctor threw his head back.

 

A pained groan erupted from the gunman's throat as his face was pushed against the grate, the parallel bars cutting into his cheek. The foot was lifted only to land harshly against his lower back. A squeezing hand held the back of his neck as Hojo straddled him.

 

The amused scientist rest atop the thin form, pinning the struggling creature down. In a fair fight, the lovely Turk would have killed him a thousand times over already. But, that confused little mind just couldn't seem to figure out what to do. It was beyond entertaining to see the extent of the damage he'd caused. But, he'd have to end it soon. He had more than one experiment to work with at the moment.

 

Long ago, Hojo had given up on the prospect of releasing Chaos from within the younger man. After two years of torturing the pitiful soul, he'd seen no results. Though, it had been quite enjoyable. But, it seemed that after thirty years of silent confinement, the devilish beast was thrashing and ready to come forth. How wonderful it would be to possess that power.

 

Vincent was lost. His heart was torn as he realized that there was no part left inside of him that could possibly be good. Not a shred of innocence. Such had been his secret hope. As he found himself wanting the help of the darkness, he realized that he was the darkness itself. Every word Hojo spoke was true. A monster, a killer, a vampiric being that craved blood, he was nothing more than that.

 

Red eyes shot open. If that was the true nature of his being, then what use was repentance? How could he seek forgiveness if his soul did not recognize he'd been in the wrong?

 

`Kill him!' Chaos cried.

 

Vincent replied, “Okay” His voice was hollow, void of human inflection.

 

As Vincent renewed his struggles, very nearly bucking back enough to throw the doctor's weight off, his eyes caught sight of something. Going still, the gunman stared wide-eyed towards the darkened doorway at the other end of the spacious room.

 

Red XIII stared in momentary shock. The silent gunman who never seemed without masses of clothing was lying naked and prone beneath Dr. Hojo.

 

Before Vincent could mumble out the tiger's name, a sudden burst of pain erupted through him. Torn inside and out, split in two, the unanticipated thrust of Hojo inside of him caused him to cry out. Back arched, he clawed forward, desperately trying to get away. Just as his clawed hand managed to take a firm hold, forcing its way between the grated bars on the floor, the doctor pulled out and thrust back in.

 

An inhuman cry wrought forth from Vincent's throat. Anguish and pain riddled the demonic sound, echoing impossibly loud. Searing pain coursed through his body.

 

Before another thrust could be given, the presence of the doctor was abruptly missing. Falling limply to the ground, the gunman panted. The cold rough surface he lay on didn't even register. The feral growl nearby, however, managed to pull his attention.

 

Turning his head, the gunman saw the lame form of the doctor with Red XIII standing atop the man. The tiger's sharp claws dug deep into the scientist's chest, but with Hojo unconscious, he doubt it mattered.

 

Without second thought, Vincent pushed off from the floor and stumbled to his clothes. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed his cloak.

 

Just as he was about to slip into the still warm garment, his human wrist was crushed within a tight grip. Startled at the undetected presence of someone else, Vincent turned with narrowed eyes. His cloak fell back to the floor forgotten.

 

Staring at the unmistakable curtain of pure silver hair, Vincent saw the man up close for the first time. A smooth, but structured jaw that was neither narrow nor rounded, remained impassive and set. Thin lips betrayed no emotion that those glowing eyes held. The broad form was only slightly taller than his thinner one, yet he seemed to tower much higher.

 

“Sephiroth,” the name left Vincent's lips with a disbelieving tone.

 

Red XIII bound from the doctor's body immediately, whipping around at the spoken name and charging forth. However, before he could even reach Vincent and the silver haired madman, his world went dark.

 

Vincent was in shock. One second his hand was held in place with bruising strength and the next, the pressure was gone and Sephiroth was no longer at his side. When a yelp and the sound of Red XIII hitting the wall reached his ears, he once again located the silver haired fighter's presence.

 

Flexing his right hand, Vincent tested the durability of his wrist. It wasn't broken, just bruised. Forgetting about his covering himself, the gunman searched for his weapon. It was odd how easily his body responded to his fighter's instincts around a man like Sephiroth, when he became so confused and useless around Hojo. But, Hojo knew what he truly was, which gave him more fear than facing off with this longhaired killer alone.

 

Bright aquamarine eyes turned from the limp red cat to the meddlesome doctor. Striding towards the bleeding doctor, Sephiroth stared curiously towards the naked man. He'd seen that face before, a member of Cloud's party. Yes, he recognized that golden-clawed forearm.

 

Judging from the disgusting erection protruding from the greasy haired man's pants, and the unclad body of the gunman, Sephiroth quickly came to an understanding. It was amusing to see the pale man raise a gun at him.

 

Chuckling, Sephiroth left the doctor and walked towards the dark haired figure. “And what is your name?” he questioned with interest when he saw those fiery red eyes gleam with bloodlust. Unusually pale skin and a face too delicate to belong to a fighter, the gunman was eye catching.

 

Vincent ignored the question. Staring avidly at Sephiroth, his mind tried to decide on the best course of action. If the insane swordsman were here, then everyone else wouldn't be far behind. Sephiroth wasn't his goal, Hojo was. Even now, knowing the doctor was innocent and that he'd been the one to kill Lucrecia and hurt her child, Vincent couldn't calm his inner demon. He would commit one last cold-blooded murder, and then he'd seal himself away forever.

 

Coming to his conclusions, Vincent lowered his gun. Sephiroth might be a killer, but he was the one to make the man that way. He had no right to fight him. “I've come to kill Hojo,” he stated.

 

Bright Mako eyes narrowed. “Was that your voice?” Sephiroth questioned. The soft voice he heard now was nowhere near as deep or inhuman as the one he'd heard before.

 

Not understanding what the silver haired man was referring to, Vincent's finely cut brows drew together. Carefully, his eyes scanned from his injured companion to the also injured doctor. Sadly, he regarded those crazed eyes of the swordsman. Perhaps Sephiroth was hearing voices like he did, demons that cried out for him to do horrible things. If so, then it was his fault.

 

Before long, the rest of the group would surely arrive and kill Sephiroth. Vincent took the opportunity to apologize, which was all he could do. “I'm sorry for what I've done to you,” he whispered softly.

 

A groan cut through the air. “Damn experiments running all over the place,” Hojo grumbled while carefully standing up. With amusement, he brushed his hands across the bloodied lab coat and shirt, feeling the freshly healed skin beneath the torn material. “I see that not all my inventions have gone to waste,” he said with a note of complaint.

 

“Hojo,” Sephiroth's deeply commanding voice greeted with ambivalence.

 

“Sephiroth,” the doctor greeted jovially, modestly tucking himself back into his pants. “I'd hoped to watch your battle from here.” The doctor gestured towards the large monitors behind him.

 

“I suppose it would be an interesting sight to see before one dies,” the former general spoke with smooth sarcasm. “Your time is wasted Hojo, for I will kill everyone.”

 

“Oh?” the doctor questioned with interest, no traces of fear in the least. “But, you haven't yet. I wonder, is it because something calls to you?”

 

Aquamarine eyes narrowed. Clad in leather, the tall swordsman's movements sounded with friction. “That voice,” the silver haired man whispered.

 

“Chaos,” Hojo said, giving a nodded gesture towards the bare gunman. Licking his lips, he let his eyes remain upon the nude form. One way or another, he'd claim Chaos and the man in which the beast resided.

 

Vincent watched in confusion. When those coal black eyes raked over his body, he shivered with disgust. Clutching his gun, he steeled his nerves. “My sins will never be forgiven,” he spoke solemnly, taking a step forward and raising his gun, “I'm grateful to you Dr. Hojo, and I am sorry.” Pulling the trigger, he shot the doctor between the eyes.

 

Sephiroth watched in amusement. Had he wanted to, he could have stopped the gunman, but it was far more interesting to let the raven-haired man continue. The over confident doctor was indeed dead now, no manner of self-healing capable of working with a clean shot straight through the brain.

 

As Hojo's body crumpled to the floor face first, red eyes lowered in regret. Tears blurred his vision as he lastly lowered his right arm and dropped his gun with a clatter. Even now Chaos stirred, and there was nothing he could do. Would it never be satisfied? How many sins must he commit before the beast calmed? Being free was too dangerous. He needed to get back to the mansion and seal himself before something else happened.

 

But, he couldn't trust Red XIII's body to remain untouched before the others arrived. The steady breathing told him the tiger creature was still alive, but considering Sephiroth had been the one to attack the fire tailed feline, there was no certainty that it wouldn't happen again.

 

“The others will be here soon,” Vincent spoke. It was funny how confident he was in Cloud's ability to defeat Sephiroth. It almost felt like a certainty.

 

“I've seen your group, they are long behind,” Sephiroth answered, eyeing Vincent with a keen interest. Taking long strides, he was before the unflinching man in seconds. “You apologized to me,” he spoke smoothly in his deep voice, “What for?” Reaching a hand out, he tested the gunman's nerves and swiped at the blood trickling from twin grazes on a pale cheek. The loosely falling hair didn't shift in the least as the puzzling man stood firmly.

 

Bowed lips frowned at the silver haired man's actions. Vincent felt a fleeting sting at the touch, but such wounds were nothing to concern him. He hesitated in the idea of leaving. If Cloud and the rest of them weren't going to arrive any time soon, then could he just leave Sephiroth unattended? It didn't seem to be in the destructive General's character to flee, but perhaps Sephiroth would grow bored of waiting.

 

Sephiroth's eyes widened when the curious gunman showed no signs of fear or being effected by him at all. Staring at the crimson liquid on his gloved forefinger, the leather clad swordsman smirked. “Well?” he prompted for an answer.

 

Vincent delayed in his answer, transfixed with the other's odd behavior. In a thoughtful movement, the taller man darted a tongue out to taste the blood. Crimson eyes widened in turn with the crazed swordsman.

 

In a movement faster than Vincent's trained eyes could follow, Sephiroth held his face in place and glared at him with such an insane intensity that Vincent felt a wave of fear take over. Chaos stirred wildly again, as though responding to anything that instilled fear.

 

Before the gunman could question the light haired man, or even voice a protest, Sephiroth was lapping at his wounded cheek. Shocked, Vincent struggled, thrashing from side to side. As his clawed fingers dug into the General's bicep, he was squeezed in a crushing manner. Pressed so tightly against the man's chest that all air was forced from his lungs, Vincent gasped.

 

“What are you?” Sephiroth asked in a breathy tone. Handling each struggle as though the gunman were nothing more than a rag doll, he held the pale body at arms length.

 

Vincent didn't answer at first. It was disturbing how powerful this man was. For the first time, doubt crept into his mind about Cloud's ability to handle defeating him. If he were this weak in comparison, then their leader would have to have some hidden ability.

 

When given a harsh shake, the red-eyed man replied instinctively, “I'm a monster.”

 

Sephiroth's eyes gleamed in response. Once again pulling the smaller form against himself, he carnally sniffed at the monster's neck. The cry that had pierced the air and cut into his very soul had brought him to this room. Leaving behind the confused group of fighters, he'd searched for the source of such a moving sound, drawn to it beyond all reason. Now, with blood that was sweet and sent trills of energy through his body, he couldn't begin to imagine what sort of being Hojo had created. It excited him.

 

“What was Hojo doing with you?” Sephiroth questioned into the sweetly scented junction of the creature's neck and shoulder. He wondered what manner of experimentation the doctor was performing to procure such results.

 

Rigidly, Vincent squirmed against the tight hold. What was going on? With some semblance of his usual cold demeanor, he breathed out sarcastically, “Don't you have a world to destroy?”

 

Warm breath ghosted pale skin as Sephiroth chuckled. What manner of beast was this that ensnared his senses and caused such amusement? With a deep breath, he once again inhaled that intoxicating smell. Using his mouth, he pulled the glove from his left hand. Running it down the smooth body, he ran fingers between the cleft cheeks of the gunman's recently injured ass. There was blood present there as well.

 

With a smirk, Sephiroth easily pieced things together. Hojo's aroused state, the split ring of puckered skin, and the anguished cry that rumbled through the crater. The question was, what would such actions have accomplished? No doubt the gunman was pleasing in visual sense, but he'd always thought the doctor be above such base pleasures. At least, the self-centered scientist rarely did anything that wouldn't benefit his research.

 

Removing his other glove, he fingered silky strands of raven hair. It felt like his own, but the color was the exact opposite. This man certainly intrigued him. Pale skin that sported the bloody gash beautifully, and red eyes that held both great bloodlust and sorrow.

 

Chaos began to shout and thrash at the same moment Vincent registered Sephiroth's actions as being similar to Hojo's. A disgusted shiver wracked his body, and he again found himself wondering if he should listen to the darkness.

 

Eyes shut tightly, Vincent fought to think clearly. Fighting back would certainly be more futile that with Hojo. He couldn't even keep up with the General's movements let alone counter the power behind them. But, perhaps this was his punishment. He'd just committed another sin, killing Hojo, and he'd originally sinned against Sephiroth thirty-two years ago. Sephiroth was as blood smeared as he was because of the life he'd inadvertently caused the man to lead. A child without a mother grew up in such a twisted manner, turning on the world and killing countless innocents.

 

Quietly, the raven haired man whispered, “Are you my punishment?” The beast inside of him answered `no', but he couldn't rely on such a bloodthirsty creature's reasoning. He couldn't make his own conclusions, because they were never correct and ended with someone dying.

 

Wildly, Sephiroth gazed into crimson eyes. A heat stirred within him. Grinning madly, he replied, “Yes”

 

Crestfallen, but understanding, Vincent lowered his eyes and relaxed his body. It was with great effort that he continued to suppress Chaos. It must have been fate. His mislead quest for vengeance against the doctor had always lead him towards Sephiroth. Kill the doctor, and then suffer the consequences.

 

With a small smile, Vincent was grateful that his deeds would no longer go unpunished. Previously, his only punishment had been his years with Hojo, which were horrific in themselves, but nothing in comparison to what he'd done to others.

 

When his body twitched and threatened to automatically struggle, Vincent clenched his eyes shut and internally shouted that he need to remain complacent. He'd already killed Hojo. Chaos had won. But, if Sephiroth were his punishment for that, then he needed to take it.

 

There was some relief in the fact that if he did lose control again, if he did break down and try to kill Sephiroth, then the silver haired General was not likely to fall at the shot of a single bullet.

 

With a realizing sigh of relief, Vincent suddenly remembered whom he was dealing with. Opening his eyes again, he looked up into the stark Mako enhanced eyes of his punisher. Smiling weakly again, he whispered, “You can control me, can't you?” If the darkness took over, Sephiroth would probably be able to control it easily, stopping him from hurting others. It was ironic that such was the case.

 

It never occurred to Vincent that the odds of Sephiroth stopping death were slim to none, whereas the odds of the crazed killer using Chaos to destroy the world was almost a certainty. All the gunman registered was that he'd yet again sinned and that the silver haired man was present and capable of causing him pain for his actions.

 

“Control you?” Sephiroth questioned with avid interest. Every moment that passed he felt growing curiosity and a heated longing. Control was a word he quite liked to hear, especially in such context pertaining to this gunman.

 

“It wants to kill you,” Vincent explained, “I don't think I could, not alone,” he referred to trying to battle Sephiroth single handedly. “But, if it's released, then I don't know what will happen.”

 

“Gunman, you're making no sense,” Sephiroth chuckled, “But they say I'm insane, so perhaps we're both just misunderstood.”

 

“You are insane,” Vincent commented dryly.

 

Squeezing his arms around the bare form again, watching for a fearful reaction from crimson eyes, Sephiroth conceded, “Perhaps” As the gunman's lithe form pressed against his lower half, he realized for the first time that he was aroused.

 

In a testing manner, Sephiroth rubbed against the expressionless man. He was pleased to find that not only did he feel shivers of pleasure from such actions, but it also caused that emotionless face to contort in anguish.

 

As another disgusted shiver ran through Vincent's body, he felt himself lose his strenuous hold on Chaos. “I'll struggle,” he warned.

 

“Even better,” Sephiroth replied.

 

Without restraint, the silver haired man abruptly threw the gunman to the ground. Before those weak limbs could even stir in reaction, he crushed the man to the floor.

 

Vincent grunted as the wind was knocked from him. Lying prone once more, his entire body was pressed to the cold metal floor. Thankfully, he was no longer against the grate. He began to choke as the general kept him in place with a crushing force to his neck. Sputtering, his convulsed to retrieve the air knocked from him while fighting against a closed trachea.

 

When the hand left his neck, he gasped for air. The sudden levering of his lower half caused his back to arch further than was natural. With his chest pressed flat against the floor and his legs and pelvis raised up for Sephiroth's bidding, his arms scrambled to push his torso up. However, the scrambling was not just to relieve his back, but also to inch away.

 

No matter how guilty he felt, or how deserving he may have been of such punishment, Vincent could not force himself to take it quietly. Skipping all coherent protests, an inhuman growl left his throat, snarling passed his sneering lips.

 

Vincent felt Chaos surge. The consuming rage came much quicker than before, since the beast had already gained much ground that day and his mind felt weakened.

 

Sephiroth listened, beginning to believe the gunman's words about being a monster. Such a sweetly tainted voice that could have very well been the growling of the devil himself.

 

Wanting to hear more, Sephiroth leaned forward slightly, his long hair sweeping over the sinewy and smooth back. Gripping those slim hips, he dug his fingers into tender flesh.

 

The responding grunt of pain wasn't enough. Sephiroth realized that he'd need to skip straight to what the doctor had done. However, just as he began to release his straining member, the protesting gunman managed to level himself up on two arms and thrash about. Grinning at the useless attempt, he unsheathed Masamune. Standing quickly, he dragged the gunman towards the other end of the room, where the flooring was like vents, no doubt allowing for easy access to the control panels wiring.

 

There was no consideration in the way Sephiroth swiftly kicked the dead body of the doctor away, casting it closer to the other limp form.

 

With a barely resistant stab, Sephiroth ran his long blade through the red-eyed man's right shoulder and into the grated flooring. The resulting cry was like music. Resuming his previous actions, he freed himself and prepared to enter the writhing man.

 

As Vincent bit into his bottom lip he realized his teeth all too easily broke the skin. With lengthened and sharpened incisors, he tasted the blood such beastly teeth drew. The blade in his shoulder forced him to keep still, or else further tear the wound open.

 

As Sephiroth prepared to enter the gunman, his eyes caught sight of a second wound on a pale back. Blood trailed down from where his long sword stabbed through, and directly beside that another gash appeared. However, this wound seemed to be growing on its own, spreading open.

 

Ceasing his actions for a moment, Sephiroth swept his long hair out of the way and bent down to further inspect the injuries, which he hadn't caused. A third wound appeared. Equally spaced, it was next to the left shoulder blade, nearer the center of the back.

 

Wide eyed, the General realized what might be happening. “A monster indeed,” he called out to the panting gunman. In one swift movement, he forced his way inside the pale man's body. The tightness and warmth was most pleasing, but nothing in comparison to the echoing cry of that demonic voice.

 

Slowly, with each harsh and unforgiving thrust, Sephiroth watched as the wounds in the gunman's back began to show sings of something pushing from beneath. With the sort of crazed and twisted understanding that only the insane could immediately have, Sephiroth connected the dots between his brutal raping and the inhuman changes in the raven-haired man.

 

Thrusting faster and harder, he reached out with one hand to removed Masamune. He feared that his weapon might disturb the mutations. Casting his blade aside, far too consumed to care that it was treated with such disregard, he began to thrust deeper. With the strength and endurance that came only from being a powerful warrior, he pushed further into the man than any other could.

 

Blood coated his member, and dripped down from the torn hole he pumped into. When he began to feel himself near the brink of release, a wondrous thing happened. The slow process of mutation suddenly sped up.

 

Vincent's voice began to screech forth unintelligible garbles of protests. He'd long forgotten about remaining complacent, and could only think of fighting back. However, he was powerless, and thus allowed for Chaos to take over.

 

The pain from being split so roughly was beyond durable, and before long Vincent was certain his mind was going to shut down. The additional pain that seared his back was something he did not understand, especially when Sephiroth removed the blade.

 

However, Vincent soon realized that it was Chaos taking on a physical form for the first time.

 

As Sephiroth showed no signs of being finished anytime soon, and in fact sped up, Vincent felt tears streaming uninhibited down his cheeks, and at a particularly violent thrust, he cried so harshly that he felt his voice give out. It wasn't his voice to begin with, the beastly guttural cries echoed as though coming forth from a different plain of existence, yet being emitted from his throat they grew hoarse.

 

Suddenly, Vincent's back flashed with a greater pain that from the intrusion of the silver haired madman. With a sickening flap and spattering spray of blood, Chaos came forward.

 

Sephiroth continued to pump, only driving harder as the situation seemed to call for more intensity. Just as he found himself spurting warm liquid into that sinful body, black wings sprout forth and sprayed his face with that sweetly tasting blood of the gunman.

 

All too soon for the General's liking, the sight of those demon wings vanished, along with the warmly clenching confines of the body he'd been sheeted in.

 

Reacting quickly, Sephiroth grabbed his sword and countered the suddenly power infused creature. Holding his blade against the clawed grip of that golden forearm, he observed the changes in the man. Aside from lengthened teeth and giant demon wings, it was still the pale body he'd forced himself upon. Yet, there was more power and strength.

 

Surging forth, Sephiroth countered the beast and threw it off. With interest, he watched as the creature stumbled back, unable to walk properly. Smugly, he realized why.

 

Swinging his long sword through the air, he watched as the gunman leapt awkwardly into the air and hovered with the aid of newly released wings.

 

`What a grand fight this will be,' the silver haired general thought before attack again.

 

Vincent was surprised to find himself aware of his surrounding while in such a state. His body did not react to his will, but he was still conscious. He was completely aware of the pain that course through him. The screaming ache in his lower half, the protesting strain on his back as newly sprouted wings attempted to compensate for the lack of mobility in his legs. Chaos was indeed a powerful force, but his body was not in any shape to be fighting.

 

Such conclusions were proven when he was eventually knocked from the air and pinned once again to the ground with Sephiroth's blade piercing the side of his stomach. Howling in response, he lay painfully against his wings, thrashing about madly even though it only caused more pain.

 

As Sephiroth once again hovered over him, straddling his form, he bared his teeth, which now more appropriately considered fangs. Hissing, he bucked wildly. It seemed that Chaos was not capable of speech, only animalistic sounds of warning.

 

Sephiroth gripped that already black and blue throat, making sure those dangerous teeth didn't bite. Leaning forward so that their faces were mere inches apart, he grinned. “I'll control you,” he whispered huskily.

 

At the responding hissing, he once again licked the gashed cheek, tasting the creature's blood.

 

A sudden spark of power pulsed through the air. Surprisingly, it did not come from the creature beneath. With a warrior's instincts, the general reacted before understanding. He barely managed to draw his sword from the thrashing creature's body when he was suddenly thrown clear across the room and into a hanging video screen.

 

Sparks lit up as glass shattered. Unharmed, the silver haired man landed easily. However, he was one again met with that fierce force that had blindsided him. With more of a warning this time, he countered the broadsword that clashed against his blade and stared into the Mako blue eyes of Cloud Strife.