Authoress says it's time to start something new. I've been here before,
I'll come back again, so keep the @#*&( tea HOT!!! AND DON'T FORGET THE
LARD!!!!!!! (Gawd, do I ever love Palmer)
Okay. Let's see. I own Final Fantasy VII. Don't yell at me! It's sitting in my PS2 RIGHT NOW. I don't own any of the copyrights, though.
Chapter One: Painful Endings
A little story behind this fanfic. I am totally bored. I just visited a strange little site on Hojo, followed by another strange site on the scientific method. That got me to thinking: the ShinRa mansion has a billion trillion notes in it, so tehre must be something interesting there, right? Like, oh, a diary? Insane lab notes? Lab logs? Fairy tales? Yes, fairy tales. Then I thought, no one wants to read each of those things seperately, so lets put a story behind it.
And here it is. The story.
x x x x x
Hojo sat in the Lifestream, just "chillin'", as some of the stupider teenagers of the time would say.
A/N: I am not bashing anyone that says "chillin'". I'm just saying that I think Hojo would look down on anyone who didn't use proper international gramatical English.
Anyways, Hojo was sitting around, in a rather heavily pollenated field of flowers, pondering his existance, when yet another dead person ran up and slapped him, which he couldn't feel anyways, because he was dead. Everyone wanted him dead before, and now that he was, everyone wanted him alive so they could cause him more physical harm. It was a vicious cycle. If he'd had some paper, he would have written this observation down as a lab note.
"Achoo," he thought, and the sound reverberated through the field. It was rather annoying, actually, that everything he thought was projected as sound outside his mind. He had to be VERY careful what he thought, and that was going to be a difficult thing.
He'd origionally planned on disapating into the Lifestream, but here he sat, in an obnoxiously pretty field of overly pollenated flowers, pondering his existance and the existance of the "Promised Land" he now sat square in the middle of, or what he supposed was the middle. Who knew how boundless the "Promised Land" was. He certainly didn't. And now that he was dead, very dead, with one hot lead bullet between his eyes, he certainly didn't care. There was no point. Nothing he did mattered anymore. He would never again wreak havoc on the miserable planet on which he had lived.
Now, how Hojo ended up in the Promised Land was an interesting theory.
He himself supposed that it was because of all his exposure to Mako. Perhaps he'd become one with it. This, of course, was impossible, because Mako only mutated.
Perhaps it was because he'd injected Jenova cells into his body. That was an even stupider notion, as Jenova was the enemy of the Ancients, Cetra, whatever... He definitely should not be here.
But, once again, here he was, covered in yellow pollen up to his knees.
"Some Promised Land," he thought. "This is Hell."
x x x x x
Vincent Valentine coughed discretely into his fist, pushing the large stone door opened with little effort. He gazed down the dark spiral of staircase that lay before him, pushing onward with increasing purpose.
Hojo was gone, and Lucrecia was still here. And if Lucrecia was still here, then perhaps there would be some sort of chance to bring her back.
Dust clouded the hallway as he stepped onto the stone floor. The clatter of his boot agains the rock sent echoes throughout the basement.
Everything was quiet. All the commotion of the past was gone. Lucrecia was gone. Hojo was dead. God only knows whatever happened to that woman Infalna that Gast was infatuated with. And as far as Vincent knew, Gast was gone as well. All was quiet. Eerily quiet. Not even the slow, paced dripping of pipes could be heard.
He made his way to the lab and gazed up at one of the shelves. Ripping everything down from it's shelf, he began sorting everything by subject, date, and type of literature, being sure to keep a rather tattered looking blue book on the desk table at all times.
On the front of this book was scrawled "Diary".
On the first page of this book was scrawled "Hojo".
x x x x x
Hojo shuddered. It felt as if someone was walking over his grave. Of course, he didn't have one. A "tratior" such as himself was always given the same burial by ShinRa. His head was shot out of a cannon and his body was torched. It was a Junon wives tale that whomever was "burried" in such a manner would forever roam the halls of damnation.
For Hojo, Paradise was his damnation. He shuddered again. He knew what was coming.
Upon his arrival in the Promised Land, the former Cetra Elders passed judgement upon him. "As we cannot condemn you to the Lifestream," they projected in their annoyingly pleasant voices, "we will lock away your soul in the mortal world, while your mind remains here. You will be returned to your mortal life should anyone destroy the vessel your soul is trapped in. We will make sure that you suffer greatly in the mortal world should this occur."
Another Elder joined in. "We will, however, prevent this from happening, for the pain caused by seperation of mind and soul are neverending, and this is far greater that any punishment we can procure for the mortal world."
It actually didn't hurt very much, because until the moment his mind and soul were seperate from one another, Hojo didn't even know his soul existed. His mind wasn't lonely without it. In fact, he supposed it felt rather liberating. If anyone DARED to return his wretched soul to his body and return him to the mortal world, he would be sure to make their life a living hell.
The final of the three Elders spoke. "We will lock your soul away in something meaningless, yet so important that no one would ever dare to destroy it."
Hojo would have spat at them if he'd been able to show any disrespect. Having been fascinated with the Ancients all his life, however, caused him to stand and take it. If only he could have been taking notes, he would have made gillions on the book he could write. So instead of spitting, and instead of cursing, he simply asked, "And what meaningless object could that be?"
The first Elder smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. "Why... your diary, of course."
x x x x x
Bishonen no Miko: I'll try to keep myself out of this one, but it'll be tough. You can see where this stories going, I hope. It'll be good, I'm hoping. This is for all of you Vincent/Lucrecia/Hojo love triangle fans. I hope to be able to put up the next chapter soon. Enjoy the show!
Okay. Let's see. I own Final Fantasy VII. Don't yell at me! It's sitting in my PS2 RIGHT NOW. I don't own any of the copyrights, though.
Chapter One: Painful Endings
A little story behind this fanfic. I am totally bored. I just visited a strange little site on Hojo, followed by another strange site on the scientific method. That got me to thinking: the ShinRa mansion has a billion trillion notes in it, so tehre must be something interesting there, right? Like, oh, a diary? Insane lab notes? Lab logs? Fairy tales? Yes, fairy tales. Then I thought, no one wants to read each of those things seperately, so lets put a story behind it.
And here it is. The story.
x x x x x
Hojo sat in the Lifestream, just "chillin'", as some of the stupider teenagers of the time would say.
A/N: I am not bashing anyone that says "chillin'". I'm just saying that I think Hojo would look down on anyone who didn't use proper international gramatical English.
Anyways, Hojo was sitting around, in a rather heavily pollenated field of flowers, pondering his existance, when yet another dead person ran up and slapped him, which he couldn't feel anyways, because he was dead. Everyone wanted him dead before, and now that he was, everyone wanted him alive so they could cause him more physical harm. It was a vicious cycle. If he'd had some paper, he would have written this observation down as a lab note.
"Achoo," he thought, and the sound reverberated through the field. It was rather annoying, actually, that everything he thought was projected as sound outside his mind. He had to be VERY careful what he thought, and that was going to be a difficult thing.
He'd origionally planned on disapating into the Lifestream, but here he sat, in an obnoxiously pretty field of overly pollenated flowers, pondering his existance and the existance of the "Promised Land" he now sat square in the middle of, or what he supposed was the middle. Who knew how boundless the "Promised Land" was. He certainly didn't. And now that he was dead, very dead, with one hot lead bullet between his eyes, he certainly didn't care. There was no point. Nothing he did mattered anymore. He would never again wreak havoc on the miserable planet on which he had lived.
Now, how Hojo ended up in the Promised Land was an interesting theory.
He himself supposed that it was because of all his exposure to Mako. Perhaps he'd become one with it. This, of course, was impossible, because Mako only mutated.
Perhaps it was because he'd injected Jenova cells into his body. That was an even stupider notion, as Jenova was the enemy of the Ancients, Cetra, whatever... He definitely should not be here.
But, once again, here he was, covered in yellow pollen up to his knees.
"Some Promised Land," he thought. "This is Hell."
x x x x x
Vincent Valentine coughed discretely into his fist, pushing the large stone door opened with little effort. He gazed down the dark spiral of staircase that lay before him, pushing onward with increasing purpose.
Hojo was gone, and Lucrecia was still here. And if Lucrecia was still here, then perhaps there would be some sort of chance to bring her back.
Dust clouded the hallway as he stepped onto the stone floor. The clatter of his boot agains the rock sent echoes throughout the basement.
Everything was quiet. All the commotion of the past was gone. Lucrecia was gone. Hojo was dead. God only knows whatever happened to that woman Infalna that Gast was infatuated with. And as far as Vincent knew, Gast was gone as well. All was quiet. Eerily quiet. Not even the slow, paced dripping of pipes could be heard.
He made his way to the lab and gazed up at one of the shelves. Ripping everything down from it's shelf, he began sorting everything by subject, date, and type of literature, being sure to keep a rather tattered looking blue book on the desk table at all times.
On the front of this book was scrawled "Diary".
On the first page of this book was scrawled "Hojo".
x x x x x
Hojo shuddered. It felt as if someone was walking over his grave. Of course, he didn't have one. A "tratior" such as himself was always given the same burial by ShinRa. His head was shot out of a cannon and his body was torched. It was a Junon wives tale that whomever was "burried" in such a manner would forever roam the halls of damnation.
For Hojo, Paradise was his damnation. He shuddered again. He knew what was coming.
Upon his arrival in the Promised Land, the former Cetra Elders passed judgement upon him. "As we cannot condemn you to the Lifestream," they projected in their annoyingly pleasant voices, "we will lock away your soul in the mortal world, while your mind remains here. You will be returned to your mortal life should anyone destroy the vessel your soul is trapped in. We will make sure that you suffer greatly in the mortal world should this occur."
Another Elder joined in. "We will, however, prevent this from happening, for the pain caused by seperation of mind and soul are neverending, and this is far greater that any punishment we can procure for the mortal world."
It actually didn't hurt very much, because until the moment his mind and soul were seperate from one another, Hojo didn't even know his soul existed. His mind wasn't lonely without it. In fact, he supposed it felt rather liberating. If anyone DARED to return his wretched soul to his body and return him to the mortal world, he would be sure to make their life a living hell.
The final of the three Elders spoke. "We will lock your soul away in something meaningless, yet so important that no one would ever dare to destroy it."
Hojo would have spat at them if he'd been able to show any disrespect. Having been fascinated with the Ancients all his life, however, caused him to stand and take it. If only he could have been taking notes, he would have made gillions on the book he could write. So instead of spitting, and instead of cursing, he simply asked, "And what meaningless object could that be?"
The first Elder smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. "Why... your diary, of course."
x x x x x
Bishonen no Miko: I'll try to keep myself out of this one, but it'll be tough. You can see where this stories going, I hope. It'll be good, I'm hoping. This is for all of you Vincent/Lucrecia/Hojo love triangle fans. I hope to be able to put up the next chapter soon. Enjoy the show!