Disclaimers: I don't own any characters from CCFF7 or FF7 or BCFF7. The only ones I own are Edwin Murphins and Leo Elstair. Everything else is the product of Square Enix.
Warnings: yaoi, implied yaoi, language, smoking/drinking, mature ideas, unethical scientific practices, blackmail, etc, etc. Everything that makes something definitely M.
Author's Note: Don't hate me for that last, very short chapter. I should be brining in more points of view here, and make some longer chapters. The plot should be picking up in pace now. The title was inspired by Chaos.
A SOUL SEEKING HOLY
Chapter VI: Excess
"Where are you going?"
The voice made him pause, his turning slowly. Through the glasses perched on his nose he could make out the form of Gast, standing there so strong and sure of himself. The doctor had no idea. Hojo felt a smile stretch on his thin lips, crease the skin on his cheeks into wrinkles. There were a few more grey hairs in the mane of black, though it couldn't be seen, as the gusts created by helicopter propellers made the strands waver too much.
The helicopter was waiting for him, two Turks up front, each focused solemnly forward. They only knew the destination, not what was actually going on. That was probably for the best. Over the torrent of air from already spinning propellers, gusts buffeting the entire launch pad, Hojo had to shout and hold his black hair to keep the ponytail, the bindings holding it together, from being torn into chaos.
"President ShinRa has authorized further excavation of the Northern Crater." Hojo clutched his briefcase to him, all of the documents concerning such excavation only being half of the files within. Hojo had more than one reason to go to Modeoheim. He was going to do some research of his own concerning the Ancients. "I should be absent for a month at most. I have already arranged for my assistant to deal with the treatment of your son."
There was thinly veiled fear on Gast's face. Hojo could almost smell the terror wafting off of him. But that would make him a monster, wouldn't it? The sneer remained upon his thin lips, no doubt increasing the other scientist's unease. It was good to keep Gast on his toes. The victory would not be an easy one, but Hojo would feel all the more accomplished when he finally did achieve his ends.
No matter his position in the department, Gast couldn't say a thing. This was approved by President ShinRa himself. It was the first win in a chain of many battles. Giving a mocking nod to Gast, Hojo turned, hurrying for the waiting helicopter. His ride to the rest of the way to the Northern Crater, Captain Highwind, would not wait very long. The man was known for his impatience, so Hojo had to be quick.
Pulling himself into the passenger bay of the helicopter, Hojo barely got a chance to sit when the Turks took off, the doctor quickly grabbing for the belts to latch himself in.
0 0 0 0 0
Lithe fingers danced over the keyboard, entering in the information in the file to the left of the bright screen. His mako green eyes did not move for a moment away from the uneven black type, the details his brain filtered quickly, transferring from that hard copy into a digital one. Though most SOLDIERs considered this tedious work, it was something Sephiroth considered a necessity. Other than his rare moments off from physically inclined duties, this was his only time to relax.
Seated in a soft leather chair with a stiff but padded back, legs stretched out under his sleek glass desk, Sephiroth continued to strum the keys, snake-like eyes scanning the lines quickly. His typing speed had increased with more deskwork. Despite the calluses on them, his fingers were not meat stubs. They were refined instruments which needed to be utilized in more than one way. The calluses on his palm were matched by the calluses on the tips of his fingers.
For every mission there was desk work. There were files to add, to update. Even as he rose in the ranks, he refused to let anyone to do it for him. Why should he shirk part of his duty, just because everything came quicker to him? Sephiroth knew he could do double the work any other SOLDIER could in the same amount of time, if not more, and he practiced just that every single, on duty day.
Finishing one more page, he sat back, stretching. Muscles flexed, slowly but surely letting out the tension of being seated in that same position for so long, like a slow gas leak in a pipe. That was enough for today, or rather, tonight. Leaning forward, he flipped the latest finished file shut, moving it to the done pile. The file under it read in bold letters MODEOHEIM.
Why would anyone from SOLDIER be up in Modeoheim? Sephiroth pulled the file across his glass desk, staring at the outside of it for a moment. The folder was made of a slightly thicker, slightly darker material and looked to be sealed, like a minute layer of wax was put over it, for harsh weather use. He ran an ungloved hand over the surface, feeling the raised bumps of the title, fingers coiling over the edge and flipping it open.
The mako reactor up there was having severe monster problems. Pipelines and machinery were constantly getting damaged. The extreme weather was making it difficult to keep personnel up there, as supplies were difficult to ship, and the harsh landscape did not allow them to harvest any on the spot. They were going to abandon the mako reactor, despite how much of the substance it harvested.
That was where Dr. Hojo was at this point, or at least that was what Gast said. Sephiroth had a feeling they did not tell him about Modeoheim for a reason. It was a gut feeling, settling in his stomach, not letting go.
What was in Modeoheim that they had to keep a secret?
With a thin lipped sigh, Sephiroth closed the file, replacing it on the yet to be typed pile. That could be saved for tomorrow.
He had an early morning training session with his cadets. He needed to be well rested for it.
0 0 0 0 0
The sounds of a helicopter's propellers tore open the peaceful quiet of the little village. Slowly, she stood, reddish brown eyebrows pulling in, little creases forming in her smooth, pale skin. As far as she knew, there was no one scheduled to be arriving any time soon. Putting a hand out, she pushed the maroon scarf of her makeshift indoor tent aside, peering out into the brightly lit room.
A knock sounded on the door, rough, urgent, nothing like the knock her father usually gave. Quickly, she pushed the tent flap back down, shrinking into the provided darkness. Curling into a ball, she waited in the back corner, hugging her knees to her chest. Her lips moved in a silent prayer, body rocking back and forth.
The handle rattled, door shaking. Aeris held her breath, staring at the far corner of the tent. She waited. For a moment there was silence, then the door rattled again, sharply. There was some muffled talking.
Everything went quiet again, and she let out her breath.
Someone had found where they were. Or maybe it was just a tourist wandering around. Aeris didn't know. She just hoped her mother didn't come home while those people were still outside. She had a bad feeling about them.
0 0 0 0 0
Tseng fit a key into the door, giving a quick flick of his wrist to unlock it and open the wooden barrier at the same time. Most of the doors in the tower were metal, but this one was different. He was not the designer of it, far from it. This used to be Veld's office. It was his now. Sometimes he swore he could still smell his former superior in there.
It had to be a mind-trick.
Narrowing his brown eyes, he stepped inside, the sudden change in lighting having no effect on him. The darkness within was a comfortable one. Closing the door quickly behind him, he made it to the desk in a few fluid, precise strides, sitting down carefully so the wheeled chair did not roll with that change in weight.
There were two Turks, lower ranking, who had not reported to him that morning. There were no missions assigned by him or the President which were not already taken care of, and such new blood was not supposed to be out there, in the field, alone. Tseng clicked on the computer, quickly entering his password, two Wutainese words which had been scrambled to make the letter combination random, though he still knew it well.
Another password block popped up at his searching. He entered his own password. Clearance denied. He entered President ShinRa's password. Clearance denied. That was new. Leaning back, he strummed his lithe fingers on the desk. Suddenly jerking forward, he typed a new word, JENOVA, in all caps, into the box, tapping the enter key.
The files opened. It was too easy. It felt far too easy. His gaze scanned quickly over what little information was in the file. Those two Turks were with Hojo in Modeoheim. He would have to pay the doctor a visit when they returned.
No one, absolutely no one, took his Turks without his permission first.
0 0 0 0 0
The training room was empty. Genesis let his mako-bright eyes scan over the forms of weights and machines and practice dummies, hand reaching over blindly to strum up the light switch. The bright fluorescents streamed on full, illuminating every corner and crevice. There was definitely no one within. His chemically sharpened senses would have picked up on them by now.
With a half-smile, seeming more a smirk, he wove through the abandoned workout machines with a feline grace, hips swaying with delight as he ran a black gloved finger over a barbell. It was still slightly warm, a lingering sensation of just having been used. Interesting. Genesis kept on his way, pausing in the middle of a wide open floor, with mirrors in front of it.
So this was where the great Sephiroth practiced. Genesis could almost feel that presence like it was palpable. Dropping into his ready stance, Genesis slowly started into the routine Sephiroth had showed them the other day, which they were still working to perfect. His foot came up in a snapped kick, body spinning, a block with his left elbow coming up to shield an invisible blow as his right hand jutted forth, hitting that unseen foe.
Ducking, he slid on the soft ground, spinning and kicking at knee level before going into a series of fast punches. Breath hitching, he ducked again, rolling over his right shoulder, coming up gracefully on his feet.
A sharp, loud clap stopped him in his tracks.
Genesis swiveled quickly, sweat beading his forehead, rolling down a temple in a cool trail. He wiped his brow with the back of his leather covered hand, deciding immediately that he did not like the feeling. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brought up a stiff salute, crystalline blue gaze locking with mako green.
"Keep going."
That voice was smooth, low, calm. Did Sephiroth ever talk in any other way? Genesis was almost positive he didn't. He'd never even seen the General break a sweat. Perhaps that would change sometime soon.
Lowering his hand from its salute, moving back into stance, he continued the routine.
Bringing up his elbow in another block, starting the routine again, Genesis felt the resistance of a downward chop contacting him, eyes flashing to the contact point for a second as his right hand flew under the guard. That hand was knocked to the side, leading to a spin in which he brought his hand around again. A hit came up high, Genesis dropping into the slide, spinning into a kick only to find Sephiroth was already countering that attack.
Every attack he put forth was blocked, every block of his was met with an attack, giving that invisible enemy an actual form.
They picked up the pace.
Sweat streamed down his face, one tiny flow becoming a few rivers. Crimson hair stuck to his head, losing its bouncy, flipped form as it became damp. His breathing was more ragged, mouth slightly ajar to let in greater draughts of air than his nose alone could muster.
The routine stopped, finished, Genesis standing back, gasping for breath. Much to his pleasure he noted that Sephiroth's chiseled chest was rising and falling slightly quicker than usual, and there was a barely noticeable sheen to his skin, suggesting sweat.
Had he really just done that?
"Again." Sephiroth motioned with his gloved hand, beckoning Genesis to start again. He groaned, to which Sephiroth shook his head, a slight smile quirking those lips. "There will be no pauses on the battlefield. Danger is everywhere. You need more stamina than that to survive."
Grudgingly, Genesis took his stance again, having to take in a few more gasps before he could finally lunge in for the first snapped kick. His muscles were screaming at him to stop. They were starting to show a lot more definition, not that he had been skinny upon joining SOLDIER. Yeah, Angeal was bigger, but Genesis was still strong. Apparently not strong enough. Genesis was sure he would be sore for a week to come.
They migrated across the floor, routine shifting subtly here and there until it was not the practiced form all together. Sephiroth was adding extra moves, extra attacks, Genesis' sharpened senses perceiving and blocking, though barely in time.
A kick came from the side, Genesis jumping back, his metal pauldrons clinking against glass. His eyes widened, realization of his position flashing through his mind as Sephiroth's black clad form came in a blur towards him, pinning him, an elbow nuzzling uncomfortably in the hollow of his neck.
Genesis sputtered, trying hard to breathe. His hands tapped against the glass feebly, airway constricting. "I… surrender…"
The pressure was let off, but the look on Sephiroth's face was far from pleased. "Never surrender." The silver hair framing his fast was slightly darker, a grey tone, speaking of the dampness of it. Genesis could feel the General's hot breath on his eyes, having to close them to crescents to stop them from drying out, the irritation already rising. "You need to be more aware of—"
Tilting his head up, Genesis pressed his lips to those of the talking General. They were smooth, surprisingly smooth, but at the same time hard in a way.
The General pulled away sharply, silver brows furrowing in. It wasn't hatred in those glowing green eyes of his. No. It was something like… confusion? Genesis took a step forward as Sephiroth took a step back, the General spinning on his heel, striding quickly for the door.
"Wait!"
The glass doors hissed open, Sephiroth hovering there for a moment. Genesis paused on the training floor, no more words forming on his lips. Normally he was so good with words, but they did not even come to mind right now. He was a complete blank.
In the silence, Sephiroth left, glass doors sealing shut behind him.
