Once More, With Feeling... – Chapter 51: Escalations
Summary: As the stakes rise, several factions accelerate their plans.
Author: Illusor Meaneld
Rated T: for Descriptive violence and injuries, No Adult Situations, No Cussing.
Disclaimer: I did not create, and do not own the characters from Final Fantasy 7. They are owned by Square-Enix, and I am simply borrowing them for my own (and hopefully your) enjoyment.
To say the Professor was unhappy, would be a gross understatement. He seethed with cold rage, a constant undertone of wrath and vengeance against the faceless saboteur who had so disrupted the previous calm order of his existence. It coated his every thought these days like thick oil, ready to burn, but inert with the lack of catalyst. Those accursed computers, whatever had been done to them had stymied his work as effectively as physical restraints. He was furious, but he was done waiting for the I.T. imbeciles to fix the problem, he refused to waste any more time delaying his masterwork. Relying on any sort of Shinra underling was an effort in futility. As evidenced by the fiasco in Junon, those idiot Turks had warded off the pesky eco-terrorists, but the fools hadn't even checked to verify the contents. His fury at finding the locked case somehow empty had destroyed one of his exam rooms and sent a paper runner to the med ward. The idiot would be fine of course, but he expected his techs to stay out of his way, or what were they good for? Lab experiments… at least if he could run experiments right now. The impudent moron didn't realize his fortune, doubly so that the Professor had already forgotten the man's (woman's?) name, and face, or any other potential identifier.
Hojo's dark eyes flicked out the window of the Helicopter he rode in. He'd have much rather sent someone to fetch what he needed, but there was no one he trusted for a task this delicate. They'd managed to bungle all sorts of tasks he would have expected at least minimal competence at. His lip curled, an expression he found himself wearing a lot, so much lost time, he'd have to accelerate many of his projects to make up for it, once things were running with proper efficiency again. The landscape passed underneath the vehicle unremarkably, mountains and forests with little to recommend them other than the viscous bounty that flowed deep beneath the dense terrain. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a grimace passed over his face. He'd brought three of his burlier lab hands, as many as would fit on a short-notice transport, but once this task was successful he'd need a much larger crew to help with the continuation of his venture. A larger crew … or perhaps he could just, … enhance a few of them. He rather thought he might start with the bald idiot who had not yet ceased his vexing fidgeting. Bald helped, hair sometimes made experimental results, untidy.
His irritation tapered when the machine finally began its swoop around the Nibel Mountains, no sense drawing the attention of the chattel who populated the backwater town by approaching directly. Only a few more moments of cramped quarters with the peons assigned to assist him, before he could get to work. He did wait for the helicopter blades to stop spinning. It would take more time to fix the hair out of his eyes and clean his glasses than patience would save. Once everything had stilled he watched one of his muscular helpers, not the bald one, open the door and lower the stairs. The Professor folded his hands behind him and began his unhurried descent.
"Bring in some containers, no sense wasting time later." He advised briskly. The pilot and co-pilot stepped out, showing at least a semblance of professionalism in their form. Both Turks, probably not whatever members of their order had so clumsily dealt with Junon, but he hadn't bothered to remember which of them had been involved. The taller man, the co-pilot, was also bald, the scientist noted with mild interest. The pilot had longer hair unfortunately, but at least it was tidy, tucked back and slickly black. Not unlike Hojo's own. He motioned for them to follow him, and they gratifyingly stepped in line behind him without complaint. Probably not the incompetent ones then. There were too many of the little suited cockroaches to keep track of, though he'd swear he'd seen some kind of dwarf or midget among their ranks at one point. He had not done much experimentation on height impaired subjects, he much preferred healthy bone structure and appropriate proportions, but perhaps… an idea for another day, he mused.
He passed through the Mansion gates, into the main lobby. The place was accumulating dust he noticed, and despite his precaution with the Helicopter he would need to clean his glasses anyway. A frown pulled at his face, perhaps he'd send someone to clean… if he could find anyone trustworthy enough. He pushed the idea from his mind, it wasn't important. He walked purposefully through the house, up the stairs to the Master Bedroom. The stone column looked as it always had, and an experienced hand slid the hidden door open with a familiar noise of grinding stone. He paused as dust settled all around the opening. Irritating... He grunted mentally and proceeded down the long curling stairway. The click of the dress heels signified the pair of Turks were still following obediently. He was halfway down to the basement when he heard a scrape and a grunt at the entry behind him. He halted, turning his head to gaze at the source, noting with slightly more intent which of his payed muscle had been so clumsy, brown hair, close cropped, he observed, aruddy complexion, unfortunate, but workable, should the lout be so careless with the storage containers when they were full… He continued downward after tallying a few more physical characteristics. If the man did nothing further to irritate the Professor, he would graciously allow him to fade back into obscurity. No need to burden his genius with unimportant details.
The hallway was traversed with little fanfare, though secret amusement twitched the scientist's lips as he passed the locked door. What would those Turks behind him think if they knew one of their own was in there? Perhaps he should add to his collection, the long haired man with the dark eyes would go nicely, there were plenty more … vacancies… in that room. He chuckled dryly to himself, he didn't have the time… regretfully. Maybe on his next visit he could… arrange something. He gave another short laugh at the thought.
The laboratory was still lit dimly by mako, truly a substance of unequal value, the hum of generators vibrated subtly through the basement and with a pass of his hand over a control panel, the lights slowly brightened to a useful luminescence. He paused for a moment to take in the room, his eyes cataloguing what remained here. If not for his current technological… impairments, these materials would be mostly obsolete, but he'd lost too much to discount their use now. He moved swiftly to the bookcases, though he assessed the various jars and their occupants as he passed. His hands deftly began pulling books from the shelves, glancing at titles and occasionally first pages of various tomes before discarding or collecting them as their contents deserved. So many useless notes, inaccurate deductions he'd since pried the truth from. The sorting progressed fairly quickly, and he absently directed the muscle to pack the chosen works into the protective transport. Once he was confident he had sorted out the dross, the scientist turned to the shelves full of jars, some glowing, some still with specimen floating within.
He suddenly paused, standing and perusing the liquid filled containers was the shorter of the Turks, the one with the long black hair. As the Professor watched, the other man stretched out a gloved hand to run a finger along the side of one of vessels, a streak of dirt transferring to the black leather. The exposed green glow within the glass suddenly illuminated his face more fully, with less dirt diming its luminesce. Hojo frowned, that was not how body guards were meant to behave. They were supposed to mind their own business. He gave a low cough, and the suited man gratifyingly turned attentively.
"Accompany my assistants to the Helicopter, I want you to supervise the proper storage of my materials, make sure they bring back the containers reinforced for fragile cargo."
The Turk bowed slightly in acknowledgement, and moved to attend to his task with efficiency. The scientist watched him depart with an irritated huff, he really wished he had the time to spare to deal with the man properly. One couldn't really trust the Turks... not the curious ones at least. His gaze passed over the other suited figure, now that one was much better behaved so far. Though the sunglasses, even in the underground rooms, was an odd affectation. Perhaps he had some sort of photophobia. That would be unfortunate if he ever got the man on his table, sometimes those sorts of flaws were enhanced instead of fixed with mako. It could be a little… hit or miss. Never the less, he was generally pleased with the man's stoic attitude, he'd not moved from the corner once he entered the room, and stood with his hands clasped in front of him. Nice form and stature on that one, a bit bulkier than the professor preferred to start with, sometimes the overly muscular sorts had issues when the enhancements, sometimes randomly, increased that trait. Myostatin deficiencies were … unpleasant, too often fatal in late stage mutations… failures.
He turned back to his work, sorting through the various glass containers, most of the specimen would stay behind. Unsuccessful studies were dispensable, but a few indistinguishable jars had true treasures. Four such containers, with oddly formed floating masses in green fluid were separated out, only one had an identifiable shape, and the odd segment of tentacle cast an eerie shadow on its surroundings. The underlings returned with the padded cargo boxes just as he'd finished sorting the shelves, and the four specimens along with a number of useful chemicals and raw Nibelheim mako made their way inside.
"I will require more containers for books next. This should suffice for delicate cargo for the time being." The professor advised his assistants, even as he turned to make his way into the study. He would, of course, take the most pertinent texts for the moment. It might require another trip to get everything he needed to finish restoring his files. For a moment black rage boiled over his thoughts, freezing his steps in place as he gritted his teeth. If he ever found the individual responsible for the ruin of his works. He would find out just how many experiments could be run on a single subject simultaneously, and at last test the limits of mako healing. Raw mako was an excruciating method for closing wounds, and often overtaxed his specimens into uselessness, but that wouldn't matter for his unknown assailant. Perhaps once he'd hollowed this individual out he could make something worthwhile… and if it was more than one… A thin smile split his face as he finally started moving again. More than one specimen would be a positive pleasure.
He moved through the shelves of books, mentally cataloguing which of these to take, he idly listened to the movements of his three helpers, and tuned his sharp ears to catch the sound of moving Turks, but for a moment they were all occupied in the laboratory behind him. One long fingered hand pushed on the end of a wooden bookcase, and the wood silently slid out and downward, revealing a hidden hard-drive and a well used book of notes. They were old information but unlike the other tomes surrounding him, these weren't encrypted, or riddled with intentionally false information. He slipped the two treasures into an inside pocket of his lab coat. Closing the hidden compartment before browsing the shelves once more. He began his tedious selection of the offerings, occasionally diverting his attention to the trio of hired muscle to ensure they were packing according to his specifications, and sparing the occasional glance for the two Turks lurking in the background. He had most of what he needed but it would neccessary to return to Nibelheim later to acquire the remainder, and harvest the useable specimen and equipment from the reactor itself. He chuckled aloud, the dark anger ebbing slightly, his work could never truly be stopped, his genius would not allow it.
The clip of dress shoes on the tiled floors of the Shinra building was a neatly spaced metronome. Tseng welcomed the comfort of normality for several moments as he tried to shrug off the lingering miasmic paranoia left from his last mission. He was not as successful as he would have liked. Unease itched along his neck, urging him to tug at the neat collar of his button up shirt. It was perfectly sized, and perfectly pressed, but the phantom strangling sensation persisted. He caught himself tugging at his sleeves, though he knew they were not too small as they felt. The discomfort wavered through him, trying to tighten muscles, standing small hairs on end. He felt like he'd waded through the Midgar Sewers and the hot shower he'd taken did nothing to disperse the slime. Dealing with Hojo had never felt like that before… though other Turks had described something similar, when the Professor catalogued them as though they mattered only as much as their components were useful. He tried to discipline his thoughts, he had to be calm and collected, professional, a Turk, and he would accept nothing less from himself.
The sound of his shoes halted as he reached his destination, a small and unremarkable conference room. He knocked in precisely the pre-arranged pattern, waiting a marked ten seconds before the lock on the door clicked open. He strode in, nodding to General Sephiroth who sat next to the entry controlling the access. The Turk paused just inside the door, idly noting the sound of it closing and locking behind him. His entrance had apparently been quiet enough not to disturb the debate at the other side of the conference table.
"I just don' understan' what some fruit an' feathers are gonna do to help!" Reno was saying, and while the words by themselves could have been belligerent the beseeching tone changed the protest entirely.
"I know its bizzare, but Cetran magic can be really esoteric." The time-travelers youthful voice belied his calm explanation. "Mostly I need items that have specific spiritual ties, these can be created by the ideas of the sentient beings that exist around them, but it still gives them power."
"I see, so when the goddess visits Banora," Genesis murmured
"The Dumbapples blossom to please her." Angeal finished thoughtfully.
"Exactly, which is why I need some."
"That sounds like a weird superstition though," Reno added with a frown.
"But some people believe in it, and that is enough." Cloud said patiently, then he smiled, "Sometimes those legends aren't as far off as you might think either." Both of the SOLDIER Lieutenants looked suddenly thoughtful.
"I apologize for my tardiness," Tseng interjected, intentionally drawing the attention of the room as he took a seat. "It seems I've missed an interesting topic?"
"Cloud needs some weird stuff from different places to fix them." Reno explained, blithely gesturing to the two Banorans.
"Dumbapples, and Phoenix Feathers, and Mako… right?" Zack piped in eagerly.
"Pure, untainted mako, from a fountain." The blond added, "The Phoenix Feathers need to be from an adult bird, which means Fort Condor."
"We will certainly arrange for any items you require to be discretely obtained." Tseng interjected, his mind flicking back to that disconcerting conversation with the young Ancient. Proofs of the veracity of the young time-traveler's claims seemed to be settling into place faster than his questions had been before the big reveal.
"Now that we are all present." The General's baritone projected neatly over those assembled. "I would like to get clarification on a few points concerning the altercation against AVALANCHE in Junon. Ones that could not be addressed during any official debrief."
The Auburn-haired SOLDIER First perked up visibly, "Yes. I would very much like the reasons behind your insistence on clemency for the lead terrorist."
"That's perfectly fair, but just a forewarning, this will need to be handled … carefully." Cloud paused to shoot a glance at Tseng, despite his lack of input in the subject change. "How much do you know about Veld's family life?"
Tseng blinked at the non-sequitur. "I know his family was killed during the Kalm Tragedy. He has never forgiven himself for his involvement."
"His wife is indeed dead. But his daughter Felicia still lives." The black-haired Turk sat back in shock. Veld's daughter was alive? "Hojo … well, considers her a 'failed' experiment lets say, and she has no memories. She currently thinks AVALANCHE is her family."
"Wait!" Reno interjected, leaping up from his chair, "Cute Terrorist Girl is VELD'S DAUGHTER?" Cloud blinked several times at the sudden intensity, his blue eyes following the other boy as he sunk back into his chair with a groan. "There goes my plans of askin' her on a date, yo. Veld'd kill me for sure." For a man of his supposed experience, the young blond looked positively baffled at the other teen's sudden melancholy.
"Cute terrorist girl?" Zack opined in interest.
"The current leader of AVALANCHE, a young woman called Elfé I believe." Genesis added for Zack's benefit
Cloud cleared his throat, sounding abruptly young and awkward in a way Tseng had never heard from him before. "Ah, … anyways, Elfé, or Felicia as she used to be called, is very loyal to AVALANCHE at the moment, but the experiments Hojo performed on her left her with a broken and twisted Summon Materia buried in her hand. Zirconiade, the spirit beast it calls, is constantly sapping life force from Elfé, and if it's not stabilized and removed, it will eventually kill her."
The young SOLDIER Second gasped in horror. "We gotta save her! We should go right now!" He stood up as if to put immediate action to his words, and sat down just as quickly under the firm hand of his mentor.
"He said it was a delicate situation, Zack. Calm down."
Genesis rolled his eyes expressively, muttering something that sounded like 'heel puppy' under his breath. The time-traveler's expression had returned to its more usual state of 'paternally amused'. He flicked a mildly chastising gesture in the Lieutenant's direction, which was acknowledged with a flicker of glowing eyes and a tiny grimace. An exchange anyone less alert than Tseng might never have noticed.
"Who exactly are these guys anyway?" Reno inquired seriously, "I mean, I've heard of 'em a little… but besides 'terrorists' I dunno much."
"The phrase 'eco-terrorists' is a little more accurate. In the simplest explanation, they are a group of individuals violently opposed to the damage that Shinra is doing to the planet."
"Emphasis on the violently," Genesis murmured.
"Their goals are, in the most general terms, removing the threats to Gaia's overall health, though the exact end goals often vary from member to member. Most are happy wreaking havoc on Shinra's powerbase, many are fueled by personal vengeance as well."
"Shinra is hurting the planet?" Zack cocked his head, frowning worriedly, "How can we be hurting a whole planet?"
"The short answer, is yes. Shinra is hurting the planet. The flow of Mako is really the life blood of the planet. You know how your legs go numb if you sit in a hard chair too long?"
Zack nodded eagerly, still looking concerned.
"If you cut off the flow of Life Stream or Mako, the same thing happens to the land. The way Shinra uses a reactor, is more like a Tourniquet you don't need, that's killing a limb."
"We're killing it?" Reno yelped in horror.
"Now, fortunately, the planet is really good at recovering from these things. Once the drain is stopped. Ironically, the way Shinra overtaxes the reactors, actually makes them significantly less efficient over time. If they were properly managed, they'd produce a lot less energy individually, but they'd practically last forever."
"How much reduced output would be needed to maintain health?" the Silver-haired first asked gravely.
"Depending on the reactor model and its age, between 40-60%. They would also need to be retrofitted with sensors and backflow filters to ensure proper stabilization."
"You seem to know a lot about this process." The black-haired Turk added thoughtfully.
"Well I was pretty involved in the original process with Bar… er … a friend of mine, it took us three decades to get it right. Luckily I've already done it, so it won't take nearly so long this time around!" the blond said cheerfully.
"Three decades?" Sephiroth inquired gently, his green eyes intent. "Just how old were you, Cloud?"
"Erm…" The time-traveler flushed, and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Isn't it… uh… rude to ask someone's age?"
"That only counts for women and old men." Reno chimed in, grinning broadly, Cloud ducked his head sheepishly.
Suddenly Genesis started laughing, "I've already figured this one out." He said gleefully,
"Of course you did." The General muttered under his breath.
"Our little cub here is a Centenarian" the auburn-haired first continued smugly. Most of the rest of the room froze in shock. Only the two youngest looked puzzled.
"Wha's'a Centaurion?" the red-headed Turk asked in bafflement.
"It means he's over a hundred years old." Angeal explained to the two teenagers patiently, still looking a little stunned himself.
"Anyways," Cloud tried to interrupt, waving his hands to distract the room. "That's not the important-"
"A HUNDRED?!" Reno yelped, gawking at his partner. The normally unflappable blond turned red to the tips of his ears.
"That's… not important to the…" He tried again weakly.
"You really lived a hundred years?" Zack stared in awe.
The blond seemed to shrink into his chair in mortification. His hands coming up to cover his hot cheeks.
"Do you know where the AVALANCHE headquarters is?" Angeal interjected curiously, offering a respite to the 'young' man.
Cloud sighed gratefully, turning his gaze from the two worshipful youths, back to the older members of their group. "Unfortunately, I don't know exactly, though I have a few ideas, I wasn't part of this AVALANCHE."
"This AVALANCHE." Sephiroth repeated slowly, "what AVALANCHE were you part of?
The blond winced, "Ah… yeah… the second wave of sorts? AVALANCHE kind of… went through an upheaval when all the leaders were gone, and it was taken over by new disgruntled misfits who found some of the plans made by the original group. I joined very late, when I couldn't really remember myself very well, … one of my few friends was there. It … didn't stay 'AVALANCHE' very long."
"How could you not remember yourself?" Zack almost whined,
"Many of Hojo's specimen… er… victims have memory issues. The time-traveler admitted gravely, the young SOLDIER Second Class vibrated in his seat, and Tseng was sure would have leapt across the table to hug the smaller boy if not for Angeal's restraining hand.
Tseng narrowed his eyes as he carefully noted the new information, comparing it with other tidbits the young-looking man had let slip before, "That is what you meant when you said you could accomplish your goals outside of Shinra if necessary. You could join AVALANCHE instead."
Cloud blinked, seemed to consider the statement and then shrugged. "AVALANCHE wasn't exactly 'Plan B', but they do have some resources and personnel that could make things a little easier. Really though, I could manage without any allies if I had to…it would probably be,… messy, and I don't like to think about the casualties if I had to go that far down the plan alphabet."
"Man, I can't believe you were a terrorist." Reno muttered, seeming torn between awe and disconcertion. "Did you blow stuff up?"
"I was only in AVALANCHE for about a week before it went belly-up." The blond admitted, "And yes, we blew up the sector 8 reactor… it wasn't pretty." Tseng and Angeal flinched, even as the young man continued with a sigh, "I was kinda young and stupid and messed up in the head." He shook his head, then looked up. "That won't happen this time if I can help it, and I don't think the current AVALANCHE, Elfé in particular would be on board with that yet."
"If this Elfé is on your 'heroically rescued' list. Where does that place Fuhito? Whom you so eagerly would condemn with equal measure?" the auburn-haired SOLDIER First inquired dryly.
"Fuhito is a manipulative Sociopath, who believes complete genocide is the ideal way to 'rescue' the planet from humanity." The blond grimaced. "He also admires Professor Hojo as the world's foremost scientific genius, and emulates him as closely as possible."
Sephiroth's face twisted in disgust, and Tseng felt a momentary shudder at the concept of more than one individual with a personality like the mad professor's.
"What strategy did you have in mind for eliminating this target?" The General inquired smoothly.
"Well, baring a quiet opportunistic death," Cloud mused, folding his arms. "I'd discussed a particular plan to have my friend Vincent infiltrate AVALANCHE and arrange things from the inside."
Tseng jerked minutely, "Vincent Valentine?" He verified, the young cadet nodded. "So this plan would hinge upon his rescue first."
"Yes, he would be very good at this particular mission."
"Even without a partner? Or limited backup?" the older Turk frowned.
Cloud chuckled, "Vincent can more than take care of himself, trust me."
"This conversation has moved neatly into my main concern," Tseng drew the attention of the room back to himself like a cloak, "I believe we need to retrieve the Ex-Turk, former partner of Veld, with no more delay. Events you remember from your original time are already changing, and we need to accelerate the key aspects of your goals accordingly."
The General's green eyes flickered in surprise at the sudden vehemence in the Turk's tone, unusual in his normally stoic façade. "How did you intend to accomplish this?"
Cloud sat back, the aura of implacable experience almost visible around him. "Well… I've had more than a few ideas about that… but I think the best strategy under the current circumstances would be…" Tseng realized he'd leaned forward eagerly to listen, and a quick glance at the rest of the room proved the others had shifted likewise. The shortest and youngest figure at the table commanding a truly varied and specialized force, dwarfed significantly by half of the occupants. Though as he listened to the plan, saw the idea unfolding before him, his last doubts as to the credibility of the blonde's claims of time travel vanished like wisps of the life stream.
((Author's Note:
In answer to my own question from last chapter, apparently I can write Hojo disturbingly easily. His Point of View flowed from my fingers, finished in a single day. Instead of the months it took me to realistically write down the 'bubbly and melodramatic' character of Sophia (AKA 'Shotgun Female') from the chapter before… I wonder if this says something about me… .
I've had a few people mention the lack of female characters… I just want to point out, that Shinra did not employ many girls, none in the SOLDIER program that I know of, and I've tried to add some of the female Turks when I can… but if you look at the main characters in ALL of the games… men definitely outnumber the women. (usually, at least 2 to 1 often more.) So… I'm working on it, but I'm also trying to be true to my source material.
-Jianre M. A.K.A … Illusor Meaneld.))
