"You claim that Vincent Valentine and Felicia Faraman are not dead." Veld Verdot said, as he sat across me in a featureless interrogation room.

I took off my glasses. I wasn't going to hide behind them for this conversation. Spine straight, shoulders back, tone pleasantly even, "I do not claim. Vincent Valentine's voluntary seclusion in the Nibelheim Manor's basement can be found in the professor's records, while I was the scientist who, under the professor's supervision, conducted the Shardstrength experimental procedures on your daughter there."

"Given that you were sixteen at the time of the Kalm bombings, I doubt that you were in any position of authority, let alone that you had the clearance to take part in something as classified." The Director of the Turks did not show any reaction to my mention of his daughter, as expected of a professional. That was a good sign.

I inclined my head in acknowledgement, "I should not have been, without a doubt, however, desperation and determination drive us to greater heights than we can imagine. My birth name's Rain, not Reyne; surname Storm, not Yakushi, but I presume you are already aware of it, along with the fact that my brother was Verde Storm, who was invited to a non-existent Shinra Educational Uplift Program and never arrived, with my parents being told that he had perished in a terrorist attack, a line which they simply doubted, and so were fire-farewelled. My brother was…gifted, Director Verdot, and we both know what attention gifts like his attract. That my parents died days after my graduation only confirmed my suspicion that outside forces were involved—forces that, without a doubt, were affiliated with Shinra."

He made a note there, but did not follow up on how I had arrived at my conclusion, instead asking, "And how did this lead to your participation in a classified project at sixteen?"

"The Science Department was, to me, the optimal avenue for accessing information about my brother. The professors Hojo and Hollander would each come around to the university for a series of guest lectures every year, and between them, not only did Professor Hojo seemed less likely to have me sleep with him, he also held a position of higher authority, so I focused on impressing him."

I drew my hand through my hair, the silvery grey of Yakushi Kabuto. I had begged the aid of powers only once in this life, on that day when I had received the letter informing me of my brother's demise. I had sat myself before a mirror and sent a silent apology to my parents, I must repudiate you to do my duty to you, and though the choice and fault is mine, I beseech you for understanding; then taken a blade to the body which they had bequeathed onto me, praying to Yakushi Nonō who had retaught me compassion and her son who I had called apprentice-brother, begging her forgiveness for discarding her kindness for ruthlessness and seeking his blessing as I walked his path. I had snipped my bangs too short to tie back, letting them fall forward so as to, along with the large round glasses of the Yakushis, obscure my face, then gathered the rest of my hair into a low ponytail to complete my evocation of the spy and scientist who I had had to become. After that, I had worn that persona until today.

"I changed my appearance and my name to avoid him recognizing me immediately as the sister of Verde Storm."

"You did realize that there would be records of your transition to your current name, and that it would turn up in standard background checks?" Veld asked the question without any condescension.

"Yes." I nodded in agreement, "However, Professor Hojo is—was—fundamentally lacking in empathy, a condition only exacerbated by the universal tendency to only see what one wishes to see. I theorized that he would not care about my relation to my brother, once I'd established myself as a desirable student, and was proven correct when the background check came up only for him to question me briefly about my memories of Verde—it was easy to display nothing other than scientific curiosity and a vague sense of fraternal obligation, with a touch of indecision driving me to look to him for guidance. The professor then informed me that he considered me a true scientist, dedicated to my work, and that was that—I kept my new look and name both to avoid the suspicions of wiser parties and inquiries from customers of my embroidery business, and because for all that the Professor believed—or at least professed to believe—my indifference, I'd rather not remind him of my relationship with Verde. News of my parents' deaths reached me a few days after—a handful of months before my sixteenth birthday, so I requested the professor to temporarily act as my legal guardian, creating the opportunity to become closer to the professor, which I took, and in the mean time, I acquitted myself well in the labs, as my youth helped me avoid attracting undue enmity. I soon became his favorite assistant."

I had slotted neatly into the space Sephiroth had grown out of after finding friends and bonds and a mind of his own, for to be a student was to be molded, and in the end, to the Professor (though he himself did not realize it), that was little different from being shaped by scalpel and serum. Professor Hojo's twisted paternal instincts had not been difficult to manipulate, only somewhat unpleasant to bear.

It helped that my hair had still been dyed Doctor Crescent's chestnut brown at the time, and that I had done my best to exploit that particular vulnerability which was Professor Hojo's all-too-human loss.

I took a deep breath.

"After the Kalm Bombings, I accompanied the professor to Nibelheim, where he was running the Shardstrength Project—experimenting with Materia-based human enhancement as a semi-reversible alternative to the permanent SOLDIER enhancements. He intended to graft the summon Zirconiade into Felicia Faraman, however, I objected on the grounds that it would produce atypical, unpredictable, and impossible to replicate results due to the nature of the summon in question."

Also because she would otherwise be picked up by Fuhito the Child Groomer and angering the head of black ops by allowing that to happen to his daughter was unwise. I had gently nudged the professor to use another girl as Zirconiade's human sacrifice.

"The Professor acknowledged my concerns to be valid, and altered the project to use the Odin Materia present in the manor instead. The operation was successful, and, given the uncooperative and difficult to contain nature of Felicia, she was transferred to Deepground, the same place my brother was held. I discovered Vincent Valentine in the manor basement as well during the time in the Manor, in self-imposed hibernation—he is still there, if you wish to confirm my words."

I rubbed my temples. "Two years later, I had become Hojo's most trusted, and that was when he introduced me to DEEPGROUND."

"That word has come up quite a few times. What is it?"

"Deepground." I sighed, letting my expression show my pained exhaustion at the name, "I will spare you its history. In its current iteration, Deepground is a secret army of enhanced individuals trained in a cartoonishly brutal fashion and implanted with biochips to control their behavior, hidden beneath Shinra Tower in an underground city built around Reactor Zero. Heidegger, Scarlet, Shinra—senior, and the late Professor Hojo were the only ones aware of the project until the professor brought me in, unbeknownst to the rest. Its personnel originate from children born in Deepground, injured SOLDIERS taken there, and certain individuals 'conscripted' into its ranks, including my brother and your daughter."

Emphasis shared suffering at this point.

"And your relationship to this army?"

"Professor Hojo unofficially involved me in Deepground as his second, delegating multiple Deepground projects to me. But as I said, my authority is unofficial, stemming from his, and unapproved by the president, leaving me with little ability to help the soldiers under it. To them, what I am is…complex. The best of the scientists, but still a figure complicit in their torment. I might have been able to get my brother out, but…he has dedicated himself to the protection of his comrades, therefore, the only way he will allow himself to be rescued would be if they were rescued with him."

I forced out a laugh so that I did not rage, shaking my head at the memory, "My silly, stubborn little brother."

I straightened, "And that is how I know Felicia Faraman and Vincent Valentine are alive. The latter is in your ability to recover, although his mental state is…suboptimal. For the former, the president will not allow Deepground to become public knowledge, let alone release one of his toy soldiers." I smiled, wryness covering the bitter, "I thought once that perhaps I could trade for Verde's freedom with a source of practically infinite energy, but it has become apparent that I cannot save my brother without dismantling his prison first—however, you might have a less impossible task."

Veld looked at me, expressionless, for a count of ten, stood up, and left.