Hojo: Seek No Level of God or Devil
Hojo paced his office restlessly. His precious specimen was dead, her body unrecoverable; only the ova he had taken from her remained. The Ancients, for all intents and purposes, were extinct; without a male to collect sperm samples from, the bloodline would only dilute further no matter what he did. It was such a pity only Ifalna had survived; if only she had had so much as a brother or a male cousin. At least a fragment of the Ancients would go on, thanks to his foresight and scientific acumen; his life's work was not wholly ruined.
The experiment was already in progress. He had taken perhaps an unconscionable chance in using a chance-found, unprepared subject, but it was highly unlikely he would ever have access to her again. The opportunity had been far too good to pass up; the subject's defects had required some surgical correction, leaving the chance of failure higher than he liked. Of course, the last experiment he had called a failure had been far more successful than he would have dreamed possible. The risk factor did, however, make the other, carefully prepared, subject that much more important, and that was the problem gnawing at his mind.
He had only had access to her records, not the subject herself; a few well-placed bribes had induced her physician to prepare her for the experiment and to prove that the preparations had been effective. But to continue the experiment, he needed direct access to the subject herself, and that had been impossible. The only times he had been near her since having her prepared had been less than conducive to experimentation. No one in Shinra truly appreciated science.
The phone rang, and he picked it up with a sigh of annoyance that turned into glee as his mind registered what the voice on the other end of the line had to say. Hojo. Yes? I will be there immediately.
He smiled at his luck even as he pulled the file and a pen from his desk. Luck? he thought scornfully. Planning! Foresight! Without them, even if this had happened, I would not have been able to take advantage of it. He sent his assistant ahead, hurried back to the freezer, selected a cryogenic tube, and took the elevator to the medical level. He would never have a better opportunity.
The subject was lying sedated and naked on the operating table, goosebumps rising on her flesh from the chill air of the room. Cruel red lines, rapidly fading under the influence of healing magic, marked the injuries that had brought her into the medical center. Hojo examined the injuries and was satisfied that, severe as they were, there was no permanent damage. Quite attractive, really , he thought, as he examined the subject much more closely and thoroughly. It would take another few minutes for the cryogenic tube to bring its contents to the optimum temperature. Such deceptive fragility. It was somewhat unfortunate she might not live through the experiment. Of course, if she lived, it would prove she was strong enough to replicate his original experiment.
He sighed. That was impossible; with Jenova gone, he had only one small sample of Jenova cells left, not enough to replicate the original experiment. Then again, perhaps there were ... other ways to achieve a similar result. The subject was not Lucrecia, but then again, Lucrecia had been unfortunately weak in certain respects. He recorded his evaluation, the tube number, and other pertinent information just before the tube's alarm rang softly.
Implanting its contents into the subject was a simple operation taking a matter of minutes, rather an anticlimax to all the worry and effort that had gone into it. Tell the doctor to have her patient rest in bed for the next day or so, Hojo ordered. And remind her to run the required tests in a week.
Yes, sir. The assistant hurried off, and Hojo looked over the subject with considerable satisfaction. And you thought I was a poor excuse for a scientist, Professor Gast.