Hojo: Equations of the Blood
Hojo, recording his favored subject's test results in the project log, regretted not using her to reproduce his original, and as yet finest, experiment. Entirely aside from her general physical superiority to Lucrecia (though she was rather small, which might prove problematic in the later stages of the current experiment), it would have been ... quite enjoyable. He smoothed his thinning hair. Of course, none of the methods he had used on Lucrecia would have worked on this subject. Perhaps he could have appealed to her pride, told her he had chosen her for her strength, her power, which, of course, he had; the aesthetic attractions were a ... much appreciated bonus. He shook his head; it was now an entirely useless line of speculation. According to the test results Dr. Glatz had provided, the current experiment was running on schedule and very well; in a very short time, it would be more dangerous to terminate it than to allow it to run to completion. He closed the project log and locked it in the file cabinet next to his desk, then leaned back in his chair.
Well, perhaps more dangerous. Lucrecia had certainly experienced severe complications. But then, she would refuse her medication, had refused extra Jenova treatments, and had, by late in the experiment, been prone to attacks of conscience and severe mood-swings. His current subject appeared willing to continue her medication, and Mako would, he hoped, substitute adequately for Jenova. Of course, that wretched Vincent wasn't around to plague her with ceaseless sermonizing and moralizing as he had Lucrecia. He was undoubtedly plaguing Avalanche with it instead.
Hojo frowned, leaning forward to thump his elbows on his desk and rest his chin on his fists. His other subject was also at large with Avalanche, unavailable for testing or comparison. He wanted to compare the untreated, unprepared subject with his carefully prepared, carefully treated subject. He supposed he could ask Reeve. Of course, he wasn't supposed to know about Cait Sith, but really, did they imagine he could not know? Reeve had stuffed cats (and not infrequently, a live one) in his office, a few moogles (stuffed - had they been alive, Hojo would have immediately confiscated them), and was really the only person in Shinra capable of building something like Cait Sith.
Reeve, he was forced to admit, was almost as competent an engineer as Hojo was a scientist. His expertise kept the reactors (mostly built by his predecessor) running, allowing Hojo to run his laboratory and his experiments; as galling as it was, he owed the capacity to conduct his research to the engineer. The only person who came close to equalling him in her own field was Scarlet, probably the finest still-working weapons designer. He shoved himself back away from the desk. According to the office gossip, she was equally talented in ... other areas, though she had never offered to show such talents to him . Of course, according to the same rumors, Reeve avoided her like the plague, which only encouraged her.
It was rather a pity he hadn't used Scarlet in the experiment. Watching her reactions would have been quite amusing. He kicked back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, lacing his hands behind his head. Watching who denied responsibility as she came to term would have been even more amusing. Of course, she would have used all means within her power to ensure the experiment did not reach full term; if the attempt had killed her, the questions raised would have put him in considerable jeopardy. If she had lived , she would have moved heaven and earth to find out what had happened. Scarlet was many things, but a fool was none of them, and either way, both he and (more importantly) the experiment would have been utterly lost.
He sighed and thumped himself in the leg with a fist, making the chair wobble alarmingly. Of course, using this subject posed certain risks as well. The single greatest risk had been eliminated with Tseng's death. Turks were the bane of his research. At least when they were not involuntarily providing him with research subjects, though he certainly preferred this one to Vincent. Hojo swung his legs down to the floor with a thump, shoved himself to his feet (ignoring a stubborn ache in his hip), and walked to stand in front of his special freezer, the one with his most precious samples.
He still had two precious cryogenic tubes of sperm samples from his only child. Vincent would, no doubt, be horrified at what he had done to get those samples. The man had no appreciation for science. Two tubes of the Ancient's ova remained, more than enough to run another experiment, if this one succeeded. And, of course, two tubes of embryos, insurance against the failure of the current experiment. It was not likely to fail entirely. He had taken entirely too many precautions with his favored subject, and his chance-found subject would not realize what he'd done until it was too late to stop the experiment.
He had, however, to retrieve his results before anything ... untoward could happen to them. He, of course, would be his favored subject's best chance at surviving the labor and delivery. He had learned a great deal from Lucrecia, and since this subject was stronger, it should be far more successful. The other subject was the worry. She could easily die in childbirth as Lucrecia had, and what of his grandchildren then? He shuddered. Experimental results, he reminded himself firmly. This was no time to become sentimental.
The woman had an attachment to his failed experiment. Though, Hojo was forced to admit, it had succeeded where all the ones he had thought successful had failed; perhaps he needed to rethink his parameters and definitions for that experiment, though by now it hardly mattered. At any rate, since she had such an attachment, perhaps they would assume that it was the experiment's fault. Perhaps he would even take them on as his own, until Hojo successfully reclaimed them.
The effect on the failed experiment's mind when he learned the truth might make for a fascinating research project.