AN:
This is part nine. I will be shocked and amazed if anyone is still reading this. I know I haven't updated in
a kabillion years, but I am in a better position to do things now then I was previously.
I want to tell everyone who's been waiting on these posts I'm truly sorry it took so
long, but I swear you won't be disappointed.
* * *
Vincent sat morosely in the desk chair Hojo had helped him into shortly
after the attack. He cradled his weary head in his good hand as Hojo examined
the monstrous appendage JENOVA had bestowed on him as punishment for his latest
transgression against her will.
It really wasn't a pretty sight. The flesh had swollen outlandishly, the skin
torn in places where it hadn't been elastic enough to conform to the deformed
muscles that lay beneath. Blackened bits of chemically burned bone poked through
the nasty mass of tissues that now comprised his left forearm, making Hojo's stomach
turn with revulsion which was no small feat. This unquestionably had to be
the sickest, sorriest mess he'd ever had the bad fortune to observe.
"There's not really much I can do. She's changed it, and I can't reverse the
damage. About the only thing I can do is cover it with something less repulsive.
I know you can hardly stand to look at it. I don't blame you really.
It's disgusting. Looks kinda like a squirrel I ran over once. A week afterwards."
He gently released the arm, leaving it to fall limply onto the desktop making a sick
thudding noise.
"There's something else. I don't think she plans to continue regenerating the
last of your hand. If you ever want to use it again, you'll have to have a
prosthetic of some sort. It shouldn't be too difficult; after all I only have to
replace the fingers from the knuckle up. While I'm at it I'll work something out
to cover that disgusting thing up."
Vincent didn't respond to this observation, just slouched down in the chair,
head bowed. Hojo supposed he was sulking over his botched suicide attempt.
He really didn't blame Valentine for that either. He supposed he would have
done so long ago if he weren't so afraid to face the uncharted territory
that lay beyond life. Even before JENOVA had come into his life, he'd been sorely tempted.
It was so funny how people complained about how miserable their lives were
without having any idea how easy they really had it. He'd been the same way,
thinking his life was unbearably horrible and couldn't possibly get any worse.
All through high school he'd thought it, in college he thought it, all the
way through med school up unto the day he gave himself over to JENOVA.
Then he'd realized just how insignificant all of his troubles had been before
compared to what he had now. Before he'd only worried about bullies wanting
to stuff him in garbage cans, passing final exams, paying his rent and all
the other trite things in his life. Now he had an unstable shape shifter
and an alien bitch that took delight in fucking things up for him to deal with.
Everything else was suddenly very, very insignificant compared to this.
But even with all the problems he had now he'd never renounce JENOVA. He'd given
her far too much to just give it up like that. He'd invested too much
labor into this, and done too much. He'd killed, destroyed, ruined countless lives
all in her name. He just couldn't afford to.
He embraced his suffering.
Valentine embraced his as well, he reasoned, studying the
distraught man impassively. He seemed to accept his lot as just more punishment
for failing Lucrecia. How he managed to be so narrow minded escaped Hojo. Everything
was for her. Everything that happened to him was a result of his 'sin',
and he refused to see it otherwise. If the chair he was sitting in gave out
under him, he'd very likely take it as penalization for his inadequacy.
He needed his suffering to reassure himself he was sorry for his imaginary sin,
and to show her that as well.
Even though he'd sought release, in doing so he still was punishing himself.
Who knew, perhaps he believed his suffering would absolve his sin.
He really was just kicking himself in the teeth and enjoying it. He enjoyed
his misery, as much as he tried to escape it. A real masochist at heart.
"I'm going to work on prosthesis for you, but first things first. I've
found a place for you." He watched Vincent out of the corner of his eye, waiting
for any sort of response. He wasn't disappointed. Valentine withdrew himself from
his little world long enough to look up at him with a perplexed expression. Hojo
sighed, and continued. "They're coming back, you know. Gast and the others.
I don't know when, but it could be any time. See, I can't have you laying all
spaced out on the floor when that happens. It just wouldn't work out well y'know.
I'd have a helluva a lot of explaining to do, and I wouldn't even have a clue where
to start."
"...you're putting me somewhere." Good, he was catching on. Perhaps
this wouldn't be as difficult as he had thought. Hastily he continued while he
had Valentine's attention. If he played his cards right he might not only have
his consent; he might even convince him to walk down there himself.
"Somewhere safe," he added, taking Vincent by the arm trying not to look
at the mangled limb on the opposite side and led him to the crypt before he
could change his mind and resist. Happily for him, Vincent consented to being
led into this dark, unfamiliar territory without protest.
Actually, Valentine wasn't really much trouble at all now. He seemed to
have realized the futility of his situation finally, and deemed it not
worth fighting. All he really did now was sleep hours on end or sit glumly
immersed in thought. Pretty depressing, but it beat the hell out of the long
crying jags he went on.
Hojo hadn't finished clearing out the room completely, but it would do for now.
At least he had moved all the really creepy stuff away from the corner he had set
up for Vincent. He hadn't found a mat, but he had tossed a thick army issue blanket
down for him. It would keep him off the dirt floor anyway. It would do for now, till
he brought more stuff down for him. After he finished with the prosthetic hand he could
start working on the room.
It was so dark he could barely see Hojo, which was kinda nice he had to admit.
At least the place had some perks. He'd never been down here before, as the door was
left locked. He'd never even really wondered what lay behind the wooden door he passed
several times daily. He'd always supposed it was another storage room, and what was there
to be curious about in there? Boxes of old clothes, old magazines, holiday decorations,
furniture, run of the mill stuff. He'd never been tempted to peek in, nor to even ask what
was in there.
He heard the click of a lighter and turned to see Hojo lighting a small kerosene
lantern, mumbling about what a pain in the ass it was to be without electricity. Finally,
the room was illuminated with the flickering light, bringing life to the shadows.
Vincent's eyes widened at the carnage that lay before him in this 'store room'.
Hojo had pretty much shoved all the inhabited coffins off to one side and kicked
everything littering the floor off into an empty corner. That didn't really help any.
This still had to be the creepiest place Vincent had ever been inside of.
There were bodies in those boxes, for chrissakes! True, they probably were
little more than piles of bone and cloth by now, but still! Of all places,
Hojo had to bring him down here. The air was so musty he could scarcely breathe
without waves of revulsion skittering up his spine. And this was the
'safe place' he had been talking about. Feh.
"I know it's kinda creepy down here, but you'll get used to it," Vincent
parted his lips as to say something, but no words came out. Hojo looked up
from the lantern, and something resembling a smirk painted itself upon his face.
"Close your mouth, who knows what might drop in." Vincent gave him a quizzical look,
and shifted his eyes to the ceiling. Spiders. A shitload of spiders in their gauzy
webs right over his head. Narrowing his red eyes, he balefully glowered at the
scientist, mouth turned down in a frown.
"Don't worry, I doubt they'll drop down or anything, and even if they did
I'm sure they're not poisonous. " He gestured to the far corner of the room that
he had set up for Vincent, setting the lantern down. "I cleared this corner for
you to sleep in, read in, hell, you're welcome to do anything you want to in it.
Just keep quiet, that's all I ask. No noise coming out of here, understood? The
walls are nice and thick, but I don't want to take any unnecessary chances. I
know it's not exactly Kalm Inn, but it's a place. And it's safe."
He had to be kidding. How long would Hojo leave him down here? A day?
A month? A year? The rest of his life? He really didn't want to know.
He studied the indicated corner; the lantern's light barely driving the
darkness away. It was fitting. He finally was being dumped like so much
guilty trash. Hojo was hell bent on keeping him down here, so resisting
wouldn't really do him any good. Besides, didn't he deserve it?
Part of him was angry with Hojo for leaving him in this crypt, and expecting
him to shrink away into the shadows, out of his way for good. Anger surged up only
to be checked by his guilt, reminding him he deserved what ever came his way. Even
this. But still, he wasn't exactly thrilled with his new residence.
"Go on, settle in. You'll have to get used to it just like everything else
. Just give it some time, and you'll be okay." He said in a soft, vaguely patronizing
voice only to be brushed off by the Turk.
"It's JENOVA, isn't it?" Wrapping his arms around himself to combat
the chill in the air, he cast a knowing expression Hojo's way. "She told
you she would force me to kill, and now you're locking me up like a rabid dog.
Are you afraid of me Hojo?"
"...I can't say that I'm not, after all you are quite...enhanced now."
He replied, trying to choose his words carefully. Vincent smiled again,
lowering his head tiredly.
"Then why wouldn't you just let me die? Why did you have to stop me?
To torment me more? Don't you think I have enough pain in my life without this?
Just knowing she's gone and that I won't be seeing her for a long, long time is
torture..." He sighed, hugging himself tighter almost as if trying to retreat into himself.
"JENOVA wouldn't let you die," he began quietly. "I had nothing to do with that.
She just doesn't want to let you go. " Dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper,
he continued. "She wants you to suffer, that's what it is. You know what a
cold-hearted bitch she is. Though I'm quite a cold-hearted bastard myself
I must admit." he finished with a chuckle.
"I don't want to stay down here." He replied, changing the subject abruptly. So he
had finally said it. Hojo knew it would eventually come up, and he was
pretty sure he knew the outcome. Judging from what he had surmised of Vincent's
character he would protest a little, maybe resist a bit, but he would take it in
stride all in the name of atoning. Why Valentine even bothered to protest was beyond him.
He always gave in anyway, despite his half-hearted resistance. Hojo had decided that
Valentine was in a sense, a glutton for punishment. Going on that, he
supposed that Valentine derived a sort of temporary relief from his guilt
while he was suffering for her, and protesting was just to cover it up.
Or maybe he enjoyed that too, who knew.
"Poor thing. I know you don't want to, but you're going to have to, at
least for a while. It's not like I'm leaving you down here to starve or anything.
I'll be in and out of here periodically. Just sit tight, and I'll be back in a
while." He slowly, but steadily was making his way to the door, unnoticed by the
Turk who was fearfully studying the shadows cast on the walls by the lantern. He
looked up just as he was almost out.
"But-" With surprising speed, Hojo withdrew through the door, hastily pulling
it to after him. The loud click of the dead bolt being turned echoed through the
silent room like a gunshot. Hojo stood outside the door for a moment,
half expecting Vincent to scream and batter the door with his poor
deformed hand, to burst out crying for Hojo to release him.
The howling protest had not begun yet, and perhaps it wouldn't
at all. Hojo had tried to make it bearable for Valentine in there,
even leaving him the lantern so he wouldn't be sitting in utter darkness at
least. He should be okay in there. Anyway, he had work to do, and knowing
Valentine was safely out of the way would make things easier for him.
Stuffing the key into his pocket, he looked back at the door one last
time before continuing on his way.
This is part nine. I will be shocked and amazed if anyone is still reading this. I know I haven't updated in
a kabillion years, but I am in a better position to do things now then I was previously.
I want to tell everyone who's been waiting on these posts I'm truly sorry it took so
long, but I swear you won't be disappointed.
* * *
Vincent sat morosely in the desk chair Hojo had helped him into shortly
after the attack. He cradled his weary head in his good hand as Hojo examined
the monstrous appendage JENOVA had bestowed on him as punishment for his latest
transgression against her will.
It really wasn't a pretty sight. The flesh had swollen outlandishly, the skin
torn in places where it hadn't been elastic enough to conform to the deformed
muscles that lay beneath. Blackened bits of chemically burned bone poked through
the nasty mass of tissues that now comprised his left forearm, making Hojo's stomach
turn with revulsion which was no small feat. This unquestionably had to be
the sickest, sorriest mess he'd ever had the bad fortune to observe.
"There's not really much I can do. She's changed it, and I can't reverse the
damage. About the only thing I can do is cover it with something less repulsive.
I know you can hardly stand to look at it. I don't blame you really.
It's disgusting. Looks kinda like a squirrel I ran over once. A week afterwards."
He gently released the arm, leaving it to fall limply onto the desktop making a sick
thudding noise.
"There's something else. I don't think she plans to continue regenerating the
last of your hand. If you ever want to use it again, you'll have to have a
prosthetic of some sort. It shouldn't be too difficult; after all I only have to
replace the fingers from the knuckle up. While I'm at it I'll work something out
to cover that disgusting thing up."
Vincent didn't respond to this observation, just slouched down in the chair,
head bowed. Hojo supposed he was sulking over his botched suicide attempt.
He really didn't blame Valentine for that either. He supposed he would have
done so long ago if he weren't so afraid to face the uncharted territory
that lay beyond life. Even before JENOVA had come into his life, he'd been sorely tempted.
It was so funny how people complained about how miserable their lives were
without having any idea how easy they really had it. He'd been the same way,
thinking his life was unbearably horrible and couldn't possibly get any worse.
All through high school he'd thought it, in college he thought it, all the
way through med school up unto the day he gave himself over to JENOVA.
Then he'd realized just how insignificant all of his troubles had been before
compared to what he had now. Before he'd only worried about bullies wanting
to stuff him in garbage cans, passing final exams, paying his rent and all
the other trite things in his life. Now he had an unstable shape shifter
and an alien bitch that took delight in fucking things up for him to deal with.
Everything else was suddenly very, very insignificant compared to this.
But even with all the problems he had now he'd never renounce JENOVA. He'd given
her far too much to just give it up like that. He'd invested too much
labor into this, and done too much. He'd killed, destroyed, ruined countless lives
all in her name. He just couldn't afford to.
He embraced his suffering.
Valentine embraced his as well, he reasoned, studying the
distraught man impassively. He seemed to accept his lot as just more punishment
for failing Lucrecia. How he managed to be so narrow minded escaped Hojo. Everything
was for her. Everything that happened to him was a result of his 'sin',
and he refused to see it otherwise. If the chair he was sitting in gave out
under him, he'd very likely take it as penalization for his inadequacy.
He needed his suffering to reassure himself he was sorry for his imaginary sin,
and to show her that as well.
Even though he'd sought release, in doing so he still was punishing himself.
Who knew, perhaps he believed his suffering would absolve his sin.
He really was just kicking himself in the teeth and enjoying it. He enjoyed
his misery, as much as he tried to escape it. A real masochist at heart.
"I'm going to work on prosthesis for you, but first things first. I've
found a place for you." He watched Vincent out of the corner of his eye, waiting
for any sort of response. He wasn't disappointed. Valentine withdrew himself from
his little world long enough to look up at him with a perplexed expression. Hojo
sighed, and continued. "They're coming back, you know. Gast and the others.
I don't know when, but it could be any time. See, I can't have you laying all
spaced out on the floor when that happens. It just wouldn't work out well y'know.
I'd have a helluva a lot of explaining to do, and I wouldn't even have a clue where
to start."
"...you're putting me somewhere." Good, he was catching on. Perhaps
this wouldn't be as difficult as he had thought. Hastily he continued while he
had Valentine's attention. If he played his cards right he might not only have
his consent; he might even convince him to walk down there himself.
"Somewhere safe," he added, taking Vincent by the arm trying not to look
at the mangled limb on the opposite side and led him to the crypt before he
could change his mind and resist. Happily for him, Vincent consented to being
led into this dark, unfamiliar territory without protest.
Actually, Valentine wasn't really much trouble at all now. He seemed to
have realized the futility of his situation finally, and deemed it not
worth fighting. All he really did now was sleep hours on end or sit glumly
immersed in thought. Pretty depressing, but it beat the hell out of the long
crying jags he went on.
Hojo hadn't finished clearing out the room completely, but it would do for now.
At least he had moved all the really creepy stuff away from the corner he had set
up for Vincent. He hadn't found a mat, but he had tossed a thick army issue blanket
down for him. It would keep him off the dirt floor anyway. It would do for now, till
he brought more stuff down for him. After he finished with the prosthetic hand he could
start working on the room.
It was so dark he could barely see Hojo, which was kinda nice he had to admit.
At least the place had some perks. He'd never been down here before, as the door was
left locked. He'd never even really wondered what lay behind the wooden door he passed
several times daily. He'd always supposed it was another storage room, and what was there
to be curious about in there? Boxes of old clothes, old magazines, holiday decorations,
furniture, run of the mill stuff. He'd never been tempted to peek in, nor to even ask what
was in there.
He heard the click of a lighter and turned to see Hojo lighting a small kerosene
lantern, mumbling about what a pain in the ass it was to be without electricity. Finally,
the room was illuminated with the flickering light, bringing life to the shadows.
Vincent's eyes widened at the carnage that lay before him in this 'store room'.
Hojo had pretty much shoved all the inhabited coffins off to one side and kicked
everything littering the floor off into an empty corner. That didn't really help any.
This still had to be the creepiest place Vincent had ever been inside of.
There were bodies in those boxes, for chrissakes! True, they probably were
little more than piles of bone and cloth by now, but still! Of all places,
Hojo had to bring him down here. The air was so musty he could scarcely breathe
without waves of revulsion skittering up his spine. And this was the
'safe place' he had been talking about. Feh.
"I know it's kinda creepy down here, but you'll get used to it," Vincent
parted his lips as to say something, but no words came out. Hojo looked up
from the lantern, and something resembling a smirk painted itself upon his face.
"Close your mouth, who knows what might drop in." Vincent gave him a quizzical look,
and shifted his eyes to the ceiling. Spiders. A shitload of spiders in their gauzy
webs right over his head. Narrowing his red eyes, he balefully glowered at the
scientist, mouth turned down in a frown.
"Don't worry, I doubt they'll drop down or anything, and even if they did
I'm sure they're not poisonous. " He gestured to the far corner of the room that
he had set up for Vincent, setting the lantern down. "I cleared this corner for
you to sleep in, read in, hell, you're welcome to do anything you want to in it.
Just keep quiet, that's all I ask. No noise coming out of here, understood? The
walls are nice and thick, but I don't want to take any unnecessary chances. I
know it's not exactly Kalm Inn, but it's a place. And it's safe."
He had to be kidding. How long would Hojo leave him down here? A day?
A month? A year? The rest of his life? He really didn't want to know.
He studied the indicated corner; the lantern's light barely driving the
darkness away. It was fitting. He finally was being dumped like so much
guilty trash. Hojo was hell bent on keeping him down here, so resisting
wouldn't really do him any good. Besides, didn't he deserve it?
Part of him was angry with Hojo for leaving him in this crypt, and expecting
him to shrink away into the shadows, out of his way for good. Anger surged up only
to be checked by his guilt, reminding him he deserved what ever came his way. Even
this. But still, he wasn't exactly thrilled with his new residence.
"Go on, settle in. You'll have to get used to it just like everything else
. Just give it some time, and you'll be okay." He said in a soft, vaguely patronizing
voice only to be brushed off by the Turk.
"It's JENOVA, isn't it?" Wrapping his arms around himself to combat
the chill in the air, he cast a knowing expression Hojo's way. "She told
you she would force me to kill, and now you're locking me up like a rabid dog.
Are you afraid of me Hojo?"
"...I can't say that I'm not, after all you are quite...enhanced now."
He replied, trying to choose his words carefully. Vincent smiled again,
lowering his head tiredly.
"Then why wouldn't you just let me die? Why did you have to stop me?
To torment me more? Don't you think I have enough pain in my life without this?
Just knowing she's gone and that I won't be seeing her for a long, long time is
torture..." He sighed, hugging himself tighter almost as if trying to retreat into himself.
"JENOVA wouldn't let you die," he began quietly. "I had nothing to do with that.
She just doesn't want to let you go. " Dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper,
he continued. "She wants you to suffer, that's what it is. You know what a
cold-hearted bitch she is. Though I'm quite a cold-hearted bastard myself
I must admit." he finished with a chuckle.
"I don't want to stay down here." He replied, changing the subject abruptly. So he
had finally said it. Hojo knew it would eventually come up, and he was
pretty sure he knew the outcome. Judging from what he had surmised of Vincent's
character he would protest a little, maybe resist a bit, but he would take it in
stride all in the name of atoning. Why Valentine even bothered to protest was beyond him.
He always gave in anyway, despite his half-hearted resistance. Hojo had decided that
Valentine was in a sense, a glutton for punishment. Going on that, he
supposed that Valentine derived a sort of temporary relief from his guilt
while he was suffering for her, and protesting was just to cover it up.
Or maybe he enjoyed that too, who knew.
"Poor thing. I know you don't want to, but you're going to have to, at
least for a while. It's not like I'm leaving you down here to starve or anything.
I'll be in and out of here periodically. Just sit tight, and I'll be back in a
while." He slowly, but steadily was making his way to the door, unnoticed by the
Turk who was fearfully studying the shadows cast on the walls by the lantern. He
looked up just as he was almost out.
"But-" With surprising speed, Hojo withdrew through the door, hastily pulling
it to after him. The loud click of the dead bolt being turned echoed through the
silent room like a gunshot. Hojo stood outside the door for a moment,
half expecting Vincent to scream and batter the door with his poor
deformed hand, to burst out crying for Hojo to release him.
The howling protest had not begun yet, and perhaps it wouldn't
at all. Hojo had tried to make it bearable for Valentine in there,
even leaving him the lantern so he wouldn't be sitting in utter darkness at
least. He should be okay in there. Anyway, he had work to do, and knowing
Valentine was safely out of the way would make things easier for him.
Stuffing the key into his pocket, he looked back at the door one last
time before continuing on his way.