AN:
This is part eleven. As always, props to darknightdestiny
who's helped me with so much stuff it's not even funny. And props to everyone
who reads this. Thanks for your reviews, I can't tell you how much they mean to
me.
* * *
It was finally finished. Hojo took a moment to admire the piece of art he
had created for his victim. Shiny, flawlessly cut bronze shimmered brightly
on the worktable. He hadn't had much experience with metalworking, but he was
damned proud of his results. It would suit Valentine perfectly. Now all that was
left was to show it to him, and attach it.
Carefully, he made his way down to Vincent's quarters, trying to make as
little noise as possible. He didn't want to alert Vincent of his arrival, giving
the man time to be at the door ready to dash out when it opened. His footsteps
made annoying clacks on the cement, as much as he tried to prevent it. Hopefully
Valentine was too busy moping or sleeping to hear it. Impulsively he crossed his
fingers for luck, and slowly drew the latch back.
He'd expected to see the shapeshifter sprawled out in the relative safety
of his corner, not sitting on the opposite side of the room next to the very filth
he'd tried to keep Valentine away from. He didn't seem to be sleeping, rather
engrossed in his other favorite activity- moping. He did a lot of that.
"Rise and shine Mr. Valentine." He prodded Vincent in the shoulder playfully,
still in a good mood from his success with making prosthesis for Valentine.
"C'mon now, quit being pokey. Sit up straight. I have something for you." Vincent
made no attempt to comply, rather sighing, and closing his eyes tiredly. What did
Hojo want now? Hadn't he done enough?
"Go 'way." He mumbled, slouching down further. "Go 'way and leave me alone."
Unsuaded, Hojo reached for Vincent's right hand, and pulled him up. Vincent was starting
to wear on his nerves now. Ungrateful wretch. Couldn't Vincent see that he
was attempting to make things a little better? Of course it was no outright
apology, but it was somewhat a gesture of remorse. His patience was beginning
to thin rapidly.
"Now you listen to me. I made you this so you can use that arm again.
Look," he said, tilting Vincent's head to show him the claw. Vincent's eyes remained
unfocused, his face emotionless. "Isn't it much nicer than that horrid rotten
monstrosity you have now? If you cooperate, you'll be using that arm in no time. "
He sighed. His progress in trying to persuade Vincent to cooperate was a slow as
cold molasses rolling up hill. Everytime he hauled him up he'd slump again. What
a stubborn man the ex-Turk was. "Sit up now. I'm not playing with you,
Turk. Goddammit, can't you cooperate for a moment?" he
exclaimed disgustedly, almost ready to slap the man. He finally half dragged,
half shoved the Turk over to the wall to support him. Vincent scarcely blinked
during this, not even wincing when his head smacked the wall harshly.
The rough treatment wasn't really bothering him. In fact for some reason,
it made him feel a little better. Like he was paying for his sins almost.
"Stop fucking around. Look at me when I'm talking to you Valentine.
Damn it, look at me!" He roughly grabbed Vincent's chin to force him to look up.
Not caring about being gentle with his patient right now, he twisted the Turks
head around until the red orbs focused on him. "I'm tired of this shit. Is it
so much to ask that you sit up straight for a few minutes? Gods!" He made a face
as he grasped Vincent's poor damaged arm, and began to attach the bronze forearm
to the blackened flesh.
This part was easy. The hand and fingers would be the challenge.
He closed the hinged case round the arm, snapping it closed. Vincent was
still slumping, if not for the wall he'd be crumpled on the floor again.
He really wasn't acting well at all. Maybe he was sick. Hojo began to
regret his harsh words.
"Valentine? Do you not feel well? Are you sick? C'mon. sit up." He
paused in his ministrations to Vincent's arm to check him for a fever. Sweeping the soft
hair out of the way, he gently felt Vincent's forehead. His pale skin was as cool
as bone. Puzzled, he continued to prod Vincent, wanting to know what was wrong.
Vincent finally groaned, trying to push Hojo's intruding hand away. He didn't
want the man even touching him right now. He just wanted to be alone so he could
curl up and die. Fuck everything.
"Fine, if you want to be stubborn, do so. But I'm warning you, it'll only be
harder on you." He finished, trying to attach the curved piece of metal he'd fashioned
for a wrist to the forearm plate. "Dammit...stupid piece of shit, it's supposed to
just slide into the slot..." he fumbled with it a few seconds, finally sliding it
into place. "Now for the screws...is it hurting you?" He'd asked mostly to get a
reaction of some sort, not necessarily out of any real concern for pain.
Hojo waited impatiently for a reply, and when it was clear one was not
coming anytime soon, he continued with the procedure. His irritability was
beginning to return twofold now that he was sure Vincent was being difficult
to spite him. "Valentine, whatever your problem is, get over it. Is it
because I left you down here? Well, you have to get used to it. You know that
very well." The miserable ex-Turk groaned again, trying to shake Hojo away.
He wanted to be left alone. Besides, he felt kind of...funny. Like his bones
were being sculpted to another form. He whimpered, feeling every movement
of Hojo's hand along his limbs keenly, paining him deeply, straight to the bone.
"Quit being such a ridiculous baby. If you feel poorly, say something."
Vincent sighed, the pain becoming sharper by the second. He'd felt like this before
...but when? And why? It hurt so much...and worst of all was this strange
hunger growing in him. "Uhnnn..."
"I don't understand 'uhnnn...' if you need something, say it
right." He replied coldly, now attaching the hand piece. The wrist had been
quite a bastard, but the hand was a pain as well. "Well? Are you going to tell me
what's wrong, or are you going to sniffle about it?" he paused again, growing more
irked by the moment. He was being so stubborn!
Just a little more to go. It seemed he had been wrong in naming the fingers
as the most difficult part. The little bastards were almost as simple to attach as
the forearm. Snap snap snap. Easy. There. Now for the screws and pins to hold it
together. He knew it couldn't be really comfortable, driving pins and screws into
the poor man's arm, but hey, it had to be done.
"Valentine, c'mon. Just a little longer...don't act like this. Here I am trying
to help you, for god's sake, and you're being so damned stubborn!"
Vincent had never really been a cooperative subject, but now he was being very
difficult. He whined, and refused to sit up. He wouldn't cooperate. He wouldn't
do anything the way he was supposed to. "Valentine, I suggest you straighten up right
now. This is ridiculous, you're a grown man, not a two year old. You can cooperate with
me. Now do so."
The pain was still there, but it didn't feel like shifting and shaping any longer.
It had settled to a dull ache, which was a little more tolerable, but not much. Vincent
put it down to Hojo's doings, but that didn't make him feel any better. Ah well, at
least he didn't feel like he was coming apart at the seams anymore...
But what was this...?
He was gripped with a sudden impulse to clamp his teeth down on Hojo's annoying
arm, those hands that held him in a stiff sitting position while worrying his poor
hurt arm. He growled lowly, imaging what it would be like to shred the man's arm
to ribbons, to gnaw the bone, to make him hurt the way he was hurting. The more he
thought about it the more he wanted to do it.
"What is your problem tonight? You just can't seem to do
anything right. Even when it involves doing nothing you still manage to fuck it
up. All I wanted was for you to sit up for a few minutes. So why can't you- "
Vincent growled again. He didn't like this man. Who the hell did he think he was?
Talking to him like a fucking dog? He wouldn't have that. He was much better than that...
But who was he? Vincent paused a moment. A wave of panic washed over him. He didn't know
who this man nagging at him was, but even more frightening, he wasn't exactly sure who
this thing inside of him was. Common sense told him it was Vincent Valentine, of course,
or at least JENOVA, but he didn't think so...He wasn't really acting anything
like himself....
He wouldn't growl of all things...oh, and the bloodlust...He forgot his fear
for a moment, and thought of blood. Red, warm, bright liquid gushing out from
his victim's veins, showering him in crimson. Red was such a lovely color, such
a pity he didn't see it more often.
"Valentine, straighten-" He was cut off again by another feral growl from the
wretched man, who shook Hojo's hands off of him. Instead of slumping to the ground,
he began to draw himself up to his full height. He was tired of this man, and he
wasn't going to put up with him anymore. He would see red, and he would see it now.
"I'm tired of you, and so you're going to die now." Vincent glowered at Hojo
menacingly. His eyebrows furrowed heavily over crazy, bloodthirsty eyes,
his lips contorted in a snarl. Hojo observed him with a growing fear, wondering
exactly what was going on. Valentine was having another of his bad turns,
but Hojo'd never seen one this bad. He'd gone from an uncooperative, passive,
docile creature into a little bundle of aggression, hate and ferocity in a
matter of seconds. Even so, he'd have to be prepared for anything that might happen now.
"Valentine? Snap out of this." He began, trying to appease the angered man.
In a trice, Vincent had leapt on Hojo, and began snarling even more fiercely,
taking the doctor completely off guard. Had the man finally snapped? That had to
be it. What could Hojo do? "What the hell are you doing?! Cut it out!" He yelled,
trying to throw the man back into his seat, only angering him more. He raised his
claw menacingly.
"Oh, so now you're going to maim me with the very claw I gave you. What a way to
say thank you." He said, sarcasm oozing from his voice. "Now get off." Vincent
hesitated a moment, not quite sure what to do. He still wanted this man's blood;
he wanted to hurt the bastard. But another part of him felt that it just wouldn't
be...smart to kill the man. Something gnawed at the edge of his mind that he should
not only spare the man, but he should in fact get off of him right now.
No matter. He slashed at Hojo's chest and with it a sort of
pleasure. He could rip the man to shreds right here and now. It felt good to have
some power, it really did. No more 'sit still and let the man prod him' anymore.
No, he was drunk with power. He could do anything! To prove his point he raked his
claw across Hojo's chest again, ripping his shirt and penetrating the skin. It wasn't
a terribly deep scratch, but it was good enough for now.
Hojo felt the cold metal against his skin, and shuddered. The shivering became
more violent as the claw continued to raze his chest, shredding his dress shirt
into bloody strips. "Valentine, stop it! What are you doing!?" he managed to wheeze
out before Vincent brought the claw down again, ready to bring more liquid crimson.
"Ungrateful bastard...go ahead, kill me...heh...but I feel sorry for you if you do..."
That comment caught Vincent's attention. It seemed like his head was
clearing now, slowly but gradually. What the hell was Hojo spouting now? He cocked
his head; claw paused over Hojo's chest. There Hojo saw his chance.
"Heh...you really think you'll survive on your own? Think again. JENOVA
won't let you destroy me; I don't care what she told you. I still can do things
for her. I'm still indispensable. I have a purpose. Ah, I'm not trying to
say she needs me, because that would be a lie. But you, Mr. Valentine,
you on the other hand do need me. D'ya want JENOVA to posses you? No?
Then snap out of this."
Vincent was still, indecision grappling inside of him. He wanted
Hojo dead, but the feeling of dread kept growing. Suddenly he
wanted nothing more to do with Hojo. Hastily he jumped off of
the professor, eyes wide with apprehension. What were these things
inside of him? Voices urging him to destroy, kill, maim, hurt
and demolish everything and everyone, voices demanding he kill Hojo,
and voices warning him not to. But which was his voice?
Which of these desires were his?
This is part eleven. As always, props to darknightdestiny
who's helped me with so much stuff it's not even funny. And props to everyone
who reads this. Thanks for your reviews, I can't tell you how much they mean to
me.
* * *
It was finally finished. Hojo took a moment to admire the piece of art he
had created for his victim. Shiny, flawlessly cut bronze shimmered brightly
on the worktable. He hadn't had much experience with metalworking, but he was
damned proud of his results. It would suit Valentine perfectly. Now all that was
left was to show it to him, and attach it.
Carefully, he made his way down to Vincent's quarters, trying to make as
little noise as possible. He didn't want to alert Vincent of his arrival, giving
the man time to be at the door ready to dash out when it opened. His footsteps
made annoying clacks on the cement, as much as he tried to prevent it. Hopefully
Valentine was too busy moping or sleeping to hear it. Impulsively he crossed his
fingers for luck, and slowly drew the latch back.
He'd expected to see the shapeshifter sprawled out in the relative safety
of his corner, not sitting on the opposite side of the room next to the very filth
he'd tried to keep Valentine away from. He didn't seem to be sleeping, rather
engrossed in his other favorite activity- moping. He did a lot of that.
"Rise and shine Mr. Valentine." He prodded Vincent in the shoulder playfully,
still in a good mood from his success with making prosthesis for Valentine.
"C'mon now, quit being pokey. Sit up straight. I have something for you." Vincent
made no attempt to comply, rather sighing, and closing his eyes tiredly. What did
Hojo want now? Hadn't he done enough?
"Go 'way." He mumbled, slouching down further. "Go 'way and leave me alone."
Unsuaded, Hojo reached for Vincent's right hand, and pulled him up. Vincent was starting
to wear on his nerves now. Ungrateful wretch. Couldn't Vincent see that he
was attempting to make things a little better? Of course it was no outright
apology, but it was somewhat a gesture of remorse. His patience was beginning
to thin rapidly.
"Now you listen to me. I made you this so you can use that arm again.
Look," he said, tilting Vincent's head to show him the claw. Vincent's eyes remained
unfocused, his face emotionless. "Isn't it much nicer than that horrid rotten
monstrosity you have now? If you cooperate, you'll be using that arm in no time. "
He sighed. His progress in trying to persuade Vincent to cooperate was a slow as
cold molasses rolling up hill. Everytime he hauled him up he'd slump again. What
a stubborn man the ex-Turk was. "Sit up now. I'm not playing with you,
Turk. Goddammit, can't you cooperate for a moment?" he
exclaimed disgustedly, almost ready to slap the man. He finally half dragged,
half shoved the Turk over to the wall to support him. Vincent scarcely blinked
during this, not even wincing when his head smacked the wall harshly.
The rough treatment wasn't really bothering him. In fact for some reason,
it made him feel a little better. Like he was paying for his sins almost.
"Stop fucking around. Look at me when I'm talking to you Valentine.
Damn it, look at me!" He roughly grabbed Vincent's chin to force him to look up.
Not caring about being gentle with his patient right now, he twisted the Turks
head around until the red orbs focused on him. "I'm tired of this shit. Is it
so much to ask that you sit up straight for a few minutes? Gods!" He made a face
as he grasped Vincent's poor damaged arm, and began to attach the bronze forearm
to the blackened flesh.
This part was easy. The hand and fingers would be the challenge.
He closed the hinged case round the arm, snapping it closed. Vincent was
still slumping, if not for the wall he'd be crumpled on the floor again.
He really wasn't acting well at all. Maybe he was sick. Hojo began to
regret his harsh words.
"Valentine? Do you not feel well? Are you sick? C'mon. sit up." He
paused in his ministrations to Vincent's arm to check him for a fever. Sweeping the soft
hair out of the way, he gently felt Vincent's forehead. His pale skin was as cool
as bone. Puzzled, he continued to prod Vincent, wanting to know what was wrong.
Vincent finally groaned, trying to push Hojo's intruding hand away. He didn't
want the man even touching him right now. He just wanted to be alone so he could
curl up and die. Fuck everything.
"Fine, if you want to be stubborn, do so. But I'm warning you, it'll only be
harder on you." He finished, trying to attach the curved piece of metal he'd fashioned
for a wrist to the forearm plate. "Dammit...stupid piece of shit, it's supposed to
just slide into the slot..." he fumbled with it a few seconds, finally sliding it
into place. "Now for the screws...is it hurting you?" He'd asked mostly to get a
reaction of some sort, not necessarily out of any real concern for pain.
Hojo waited impatiently for a reply, and when it was clear one was not
coming anytime soon, he continued with the procedure. His irritability was
beginning to return twofold now that he was sure Vincent was being difficult
to spite him. "Valentine, whatever your problem is, get over it. Is it
because I left you down here? Well, you have to get used to it. You know that
very well." The miserable ex-Turk groaned again, trying to shake Hojo away.
He wanted to be left alone. Besides, he felt kind of...funny. Like his bones
were being sculpted to another form. He whimpered, feeling every movement
of Hojo's hand along his limbs keenly, paining him deeply, straight to the bone.
"Quit being such a ridiculous baby. If you feel poorly, say something."
Vincent sighed, the pain becoming sharper by the second. He'd felt like this before
...but when? And why? It hurt so much...and worst of all was this strange
hunger growing in him. "Uhnnn..."
"I don't understand 'uhnnn...' if you need something, say it
right." He replied coldly, now attaching the hand piece. The wrist had been
quite a bastard, but the hand was a pain as well. "Well? Are you going to tell me
what's wrong, or are you going to sniffle about it?" he paused again, growing more
irked by the moment. He was being so stubborn!
Just a little more to go. It seemed he had been wrong in naming the fingers
as the most difficult part. The little bastards were almost as simple to attach as
the forearm. Snap snap snap. Easy. There. Now for the screws and pins to hold it
together. He knew it couldn't be really comfortable, driving pins and screws into
the poor man's arm, but hey, it had to be done.
"Valentine, c'mon. Just a little longer...don't act like this. Here I am trying
to help you, for god's sake, and you're being so damned stubborn!"
Vincent had never really been a cooperative subject, but now he was being very
difficult. He whined, and refused to sit up. He wouldn't cooperate. He wouldn't
do anything the way he was supposed to. "Valentine, I suggest you straighten up right
now. This is ridiculous, you're a grown man, not a two year old. You can cooperate with
me. Now do so."
The pain was still there, but it didn't feel like shifting and shaping any longer.
It had settled to a dull ache, which was a little more tolerable, but not much. Vincent
put it down to Hojo's doings, but that didn't make him feel any better. Ah well, at
least he didn't feel like he was coming apart at the seams anymore...
But what was this...?
He was gripped with a sudden impulse to clamp his teeth down on Hojo's annoying
arm, those hands that held him in a stiff sitting position while worrying his poor
hurt arm. He growled lowly, imaging what it would be like to shred the man's arm
to ribbons, to gnaw the bone, to make him hurt the way he was hurting. The more he
thought about it the more he wanted to do it.
"What is your problem tonight? You just can't seem to do
anything right. Even when it involves doing nothing you still manage to fuck it
up. All I wanted was for you to sit up for a few minutes. So why can't you- "
Vincent growled again. He didn't like this man. Who the hell did he think he was?
Talking to him like a fucking dog? He wouldn't have that. He was much better than that...
But who was he? Vincent paused a moment. A wave of panic washed over him. He didn't know
who this man nagging at him was, but even more frightening, he wasn't exactly sure who
this thing inside of him was. Common sense told him it was Vincent Valentine, of course,
or at least JENOVA, but he didn't think so...He wasn't really acting anything
like himself....
He wouldn't growl of all things...oh, and the bloodlust...He forgot his fear
for a moment, and thought of blood. Red, warm, bright liquid gushing out from
his victim's veins, showering him in crimson. Red was such a lovely color, such
a pity he didn't see it more often.
"Valentine, straighten-" He was cut off again by another feral growl from the
wretched man, who shook Hojo's hands off of him. Instead of slumping to the ground,
he began to draw himself up to his full height. He was tired of this man, and he
wasn't going to put up with him anymore. He would see red, and he would see it now.
"I'm tired of you, and so you're going to die now." Vincent glowered at Hojo
menacingly. His eyebrows furrowed heavily over crazy, bloodthirsty eyes,
his lips contorted in a snarl. Hojo observed him with a growing fear, wondering
exactly what was going on. Valentine was having another of his bad turns,
but Hojo'd never seen one this bad. He'd gone from an uncooperative, passive,
docile creature into a little bundle of aggression, hate and ferocity in a
matter of seconds. Even so, he'd have to be prepared for anything that might happen now.
"Valentine? Snap out of this." He began, trying to appease the angered man.
In a trice, Vincent had leapt on Hojo, and began snarling even more fiercely,
taking the doctor completely off guard. Had the man finally snapped? That had to
be it. What could Hojo do? "What the hell are you doing?! Cut it out!" He yelled,
trying to throw the man back into his seat, only angering him more. He raised his
claw menacingly.
"Oh, so now you're going to maim me with the very claw I gave you. What a way to
say thank you." He said, sarcasm oozing from his voice. "Now get off." Vincent
hesitated a moment, not quite sure what to do. He still wanted this man's blood;
he wanted to hurt the bastard. But another part of him felt that it just wouldn't
be...smart to kill the man. Something gnawed at the edge of his mind that he should
not only spare the man, but he should in fact get off of him right now.
No matter. He slashed at Hojo's chest and with it a sort of
pleasure. He could rip the man to shreds right here and now. It felt good to have
some power, it really did. No more 'sit still and let the man prod him' anymore.
No, he was drunk with power. He could do anything! To prove his point he raked his
claw across Hojo's chest again, ripping his shirt and penetrating the skin. It wasn't
a terribly deep scratch, but it was good enough for now.
Hojo felt the cold metal against his skin, and shuddered. The shivering became
more violent as the claw continued to raze his chest, shredding his dress shirt
into bloody strips. "Valentine, stop it! What are you doing!?" he managed to wheeze
out before Vincent brought the claw down again, ready to bring more liquid crimson.
"Ungrateful bastard...go ahead, kill me...heh...but I feel sorry for you if you do..."
That comment caught Vincent's attention. It seemed like his head was
clearing now, slowly but gradually. What the hell was Hojo spouting now? He cocked
his head; claw paused over Hojo's chest. There Hojo saw his chance.
"Heh...you really think you'll survive on your own? Think again. JENOVA
won't let you destroy me; I don't care what she told you. I still can do things
for her. I'm still indispensable. I have a purpose. Ah, I'm not trying to
say she needs me, because that would be a lie. But you, Mr. Valentine,
you on the other hand do need me. D'ya want JENOVA to posses you? No?
Then snap out of this."
Vincent was still, indecision grappling inside of him. He wanted
Hojo dead, but the feeling of dread kept growing. Suddenly he
wanted nothing more to do with Hojo. Hastily he jumped off of
the professor, eyes wide with apprehension. What were these things
inside of him? Voices urging him to destroy, kill, maim, hurt
and demolish everything and everyone, voices demanding he kill Hojo,
and voices warning him not to. But which was his voice?
Which of these desires were his?