Happy Friday! It's been a while! I hope that everyone had a good couple of weeks :)
I spent the entire two weeks planning out future chapters & trying to get ahead in all of my writing projects. It more-or-less worked, and this chapter begins "Part 2" of the Halcyon Days: Midgar arc. And I don't want to spoil to much, but let's just say I'm veeery excited to eventually write one of our favorite boys in a dress ;)
Enjoy the chapter!
Zack's room wasn't anything special. Like the rest of the dorm-style rooms within the Turk Lodging center, the room was little more than a bed shoved into the corner, a small nightstand, and an adjacent restroom area. There were no posters hanging on the wall. No family photos displayed on the dresser. The only hints that someone was currently living here, that the room wasn't empty and abandoned, were a pile of letters stacked on the nightstand and the messy, bunched-up bed sheets.
But the sheets were cold. The lights were off. The window was open and a muggy breeze, one that vaguely smelled of smoke and mako, disturbed the curtains as it pushed itself inside the room.
The very much empty room.
Reno ran an impatient hand through his red hair before muttering a heartfelt "Shit." Tseng wasn't going to be happy about this. Not one bit.
"Tseng won't be happy," Rude said beside him, echoing his thoughts.
"No shit." Reno scowled at the bed as if it were to blame, before shifting his gaze to Rude. "So, partner," he said half-heartedly. "Now what?"
Rude worked his way to the other side of the room before peeking into the joined bathroom, as if confirming Zack wasn't hiding behind one of the shower curtains. "Do you think Zack could have gotten far?"
Reno harshly sighed. "Dunno." It was far too late for this shit. He was tired, there was a kink in his back of his neck, and all he wanted to do was go back to his room, crack open a cold beer, and relax. Just for a damn minute. "This is just like the fuckin' intelligence outpost all over again," he muttered into the room. "Why can't Fair just stay still for one damn second? Shit," he said again. "I'm a Turk, not a babysitter."
Rude glanced at him from the other side of the room, and his gaze was dark beneath his sunglasses. "You know that we're going to have to tell Tseng, right?"
Reno loudly groaned. "Don't remind me."
"Now, Reno."
"Yeah yeah yeah..." Reno reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. It was an older model, one that flipped open instead of being a simple display screen, but old tech was easier to mod. Not to mention that Shinra had a harder time tracking down the older stuff than the newer, more modern versions. That alone made dealing with the laggy screen and sticky buttons worth it.
Reno flipped the phone open and, after an appreciative glance at his background of his favorite dark-haired Honey Bee girl, switched to his contacts. He quickly found Tseng's number as his contact list was pretty barren, and it also helped that Tseng's contact photo was an overblown photo of a Hedgehog Pie. The common monster's red, warty face scowled up at Reno, and he mirrored its expression before looking up from his phone.
"Do you wanna make this call?" he asked Rude, who snorted in response.
Yeah, that's a no… Reno ran another impatient hand through his hair. Well, he decided as he pressed the 'Call' button, might as well get this over with.
Tseng picked up on the first ring. "Well?" Tseng began, not bothering for any greeting or niceties... not that Reno hadn't been expecting any to begin with. "Did you find Fair?"
Reno winced. "Um, yeah. About that..."
Tseng's sigh echoed through the receiver. "Reno."
"Look, it ain't my fault Zack isn't in his room!" Reno animatedly waved his hands through the air as he paced the room, and his black shoes scuffed against the thin carpet. "I don't have the time to constantly keep tabs on him. Though," he added, shooting the mused bed another dirty look, "by the look of things, he probably hasn't been here for a while."
Rude moved closer to the phone, almost to the point where his and Reno's cheeks were brushing against each other. "What would you like us to do, sir?"
Tseng was silent for a moment. Then a moment turned into two, and soon Reno was fidgeting and he and Rude were sharing worried glances.
Finally, Tseng said, "You will do nothing, for now. Frankly, I can't say that I'm surprised that Fair left, not with Aerith within reach and Strife missing." There was another pause, then he dryly chuckled and added, "Fair always did enjoy playing the hero."
Reno frowned. "Look boss, are you sure there's nothing you want us to do? Nothing at all?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Tseng immediately replied. But he sounded distracted, as if he was reaching for something. "Besides, I believe that I know where Fair went."
Reno arched a delicate eyebrow in surprise. "Where? Do you want Rude and I -"
"No, you are free to return to base," Tseng interrupted. There was a rattle, the sound of something being moved. "I'll take care of it."
"Tseng." Reno kept his voice as even and clipped as possible. "Like, no offense or anything, but you've been doing nothing but work since Fair and Strife showed up. Maybe you should take some time off. Take a nap or something."
Rude nearly choked beside him.
Reno, cupping his hand over the phone's microphone, glared at Rude and mouthed, Someone had to say it.
"Reno." Tseng's amused tone echoed through the speaker. "As much as I… appreciate your concern, I believe I can decide for myself when I do or do not need to take a nap."
"Listen, I know you do, but, like…" Reno's voice trailed off as he glanced out the window, to the distant haze of smoke and fire in the distance. At how the green light from the burning mako, which coupled from the red from the roaring fires beneath the reactor, lit up the underside of the clouds and gave it a hellish glow. "Shit's just getting real right now," he said quietly. "You know?"
"I'm well aware." Tseng's voice, unlike Reno's, betrayed no emotion. He sounded just as calm and collected as ever, which only worried Reno more. "But as I said prior, I will take care of our 'Zack Fair' problem," the leader of the Turks continued. "You and Rude can do what you wish for the remainder of the night, but I expect you both at in the Turk Lounge at 0800 sharp tomorrow morning." His tone left no room for argument. "We're having an all-team meeting."
"An all-team meeting?" Reno flicked his eyes to Rude, who shared his surprised look. Reno couldn't even remember the last time the Turks pulled an all-team meeting.
Actually, scratch that – he could.
The last all-hands-on-deck meeting had been the day after Sephiroth had burned down Nibelheim. The Turks had all been gathered at Shinra headquarters and, in five sentences or maybe even less, Tseng had told them that they had been ordered to rebuild the destroyed mountain village. And not just rebuild the buildings. The people had to be replaced, too. In short, the Turks had to initiate a mass transfer of both building materials and personnel to one of the most remote, backwater villages on the neighboring content and, in the process, erase the Nibelheim massacre completely.
And they had.
They had, even when they had spent nearly a fortune in bribing people to relocate. When they had then altered the new villagers' memories so that they believed that they had spent their entire lives beneath the Nibel mountains. When they ensured that all of the newly-built homes matched the few pictures that had survived the fire, that the paths looked sufficiently beaten and worn, and that the repaired water tower didn't smell like smoke and ash. It had left a bad aftertaste in Reno's mouth to erase history so completely, but he was a Turk - emotions didn't matter when it came to finishing their mission. And once the project came to a close…
Well, simply put, the Turks had never spoken of it again. They had been ordered not to.
And just like that, it had been like the Nibelheim incident had never happened in the first place.
So for Tseng to call another all-team meeting now…
Well, there was only one way to respond to that, wasn't there?
Reno stood up a little straighter. "We'll be there," he replied, speaking for both him and Rude. He said those three small words even when they left a bad taste in his mouth. Even when they reminded him of things he'd rather have forgotten, things that he almost regretted doing in the first place. And he couldn't help but wonder...
What would the Turks would be asked to do now?
The freight train rattled down the tracks. Every stomach-twisting lurch sent bodies crashing into one another, and some shot dirty glares before squeezing themselves further against the wall. Others simply looked hollow, their gazes bright and empty, as they dusted off their ash-flaked clothes or stared at the black world outside the window. The train car was clearly over capacity. It smelled of smoke and sweat and bodies, and it was tightly packed and uncomfortable... but it was a way out of Sector Eight. It was an escape, one that was desperately needed, and so most people didn't mind whether or not they had managed to find a seat. Most were just happy to be alive.
While the train's main cars were overly crowded, the back of the train was a little more open. Cargo was stored in the back, and that meant that there were no seats. No windows. No sort of comfort whatsoever; only metal walls and wooden boxes, which had been stacked nearly to the ceiling. The air was humid and musty, and the few passengers that had ventured this far back spoke in hushed voices, as if they were sharing a secret. Or maybe they were afraid of breathing the musty air too deeply.
But Barret didn't have that problem.
"Tifa's gonna kill me," he loudly announced. As they had opted for the very last train car, which happened to also be the most packed with boxes, only Avalanche members were around to hear him.
Well, most of Avalanche, anyway... they were currently one short.
Barret pushed himself off of the box and began to pace, even when the lurching train car nearly made him lose his balance once or twice. Dull light glinted off of his prosthetic machine gun as he loudly continued, "Where the hell is Cloud? Huh?" He turned to Wedge as if the larger man had all the answers, but Wedge only ducked his head and pretended to be busy tying his shoelaces.
In the end, Biggs was the only member brave enough to reply. "I'm sure Cloud will be here any second," he said as he sat down one of the box piles. His voice was calm and steady, which was a striking contrast to his hands – hands that were clenched so tightly on his lap that his fingernails cut crescent moons into his palms. "I mean," he continued, lifting his head, "let's think about this. Cloud was in SOLDIER, right? So I'm sure he has some sort of plan and will be here any second."
"Ooh!" Wedge dropped his shoelaces, which had never been untied to begin with. "Maybe he'll swing in from the ceiling, like a spy!"
Jessie shot Wedge a dry look. "What weird movies have you been watching?"
"Yeah," Barret said, ignoring Wedge and Jessie, "but the fact of th' matter is, SOLDIER-boy ain't here now." His expression darkened. "And he should've been at the station with th' rest of us! Hell, he should've been the first one there!" He slammed his fist down on his knee, and the dull thud echoed through the train car. "So what the hell happened?"
"Maybe he got lost?" Jessie ventured.
Barret snorted.
"I'm sure Cloud is fine," Biggs continued. "I mean, the kid has some skill. We all saw it."
"Yeah, Cloud's fast," Wedge chimed in. "He dodged a bullet."
"Well... not all of them," Jessie grimaced, recalling Cloud's bloodied cheek.
"Anyway." Biggs clapped his hands on his knees, bringing the conversation to the main topic, before turning back to Barret. "We all saw him take out the Security Guards outside of the reactor, and I know you and him took out some more on the way there."
Barret scowled. "Yeah, but -"
"So I'm sure Cloud's fine," Biggs finished. "He can obviously take care of himself."
"Can he?" Barret shot back. "Maybe in the beginnin' our merc had everything under control, but you didn't see him inside of the reactor." Back and forth Barret walked, and his boots echoed hollow against the car's metal floor. "Cloud... he freaked out. His eyes got all weird, he called me by some other guy's name, mumbled things, got headaches…"
Jessie bit her lip. "You know… I kind of saw that too, back in the reactor. His eyes were slitted and glowed like, a really green color." She paused, frowning at the floor. "He said that it was because of the mako."
"Maybe because he used to be in SOLDIER?" Wedge offered. "You know, like maybe the mako already in him reacted with the mako outside? Or something?"
"I think it was somethin' more than mako," Barret scowled before sitting heavily on some of the cargo. The wooden crates groaned underneath his weight. "Kid ain't okay in the head, if you get my meaning."
Wedge's foot tapped against the floor. "Tifa did say that Cloud had been sick or something..."
"That he had just gotten out of some sort of hospital," Biggs added. His hands clenched further. "That he wasn't his best."
"And that he needed to be watched, just in case," Barret finished with a sharp exhale. "And I told Tifa that I would." Which brought him to his original point: "Tifa's gonna kill me."
After all, he had promised her that he would look after Cloud. Sure, he hadn't really believed that Cloud had been in that bad of shape – not at first, anyway. Sure, kid had been spacey. Had flinched at the bright lights in the bar. But who in the slums didn't have some sort of weird tic? Hell, Barret himself had a machine gun grafted to his arm, and it weighed far heavier than just its metal and lead.
And then, when they had gone into the reactor together… there, Barret had understood Tifa's concern. That Cloud wasn't just a little spacey and jumpy, but there was something very much wrong with him. Something about the mako had done more than spook him - it had made him freak out. And then when Cloud had called Barret Zack…
Well, it made Barret wonder what the hell happened before Tifa had found Cloud. One thing he knew for sure, though – it sure as hell wasn't a hospital that Cloud had left. He had a feeling that it was something a little more sensitive than that.
But now Cloud was missing.
Hell, Barret thought with his gaze pinned onto the floor, Cloud could even be dead.
The train continued to rumble down the tracks, and the car continued to lurch with every bump on the rails. The walls creaked and rattled. The wooden boxes groaned, almost as if they were alive, as if they were just as unhappy as the rest of them.
Finally, Barret rubbed a hand through his cropped hair and said, "Cloud was my responsibility." His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the tense quiet. "He was obviously unwell, and I should have stayed with him after the reactor. Made sure he got to the train station and all of that, instead of thinkin' that he could handle himself on the streets." Barret clenched his hand into a fist. "I knew that he had been freakin' out, too."
"Barret, this isn't all on you," Jessie said gently. "We're a team – we need to take care of each other."
"And besides, Cloud knew what he was getting into," Wedge added with a small smile. "And he was in SOLDIER. Out of all of us here, he probably had the best chance of getting out."
Jessie scowled at him. "Hey!"
"Just sayin'!"
"No, Wedge is right." Biggs lifted his gaze off of the floor. "Cloud was a professional."
"Is a professional," Jessie interrupted.
Biggs offered her an apologetic grin. "Is a professional," he amended, before turning to the rest of the group. "And he knew what he was doing out there. We all saw him, and for all we know, he could be fine right now. Maybe he got on a different train or something," he added with a shrug. "Needless to say... we shouldn't give up on him just yet."
"He better have booked his pasty ass on another train," Barret grumbled before turning to Jessie. "Did you give him his ID before the mission?"
Jessie shot him a thumbs up. "Hell yeah I did."
"Good," Barret nodded. "At least SOLDIER-boy has a chance of gettin' off topside on his own."
"Definitely," Biggs agreed. Wedge and Jessie quickly offered their own words of agreement.
But even so, Barret couldn't help but feel… uneasy. He had seen the look in Cloud's eyes shortly before they had parted ways. Had seen the fear in them, the anxiety swirling beneath their mako glow… but he had seen determination burning in there too, and Barret had thought that the determination would be enough to get Cloud through the streets. After all, all Cloud had to do was go down the road. That was it. The train station was at the end of the main street - it was basically a straight shot.
So why didn't he make it? Barret scowled. The train car jolted at a particularly nasty bump, and his dark gaze slid to the car door. It was locked tight, the iron latch digging deep into its lock. He watched the door for a minute... but a minute turned into two, and three, and five. All the while the door remained stubbornly shut, and it had Barret scowling all over again. It took him another minute to realize why he couldn't tear his gaze away from the door, and the realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He was hoping Cloud would walk through it. That SOLDIER-boy would kick down the door and swing into the train car in the same graceful, cocky way he had flipped off of the train when they had first shown up in Sector Eight. That he would show up and would be just fine.
But of course he didn't. The door remained tightly shut and locked, no matter how many minutes had passed.
Tifa's gonna kill me, Barret thought.
His second thought was: How the hell am I going to tell her?
That thought kept him company through the train's automatic identification check. It continued to keep him company until they reached the Sector Seven slums, and by the end of it all, he still didn't have an answer. How do you tell someone that a person they love has gone missing? That they could even be dead? That even though you had promised to keep them safe, promised to take them home in one piece, that they had gone missing and may be dead anyway?
How do you tell someone that?
It was a new feeling for Barret – this abject loss of words. He had always known what to say. He had known what to say when he had first started recruiting for Avalanche; when he had pitched his lofty goal of blowing up Mako Reactor One; when they succeeded in blowing the reactor to high hell but also destroyed part of the city, and he had to lift the team's moral.
But now?
Barret was drawing a blank. All he could think about was how disappointed Tifa was going to be, how upset, how furious, and his heart lurched to his throat as the train lurched to a stop at the Sector Seven station. The moment the train had stopped entirely, Barret could feel the rest of the teams' stare at his back – their worry, their unease, their uncertainty. They didn't know what to do. They were waiting for him to make the first move.
But why wouldn't they? Barret was their leader, after all - and right now, he had to lead.
Taking a deep breath, he was the first to rise to his feet. "Let's do this."
"Cloud could be in the next train," Biggs murmured behind him.
Barret made a noise low in his throat, one that could have meant anything, as he unlocked the car door and threw it open.
The first thing he noticed was how cool the air was. How different it was from above the plate, where everything was burning and smoke choked the air so thick that it still burned his eyes and irritated his throat. The streetlights flickered low and warm, and beneath them were a crowd of people. Worried faces broke into bright smiles as they noticed evacuated relatives and friends. People were hugging. Some were wiping tears, while others were asking if they had seen so-and-so – if they had seen them get on the train, if anyone knew where they were.
"Guys!"
Barret inwardly flinched at Tifa's bright voice, and then she was pushing her way towards them, her scarlet eyes bright beneath the streetlight's faint glow. Her lips were pulled back in a smile; her cheeks were flushed.
Gods, she was happy to see them, and no matter how Barret tried, he couldn't return her smile.
But she didn't seem to notice. "You made it!" She looked as if she had just come from the bar; a dish towel was still looped around her belt, and she wrung her hands in it as she looked at each of them in turn. "How was it? Did – Did it go well? I heard the explosion from the bar, you know, and hurried over as soon as I heard the train coming."
Barret thickly swallowed. "Tifa..."
But Tifa wasn't paying any attention to him - not really. She continued talking, even has her gaze jumped between the team-members. No one could meet her gaze. "Is everyone okay?" she asked, confused. "Did anyone get hurt from the explosion?"
Wedge winced. "No..." he managed. "No one got hurt from the, uh, explosion."
"Good, good," Tifa told him, but it was obvious that she was distracted. Her expression had shifted into confusion and then she was looking past them, into the empty freight car, her eyes narrowed against the dark. She was looking for someone. A familiar face that wasn't there.
"Where's Cloud?" she finally asked. She tilted her head towards the main passenger cars, where people were still spilling out of the car doors and onto the station. "Did he..." She turned to Barret, almond eyes bright beneath the dim light. "Did he get on a different car? Why isn't he with you?"
Fuck. Barret had a hard time meeting her stare – at the trust within them, the sort of childish faith that knew that everything would be okay, if only because he had promised her it would be. And it made everything worse, that trust.
He thickly swallowed. "Tifa..."
Tifa nearly flinched at his tone. "Barret," she interrupted, "where's Cloud?" And when Barret didn't answer he right away, her expression became a little more panicked. Her voice a little higher pitched. "Is he – Is he on the train? Is he with you?"
Barret closed eyes his eyes.
This is it, he knew.
Now or never.
"Tifa." Barret opened his eyes and, trying to keep his tone as level and even as he could, said, "Cloud never made it back to the station."
Tifa watched him for a moment. Stared at him as she took it in.
Then her face fell the moment that she realized what he was saying, and her trembling lower lip, the way she bit her cheek so hard that it must have drawn blood, hit Barret far harder than her punch ever could.
Far harder, and it had Barret thickly swallowed before he could continue. "We blew up th' reactor," he said, his voice gravely. "We escaped, all of us, and then split up before we all headed back to the station."
Tifa's clenched her jaw and clenched her hands into fists, the knuckles white with strain.
"Security Guards were everywhere, Teef," Barret tried to explain. "Going together would have been too dangerous, and Cloud… He never met us at the station."
Tifa inhaled a wavering breath. "So you're… you're saying that Cloud… He could still be up there?" Her voice was thick with emotion, but Barret pretended not to notice. He knew how Tifa hated to cry. How she hated to show weakness like that.
And he hated that he was the one who had done this to her. Hated how he had let her down.
"We think that Cloud could have gotten on a different train," Biggs said, coming to Barret's rescue. "Cloud's talented, and more than capable – I mean, he had been in SOLDIER," he added, as if anyone needed reminding. "So if anyone could get out of Sector Eight, it's him."
But Tifa didn't look relieved. "He's up there? All by himself? Alone?" And when no one replied, she visibly paled. "I – I need to get up there." She turned to the train, jaw clenched, her intent obvious. "I need to find Cloud, because he'll need my help, and -"
A hand on her arm stopped her. "Teef, you can't," Barret said, his voice quiet and soft. "The trains don't run topside this late."
"It doesn't matter!" Tifa whirled on him, and her eyes were bright beneath the dim streetlights. "I'll find a way!"
"TIfa -"
"I'll find one!"
Jessie placed a hand on Tifa's shoulder, and Barret was mildly surprised that Tifa didn't push her off. "Let's go back to the bar and plan a rescue mission," she said quickly. "Barret's right, the trains to go to the upper plates this late at night, but I'm sure we can think of other ways."
"And Cloud may even be on his way to us right now," Biggs added. "If Cloud got on a different train, then the bar is probably the first place he would go."
"Yeah, Teef." Wedge smiled at her, his expression warm. "Cloud's strong, way stronger than the rest of us. He can handle himself."
Tifa bit her lip, and said nothing.
"Then it's decided." Jessie gently squeezed Tifa's shoulders and offered her a small smile. "Let's go to the bar, wait for Cloud, and decide what we're going to do next. Deal?"
For a moment, Barret didn't think that she was going to respond. That instead she was going to stand there frozen, a statue against the night, with her chin tilted upwards towards the upper plate and unshed tears shining in her eyes.
And then she inhaled and nodded, so quickly that Barret had nearly missed it. "Let's go," she croaked, and – after glancing at the train car once more – sharply turned to walk back to the bar.
After a brief moment, the rest of the team began to slowly follow. Barret trailed behind group, and the loose stones and gravel crunched beneath his boots as he walked. His mind somersaulted. His chest squeezed painfully with guilt.
He had thought that Tifa was going to kill him for losing Cloud. That she was going to curse him name, rage at him for breaking their promise, and maybe even leave Avalanche. But instead… instead, she hadn't blamed him at at. She hadn't even mentioned the promise he had made her before the mission.
Barret's hand formed a fist at his side.
He would have preferred her anger. Her rage. Her hate, because he knew how to handle all of that. In fact, he had years of experience dealing with those sort of emotions. Anger in particular was one he carried near his heart.
But this?
Whatever this was?
Barret flicked his gaze to the distant horizon, the jagged edge of where upper Midgar ended and the sky began.
This is worse, he decided. Far worse, but the worst thing of all was that he didn't know how to fix it. Because deep in his heart, he knew that Cloud never made it on another train. That he probably never even made it to the station.
And there was just no fixing that.
Compared to the unnatural stillness of the rest of Hojo's laboratory, Sample Storage Three was a constant source of noise and chaos. Mako pods bubbled against the walls and provided a melodic backdrop to the cries and screeches of the caged monsters, some so mutilated that it was difficult to discern what their original species was. Several specimens shifted nervously in their cages as Hojo passed, and their overgrown claws clicked against the metal floor as they pressed their twisted hybrid forms against the cage bars. Some whimpered. Others hissed.
But Hojo paid them no mind. These monsters – these failures – weren't what he came here for. He had another prize in mind.
As a general rule, Hojo avoided visiting the specimens directly. He didn't enjoy how the air in Sample Storage was perpetually damp and reeking. Didn't enjoy how the scent of rot and mold clung to his clothes the rest of the day, and definitely did not enjoy washing the strange, unexplainable stains out of his clothes after one of his rare visits. It was the reason he made his lab assistants tend to the specimens within Sample Storage.
In short, Hojo's lab coat stayed white.
Of course, there were rare moments when he did visit his specimens. It was an event saved for only the most promising of samples, and Hojo had a promising one indeed. He reminded himself to keep his expectations low, however. That even the most promising of samples could lead to the most disappointing of results, and that the most optimistic hypothesis could be simply that - optimistic, and in no way benefiting of reality.
Just like it had with Sample C.
Hojo's lips sharpened into a smile as failed specimens continued to writhe and hiss around him. Sample C… Yes, Sample C had been nearly perfect. Young. Healthy, with the exception of a collapsed lung from being impaled and minor lung, throat, and eye irritation from smoke. But most importantly, Sample C had been responsive to Hojo's tests. Reactive to all of Hojo's experimental treatments and experimentations, and in the end, even willing to even undergo some of the necessary procedures if only to end the process quicker.
Even now, one year after Sample C's classification of failure, Hojo could only think of one red flag Sample C had possessed. It had been how... temperamental the specimen was, how emotional, and the specimen's emotional volatility had only become more and more extreme as the experiment had continued. It had begun when the specimen had suffered a fit of hysteric laughter when pitted against one of Hojo's hybrid creations, which was designed to induce another scenario similar to Sample C's brief fight with Sephiroth, to bouts of crying so intense that the specimen would dehydrate, vomit, and then fall unconscious.
The memories had Hojo frowning. Sample C had certainly been difficult to contend with, even for an esteemed scientist such as himself, and he had quickly learned that it was far quicker to simply give Sample C to Sample Z than it had been to inject Sample C with a cocktail of calming drugs. Of course, it had always difficult pry Sample C away from Sample Z after the subject had been calmed, but filling their holding cell with methylprylone vapor had proven quite the effective remedy. Once Sample Z was unconscious, it was a simple matter retrieving Sample C. Problem solved.
And even so, despite all of the unconventional practices done with placate Sample C's emotional responses - the same emotional responses that had proved to be both useful and necessary in predicting each treatement's success - none of Hojo's labor had proven fruitful. Though numerous factors could have been attributed to Sample C's inveitable degradation, in the end it had been the mako tanks that had proven to be the final straw. Sample C's mental and physical deterioration occurred so rapidly after the specimen had been exposed to mako, that Hojo couldn't help but conclude that the sample was somehow allergic to the Planet's Lifestream. It was a quite the shocking result. Granted, it wasn't completely outside the scope of impossibility, but Hojo had never seen anything quite like it before... and he had seen quite a bit in his lifetime.
If it had been another time, Hojo would have liked to research that allergy a bit more. To study how, exactly, Sample C could kill one of the most powerful First Class SOLDIERs ever created, and yet a ten minute soak in a mako tub would render the specimen delirious and incoherent. It was baffling, truly. Yet time was one commodity that Hojo did not have; the REUNION hypothesis needed successful specimens in order to reach its conclusion, and Sample C, along with Sample Z, had been nowhere near successful. They had been failures, and they had died like failures; gunned down outside of Midgar exactly like the very monsters that wandered that arid wasteland. So ended Hojo's hope of examining Sample C further.
But thankfully, Hojo had other specimens to examine.
The scientist's ringing footsteps eventually came to a stop in front of a holding cell. This cell was set apart from the others in the Sample Storage, as it contained one of the rarer, more valuable specimens the laboratory housed. The holding cell was cleaner as well, clean enough that Hojo could see his reflection within its warped, curved glass. His reflection grinned sharply back at him.
"Hello, Red XIII."
The four-legged beast within the cell growled in response, and its flame-tipped tail twitched in annoyance. It had an appearance similar to a lion, with brick-colored fur and a long, black mane arching down its spine. Feathers and beads had been woven into the dark mane and golden bangles, the metal smudged and dull, adorned its bone-thin ankles. Above the gold were black brands; one leg sported a tribal tattoo while the other had been branded the ancient runes XIII, which translated to thirteen in the common tongue. If its particular species had a name, it had long since been forgotten.
The beast itself wasn't particularly interesting. It was not as fast as a Sonic Speed, a flying dragon-like monster native to the Nibel mountain range, nor was it as strong as a King Behemoth, which was a saber-toothed tiger-like monster local to the Northern Cave region. Not at all. As far as combat ability, the monster known as Red XIII was nothing special.
But what made Red XIII stand apart from the other specimens in the lab was its unnaturally long life span. Its species, had they not been wiped out, could have easily surpassed one thousand years of age. Perhaps longer.
And Hojo couldn't help but wonder… how?
How did the specimen's cells not degrade at the same rate as every other living being on the Planet? How did its cells continue to divide at the same rate, perfectly and without mutation, continuously for hundreds upon hundreds of years? How did its body restore itself, cure itself of any blemish that comes naturally with age, for that amount of time?
Hojo needed to know. Needed to know desperately, and though he had pitched the study of Sample Red XIII as being a way to enhance the SOLDIER program, he had another objective.
He wanted to live that long, too.
And so he continued to watch Red XIII lie in its cell. The red-furred beast appeared relaxed and seemingly bored, if it were not the hard look in its one unscarred eye, and Hojo had no doubt that Red XIII would attempt to kill him if given the opportunity. But he didn't mind. If anything, it made the experiment all that more exciting.
Without warning, the laboratory door slid open.
"There you are," called a feminine voice, which effectively tore Hojo from his thoughts. "I have been looking everywhere for you."
A vein pulsed in Hojo forehead as he turned to glare at Scarlet, who had sauntered into the lab as if she owned it. As if it were not a sacred place of study but instead a red carpet, one with adoring fans pressed against its side, calling her name.
"Scarlet," Hojo deadpanned.
Scarlet grinned. "Oh, don't glare at me like that." Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "I came here especially to see you."
"If you're hear to inform me of any of your petty squabbles, I don't want to hear it."
She laughed at that; a sharp, piercing laugh that ricocheted off the walls and grated against his ears. She had a specific kind of laugh, the sort that made him feel things. Things like disgust, and hatred, and annoyance. "So you hadn't heard the news," she continued, her voice practically a purr. "Lucky me."
"Scarlet, I do not care what you have to say," Hojo stated matter-of-factly. "I do not care for office politics or gossip, and if you must share, then go share with Reeve. He's the only one patient enough to deal with you," he added in a grumble, "and I, unlike you, am busy and value my work." With that, he turned his attention back to Red XIII, who had pricked an ear up at the conversation. "Leave."
Scarlet dramatically sighed. "Such sharp words..." Her ruby-red lips pursed in distaste, and without another word, she handed Hojo a rectangular display screen.
Hojo arched an eyebrow at it. "What is this?"
"You'll like it," Scarlet said flatly. "Trust me."
"I trust this specimen more than I trust you," Hojo replied, yet his curiosity got the better of him, and he took the screen.
Scarlet leaned against the wall and, crossing her arms over her generous chest, scowled and said, "You're welcome."
Hojo glared at her before turning on the display. Shinra's logo flashed onto the screen as it loaded, but then the image suddenly changed. All of a sudden he was looking at a photograph, an extremely blurry one, with a geostamp and serial number printed on the top right-hand corner. The geostamp declared the image from Loveless Plaza, Sector Eight, Midgar, and so he immediately assumed that the snapshot had been lifted off of an infantryman's body camera.
Hojo loudly sighed. "I don't have time to review footage off of Shinra grunts, Scarlet. As I have said before -"
"Oh, stop whining and look at the image," Scarlet snapped. "You think I would really want to come to your disgusting laboratory just to show you crap?"
Hojo's lips flattened into a thin, white line, and he turned back to the image. It was far too blurry to make out any distinct shapes, and what he could see was irregular and shadowed, with the exception of two bright-green orbs hovering in the center of the image.
And then it clicked.
Mako eyes, Hojo knew immediately. SOLDIER eyes.
Hojo held the screen a bit tighter. Now that his mind had a point of reference, the face surrounding the luminous eyes quickly became apparent. He could make out eyebrows knitted in concentration. Dark hair whipped back in the wind. White teeth pulled back in a snarl. A cross-shaped scar, just dark enough to stand out against the man's jaw.
And just like that, Hojo knew exactly who was in that photo.
Sample Z, he realized.
The specimen is alive.
Scarlet grinned at his reaction. "I thought you might have enjoyed that."
But Hojo didn't respond. He was far too lost in the workings of his own mind, the memories, the stark realization that Samples Z had not been killed outside of Midgar. That somehow, one way or another, Sample Z had survived - and possibly Sample C as well, Hojo thought, a slow grin sharpening his lips. He gaze flicked to Scarlet, and the intelligence with them – that mad fire – burned bright beneath his owl-like glasses. "When did you get this?"
"Earlier today, actually." Scarlet leaned against the wall and crossed her arm over her full chest. Her diamond bracelet was dazzling, even beneath the lukewarm laboratory lights, and her smile was even more so. Most men would have fallen to their knees before that smile. In fact, many had, but it's shine was lost on Hojo. She knew that, yet she smiled just the same. "It's amazing what sort of pull the head of the Weapons Development department has."
"I'm sure."
"But enough of that. Yes, your previous specimen seems to be alive and well – and in Midgar, no less," Scarlet said.
Hojo frowned. "So it seems."
"But that's not all I wanted to show you. Swipe to the next picture." Scarlet leaned forward, and her red dress shifted against her hips like water. "If you liked that one, then you'll like this one even more."
"You don't get order me me around in my own lab," Hojo told her, but obediently flicked to the next image anyway.
This photograph, while not quite as blurry as the one previous, depicted a very different scene. According to its geotag, it had been lifted off of a security camera within Mako Reactor One's mako storage tank, and the timestamp dated the image as just minutes before the entire reactor blew.
Hojo's eyes flicked across the screen. Within the image were two men seemingly holding their own against a Scorpion Sentinel, a weapon Hojo had conceptualized before gifting to Shinra's Advanced Weaponry Division. The sentry-like robot appeared to be heavily damaged, with long tears cut into its metal and limbs hacked away as if with a machete. Bullet holes peppered its sides, and as Hojo shifted his gaze to the two men fighting it, he quickly realized why. One of the men, the much larger and darker of the two, had a prosthetic machine gun grafted to his arm.
Meanwhile, the other man seemed responsible for the long rips and tears along the sentry. His gunblade was angled behind him in preparation to strike, and his body - thin, lean, and pale - was twisted as if dodging bullets.
Hojo's gaze lingered on this particular figure. His eyes flicked across its form, taking in the familiarity, before resting on its face. At its messy blond hair that stuck up in every which way before traveling further down, taking in the grimace etched onto its features, and its eyes -
- its luminous, mako-stained, slitted eyes.
Eyes that reminded Hojo of Sephiroth. Of JENOVA. Of his REUNION hypothesis.
Hojo's eyes widened a fraction as realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.
Sample C?
But that was…. Well, that was impossible. Sample C had gone catatonic due to severe mako poisoning, to the point where Hojo wouldn't have been surprised if Sample C had remained vegetative the rest of its shortened days. Therefore, there was simply no conceivable way Sample C should even be awake and alert, let alone be holding a weapon and fighting against one of Shinra's most powerful mechanic weapons... and winning.
And yet, there Sample C was. Awake. Alert. And with slitted eyes, just like Sephiroth's had been. Not even the successful REUNION samples hadn't been able to accomplish that.
Hojo ran a thin hand along his chin. Perhaps he had been a bit… hasty… to label Sample C as a failure. Perhaps he should have held on to Sample C a bit longer, just for observation, just to see what would happen.
But, he thought as a thin, sharp smile curved Hojo's lips, better late than never.
"The only reason I recognized your precious specimens," Scarlet said, dragging Hojo out of his thoughts, "was because I recalled when you offered to sell the two of them to the my department, back in your experiment's early stages. Prior to labeling them as failures as disposing of them, of course," Scarlet added offhandedly. Casting Hojo a heavy-lidded gaze, she continued, "As you know, I never forget a pretty face."
But Hojo hadn't seemed to have heard her. "I want all of Sample Z and Sample C's old files," he ordered, without giving her back the display screen. "All of them. Unearth them from the Nibelheim manor if you have to, but I need -"
"What makes you think you can order me around in your lab?" Scarlet interrupted. Hojo immediately went silent as she pushed herself off of the wall, and her bracelet glittered beneath the laboratory lights as she casually waved in his general direction. "If those files are so important," she continued, "go get them yourself. I'm done here."
Hojo scowled at her as Scarlet walked to the door, but not before she briefly paused outside of Red XIII's cell. "Hi, kitty," she purred. Red XIII growled in response, and she released a long, shrill laugh – one that echoed in the laboratory long after she had left.
Fun Fact: this chapter's first edition was just over 3000 words. Now we're just over 8000. Not entirely sure how that happened!
I know that this chapter doesn't include our favorite boys or flower girl (I'm sorry!), but I promise that I'll make it up to you next week! I've already started working on the chapter, and it's making me so emotional... I'll start posting previews on my twitter ( Rand0mSmil3z) so if you'd like to see them, feel free to follow :)
Also, if you like my writing, there's a link to both my Ko-Fi account and my original books on my profile (genres are Fantasy and LitRPG). It would mean the world if you'd support my writing there, but of course, there is absolutely no pressure to do so - if you're happy with Halcyon Days, then I'm happy :)
Next chapter will update next Friday on August 7th. Until then, stay safe and healthy, and I wish you all the best :)
