Hi, everyone! Three cheers for an early update! I am having such a blast with this fic. I've always been a sucker for Hojo and his lab, and I was blown away by the remake's version of Hojo. He was perfect. I re-uploaded chapter one to correct a few typos (no matter how many times I proofread, a few always slip through the cracks!) and now here is chapter two! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or left a favorite/kudos. You all keep me going. I hope you like chapter two!

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There has been a fire in Nibelheim.

The call wakes you up at 4 AM. It's Hojo.

"…'lo?" you answer, still half asleep.

"Lab. Now." Click.

You groan into your pillow before forcing your stiff body out of bed. You pull on your clothes, brush your teeth, and head out the door. You're halfway to the lab when you realize you put your shirt on inside out. Shinra's free coffee bar isn't open yet, so you go straight to the sixty-fifth floor.

Hojo is in a state you've never seen him in before. He's pacing furiously around the lab, grabbing papers seemingly at random and throwing them haphazardly into a briefcase. You can hear his teeth gnash together from across the room and fistfuls of long, stringy, black hair fall to the floor as he pulls it loose. You spot Clark and Julia tucked in the corner to keep out of Hojo's way. It brings you some consolation that Clark's shirt is also inside out. Julia is sipping coffee from a mug she must have brought from home. Ugh. Why didn't you think of that?

Hojo finally notices that you've entered the room. "Took you long enough." he sneers. "Now that you're all finally here, listen. We're relocating to Nibelheim. I'm leaving now. You will join me tomorrow. You'll be given a memo on the flight over with the details. In the meantime, pack up everything on this list." He thrusts a small stack of papers into your arms.

Neither you, Clark, nor Julia move. You think they're also still trying to process the fact that you're being asked to move continents tomorrow.

"…how long will we be in Nibelheim?" Clark asks.

"Indefinitely. Now get packing."

You all snap to action. You wrap delicate glassware, package syringes, and box machinery, all the while thinking with a heavy heart about the call you will have to make to your sister to let her know that you won't be able to make it home to be there when her baby is born.

Before Hojo leaves, he calls you, Clark, and Julia together to inform you that you are forbidden from telling anyone that you're going to Nibelheim. He doesn't offer an explanation, but promises that you will be beyond sorry if anything slips.

This makes it even more difficult to explain to your family that you're not coming home.

"But where are they sending you?" your mom asks for the seventh time.

"I can't tell you." you repeat. "I am so, so sorry."

"And they're not even telling you how long you're going to be out of town?" your dad asks incredulously.

"No, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," your sister reassures you. "We know you do what you have to do."

You want to tell her that you wish you didn't have to, but your dad is listening and you don't want to put any guilt on him for being the reason why you can't lose this job. But you can't think of anything else to say and a lump is rapidly forming in your throat, so you tell them that you love them and hang up.

You ask your landlord to find a sublease for your apartment and give your perishable food to your neighbor. One packed suitcase later, you are ready to go. Almost, at least. You turn back at the last second to grab your houseplant. You can't bring yourself to leave it behind.

It takes a full day to get to Nibelheim. The mountains are treacherous to cross, even by air, and the turbulence is so bad in areas that you're sure the helicopter will go down. Soil from your houseplant bounces out of the pot and onto the floor. Julia frowns at you. You ignore her and turn your attention to the document titled "The Nibelheim Incident."

Holy…

Sephiroth, the pride of Shinra, decimated the entire village of Nibelheim. Sephiroth, Hojo's greatest triumph, is dead.

You think back to Sephiroth's visits to the lab. You try to find a memory, any memory, that would link the man you knew then to the man who murdered dozens of innocents. You remember being intimidated by him, but that was mostly because of his reputation, not because he ever threatened you personally. No…from what you remember, Sephiroth had always been polite. Distant, but polite…

So why did he burn down a village?

There's a small footnote written in Hojo's spiky script. It reads "Proximity to J-E-N-O-V-A…?"

Towards the end of the memo, you read that Zack Fair was killed in action. A twinge of sadness hits your heart at the news. He had been so kind. A handful of unnamed infantrymen are also listed among the casualties. No survivors are reported from Nibelheim.

You eventually land on the slopes of the Nibel Mountains, which is when your mom texts you a photo of your exhausted, but proud sister holding the tiny bundle that is your nephew. You send a flood of excited and congratulatory emojis and desperately wish you were there with them instead of at the outskirts of a literal ghost town.

Hojo is waiting at the landing pad with a black, Shinra-issued van. You file into the back of the van and carefully balance your houseplant on your lap. It's looking a little droopy, but you think it will pull through. It's you, Julia, and Clark from the Midgar lab, and two men who introduce themselves as Dom and Barnes. They're not researchers; they're there to provide security and "do the heavy lifting," whatever that means. They're both easily over six feet and carry at least two hundred pounds of burly muscle. Tattoos creep over Dom's shirt collar and down both of his arms. Barnes' hair is cropped close to his head.

The van passes through the burnt-out shell that was Nibelheim. A small team of Shinra personnel swarm the town, clearing away debris. You think you spot the sleek, black uniform of a Turk, but the van turns before you're sure.

"The memo said there are no survivors." Julia mentions. She says this dispassionately, like an entire village being wiped out is nothing consequential. You try to not imagine your own hometown being burnt to ashes, your family, friends, and neighbors reduced to dust.

"That's the official, internal company line, yes." Hojo says from the front. "But between just us, there were."

He lets that statement hang ominously in the air.

The van makes a pass by the Nibelheim mako reactor. It's still operational, but you catch a glimpse of scorch marks by the entrance, a metal door twisted off its hinges.

"Sephiroth really did this…?" Clark asks in a whisper. You remember that he is an admirer of Sephiroth, always trying to catch his eye during lab visits. You feel for him. It must be tough learning that your hero went on a murderous rampage and died.

The Shinra mansion is dull, gray, and shrouded in mist when the van pulls in. You're grateful for the sweater your mom knitted for you from your sister's sheep's wool. There's a heaviness in the air that makes your shoulders sag. Your apartment in Midgar seems like paradise in comparison, even though it smelled of mako and the constant hum of the reactors kept you up at night.

You're told to pick a room and to meet in the lab for a debriefing in an hour. There are at least fifty musty rooms to choose from. You pick one on the third floor, as far away from the lab as possible. When the mist clears, if the mist clears, you will have a stunning view of the Nibel Valley. You set your plant on the windowsill and water it.

The lab is in the basement, accessible either by a ladder that plunges into a labyrinth of catacombs or by a much more practical staircase that winds down from the living room. The entrance can be hidden behind a bookcase, which you find cliché and somewhat ridiculous. After all, who the hell would ever find this mansion, let alone want to break in?

You go downstairs. The oppressive atmosphere shrouding the mansion only grows with every step you take downwards. The ceiling is unusually low, triggering a pang of claustrophobia you didn't know you had. The lighting doesn't help. It's weak, it flickers, and it casts everything in a faint, green glow. The stairs let out in a circular atrium with doors and corridors lining its walls. Directly across from the stairs is a long hallway. You can see the glint of a steel operating table at the far end. The lab. You move towards it. Hojo is waiting for you.

You have just enough time to acknowledge Hojo with a nod before you catch sight of what, or rather who, is behind him. A dull roar floods your ears and your vision narrows to a pinprick until all you can see is Zack Fair, the SOLDIER First Class who is supposed to be dead.

Except he's not.

He's floating in a tank of mako very much alive. His fists pound against the glass and his eyes, which you have only ever known to contain energetic confidence and optimism, are narrowed in pure rage. His teeth are bared in a snarl and his mouth is moving, probably yelling, but the glass swallows the sound. There's a barcode and Shinra logo tattooed just beneath his left collarbone and a collection of scars across his chest. He catches your eye. A flicker of recognition flashes across his face. You hold his gaze, unable to mask the shock and horror in yours. He's mouthing something at you."Get us out." you read.

Your initial instinct is to bound over to those mako tanks and slam your hand on the "open" button.

…but how can you?

Hojo stands between you and them. Could you expect to get to them before someone stopped you? You don't like your odds against people like Dom and Barnes. And even if you could release them, where would that leave you? Jobless, at best, without the means to fund your father's cancer treatments.

Zack begs you again.

You hate yourself, but you look away.

Your eyes land on a second mako tank. Your knees grow weak when you see that another person, perhaps one of the reportedly "dead" infantrymen, floats in it. He's small, blond, and also tattooed with a barcode and Shinra logo. There's a deep wound on his abdomen that appears to have only just started knitting itself together. His chest heaves irregularly, his hands clawing alternately at his throat and at the glass. He can't breathe the mako as easily as Zack. His fingernails are torn and raw and there are scratch marks coating this neck. You watch him kick himself to the top of the mako tank and press his mouth against the ceiling searching for pockets of air.

You suddenly find that your legs don't want to hold you up. You stagger to a wall and lean heavily against it. Your hearing slowly comes back, like an old radio tuning into a station. You find that Hojo has been speaking this whole time.

"…near-death at the reactor. From reviewing the security camera footage, I learned that TS-2," Hojo points to Zack, "weakened Sephiroth, but it was TS-3," he points to the blond, "who struck the killing blow." Hojo's voice trembles with fury. "It should have been impossible for the likes of a common SOLDIER and some nobody infantryman to defeat Sephiroth."

You privately think that Zack is far from a common SOLDIER, but agree with Hojo's assessment of the blond. You can't imagine TS-3, who is writhing pathetically in mako, wielding any kind of weapon, let alone killing Sephiroth.

"Not only does Sephiroth's death represent a loss of millions of gil of investment for the company, it is also a serious blight on my professional reputation. I refuse to accept that Sephiroth was killed by a couple of low-level nobodies. There must be something exceptional about them…even if appearances are deceiving."

Hojo approaches the tanks and points to Zack's scars, ignoring the dull thuds caused by Zack's fists slamming against the glass. "As you can see, TS-2 has all but recovered from his wounds, owing to his prior enhancements as SOLDIER. TS-3's wounds, however, are taking much longer to heal, although their progress has been accelerated somewhat by the mako…which TS-3 has a remarkably weak tolerance for." Hojo pauses to watch TS-3 thrash in his tank with disgust.

"Tomorrow, we will examine TS-2 and TS-3." Hojo hands you, Clark, and Julia packets outlining the procedure. You glance at it and instantly become nauseous. Zack and TS-3 are not in for a good time. "We must investigate every cell in their bodies to learn what made them strong enough to walk away victorious from a battle with Sephiroth. The President is expecting a full report by the end of the week, so we must document everything. We must be thorough. Understood?"

Julia mutters "Sir," but you and Clark remain silent. You wonder if his vocal cords are also refusing to work, same as yours.

"I need not remind you that none of this leaves this building." Hojo says. Although his tone is casual, there's an undercurrent of threat in his voice. "The Nibelheim Incident is highly sensitive information that few have the clearance to know. Even fewer are permitted to know the fates of Sephiroth, TS-2, TS-3, and other survivors."

Other survivors?! Your head swivels, anticipating to see more mako tanks with humans lining the walls behind you. There are none. Before you can ask Hojo what he means by "other survivors," he tells you to report to the lab at 7 AM tomorrow, enters his office, and shuts the door behind him.

Julia, Barnes, and Dom immediately leave to go back upstairs, but you and Clark linger for a moment. He catches your eye. You're not sure if he's looking for guidance, reassurance, or just a companion to share his disbelief with. You can't offer him anything.

You don't remember walking back to your room, only sitting down heavily on your bed with your head cradled in your hands. You can't shake the memory of Zack Fair, the man who saved your life suspended in mako, branded by Shinra, You blink and see images of TS-3 choking on mako, nails torn to bleeding stumps as he claws uselessly against the glass.

Humans. You're going to be experimenting on live humans.

Your heart kicks into overdrive and suddenly you can't breathe. Somewhere, there's a wild, high-pitched, ragged sob - is that you? - and next thing you know you're on the ground, your cheek pressed against the gritty floorboards. Tears stream freely down your face, there's a hard rock in your stomach, and your limbs are numb.

You can't do this. You cannot do this.

Coherent thought returns to you after dark. The sky outside your window shows an amazing constellation of stars you never got to see in Midgar. You still think that you can't do this.

But how are you going to explain to your family that your father will lose his medicine?

You have to do this.

But how could you face them after cutting into live people?

You can't do this.

But how could you choose the lives of two strangers over your father's?

You have to do this.

But how could you condemn two innocents to torture when nature has decided it's your father's time to go?

You can't do this.

Your phone dings. Your sister has sent you a picture. It's your dad holding your nephew, his first grandchild, for the first time.

You have to do this.

You dry-swallow a sleeping pill and set your alarm for 6 AM.

You enter the lab at 6:52 AM, coffee in hand, but your stomach is too queasy to take it in. Despite the sleeping pill, you slept fitfully during the night, dreaming of your family strapped to operating tables while you eviscerate them alive.

From his tank, Zack glares at you with furious eyes. TS-3 has his hands clamped over his nose and mouth, as if his fingers can lessen the burn of mako flooding his lungs with every breath.

Julia is leaning against an operating table studying Zack and TS-3 indifferently, apparently not at all uncomfortable with the fact that she's looking at two people held in captivity against their will. Clark sidles in after you, the lines under his eyes as deep and dark as your own. Dom and Barnes saunter past you and station themselves against the wall in the corner. Hojo is the last to arrive, although he is still early at 6:59 AM.

There's no morning greeting, no small talk. Hojo gets straight to business. He passes out folders containing information on Zack and TS-3, whose name you learn is Cloud Strife upon opening his file. You wish you hadn't learned his name. It might have been easier to think of him as TS-3. You review the files as a team. Zack Fair is, as you already know, a SOLDIER First Class, and therefore already has mako enhancements. Cloud Strife is, as Hojo puts it, a nobody who couldn't even make SOLDIER, but you should be alert for any anomalies in his cells. He did, after all, kill Sephiroth, so there must be something that sets him apart.

You learn that Zack Fair is eighteen years old. Cloud Strife is sixteen years old. They're fucking kids. You swallow bile.

Hojo assigns the team their roles and asks everyone to get started. While you wait in line to wash your hands, you pull up the picture of your dad and nephew on your phone. This is why you're doing this. You stare at the picture until it is burned into your mind. This is why you're doing this.

Hojo asks you to drain the mako tanks. Cloud's knees buckle as the mako supporting him drains into the floor, but Zack, accustomed to mako baths from his time in SOLDIER, remains standing. Cloud vomits raw mako and convulses violently as his body expunges its remnants from his lungs. He lays on his side, chest heaving, as he sucks in his first breaths of air in days. Zack pounds furiously against the glass, looking desperate to rush to Cloud's side.

You glance at Hojo for confirmation. He nods his assent. You release sleeping gas into the mako chambers. Cloud is knocked out almost immediately, but Zack resists for a full minute before succumbing. Hojo scribbles on his clipboard, muttering "Up the concentration…" under his breath. He waves a hand at Barnes and Dom. "Put them on the table." he says.

You turn on the fans that suck the sleeping gas out of the tanks before unlocking the doors. They pop open with a loud hiss and the overwhelmingly repugnant odor of mako fills the room. It's strong enough to make you gag.

Cloud and Zack are dead weight between Dom and Barnes. They dump them on the operating tables and secure them to the table at their wrists, ankles, hips, and foreheads.

Within minutes, the sleeping gas starts to wear off.

Zack is the first to wake.

"The fuck is this?!" His voice is hoarse, but murderous. "Are you crazy?! You can't do this!"

"Cast silence." Hojo says, not even looking up from his clipboard.

"Fuck you." Zack spits. "You can't do this. Let us go now."

"Cast silence." Hojo repeats. He glances up to see that no one in the room has moved. "Do you mean to tell me none of you are materia users?" he asks, barely audible over Zack's cursing. "Useless, absolutely useless."

He rifles through a drawer, pulls out a roll of duct tape, and throws it at you. "Make him shut up." he says.

Zack snarls "Just you fucking try," but you barely hear him over the roaring in your ears.

You stare at the duct tape in your hands.

Are you really about to do this?

Your dad. Your nephew.

You are.

You fumble with the lip of the tape and nearly drop the roll before you're able to tear off a piece.

"Come near me and I'll bite your fucking fingers off." Zack threatens. You can see in his expression that he means it. "I saved your life and this is the thanks I get?"

You glance helplessly around the room, looking for guidance. Hojo, too engrossed in scribbling on his clipboard, doesn't offer any, but Dom steps forward. "Here," he offers with a sinister smile. That smile becomes hard as he takes Zack's face between his massive, tattooed hands and forces Zack's jaw shut. You hear Zack's teeth grind together. "Now try."

You pretend to not notice how much Dom seems to be enjoying this as you press the tape over Zack's face.

"You gotta put on more than that if you want to keep his trap shut." Dom advises with the air of a professional. Where the hell did Hojo find this guy? You layer on more tape until the lower half of Zack's face is covered. You make the mistake of meeting Zack's eyes. They cut daggers into you.

Heart racing, you step away as quickly as possible.

"What, no thank you?" Dom asks after you.

"Thank you." you mutter quietly.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'm here for." he says. He pats Zack's cheek with a little too much force to be friendly. "Someone's gotta keep them in line."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a goddamn hero, Dom." Barnes says. "Now shut up about it."

"Fuck off, Barnes." Dom responds without missing a beat.

A wet cough from the next table over lets you know that Cloud is waking up. He tries to move and stiffens when he realizes he can't. The rise and fall of his chest becomes frantic. His eyes dart from side to side, trying to take stock of his surroundings without being able to move his head.

"Silence him too, while you're at it." Hojo says.

You tear off another piece of duct tape. Cloud's eyes meet yours. He's trying to look strong, but you can see that he's terrified.

"Don't," he starts, but Dom's hands clamp his jaws shut before he can finish. You press the tape over his mouth. You might be imagining things, but Dom's hands linger for a second too long on Cloud's face and brush through his hair as he pulls his hands away after you're finished gagging him. No one else seems to notice.

Data collection begins. You start with the basics: height, weight, limb length, temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate. You record pupil dilatation response and iris color. Zack's eyes are the intense, mako blue that you associate with all SOLDIERs, but Cloud's are a natural, deep blue, the same color as the deep ocean or the sky at twilight. You know they won't stay that way, though, after a few more mako treatments. You check inside their ears, under their nails, listen to their lungs, and record any abrasions, scars, or birthmarks on their skin. You take a lock of hair, swab of saliva, sliver of skin, fingernail clipping, an eyelash, and several vials of blood.

You try your best to reduce them to their parts. Their skin is just skin. Their hair is just hair. Their blood is just blood.

But you can't. It's Zack's skin. Cloud's hair. Human blood.

And, try as you might, you can't conjure up the mental image of your dad and nephew to remind you why you're doing this.

Zack and Cloud never stop fighting their restraints. They can't talk, but their eyes say everything. They promise to end you if, no, when they break free.

You can't blame them.

Their bodies become rigid with apprehension when Hojo wheels out a tray of scalpels, forceps, clamps, files, scissors, needles, and thread. It's a familiar cue, and your feet automatically carry you to your place across from Hojo, same as you've done hundreds of times before. Except there has always been an animal or monster between you. This time, it's a skinny, scared teenager.

Cloud is the first victim. You're not sure if that's lucky or unlucky for him. It might be good to get things out of the way and not have to endure any anticipation. Actually, no, it's unlucky either way.

Hojo gently takes a scalpel between his spindly fingers and lets it hang in the air above Cloud. Cloud's eyes widen, his pupils narrowing to pinpricks. He is shaking. You hear his teeth chatter behind his gag. He looks so young. He is so young.

"Sir," you say suddenly, surprising yourself. "The subject is still recovering from a life-threatening injury. Is it really such a good idea to-"

"The mako will take care of any complications."

"Shouldn't we sedate hi-"

Hojo silences you with a sharp glance.

Speak up. Say something. Stop this.

"Sir," you try again, but Hojo interrupts you.

"Would you rather take his place?" he asks.

You keep quiet.

Hojo lowers the scalpel onto Cloud's trembling chest. As the cold metal touches his skin, Cloud inhales sharply through his nose and tugs violently at his restraints. But there's nowhere to go. He's pinned.

You're such a goddamn coward. You are such a fucking coward.

Hojo lets the blade rest on top of Cloud's skin. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he slowly, luxuriously inhales Cloud's fear. "Let's open you up and see what makes you so special." he croons. "Let's find out how you, a nobody, managed to defeat Sephiroth."

Behind you, a muffled roar tears itself from Zack's throat. You glance over your shoulder to see him fighting harder than ever against his restraints. Blood pools around his wrists and ankles as the cuffs tear open his skin. His eyes are hard, determined, menacing. This seems to amuse Hojo.

"Look how he struggles." Hojo mocks. "No doubt such tenacity is what kept him alive after losing to Sephiroth. How intriguing it will be to learn what secrets he's hiding under his skin too."

Zack growls something that sounds like "don't touch him" but the duct tape swallows his words. His fists clench, his fingernails digging into his palms.

Cloud, scalpel still resting on his chest, is hyperventilating now. Tiny whimpers escape from behind his gag. He's tugging at his restraints, and you know it's only a matter of time before his skin tears and blood drips down his wrists and ankles like Zack's. He's just a kid. His eyes dart frantically around the room and land on you. They beg you not to do this.

Stop this.

But you can't. You don't know how to.

You monster. You selfish piece of shit.

Hojo presses the blade against Cloud's chest, adding more, more, and more pressure until the razor-thin metal splits Cloud's skin like butter. Cloud howls in painterror as Hojo slowly, ever so slowly, deepens the incision and pulls the blade from Cloud's chest to his hips, making the Y-incision you have only ever seen during autopsies. Hojo is using a harmonic scalpel, one that cauterizes tissue as he goes, so there is surprisingly little blood. It's somehow worse that way.

The stench of burning flesh fills the air.

Your soul dies.

Zack is fighting so fiercely against his restraints that he's managed to loosen the screws that bolt the operating table to the floor. The table shakes ominously, each metallic clang a warning that you are dead should Zack's restraints fail.

Hojo doesn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he looks at Zack and smiles hideously as he finishes the last cut completing the Y-incision.

Cloud's screaming intensifies when Hojo asks you to peel back Cloud's skin and secure it open so he can dive into Cloud's insides. You ask god, any god, to forgive you, and pull back the skin to reveal glistening muscle, flexing in time with Cloud's cries of agony. You look away.

Hojo takes his time peeling apart muscle to reach the organs and delicate tissues underneath. He is precise, methodic, and unbothered by the gut-wrenching screams that continue to claw themselves out of Cloud's throat. Tears stream down Cloud's face, his eyes wide open, but blinded by pain. Hojo seems to anticipate Cloud's twisting and jerking beneath his blade, and moves his knife in time with the motions. He's an expert at dissecting live specimen.

Cold sweat pours down your back. You see everything in perfect clarity and through a fog at the same time. You try to recall the picture of your dad and nephew again. You can't.

Finally, finally, finally, Cloud quiets. With a deep, staggering sigh, his eyes roll to the back of his head. His body goes limp.

Zack also grows quiet, his eyes straining to catch sight of his friend despite the restraints holding his head in place. You can see from his expression that he fears the worst. You would too, if you couldn't see Cloud's heart pumping through his ribcage.

"Specimen TS-3 fell unconscious eight minutes and seven seconds after initial incision." Hojo says, indicating to Julia to take down notes. "Disappointingly average."

Hojo continues to rifle around in Cloud's abdomen, collecting tissue samples, and asking Julia to record this and that, until finally, he rocks back onto his heels and sighs, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing remarkable about this specimen upon initial investigation. Cell analysis may reveal something more, but I doubt it."

He lifts Cloud's eyelid with a bloodied finger. "What makes you so special? Why were you able to defeat Sephiroth?"

Cloud, understandably, doesn't reply.

"No matter." Hojo peels off his bloody gloves, replaces them, and wheels a new tray of surgical equipment to Zack's table. Zack's face is stained with hot, angry tears, his wrists and ankles a raw, bloody pulp from his struggles.

"Stitch up TS-3, record his vitals, and put him in the tank." Hojo instructs you before turning his attention to Zack. Julia replaces you in assisting Hojo with Zack while you stitch Cloud back together. His organs and muscle glisten under the lights. Your stitches are uneven. Messy. You can't stop your hands from shaking. Tears slip from your eyes and into Cloud's open chest. You roughly scrub your forearm against your face to dry them. You didn't even realize you are crying.

It's not long before Zack's screams ring through the stagnant air. You want to go back to a time when you didn't know Zack could make noises like that.

Finally, Cloud is stitched back together. It's all you can do to stumble to a chair before your legs give out underneath you. Your entire body has gone numb, but your heart is pounding violently against your chest. There's not enough air in the room, and the air that is there is contaminated by blood, sweat, and fear. You fumble with your blood-soaked gloves. You can't get them off.

Dom and Barnes undo Cloud's restraints and drag his limp body back to the mako tank. They're none too gentle. Cloud's head smacks against the door with a dull thud as they load him in. Clark must recognize that you're not going to be able to move from the chair you collapsed in anytime soon and takes the initiative to fill Cloud's tank with mako. Cloud's body is carried up from bottom of the tank to float just above the floor, his bare toes brushing the metal grating. The Y-shaped cut on his chest is red, angry, and inflamed.

Wouldn't it be kinder if he never woke up?

Zack is still screaming, screaming, screaming… How could he still be awake? Please…let him pass out soon…

"SOLDIER mako enhancements have increased TS-2's pain threshold beyond the average human's." Hojo dictates. With a snap, you realize that it's your turn to take notes. Luckily, there's a notepad and pen nearby, so there's no need to risk climbing onto your unsteady legs.

You're glad to have an excuse to keep your eyes focused on something besides the torture unfolding right in front of you. Your pen scratches over the paper capturing Hojo's monologue that he has to shout over Zack's muffled screaming. Clark is still standing by Cloud's mako tank, picking at his nails, looking like he desperately wished he were anywhere else but there. Barnes is scrolling through his phone, indifferent to the torture happening six feet in front of him. Julia is holding open Zack's skin, unfazed. Dom's eyes are locked onto the gore, a smile playing over his face.

Hojo pokes and prods around in Zack's abdomen. You keep your eyes fixed on the paper, but you can still hear the wet slop of organs rubbing against each other. At least Zack finally seems to be tiring, his screams fading to whimpers. His eyes are glassy, tears leaking from the sides onto the table below.

"TS-2 went into shock at twenty minutes and forty-two seconds." Hojo dictates. You copy that down. "Stitch him up." he tells Julia. She stabs the needle into Zack's flesh with cold precision, her stitches infinitely neater and more even than yours. Her hands are not shaking.

Zack's skin is gray, his eyes vacant. You wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't pull through. Mako or not, you have never heard of anyone undergoing a live autopsy before, let alone surviving it.

"There was also nothing outwardly remarkable about this specimen." Hojo complains, throwing his gloves into the trash. "We'll still analyze his cell samples, but again, I don't anticipate much more than typical SOLDIER enhancements."

You pretend like you're still taking notes so you don't have to look at Zack.

"To have had my prized project defeated by two nobodies…" Hojo leans over Zack to stare directly into his hazed eyes. "It's embarrassing. A blight on my record. I'm sure you understand."

Zack stares blankly at the ceiling, catatonic.

Hojo's voice is bitter. "They're asking if it's time to replace me. Imbeciles. I'll show them… I have to prove… I must create something greater. …and where else better to start than with those who toppled the greatest?" He runs the back of his hand across Zack's face, wiping away residual tears.

Once Zack is placed back in his mako tank, Barnes is assigned first watch while you begin data entry. Julia preps the samples harvested from Cloud and Zack for analysis, and Clark cleans and sanitizes the bloodied exam tables. Hojo is still muttering under his breath when he shuts himself in his office. Even though there was nothing apparently special about Cloud or Zack, a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that the professor isn't finished with them yet.

You finish data entry and help Julia store the remaining samples that will be saved for record keeping. Clark wipes down the operating tables one last time, leaving behind stainless steel so pristine that you never would believe blood has ever touched its surface if you didn't witness it happen that morning. Barnes is tucked in the corner, still scrolling through his phone, apparently bored to tears.

Cloud and Zack are motionless in their tanks. Amazingly, their skin has regained some color, and Zack's surgical incisions already appear to be healing. Cloud's is still fresh and raw, but it's clean, at least. They're both awake, but don't have enough energy to do anything besides watch you approach through half-lidded eyes. You meet Cloud's eyes through the glass.

In an instant, you realize you're staring. His eyes on yours feel accusatory. Pleading. You look away. You need to get out of the lab.

You race up the winding staircase, cross the lobby, and sprint to your room. You change into running clothes and burst out of the mansion's front door, not quite sure where you're going, only knowing that you have to get out.

Because it's the only path you know, you turn onto the road that leads to the ruins of Nibelheim. Your brisk walk turns into a jog, then a full-out sprint. You push yourself to go faster, faster, to get away from that gray mansion with its suffocating basement and flickering lights and mako air and maniacal scientists and test subjects who are human beings.

Your lungs are screaming, but at least they're sucking in fresh, mountain air, not mako, your legs are turning to rubber beneath you, but at least you're running free outside, not shoved in a tank barely wider than you are…

You're running blind now, your mind's eye replaying moments from that morning over and over again on an endless repeat.

Your feet pound against the gravel.

Cloud hyperventilating underneath a scalpel.

Sweat pours down your face.

Zack's screams echoing off the walls.

Dust flies into your eyes.

Hot, pulsing tissue underneath your hands.

Your legs finally give outand you go sprawling across the road. Grit and rubble scrape your palms, forearms, knees, and shins. When you slide to a stop, all you can do is lay on your side gasping for air. Blood pounds hotly through your veins. You drop your head onto the gravel and roll onto your back, needing a moment to lay there and recover your senses.

The sky is a stunning painting of blues, golds, pinks, and oranges. It's a sight Cloud and Zack will never see again. You close your eyes to shut it out and you cry.

The sun has set beyond the mountains by the time you drag yourself back to the mansion. It's even more depressing in the twilight. You rinse off, dab salve onto your wounds, and take your dinner back to your room. You pass Julia in the hallway. She ignores you and you ignore her. It's just easier that way.

As you eat, you check your phone. Your sister has sent more pictures of your nephew. Evan, they're calling him. One photo in particular nearly makes you drop your fork. Evan's eyes are the perfect copy of Cloud's.

Your barely existent appetite vanishes in an instant.

You throw the uneaten remnants of your dinner into the trash. You try to reply to your sister, but you can't type anything that doesn't sound hollow and fake. You leave her on read, toss your phone onto the nightstand, and pop two sleeping pills.

You dream of being at home with your family. You're around the dinner table, enjoying a meal with food your sister grew herself. You're all laughing, swapping stories. Your dad is radiant. Evan is there, swaddled in one of your mother's homemade blankets. Your sister asks you to hold him. You take him gently in your arms, marveling at this tiny life your sister made. Evan's Cloud-blue eyes stare up at you.

They accuse you.

You start moving on autopilot. Horrified, you watch your hands place Evan on the table and remove him from his blanket. You grab the carving knife from the ham. Your family is screaming, your sister begging you to stop. You don't. You make the Y-incision, so small on Evan's tiny body. Tears stream down your face. You can't stop.

Evan is the only one who's not screaming. He stares at you, unflinching. You monster, his eyes say. You peel back his skin and find muscle, bone, and organ. The knife grows slippery in your hands. You remove his organs and set them on the table. His stomach on the salad. His liver in the breadbasket. His intestines with the pasta.

Your family is howling as if they are the ones being cut apart. But Evan, eviscerated and bloody, remains silent. His eyes follow you.

He knows what you are.

He knows what you've done.

Monster.

You wake up violently, drenched in sweat and tangled in your blankets. You barely make it to your trash can before vomiting over last night's dinner.

You sink to your knees, your fingers tangling with your hair. You spit a few times to clear the taste of bile from your mouth, but the bitter taste remains.

The clock reads 3 AM. Four hours before you're due in the lab. There's no way you're going to be able to fall back asleep.

You seal up your bag of vomit and take it to the dumpster out back. The sky is clear and the stars are more radiant than you've ever seen. Yet, they make no impression on you. You feel dead inside.

On an impulse, you pull out your phone and dial your dad.

He picks up on the fifth ring. "…hello?" he answers groggily.

"Hey, dad."

"Why are you calling so early? Is everything okay?" he asks, sounding more alert by the second.

"Yeah," you lie, although your voice breaks as you say it. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just… I just wanted to hear your voice, that's all. How's Evan?"

You hear your dad get out of bed. He must be moving to the kitchen where he won't wake your mom.

"Evan's wonderful." your dad says. There's a note of awe in his voice that you've only heard a few times before, like at your graduation ceremony. "He's a real gem. You're going to love him."

"Yeah…yeah, I bet." you say. "Can't wait."

"Listen…are you sure you're okay? It's not too bad out where you're at, is it?"

You can't bring yourself to lie to him again. You can't bring yourself to say anything at all. The staggering breath you take as you try to compose yourself must tell your dad everything he needs to know, though.

"Hey, I don't know if you need to hear this, but…" he starts hesitantly. "But…I need you to know that you can do whatever you need to make sure you're happy. Okay? I mean that. I'll be fine with any decision you make. Your mother and sister will be too. We all just want what's best for you."

You can't help it. You break down then and there, sinking onto the gravel driveway, leaning against the dumpster.

"I'm sorry." you sob into the phone. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh, shh, it's okay. Really, it's okay. I love you. I love you so much. I want you to be happy, okay? We want you to be happy. You've done so much for us. You deserve to do something for yourself too."

It's a long time before you're able to calm yourself enough to tell your dad that you love him and say sorry again all in one breath.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." your dad says. "Do what you need to… I hope to have you back home soon."

As he hangs up, you know it's settled. You're going to trade your dad's life for your own.

It's 4 AM by the time you bring your laptop into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. The mansion's ancient pipes groan as you turn the water on. You have to let the tap run for a full minute before the rust-tinted water becomes clear. How could a building owned by the wealthiest company on the Planet be so rundown? Clearly the full budget had gone to the lab.

You boot up your computer and start drafting your resignation letter.

You're on your third cup of coffee and fourth draft of your letter when Julia and Clark come down for breakfast. Julia ignores you as usual, but Clark catches your eye and acknowledges you with a nod. He, like you, also seems to have difficulty eating. If anyone notices your red eyes and blotchy face, they don't say anything.

At 6:55, you all file down the stairs and into the lab. Hojo is bent over a computer looking like he hasn't slept at all. Zack and Cloud float silently in their tanks, apparently still exhausted from yesterday. Not too exhausted to glare at you, though.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. This is it. You approach Hojo.

"Sir, a word?" you ask Hojo.

"Later." he says and motions you away.

But you don't want to spend another second longer in that lab than you need to. "No, sir. I need to talk to you now."

Hojo scowls and looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time. He's not used to being challenged. Nevertheless, he motions to his office. You enter and he shuts the door.

He takes a seat behind his desk and slouches back in his chair. "I'm sure there's a very good reason why you are delaying the start of our day."

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, but your mind is made up. You really hope your dad means what he said over the phone. You reach into your pocket and pull out your resignation letter. "I am resigning. Effective immediately."

Hojo's scowl deepens as he takes the letter. "Are you, now?" he asks. He opens the folded paper and pretends to read it. "Any particular reason?"

I can't participate in human experimentation.

"I want to move back home to be with family." It's a half truth.

"I see." Hojo says. You know he knows the real reason. He steeples his fingers together and smiles. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to deny your request."

This catches you off guard. "Sir…sir, this is not a request. I am leaving."

Hojo laughs. He opens a drawer and reaches in to pull out a file. He rifles through it and pulls out a thick stack of papers.

"Do you recognize this? These are the papers you signed when you agreed to work for me."

"…I remember."

"Did you read through them carefully?"

You think back. That day, so long ago, was a blur. What you remember is the overwhelming relief of signing onto a job that would pay off your student loans. Thinking harder, you remember the recruiting agent hurried you through signing those papers. No…you didn't read through them carefully. You weren't given the chance.

Hojo's smile suggests that no one is ever given the chance to read through them carefully.

"On page thirty-five, section K, paragraph three, you'll find this passage." He highlights it for you in neon blue and hands you the papers.

Your mouth goes dry as you read the highlighted text.

"That's right." Hojo says. "Technically, you can leave. But Shinra will arrest and detain you if you do. You know too many secrets, secrets that could hurt the company should your tongue ever slip. So if you prefer to spend your days in a Shinra cell, then by all means, leave. That's what your colleague, John, or whatever his name was, eventually preferred. But I must warn you that Shinra views keeping prisoners as costly business…just as costly as feeding their guard dogs, in fact." He gives you a pointed look over his glasses as you realize what he's implying with horror. "So I would encourage you to not leave. In fact, I would prefer it if you stayed. We're about to begin some incredibly delicate experiments. I have neither the time nor patience to train a new employee." He stands and makes to exit the room. He claps you on the shoulder as he does so. "Have heart. You're good at what you do."

The door clicks shut behind him.

You remain frozen in your seat. There's a faint ringing in your ears. There's suddenly not enough air in the room. In fact, you're pretty sure there's an invisible pillow being pressed over your mouth and a band of iron around your ribs, suffocating you, you can't breath, you can't see, you can't think…

You emerge from Hojo's office after your panic attack subsides, eyes bloodshot, nose dripping, skin flushed. You look at Zack and Cloud, at the Shinra logo and barcode tattooed on their skin. You might not be branded, but you feel every bit as owned by Shinra as they are.

So that's where Joe had gone. He finally had enough and quit…only to land in a Shinra cell…probably fed to dogs.

Gods…

Could you make the same decision? You were just about to sacrifice your father's life to salvage your soul, after all.

No. You already know that you can't.

Coward.

You learn in that moment that you are more selfish than you ever knew.