Disclaimer: Square Enix owns my soul
Rating: R
Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis
Warnings: Language
A/N1: Yes, Master Chief is from Halo
A/N2: As always, thank you to everyone who is reading and following the story so far. And a special thanks to everyone who's left a review. Much love goes out to all of you.
To Nephilim Rising and Chance969, you both are awesome beta's. And I love you.
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The Gray Waste – frigid, remorseful, despairing. It is a state of being in where a person's world has become empty, cold, tasteless, colorless. All meaning has fled. A melancholy seeps into the soul, trapping and cocooning until there is naught left but a hollow shade of ones former self. The vines of sorrow, regret and grief grow longer and thicker, making an inescapable prison of desolation. This is the closest thing to Death the living can ever know.
In a world full of half-truths, misdirections, deceptions, and illusions, the lie of the state of Gray Waste is that it is not self-imposed. The misconception is that pain must be retained; it must, for some reason, be loved and be made precious. Joy is forbidden in this place, as Loneliness is a cherished consort.
Holy is the Alter of Loss; Hope has been abandoned.
Connections to the deeply beloved are required to be severed, and the enslaved ones are quick to cut the ties, relishing pain and rejecting pleasure. A chasm of black, vast and bottomless, overwhelms the place where a bond had been.
As impossible as it seems to leave the isolated Hell, most people do manage. Something pulls them out of that state. Maybe a memory, maybe the tedium of monotony of being in such a sad place, or maybe it just fades away on its own. Those who do return come back stronger and wiser; those who don't, perish.
For those with a destiny, The Grey Waste is a permanent home. To them, the faded world is not an illusion; there loneliness is not self-imposed. They were born companion-less, knowing better than to form any real attachments, because fate would eventually render them alone once more. Nothing or no one could color their passions, could make them see a living world. Grey, drab, cold, and utterly neutral, it painted their perceptions. Only when dancing along to the pipers tune, would the world become vibrant and magical, they could feel the spark of creation. When acting as good puppets for fate, their existence holds meaning, and they realize they are to become great. They allow themselves to form bonds; their companions are those who are predestined as well, and they let the spectrum of emotion inside.
For a little while, they leave home and are alive.
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Masamune sang softly as it sliced through the air; the melody a tune promising war and death. Such was the power of the weapon that glowing blue tracers danced to its harmonic rhythm. However, the blade had a different mission today, not one of painting a room or landscape crimson, but instead to etch its very existence into the memory of its wielder. Masamune was more than just an exquisitely crafted piece of steel; it was an entity unto itself, a living instrument of death – much like its present wielder, and to be effective, master and blade must be of one mind. The sword must become an extension of its bearers body, the physical representation of his will.
Going through the motions, Sephiroth felt hollow. There was no heat behind his actions, though as always, he moved with an unnatural, yet captivating, grace. Slice diagonally upward, jump back, stab, block, downward slash, block again, and counter-attack. These steps were memorized, improvision was unwarranted; they were merely going over the basics. The little spar with Angeal required almost no thought, so Sephiroth's mind was free to wander.
'I wonder what is Gen doing right now? Perhaps he is assisting in cadet training? Maybe he is on patrol at the pier? He could be learning how to operate the Sister Ray. Or possibly, he's no longer in Junon. Maybe he was assigned a squad already, and he is out on a real mission.'
Loath as he was to admit it, Sephiroth hated that Genesis was gone. While he had wanted his auburn angel to receive missions, he had forgotten the very first assignment all SOLDIER Third Classes were given was the month long stay at the Junon facility. There, they were given squads to trained, head their team on missions, and learn how to take responsibility for their own actions as well as the actions of others. They were taught to be leaders, commanders, and one day, hopefully, generals.
'But Gen is much smaller in comparison to the other boys, and even with the Mako, there are times when he is frail. And let me not forget, he can be rather obnoxious. Gen has a tendency to speak before he thinks. There has been more than one occasion where his mouth has gotten him into trouble. What if he says the wrong thing to one of the bigger guys and they hurt him? What if he gets too cocky with his squad and they decide they don't like him and gang up on him? What if there's an accident or a mission goes wrong and he gets injured. Or...or...what if he's met someone and...'
Sephiroth was less than pleased at the direction of his train of thoughts. For one thing, the silver SOLDIER was not so insecure, that he should even think that his lover of past and present had found someone else. It was pure absurdity. And for another, he was not Angeal Hewley. Yes, while Genesis welfare should be of minor concern, he, in no way, should be obsessing over it. Whatever befalls Genesis will happen. Sephiroth was content in the knowledge that he and the redhead would be together forever. Why then, did the thought of Gen being injured, make him so ill-at-ease?
Spinning to the right, the Second Class easily maneuvered out of the path of his charging, aforementioned friend. The winds of movement stirred his silver hair, dusting his vision briefly with a metallic sheen, and he smirked.
"Is that the best you can do?" The taint of arrogance patterned his words.
A grunt was heard from Angeal, before a look of grim determination set his features to stone. He leaped in to strike.
Regardless of telling himself not to think about the redhead so much, Genesis had a way of infecting Sephiroth's thoughts, eroding them away until he was the solitary object of focus. Sephiroth recalled the morning he left for Junon.
"Gen, I wanted to see you before you left," He had to practically restrain Genesis from racing off to the helipad without so much as a good-bye. He held the boy by the shoulders, trying to keep his attention.
Excitement shined in the teens eyes, causing them to glow an enchanting, radiant blue. He was practically jumping out of his skin.
"Seph," Genesis smiled when seeing him. "Hi, I'mgoingtoJunon,I'llbegoneforamonth I'llcallwhenIgetthere." The youth tried to escape from Sephiroth's grasp.
The silver-haired boy made his grip a bit stronger, but couldn't stop the half smirk that formed on his lips. It was typical of Genesis to rush headlong into something, forgetting anything or anyone else existed but what was in his line of sight. One of the things Sephiroth loved about the auburn SOLDIER was his fire and passion for life.
Taking a calming breath, Genesis relaxed. Looking down and blushing, thankful his fringe was there to hide his face, he bit his bottom lip. "Sorry, Seph. I'm just excited and...nervous. I was going to say bye, but...I didn't think you'd want me to wake you."
Unable to resist tracing his fingers down his boyfriend's jaw, the Second Class whispered, "You are never an inconvenience to me, and I do believe that saying good-bye, when I'm not going to see you for a month, is more important than a few hours of sleep."
"But after everything you did for me yesterday," the auburn warrior was starting to melt into the touch, head resting on Sephiroth's fingertips, "I thought maybe you'd want a break from me for while."
"Genesis, when we agreed to be...
Look out!"
Too late, Sephiroth's mind collided with his body. The crack that resounded through the training room was heard long before the pain made an introduction. His head snapped back and he was sailing through the air. His thoughts were so preoccupied, that the fact Angeal had retired his sword and came rushing in with his fists, had gone unnoticed. By a strange twist of fate, the Third managed to slip past Masamune and get close enough to deliver an uppercut. The blow, which was just now registering, caused Sephiroth's teeth to gnash together, and removed the ground from under his feet.
Angeal wasn't finished by a long shot. Following Sephiroth into the air, he commenced with a combo, landing a series of punches and kicks to the silver SOLDIER's chest, torso, legs, and arms, before a massive round-house to the back of the head, sent his opponent crashing back to the ground.
Lying face down, waiting for the Mako to lessen the pain and for his vision to clear, Sephiroth cursed his crimson lover. 'Why does being fifteen and being in love have to...suck?'
Moments passed and Sephiroth took a few deep breaths, then with his predatory grace, he returned to a standing position. He turned to glare at his friend, and if that glare was as menacing as Masamune, then SOLDIER Third Class Angeal Hewley would have been rejoining the Life Stream in that instant.
However, the look had no effect on the black-haired teen, and Sephiroth found Angeal grinning smugly at him. There was a little black PHS in his hand and he pushed it toward the recently defeated fighter.
"Call him." Angeal demanded.
Sephiroth, hand resting on the goose egg Angeal left as a reminder to pay attention, raised an eyebrow. He was perplexed.
Angeal nodded, "You lost focus. That's uncharacteristic of you. I shouldn't have been able to land a single hit on you." He motioned the phone in his friends direction again, "So, either you need to concentrate, or you need to call him."
"Hmpf," The silver SOLDIER crossed his arms. He didn't need a lower-rank to tell him he needed to focus. If he wanted to get his ass kicked while thinking about Genesis, that was his business.
Was I always so obstinate as a youth?' The older Seph interrupted his younger half's thoughts. Surprised, he realized that he had been. He also remember that if faced with certain situations, if he deemed it necessary, he could throw a tantrum that would rival one of Genesis.' This however, was not the time to be stubborn or to tantrum. 'Caution! Never forget Angeal is our brother, and when he is not lecturing about dreams and SOLDIER honor, it is usually wise to take his advice.'
"..."
Sephiroth hadn't called Genesis this week because he didn't want to be perceived as a stalker. He didn't want his boyfriend to think that he was checking up on him, or that he didn't trust him, or think he lacked faith in him. He didn't want Genesis to feel like he needed his hand held. Sephiroth wanted Genesis be able to take pride in the fact that he had accomplished everything on his own.
Angeal shrugged, "Fine. I guess I will just have to kick your ass again to prove my point."
"What if he's busy?" Sephiroth suddenly sounded very young and unsure of himself.
"He thinks you're upset with him because you haven't called."
"Call him and tell him I'm not upset. I'm just..."
Angeal's mouth twisted, "Just what? Seph, are you avoiding him?"
"Of course not." He sounded insulted that his friend would suggest such a thing.
"Alright, I'll call him,"
Butterflies had taken up residence in Sephiroth's stomach, this was confirmed when his dark-headed friend began to dial Genesis' number. A peculiar sensation, giddiness, washed through him. Yet, for as greatly the emotion wanted to show, his face remained impassive as he inched closer to where Angeal was holding the PHS. He hadn't known it until now, but he had been longing to hear Genesis' voice.
Then his stomach dropped when the phone was thrust in his hand.
"But you are talking." Angeal gathered his equipment, still smirking and left Sephiroth in the training room, holding the phone.
'I concur,' the older part of Sephiroth, which had yet to merge, took another opportunity to chime in, 'being a teenager in love defiantly does...for lack of a better word, suck.'
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"When Master Chief was a hundred and one," Genesis' soprano voice sang out clearly over the thundering sounds of boots stomping down on metal.
"He did PT just for fun," the cadets chanted back in union, doing laps around the indoor training room.
"When Master Chief was a hundred and two," The redhead, breathing hardly strained, ran beside the grunts, leading the cadence. They were on lap twenty.
"He did PT better than you."
"When Master Chief was a hundred and three," Genesis was irritated. He was hot, sticky, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead and dripped down to sting his eyes. But it wasn't the physical training that irked him; he was used to working harder and training longer than most to compensate for what he lacked in size. What had his feathers ruffled was the fact he had been stuck on PT duty with these very same ten cadets since he had arrived.
"He did PT better than me," the cadets were becoming winded, their voices shaking as they tried to filter down air, and many wondered if they would make it the next ten laps. Genesis sighed. He was sure that the higher ranks had pawned off on him the guys that would most likely drop out after basic.
"When Master Chief was one hundred and four," the pitch of the auburn warrior's tone never changed, so none of the lower-ranks could discern how foul the SOLDIER's mood actually was.
Genesis didn't have the privilege of allowing his emotions to affect the way he trained cadets. There were too many eyes watching. A SOLDIER Third was sent to Junon so their performances in real world situations could be evaluated. A SOLDIER that did well here was sure of a speedy promotion. And besides, it wouldn't be fair to unleash his mood on these kids. It wasn't their fault that the commander of the Junon's army had yet to give him his own squad and let him lead a mission.
"He did PT more and more," the stamina of the cadets, many older than Genesis, was dwindling. The chant was weaker, sounding forced, and wheezing could be heard.
The purple-clad Third turned around and began running backwards. It was the first time he really observed his surroundings. Inwardly, he groaned. How could he have been so stupid? The room was much bigger than he first estimated.
When he started training in the indoor exercise area, he hadn't given the size of the place much thought. Why should he? He was a Mako-infused SOLDIER after all, and running laps around the room a few dozen times, would be no problem. And it hadn't been...for him. On the other hand, for your average, everyday cadet, running ten laps around this place would have been sufficient, but Genesis had them on lap twenty, and wanted to go for thirty.
"Alright, meat shields," Genesis called, breaking the cadence, feeling somewhat guilty for the oversight, "walk it off. Take five then line up in formation."
Mentally, he kicked himself for not taking into account the simple fact that the cadets were not even in the standard army yet. Had it not been such a terrible mistake, one that could potentially be deadly, he would have laughed. He had been drilling the boys like they were SOLDIERs.
'And this is why I haven't been given my own squad,' he chided himself, hating the fact that when it came to skill of observation, he lacked it almost completely. One couldn't afford to forget something so vital and expect to raise in the ranks of Shin-Ra.
"SOLDIER Rhapsodos," one of the boys yelled over to him.
Turning around, lowering his canteen, he cursed yet again at the fact that sometimes the happenings of the world around him went unnoticed. Genesis found the squad gathered in a semi-circle, huddling over one of their fallen comrades.
"SOLDIER Rhapsodos, Sir," the same boy said, sounding panicked, "it's Bobby. I think he's dying."
Rushing to the center of the group, the redhead prayed like hell that nobody was dying. That's just what he needed, for someone to die on his watch, during PT. There would be no saving him from a court martial then.
A sigh of relieve escaped him when, leaning over "Bobby," he found a three-hundred pound boy with buzzed hair, coughing, trying to hack up a lung. The kid's pock-marked face was redder than the leather duster Genesis wanted when he became a First, and gobs of spit were flying from his meaty lips.
Rolling his eyes, the SOLDIER hefted the cadet to his feet. "He's not dying," he addressed the over-reactive boy, Graham Mitchell. "He's just fat."
Taking a step away from Bobby, aka, Cadet Green, if Genesis remembered correctly, he crossed his arms, "Hey Doughnut, you can't breath when you're flat on you back, especially with a gut like that."
The teens doughy face scrunched up, and for a moment Genesis thought the kid was going to cry. But Bobby held his tears in the corners of his big brown eyes, and the auburn Third found himself impressed. He knew the pain of being made fun of, however, he couldn't afford to be too nice and understanding, it was his job to turn these cadets into soldiers.
"From here on out, Doughnut," Genesis walked toward the hefty kid, ending up in his face. He jabbed his finger into the enlarged stomach, it jiggled. A look of disgust formed on Genesis delicate features, and he shouted, "You're on a diet. If you can't run twenty fucking laps without keeling over, you are just too fucking big." Usually Genesis didn't like swearing, as it made him sound undignified, but he found it effective when training. "For the next three weeks, your fat ass is only drinking water! Am I clear?"
"Sir, yes, Sir," the boy was standing at attention now, saluting his superior officer.
Genesis was already planning a trip to the infirmary to get a few bottles of vitamin supplements for the kid since he didn't want him seriously ill.
"If I so much as see you eating a piece of fucking paper, you will be doing laps until you puke. Am I clear again, Cadet?"
"Sir, yes, Sir," Bobby's bottom lip trembled.
"As for the rest of you," Genesis paced around the tiny group, hands held firmly behind his back, head raised straight and proud, "if you see Doughnut here eat something, and fail to report it, and I find out about it," this was a role the redhead loved playing – the part of the commanding officer, having a group of young, teenage boys jumping to carry out his every order; there was so much...drama in it. Mentally stepping outside himself, detached from the situation, he could see himself as the star of an army movie, playing the lead, of course, "every one of you will be running laps right beside Doughnut, wishing I would just let you die. Am I understood?"
"Sir, yes, Sir," the cadets answered in unison.
Genesis nodded, "Alright, line-up!"
The cadets were doing sit-ups when the doors to the training room slid open and SOLDIER Third Class T.J. Collins waltzed in, followed by his squad. Genesis was counting off reps when the entrance was made, and upon recognition of his fellow SOLDIER, a despairing sound that should have been audible was lost in the back of the redhead's throat.
The mere sight of the older teen trapped Genesis in a time when he was a cadet back in Midgar. Both he and T.J. were training for the SOLDIER entrance exam, and T.J. had made Genesis' life a nightmare.
He remembered their first meeting, and replaying it in his mind caused him to shiver.
Genesis had been in the barracks, getting ready for drills, when his new squad mates came in and surrounded him. An uneasy feeling clinched his chest, but he forced a tight smile to his lips, and whispered so softly it probably wasn't heard. "Hello, guys." Hard to believe now, but six months ago, the crimson SOLDIER was shy, timid and soft-spoken.
"Hey, what a pretty little girl we have on our team, boys," T.J. said to the newly formed squad and the other guys laughed. Those had been the first words Genesis had ever heard come from T.J.'s mouth, and right then he knew he was in trouble. The older teen then directed his gaze to the smaller auburn-haired youth. T.J., seeing Genesis tremble, smiled the smile of a hungry predator and slid his gloved fingers down Gen's jaw. "I didn't think girls were allowed to train for SOLDIER, but don't worry, sweetheart, I'll take care of ya."
With great effort, Genesis asserted forcefully, "I'm not a girl."
There was more laughter.
"Is that right, sweetheart? Let's see about that."
The older cadet's hand grabbed onto Genesis' member before he had the chance to back away. Flushing bright red, the younger boy smacked T.J.'s offending hand away.
"Holy shit, boys! This chick has a dick!"
Laughter erupted around the room.
The redhead had been about to bolt from the barracks when he felt something solid pressing against the front of his pants. Shaking with fear Genesis chanced looking down. He swallowed hard when he saw T.J. held a switchblade against his groin.
"Let's take care of that problem right now," the elder wore a cruel smirk.
Tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, Genesis pushed T.J. with all his strength and ran as fast as he could away from all of them.
He couldn't remember where he ended up that day, but after that, the abuse continued to mount.
T.J. had taken to hitting and tripping him; slamming his against lockers and spiting on him. Once, the entire squad helped hold him down while T.J. forced Genesis' head down a toilet. He believed they meant to drown him, and maybe they had; he had never been more terrified in his life.
However, he had survived, and even made it to Third Class. He had been reunited with Angeal, and eventually met Sephiroth – the man he'd had a crush on since he was eleven years old. Together, they broke Genesis out of his shell, and Angeal especially had taught him self-confidence. He never told either of them about his experiences as a cadet, and T.J. Collins had all but been forgotten.
Until today.
Genesis' stomach grew tight with trepidation when the other SOLDIER took note of him and his cadets and started coming towards them. "Formation!" Genesis yelled before the other troupe reached them. He then placed himself as a make-shift barrier between his boys and T.J. and his squad. He could feel a fight coming on.
"Well, well, well," the SOLDIER with the sandy-blond hair chuckled evilly as he marched up to Genesis. "Why am I not surprised that a little girl is training a bunch of pussies."
Genesis adorned his prettiest smile, and batted his thick, black eyelashes. In his softest, most seductive purr, he greeted, "Fuck you too, cock scab." If T.J. expected Genesis to be the same frightened, insecure little boy he'd first met, then he had a surprise in store.
By now, the two teens were chest to chest, posturing, taking in their opponent. They both knew this was partly a show for the lower-ranks, and partly because pure animosity raged between them.
"Is that an offer?" The older teen hiss down at Genesis.
Still smiling, Gen shook his head, "Not at all. I don't touch anyone that's been proven to have the clap."
T.J. laughed in Genesis' face, "I caught it while fucking your mother last week."
The redhead's cheeks turned crimson. Other than Angeal's mom, his own mother was the sweetest person he knew, and he wasn't about to let this asshole soil her good name.
"Oh, I'm sorry, but my mother wouldn't fuck an under-plate, filthy cockroach like you with the cunt of a two gil whore. She has more class in her little finger than everyone in your scummy family has combined."
It was no secret to those who knew the blond SOLDIER, how sensitive he was about having grown up under the plate, and due to his already dislike for the smaller boy, he had no problem balling up his fist and socking Rhapsodos right in his sweet, girly-shaped cock-sucker.
Genesis stumbled backwards, both hands flying up to his busted lips. He could taste the blood welling on his tongue. Taking a moment to collect himself, reeling from the blow, the younger spat out the bright-red liquid and pushed his head high. The surrounding cadets might have seen him take a hit, but he'd be damned if he would let them think it damaged his pride.
"Alright, SOLDIER Third Class Collins, we are going to settle this once and for all."
The look that crossed the addressed SOLDIER's face was pure viciousness. There was nothing he wanted more than to pound the hell out of this little bitch. Why he wanted to hurt Rhapsodos so badly was a mystery even to himself, but he wanted the boy screaming in pain. He dropped back in a fighting stance.
Raising a black-gloved hand, Genesis shook his head, though the throbbing in his mouth caused the action to be painful.
"Nothing so uncouth, though I'm pretty sure you only know how to solve problems in such a barbaric fashion." He forced his lips to form his lopsided smile. "The games, at the end of the month, my squad against your squad. If my squad scores more overall points than yours, then this feud ends, and you stay the hell away from me. If your squad scores higher, I will let you kick my ass in front of everyone, but then its done. Either way, after the games, we are finished."
Straightening to full height, the older boy threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Rhapsodos, you poor thing," he intoned mockingly, "you really believe that your group of ragtag pansies can defeat my squad?"
The smaller redhead looked over T.J.'s shoulder, and his heart sank. He could already feel his face being beaten in. Each guy on SOLDIER Collin's squad was the epitome of able-bodied youth. Genesis wouldn't be surprised to see a few of them after this month was over, enter the SOLDIER program. And what did he have? The losers and quitters from the bottom of a rotten barrel. He was suddenly reminded of cliches about lemons and lemonade, but for some reason, that wasn't helping.
"Are these losers even part of your squad? Were you officially given a squad?"
Genesis huffed. "No one said it officially, no. But they're whats left, and since I've been training them since I got here, then yeah, until someone says otherwise, they are my squad." He hadn't realized how true his words were until they left his mouth. In essence, Doughnut, Cadet Mitchel, all of them were his squad. And Genesis took pride in what was his, including the fat, out-of-shape losers. "And you know what T.J.? They are going to kick the ever-loving crap out of your squad." He ignored the sharp intakes of breath of the boys standing behind him.
"Did you just say, 'crap?'" The older blond laughed again. Rhapsodos was an endless source of amusement for him. He bent down a little so he was whispering in the redhead's ear, making sure none of the others heard him, "I look forward to being covered in your blood...Genesis."
Genesis heart had jumped into his chest when T.J. bent down and started to breathe into his ear. His face went hot, and he tipped his head to give the other SOLDIER better access. However, the blond's words caused him to tense.
"Pft! We'll see," and in a blatant show of disrespect, Genesis Rhapsodos turned his back on T.J Collins.
"My squad," Gen called out with authority, ignoring the ache in his mouth, "We will resume training in weight room two at thirteen hundred hours. Doughnut, don't forget what I told you. Dismissed."
Leaving right behind his men, the redhead was regretting the fact he had just challenged T.J. Collins to 'the games'; he was a dead man.
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The phone call with Genesis kept replaying in Sephiroth's head. Both he and his lover had talked excitedly at first, saying how much they had missed the other, and apologizing for not calling sooner. As the conversation progressed, the silver-haired warrior found himself becoming slightly more animated than usual as he listened to Genesis talk about Junon as if he'd found a new home. But somewhere in the middle, when asked if he was doing alright, and if he'd been given a squad yet, Genesis' tone had changed. He sounded distant and troubled. Sephiroth had inquired about the matter, and the redhead assured him that everything was fine; had claimed he was merely tired. Sephiroth could discern the lie. The Second Class couldn't figure out why Genesis was lying to him, and that bothered him most of all. However, he was four hundred miles away and nothing could be done about it at the present.
Genesis' sudden change of mood wasn't the only thing occupying Sephiroth's mind as he rode the slow-moving elevator down to the labs. Angeal had been right, Sephiroth did need to focus, but not on sparing or even his lover. Right now, one person had his full attention, and for the duration of the up-coming meeting, he nudged his younger self to quietly watch and observe.
The older part of Sephiroth knew things his younger self did not, and he had found a way to keep these secrets hidden from that half, deeming some information too vital to be possessed at such a tender age, even by himself. However, most of those secrets were about to be divulged, and Sephiroth couldn't afford to become emotional at this time, so he had taken full control over his body.
Leaving the elevator at the basement level, the silver SOLDIER navigated the maze of offices and laboratories until he came to the one he was most familiar with: Lab 6. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves – he always got nervous when he came down here – he slid his key card through the panel lock and stepped inside.
A steel-gray, metal examination table was the main feature of the sterile, blinding-white room. A smaller table, made of the same metal, covered mostly with needles full of various colored liquids, sat a little off to the right. On the oaken desk pushed to the back of the room, sitting beside a microscope and a half a dozen beakers, was a plate of cookies and a tall glass of orange juice. Sephiroth easily deduced he was meant to have blood taken today.
Seeing as the "good" professor had yet to make an appearance, the SOLDIER moved past the exam table, went to the desk and took a cookie. Even though Hojo was a quack, Sephiroth had to admit the man made a mean batch of peanut butter cookies.
His younger self bulked, and Sephiroth was suddenly afraid of getting in trouble. He didn't want Professor Hojo walking in and catching him eating a cookie before his blood was drawn and the Mako treatment given. Shoving the rest of the cookie into his face, the teen quickly removed his armor and the shirt of his uniform and went to sit on the cold, hard table.
Before he could remove his boots, he mentally chided his younger part. 'Shhh,' he commanded. 'If you want to find out who you really are, then I suggest you keep yourself calm, and stop pumping adrenaline through our system. If this is to be effective, then I need you to work with me. There is nothing Hojo can do to us that we will not survive. Besides, we are important to him, so he will not run the risk of causing serious injury.'
'But what about the Mako-showers, or that pink gunk he injects me with when I misbehave?' His younger self really was frightened, and Sephiroth tried to remember these emotions. Had he actually been this terrified of Hojo when he was a teen?
'Relax,' His inner voice took on a more comforting tone. 'All we are going to do is talk to Hojo, and I promise, after today, the experiments will cease. That is, unless we feel certain things, like the Mako treatments and showers, are a necessity. Remember, after today, we are the one in control'
This little talk seemed to quiet his younger self, though he still felt a twinge of fear. Ah, well, one day he would learn to trust himself. Hopefully sooner than later.
Sephiroth, re-adoring the shirt that had previously been removed, was well aware of Hojo entering into the room. The man didn't walk so much as he shuffled, and the SOLDIER stifled a smirk when the image of a slouched-over, wounded Tonberry flitted into his imagination.
"Well, well...punctuality has always been one of your stronger characteristics, Sephiroth," the scientist fiddled with his glasses before glaring at the boy over the rims.
The younger part of Sephiroth, the part that still somewhat sought praise and approval from the scientist, inwardly smiled at the wayward compliment, while the Sephiroth that was in control of the body merely stood, back straight as always, head held high, staring blank-faced at the older man.
"However, I fail to see why you are still dressed. This is routine for you by now. I do have other projects that need my attention, so I want this finished quickly."
The silver SOLDIER remained quiet, organizing his thoughts, carefully choosing his words. There had never been any doubt, regardless of what attention his younger self might craved, that Hojo had only viewed him as a project, a specimen, his next great experiment. With that being the case, Sephiroth's speech had to be powerful, else he would lose Hojo's attention.
"I'm not going to be undressing today...Father." Sephiroth's tone was cool, his pronunciation of 'father' came out flat. "We have matters of great import to discuss. Therefore, I would greatly appreciate it if you would put away your clipboard and have a seat."
The middle-aged, black-haired professor had indeed gotten his clipboard and was writing up a chart when Sephiroth started talking. The teen's words stopped his hand from moving and he instantly looked up.
"Why, you foolish child," Hojo squawked in his all too nasally voice, "where ever did you get the notion that I am your father? And I tell you now, science waits for no man, so I would like to conclude your visit here promptly and get back to work. I am in no mood for games."
This time, Sephiroth did allow a smirk to grace his lips. He casually moved over to the door, and using his key card, locked it from the inside.
"I am in no mood for games either, Hojo. You see, I'm not playing this time around. I will have what I came here for, and I have decided to make you an instrumental figure in my ambitions. Now, I hold a great deal of information that you, dear Father, have been searching my entire life for. And I will give you this information, if, you are willing to fill in some of the missing data."
The scientist had watched the youth lock the door on them, and the moment the key-card slid though reader, Hojo tripped the panic button installed under the lip of his desk. The silent alarm would alert the MPs stationed in the building, and soon the room would be flooded with warm bodies meant only to hold Sephiroth down.
Setting his clipboard beside the plate of cookies, the older man smiled at his most valuable experiment. He only had to keep Sephiroth talking until security arrived.
"My dear boy, I do believe that one of your last injections is having an adverse affect. You are talking out of your head. Now why don't you lie down, I will give you a sedative, and then I will figure out what's causing you to have such abnormal thoughts." He prepared the tranquilizer.
Grinding his teeth, the silver-haired teen glared at Hojo while the man filled a hypodermic needle with a concoction of drugs. The Mako coursing through his veins caused his eyes to flair an almost neon green.
"I know Jenova is my mother, but she is not the woman who gave birth to me. That woman's name is Lucrecia and she was your wife." Sephiroth continued to speak calmly, even as the syringe was filling.
Hojo turned only his head to look at the boy. The effect of Sephiroth's words were clearly written on his stunned features. Silence lay between them for an immeasurable amount of time. Finally Hojo swallowed, wetting the throat that had suddenly gone dry.
"What else do you know...Project S?"
Sephiroth stayed stern, face registering no emotion at being called 'Project S.' He had known coming in here that he was viewed as nothing more than an experiment. And if Hojo was willing to fully come out and say it, then Sephiroth was already one step closer to victory.
He had fought and won many battles over the years, and as much as he would like to confide in someone, he would see it as no great loose if Hojo became just another causality of his war.
"Like I said, Professor, I know many things. But until you agree to help me," Sephiroth eyed the scientist as he drew closer with the needle, "I shall not say another word."
Hojo caught movement from behind Sephiroth. Security had arrived, and the teen was preoccupied with staring at the feared needle. Hojo waited until the captain of the military police unit slid his own card key through the reader, before he shrugged.
"Very well, Sephiroth. We will continue this conversation at a later date."
It was too late to take action when the beep went off that signaled the door to the room had been unlocked and opened. Had Sephiroth been in his adult body, and/or if he had access to his entire arsenal of powers, then the MP's that dog piled him wouldn't have been a problem. Still, there might have been a chance to fight them off, if he would have summoned Masamune to his hand. He never got that chance.
There was a sting in his left arm, a depression of fluid into his body, and then his limbs grew heavy.
Whispering, voice sounding alien to his own ears, he locked eyes with Hojo, "Tell me who you are? Explain how you became this way, and I will..." his mind was fogging over. "I will...tell you," he relaxed in the grip of the soldiers and closed his eyes, "tell you...everything."
&%$ CBV $%&
TBC