Chapter 2
It was the beeping that woke him, soft, fluctuating beeps, in an off rhythm, constant and confusing. Green eyes blinked open slowly, and his gaze came to rest on the off white tiles that made up the ceiling. His eyes did not move from that single spot as he strained his memory, searching for something to explain why he found himself here. One of the beeps began to speed up, not much, but enough to set the off rhythm even further out of sync.
Where was he?
What did he remember?
Nothing.
His body was moving then, before his mind fully realised that it was, and he was sitting, his eyes sweeping the room.
White.
The Labs.
Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, comforted somewhat in the knowledge that he at least knew where he was, though this knowledge did not put his mind at ease. The Labs were dangerous. Father was dangerous. Shaking his head, reaching up a slender hand to push at his hair, brushing it away from his face and out of his eyes as they continued their journey of the room, cataloguing everything there.
Not typical items he usually found in the rooms his father left him in; in fact these things appeared to be far more medicinal in nature. Whatever had happened, whatever test or drug father had used on him, had obviously gone wrong, and in such a way that warranted a trip to the medical room. A place he had only been in once, a long time ago, barely a child then.
After his termination…
Wait.
There was a flash of something, a memory perhaps, but it was gone before he could understand it.
Ignoring it he turned his attention back to his surroundings. Yes, the medical room. It had changed in the intervening years he noticed, after his termination, which father had stopped partway through, as his heart had stopped, he had spent a few days in this room. It was as unsafe as any other room in the facility, filled with the same rampant unpredictability; only here the focus was on healing, not hurting.
But things always went wrong. It was the price of being what they were.
At last his eyes settled on the figure sleeping still on the bed next to him, he stood, brushing his hand across his chest, dislodging the monitor over his heart, ignoring the way the one of the beeps became a low, constant whine, which blended far better with the beeping from the other two machines. It didn't surprise him that he was the one out of sync, the one confusing the steady rhythm. There was no point in being surprised by the one thing you know as truth about yourself.
He would never be the same as the others.
There was another flash, another memory, but it did not remain long enough to make out the details, so he ignored it. He knew he was the only one of fathers, which made him unique, but that was not what made him different from the clones created by the other fathers. He was broken. Unworkable. Useless.
This was unshakable truth, he understood that. He had always understood that.
He stepped closer to the other bed, looking down at the one sleeping there. 569. And in the bed beyond lay 52325.
Again that flash of memory, and this time he grasped at it, curious, but it was swallowed up by the Nothingness before he got the chance to see it. Perhaps he should return to his bed and wait for father. Then he would know what was going on.
It wasn't until he had the blanket in his fingers, pulling the back further so he could slide in under them that it struck him. This place seemed off, out of place. He clamoured to get a grip, to pull himself out of the Nothingness, to have a single moment of clarity, the rare kind that showed him things he shouldn't see.
Like 569 stopping, feeling the same surge he did, turning his head to lock eyes with him. Unexplained but strong and binding. Like knowing they were outside his door, knowing that Kadaj was holding out a hand to him, a hand that reached through the closed door and drew him forwards and out. Like seeing the bullet go exactly where he wanted it too, understanding that by doing so he condemned so many to death.
But it faded, and the Nothingness closed over his head, refusing to let him loose, refusing to let him know why. He needed to fight it; he knew that, though it was not something he had ever done before.
Another memory was swallowed up, and he frowned, slipping back into the bed. The Nothingness was safe; it was where the part of him that didn't exist was hidden, so deep inside so that no amount of digging and searching could find it. It was dangerous, far more dangerous than anything in the labs, more so than anything father could ever do to him. That was why the Nothingness hid it, why it offered him its safety, free from thought, wish and desire.
It protected him, drew him in and stole away the memories that hurt him, the ones that would torment him. But the Nothingness had never been able to swallow him whole before, no matter how much he had wished for it in the beginning, there was always some part of him on the outside, a link to the reality of everything, and with that reality came snatches of the truth, of the things the Nothingness hid from him.
It had never been able to swallow him whole before. But it was trying to now.
Why?
He lay back down, closing his eyes and drifting back into the welcoming arms of the Nothingness.
*x*
"That makes the fifth time he's done that." Reeve said, leaning back in the chair he had commandeered, his warm brown eyes leaving the surveillance screen to look up at Cloud, who had arrived only a few hours previously, the Geostigma epidemic quelled for now. Cloud's fingers curled just that bit tighter around the back of the chair Reeve was sitting in as he leaned forward taking in the once more peaceful scene.
"No movement from the other two at all?" he asked.
Reeve shook his head, tilting his head back further so he could see Cid as well, who was leaning his own chair back at an angle to the wall, eyes closed in feigned sleep, chewing silently on the cigarette Reeve had refused to let him light. He had been here since the Remnants had been brought in, watching everything the WRO doctors were doing, not afraid to speak out if they did anything he wasn't happy with.
It had amused Reeve, so he had let him continue. However, that had been over twenty-four hours ago now, and after the first three hours of checkups, blood work and other medical things Reeve knew little about, there had been nothing left to do but wait for them to wake.
"Not so much as a twitch." Reeve answered Clouds question, fanning the three surprisingly full files his doctors had made on the three. "The tests we did—"
"Tests?" Cloud interrupted.
Reeve held back a sigh. Cloud needed to understand that the WRO was not ShinRa, no matter what his past affiliations with them were, he had no intentions of allowing another Hojo to develop. "Blood work, brainwave scans, X-rays. All the things any good doctor does to rule out illness, be it physical or mental. Nothing more." He promised; glad when Cloud relaxed enough to offer him an apologetic look.
It was good to know that it wasn't a distrust aimed at his ethics, just bad memories he supposed.
He turned his attention back to the files. "The doctors found numbers tattooed on their wrists," he said. "The one you call Kadaj had 52325, the large one 569, and our sleepwalker 92966."
"Numbers?" Cloud frowned, his questions written plainly across his face.
The numbers had intrigued Reeve as well, who, knowing Hojo to be the kind to number his projects, had immediately looked into the possibility that they were one of his, but he had found no evidence of it. "Their blood work tells us that they are clones of Sephiroth, each of them contain far greater strains of his DNA rather than Jenova's, whose cells, as you know, where the main ones used in the Maka injections given to Soldiers. In fact, there were hardly any Jenova cells in them at all, but that could mean nothing as Sephiroth's had a large concentration and they are clones of him, and our test doesn't separate his DNA into strands."
"Clones…"
Reeve nodded and went on. "However, there is also evidence of genetic tampering with each of them. Left to develop without it, we can safely assume they would have ended up looking and behaving exactly like Sephiroth. It rules out the idea that they were made of Sephiroth himself."
Cloud nodded in understanding. "So they aren't like the Geneses Clones? Which means that someone actually made them?"
Reeve looked back at the video image of the three and sighed. "I have no details, and I'm still searching for any information, but there are no records of a cloning facility anywhere. But yes, you're right, someone made them. 569's genetic coding, from what my scientists tell me, was designed for strength, endurance. He was made to be a war machine. All of Sephiroth's strength multiplied far beyond anything Sephiroth himself possessed. However there are significant changes made to the genetic strand for his… self awareness is the easiest way to put it."
"What do you mean?" Cloud asked.
Reeve rubbed the bridge of his nose and offered up a hapless smile. "They tried to sever his self awareness, make him nothing more than a mindless drone. Or rather, they tried to take as much as they could without making him completely mindless. If they were making him for war they needed something that would follow orders without question, but would be able to function without constant instruction. We won't know the extent of this until he wakes up, but my scientists think it's likely he'll be mentally disabled, possibly with a child's mind."
Hearing Clouds' uncharacteristic curse made Reeve smile mirthlessly. He was an engineer, so to a certain degree he could understand the feeling of satisfaction when you finally managed to get that stray piece of wire to connect where it should, or got that stubborn piece of metal to bend into shape at long last. But that was where he lost all connection with scientists like Hojo, and whoever had made these three. Where did tampering with someone like this ever cross the line into ethical? It didn't. It couldn't. Because if something like this could ever be considered ethical then it gave credence to Sephiroth's claims that the world should not be allowed to live.
"That's not all." Reeve continued, knowing that he couldn't hide the resignation, or the stab of pain that went through him when he thought of what these three must have gone through. "92966, his brainwaves are so low on the scale that the doctors are surprised he can even function, in fact, they tell me that his sleepwalking is probably about as much as we'll get out of him. But then there's the anomalies, they have his brain hooked up to a monitor, because occasionally he'll spike, far beyond normal levels. The scientist who looked at his DNA told me that all of the genetic strands for brain function are heightened, so his brainwaves are completely impossible, he should show signs of above average brain function but aside from the spikes, nothing. There might be good days when he 'wakes up', which could explain his involvement in this Reunion fiasco. Other than that his physical health is as well as can be expected."
He shook his head and pulled out Kadaj's file. "Kadaj, 52325. His brain chemistry is completely off the wall, the only explanation the doctors can come up with for it is that he was subjected to persistent drug trials as a child and his brain never had time to fully adapt. His genetics follow Sephiroth's fairly closely, except again his self awareness has been tampered with, not as much as 569's, but enough to be noticeable. He's probably psychopathic, that's the prognosis from what we have so far. It's possible he might mastermind another Reunion, or just go on a murdering spree."
Cloud was silent, and Reeve refused to look at him. Each file had pages on the worst case scenarios. Finally he forced himself to look up and was dismayed by the look on Clouds face. He knew it was a terrible prognosis, and he could see that the thought of it was hitting Cloud hard. He couldn't quite seem to find his voice to reassure him that he wasn't in this alone, which he knew Cloud believed he was; it was the younger mans very nature to think that way.
"So yer saying we should give up on them?"
Reeve looked round at Cid, surprised by his input. He still had his eyes closed, but the cigarette was now between the fingers of his left hand. Cloud straightened and turned to him also, and Cid made a slow stretch and the two front legs of the chair thumped down on the floor.
"I never said that." Cloud pointed out.
Reeve was surprised to find Cid's incredulous blue gaze meet his before flicking to Cloud. "Yer silence was pretty telling." He said, and Reeve felt his lips twitch as Cid looked back at him, reading Cid's intentions clearly. It was a tactic he had begun to use himself now that he was head of the WRO.
"They are rather damming results though." Reeve pointed out honestly.
Cid shrugged. "That's the case, throw them in a nut house and be done with it." He got to his feet, stretching again.
"But Aerith…" Cloud began, but trailed off.
Cid shrugged again, putting the cigarette back into his mouth. "So? She can be wrong. Or maybe you're going as mad as those poor sods in there are. Hearing voices?"
Cloud was silent for a long time, and Cid held his eyes, blank and unyielding. Reeve had to wonder where Cid had perfected this way of dealing with this sort of situation. It was the sort of thing that could backfire so very easily, but Cid had never once failed. It was an amazing talent of motivation, and one Reeve wished he possessed.
"Well?" Cid challenged when the silence had gone on too long.
Cloud took a deep breath and broke his gaze with Cid, turning to Reeve. "That's the worst case scenario." He said, challenging now himself. "They have problems; I'm not saying they don't. And I not saying it won't be hard, but is there something that points to something better than what you've just told me?"
Reeve saw Cid's satisfied smirk from the corner of his eye, and schooled his own bemused smile carefully as he answered. "There could be a huge margin for error in the reports. The doctors and scientists are only making predictions based on the information they have at hand right now. Until they wake up we can't take anything as absolute fact. For example, they have names; if Kadaj is anything to go by, I would say the other two have one as well. I doubt whoever created them gave them names; numbers are a far easier way to track experiments by. That alone could mean that they overcame the genetic tampering and developed more self awareness than they were supposed to. It's not a lot I'll grant you, not when put beside all this," he waved at the files. "But we can only hope we're wrong."
"Trust in Aerith." Cloud whispered, and Reeve found himself chuckling, gathering the files up and placing them to the side.
Trust in Aerith…
Not all that difficult in all truth.
"I'm curious though." Cid said, coming to stand beside the chair, arm reaching out until he could tap the screen. Reeve looked up in question. "Their numbers are pretty high. Why haven't we seen any more of them running around?"
That was a good question, and one Reeve had wondered about himself. Before Cloud had arrived he had questioned his scientists and doctors as extensively as he could on the entire subject of cloning. He was aware of Cloud looking at him too, waiting for some sort of answer.
"From what I can gather, working with genetics is trial and error for the most part, especially in cloning, and even more so when you do what the person who made them did and try to bring out certain traits. The numbers are probably inclusive of all the ones that failed. That's not to say that they are the only clones ever made, but it's possible that wherever they were being made was purged after the Nibelhiem incident. After all, could you really trust possibly hundreds of clones of Sephiroth not to become as mad as him? These three may have survived." He shrugged. "It's only a theory, and it's certainly viable, but we can't know for sure until we ask them."
He pushed his chair back and stood, lifting the white medical jacket from the back and putting it on. He rooted in the pockets for a pair of latex gloves. "I'd best get in there and put the heart monitor back on him." With a small smile he pulled the gloves on and pushed his way from the observation room and into the infirmary itself.
The first time this had happened alarms had sounded, and the doctors had all rushed back, ready to deal with a cardiac arrest, only to find 92966 moving around the infirmary, perfectly fine, but completely unaware of them. After that Cid had offered to wait in the observation room, and would hit the emergency button if it happened for real. He'd also been the one to put the monitor back on the second and third times it had happened. Reeve had joined him not long before the fourth incident, and had taken it upon himself to do it. Cloud could do it next time.
Let it not be said that Reeve Tuesti was not a very fair man.
He smiled to himself as he made his way past the beds in which Kadaj and 569 lay and into the space between the beds, bending to lift the wireless monitor. He didn't put it back on right away, instead he paused, casting a considering eye over the clones features. 92966's eyes rolled behind closed lid, and unlike the other two he seemed uncommonly twitchy and unsettled. Reeve reached across, ready to press the monitor back into place on the bare chest, hoping that these unusual reactions, which confused his doctors, meant that there was more promise for the boy than what his people had predicted for him.
Was it strange to hope that three could have a decent quality of life, especially after what they had done? He couldn't help another chuckle as he replaced the monitor. Aerith's influence was strong, her compassion still clearly felt even so far beyond the grave. Strange, perhaps, but not wrong, he thought.
"Get away from him."
Before Reeve had the chance to do anything, be it step away from the bed or not a slender arm came across his throat and jerked him backwards, cutting off his air supply. He caught sight of green eyes snapping open and the insistent beeping as the brainwave monitor as it spiked far beyond normal levels, and he knew, that unless something happened, and quickly he was going to be dead.
