AN: Hokay, before you read, please know that, despite it sounding like it, there's no rape.

…Yet. -cough-

But, there is a torture scene, so be forwarned. Ehhh….there's some minor molestation….but no rape. Yeah, that's gonna be later. Also, before you read, keep in mind that from this chapter on, Hojo's starting to…slightly lose it. If something doesn't make sense, trust me, I made it that way. It's been proof read and whatnot, I just want to get across that, despite being a complete genius, Hojo's thought process isn't always clear. X3; As always, enjoy and review!

In all of my life, I had never felt so foolish. So nonsensical. So..

Angered.

I had spent the last several days analyzing that God forsaken 'Chaos blood', and was able to find no results. The very thought became something of a prayer in my mind that it was his fault. I knew it had to be. However, imagine my immense surprise when I learned the answer to my problem was right under my nose.

Allow me to me clarify.

Sitting for days on end with little food and no rest and cause a man to lose his temper. Now I'm a patient man. So patient, I might add, that in the past I've been physically struck and had not reacted. So patient, that I've had a great deal of experiments fail, and without a second thought thrown them away. So patient, that I've had a useless Turk in the same room as me for over seventy-two hours and done very little to take my anger out on him, no matter how well deserved it would be.

I inhaled deeply; now, I'm still patient. I rarely actually lose my temper in situations, as most could say. Usually, I leave it to the other party to become upset, while I remain calm and collected. Even a moron would know it's far easier that way. Losing one's temper during an uneven situation only breeds more anger. Being a scientist, a man of facts, logic, and having a stable sense of being, I am not an emotional man. As such, anger is a feeling I cannot say I am well accustomed to. That doesn't mean, however, that I don't recognize it for what it is.

When truly angered, I may throw something, not unlike a child having a temper tantrum. But I do it in private, of course. I never wish to be seen as unprofessional. In most cases, however, I shove it down and simply set to work. Whether it be a strengthened form of Mako for the SOLDEIRs, or else a device in which to get my revenge, it doesn't matter. As long as it's scientific and somehow directly linked to chemistry and biology, it can ease my mind with little difficulty. This time, however, was quite different.

The answer to my plight was something so painfully obvious I literally kicked my desk, resulting in the many blood-stained Petri dishes to smash to the floor. It mattered little to me at the time, as I paid them no mind. I did, however, notice out of the corner of my eye that my raven had jerked, as if I had scared him out of a shallow sleep. I glared at him crookedly before marching quickly towards him and backhanding him across the face.

I knew the expression on his face; he was mocking me. I could tell. Just who did he think he was? He was nothing. Nothing but a nameless Turk soon to be thought dead and forever at my mercy. This wasn't going to tolerated, and he was going to learn. In my current state of mind, I didn't care how, but he would. I'd find a way to shatter that defiant glint in his eyes if it was the last thing I did.

First, however, a small operation was to take place. Swallowing my anger with only slight hesitance, I swiftly turned away and rummaged through one of my tall bookshelves. The only thing capable of combating the demon known as Chaos..Dr. Crescent obviously put it somewhere, as I had left it to her own devices. Never before had I dreamed I would actually find some use for it, but if I was to fully and thoroughly expose Vincent Valentine's body inside and out, I would require it.

I stood up higher, sliding my fingers over the tips of the top shelf. It strained my work-weary body to an extent, but I paid it no matter. Now was the time for punishment, not my own physical short-comings.

I nearly cried out with joy as the tips of my long fingers brushed across a small, hand-held chest. Grasping hold of it quickly, I tugged it down and lifted the lid slowly. A wide grin spread over my face as I gazed adoringly at the breath-taking orb. It was oddly surrounded by a dark blue, but within lay a soft violet shape, interestingly forming an image of a nucleus. I let the chest fall from my hands and dimly registered the sound of it hitting the floor. My attention was focused attentively on the Protomateria within my grasp, and little else could distract me.

Approaching the boy's side once again, I finally found it within me to tear my eyes away from the sphere. Noticing his wary and suspicious expression, I lowered my free hand and gently stroked the cheek that, despite healing efficiently, remained slightly red. Once again, he turned his head to the side, but, I noticed with a slight sense of glee, not quite as forcefully. Perhaps the lack of food was finally wearing down his system.

"Oh, Vincent," I cooed, running my fingers through his hair, "I have a surprise for you." At this, his uneasy look only strengthened. He knew now that I had caught on. He hid it, and we both knew it now. He was found out, caught red-handed, and now he was to pay the price. No one makes a fool out of me. Period. And when they do? Oh..the consequences are quite dire.

Carefully, I set the Protomateria on the tray beside the table and traded it effortlessly for the scalpel. Bringing a hand near the sharpened end, I stroked it softly. Finally, you can have the thrill to cut through real human skin again, and this time it will be for a real operation. One that I know the both of us will enjoy. I slowly brought the tool closer to my face and opened my mouth before leisurely dragging my tongue along it. I could tell it sent the Turk into a fit of disgust, but I was far too engrossed in my pride and joy to care. Not that I would anyway, of course.

As I turned back to my patient, I watched him observing me closely. Smiling sweetly, I tilted my head in question. "Yes?" In return, his jaw clenched tightly, and I could actually see the veins in his neck pulsing as he no doubt restrained himself from shouting.

"What..is that, Hojo?" he asked slowly. I didn't need to follow the trail of his gaze to know what he was staring at.

"This, boy," I began, and gently lifted the orb from its resting place, "is meant to keep the Chaos gene at bay." I could just see the screws in his mind working feverishly to process this. I didn't blame him; by extension, this was something in his favour. If had a demon within my body, I'd like to keep it on a tight leash as well. Rule it rather than let it rule me, I suppose. I considered letting him know immediately the real reason of the Protomateria's usage, but decided against it. It would be far more exciting to watch what he does when he realizes its purpose.

Without further delay, I lowered the tool to his pants and with practiced ease, rip a fine line directly downward. I couldn't conceal the smile as I hear him gasp in fear, no doubt. As I had just barely brushed his groin with the sharp object, it was understandable. I didn't stay on that area for long, however, as I continued the same sweeping motion for one of his pants legs down to the knee, so as I observe the insides of his thighs. It was no secret that Valentine used his legs a fair amount during combat, and as such housed quite a lot of muscle. And along with that muscle came a fair amount of blood flow. Still..this wasn't the ideal place.

Drawing my face up his torso, I repeated the action down his chest, feeling oddly satisfied with the loud ripping sound it made in the otherwise quiet room. With the shirt gone, I could feast on the well-toned albeit slender body of my raven. Gently, I traced the tip of the scalpel down from his neck for his navel, and chuckled when I saw him shiver. To my strange delight, I watched as his nipples grew hard. Be it from fear, cold, or another reason, I didn't dwell on it for long.

"Now Valentine," I said in a wickedly calm voice, "This might hurt just a little bit. But you can endure it, can't you?" At his livid glare, I merely smiled and patted his head. "That's a good boy."

Without further delay, I dug the instrument into his shoulder, dragging it along in a curving pattern so that it half encircled his heart. Ignoring the loud cry of pain, I left the medical tool in the bleeding wound. I wasn't entirely certain, but I seemed that somewhat slowed the healing process. Quickly snatching up the Protomateria, I forced it into his shoulder. Carefully, I extracted the blade from the injury and watched as the blood soon slowed to a stop and the torn flesh mended before my eyes. It was much slower, however, almost more lazy. If I was right (which I always was), this may be a final, half-hearted attempt by the demon to fight against the Protomateria.

Never one to give up an opportunity to test a theory, I gently trailed a line diagonally from the bottom of the Turk's ribcage to his hip bone. A small trail of blood followed this, and to my utter joy it did not vanish. Very satisfied with this turn of events, I glanced at the boy. His face was turned away, as if determined not to bear witness to my ministrations. I tsked at him, but did not force him to look. He would look in do time.

"I think this will do," I said cheerfully, placing the scalpel back onto the tray, "Now Vincent, let's get you up, hm?" At this, his head did turn, but it was to look at me in momentary shock; this was then overcome by suspicion and his jaw tightened.

"What are you planning?" he hissed, eyes unsteady. I had to smile at such a valiant display. Despite being so weak, he still had the nerve to defy me. I admired his strength, but mainly because it would feel that much better to rip it from him.

Without answering his question, my hands carefully unbuckled the thick leather straps. It took a few moments, as I the belts trailed down the entirety of his body. Unintentionally, the palm of my hand brushed along his inner thigh and I felt him tense. Chuckling quietly, I innocently let the tip of my index finger stroke back and forth. I didn't keep this up for long, however, as I was still determined to show him that arrogance is a personality trait not permitted in my laboratory.

As all the bonds came undone, I easily sidestepped his clumsy attempt to strike me. After being held immobile for over a week, and very little nourishment to boot, there was no way he was capable of successfully executing an accurate blow, let alone a fatal one. Stepping back into place, I tilted my head and smiled coldly.

"That wasn't very nice, Vincent," I chided, and my smile only widened at the growling emitting from Valentine's throat. I mentally noted it sounded much lower than before. Perhaps Chaos was showing through? Now that would prove to be a quite a treat.

Now, as most would say, my strengths lie within my work.. This is partially true, but if I may say so, I'm highly underestimated. True, I'm not one for physical confrontation, but I'm more than capable of defending myself. Just the same, beneath my lab coat, one might be surprised to find my pictorials quite to the female population's liking. But this was beside the point.

My arms slipped underneath Vincent's body and I easily pulled him into a sitting position, his back to my front. I could feel him tense once more and the unmistakable shaking of anger fueled my mind. He attempted to kick out, but it was in vain. His muscles were growing weak, and any hope he had of running were no doubt crushed.

"Hojo," he growled, raising a hand as his head turned to the side to grip tightly at one of my long bangs, "Let. me. go." The pure, unadulterated 'hatred' within those red eyes almost had me backing doing exactly as he said. I held my ground, however. It was very likely that Chaos was once again acting out, though was unable to fully morph with the Protomateria present. I raised a hand and covered Vincent's, nearly to the point of crushing the bone before he reluctantly loosened his grip from my hair.

Satisfied with my show of dominance over the beast, I moved one arm so that it supported the weight below his knees and rested the other just below his shoulders. Lifting him up into the air in the manner not unlike a groom carrying his bride, I transported his body across the lab and into one of the many long hallways leading around the manor. My footsteps were purposeful, as I had resided within these walls long enough to know it like the back of my hand. Glancing down, I noted with a pang of disappointment that his eyes were closed, but I knew he couldn't be sleeping. Was he trying to ignore me?

I felt a bubble of annoyance rise within me, but I held it down. Once I had him where I wanted, I could take out all my anger and irritation on the Turk. Only then. If I act out too soon, the satisfaction will only be half as good.

My feet stopped before a smaller door, off the path. If I hadn't known about it, it's probable I would have continued on past it. Raising a foot, I delivered a forceful kick to it with the sole of my shoe and smirked slightly as Valentine jumped in surprise. Our venture had been very, so no doubt the cracking sound of a door being forced open had shocked him.

I remained standing where I was, patiently waiting for him to observe the interior of the room. It took a few moments, and I only let the emotion flicker across his face before concealing it, but I saw the horror there.

Bones and skulls littered the floor, most huddled in the corners. The walls were stained with dark, crusted blood, and a few incomprehensible scribbles of lost hope and fading innocence could be seen every so often. In the middle of the room, a set of chain handcuffs dangled from the ceiling. A broken down skeletal figure vaguely representing a human still hung from them. Somewhat peeved that my clean up crew hadn't removed the long since dead body, I set Valentine on the floor gently. With a few quick strides and a loud "click", the bones crumpled to the floor, a few shattering on impact. Turning back to my raven, I saw him pathetically attempting to scoot away and out of the room. I shook my head at him before scooping him into my arms. The gesture alone appeared almost romantic, but taken into context, was far from it.

"No!" he yelled, and I wondered just what he was thinking I was going to do, "Let me go! Now!" If I wasn't mistaken, was there a twinge of panic within that otherwise angry voice? Well, if there wasn't now, there would be soon. "Release me!"

I removed the arm supporting the lower part of his weight and shifted my grip so that I held onto both of his wrists. Vincent's legs gave out after a few seconds, but he continued thrashing within my grasp. Whether by accident or not, I don't know, but a stray knee lifted itself quickly and made direct contact with my groin. I gasped in pain and gritted my teeth tightly. Anger washed over my form, and I couldn't contain myself much longer. Leaning down, I did the most instinctual act of dominance I could think of.

My mouth opened widely and I clamped my teeth over his neck. I continued biting down until the bitter taste of copper filled my mouth and only when his struggling ceased did I release him. Vincent's breath was coming out in pants and looked genuinely weary. It mattered not, however, as he was going to endure much more punishment because of that little show of immaturity.

In no time at all, I had the handcuffs tight around both wrists, the tips of his feet just barely touching the dirty, cement ground. The raven glared weakly at me, arms directly parallel to each other one either side of his fair face. Sending a brief sneer his way, I walked to the opposite side of the room where a large bureau stood. Trailing a hand over the top of it, my lip curled slightly. A few stray fingernails and teeth marks lay scattered along the otherwise smooth surface.

Twiddling my fingers in child-like excitement, I opened the first drawer. Inside were a wide range of tools, most of which I won't be getting into at the moment. They will be put to good use in the future, but for now I had only one thought in mind.

My fingers wrapped around the handle of a leather-bound object. Pulling it out slowly, the cat o' nine tails slipped over the side of the drawer and gracefully fell through the air in a manner that resembled liquid. If not for my grip on the hilt, it looked as if it might have pooled into black water on the floor.

Slipping off my lab coat, I turned back to my captive and I watched his eyes grow wide in fear. He knew what this was, that much was obvious. Whether or not it had ever been used on him was another story completely. I suppose I didn't really care, however, as I circled around him slowly, licking my lips once I caught sight of the wide expanse of smooth, unmarred skin. Vincent's shoulder blades stuck out oddly, though this was do to his arms' stressful angle. I raised a hand and softly ran it down his spine, grinning in delight at the choked gasp he made.

Removing my hand, I gave no warning before a loud "crack" filled the room. Valentine cried out slightly, though immediately muffled it. Ah, was this something drilled into his head, I wonder. Turk training was often long and strenuous, and I've heard they prepare you for any given situation should you be captured. It was easy to deduce that one of these rules in particular was to remain silent should you be tortured. However, that typically was only for the cases in which the enemy wanted information. In the situation at hand, I didn't need him to speak. On the contrary, he could remain as quiet as he wanted. Though, I let out a soft chuckle it wouldn't hurt to hear him screaming.

Once more, I lifted the whip and brought it down against the boy's back, noting in severe satisfaction how grievously he bled without healing. I continued this several more times in quick succession, each time watching his body jerk in pain.

Several minutes went on like this, striking him continuously, and hearing him emit the smallest of whimpers and yelps of pain. At one point, I had come around to catch a glimpse of his face and raised an eyebrow at the sight of his face. Though his eyes refused to spill tears, his lip had a small stream of blood falling from it. Vincent's upper row of teeth continued biting into the open wound furiously, no doubt trying to distract himself from the pain behind him. I just offered a warm smile once his eyes opened before continuing my earlier ministrations.

I decided to try a different tactic; one that might make him actually cry out words. Now, don't be mistaken. Forcing him to cry out still was not my main goal here, but I can't help it if it's an added bonus.

After carefully aiming, I swung the leather down forcefully and successfully hit a wound at the exact angle it was already at. This resulted in the cut deepening and more of his blood spilled forth. I continued this a few more times until he finally cried out once more. This time, however, it wasn't just unintelligible shouting. It was my name.

It wasn't a pleading or begging cry, however. And it wasn't broken. If anything, it was anger. But the fact remained: He had cried out 'my' name.

I dropped the whip to the floor and approached Vincent slowly, wrapping my arms around his slender waist. I didn't care that the open wounds were steadily seeping blood into the front of my clothes, and I didn't care that he let out another choked noise as I aggravated them. One of my hands slid slowly along his front and over the lower part of his belly. Smirking, I dipped the tip of my index finger into his navel and felt rather than watched him squirm in obvious discomfort.

Opening my mouth, I dragged my tongue along a particularly deep injury, lapping up the blood in a manner similar to a mother cat cleaning her kitten. He gasped and set forth a number of profanities I didn't know were within his vocabulary. Chuckling softly, I used my free hand to trace a long fingernail down one of the flogging marks and slipped it inside, scratching the already irritated skin.

"Now now, Vincent," I reprimanded him softly, pausing the smirk at his sharp gasp, "language."

"Fuck your language," he spat, only to cry out once more as my hand slipped lower to brush over his nether regions. He twisted sharply, back arching unintentionally towards me. I chuckled lowly and once again lapped at another wound.

My hand gripped onto the limp form of his penis through his trousers and I ran my hand softly along the shaft, thumbing the head. He writhed against me and let out a hoarse shout, and I assumed his voice must be growing quite tired. Chuckling, I removed my hand and let it caress one hip before stepping away from his form.

I stood still a moment to admire my work. His wounds still dripped blood, but to my surprise weren't quite as bad as I thought (and hoped) they would be. I suppose it was a possibility that, despite the Materia preventing Chaos from taking action, he might still be capable of mildly healing Vincent's body. Truthfully, that worked just fine for me. That way, the Turk might actually heal on his own without my having to intervene much. It may be a slow process, but this allowed me to test to me hearts content without having to worry too much about the consequences.

My feet led me to a darker corner of the room where a rusty sink sat. On the counter lay a chipped, dry bowl. It had been quite some time since I allowed Valentine anything to drink, and I really wouldn't want him dying of dehydration. With only a moment's worth of difficulty, the faucet began pouring cold, though surprisingly clear water. Stalking back to the boy, I held the bowl to his lips.

He raised his head and looked at me, eyes half-closed and near unconscious. Standing up straight, I tilted his head back and slowly let a light stream of water seep into his mouth. Almost immediately, his body's natural reaction kicked in and he gulped greedily. It wasn't long before the bowl was empty, and, despite my better judgment, I filled it and repeated this process twice more.

Certain that he wasn't going to die anytime soon, I easily unlatched the handcuffs and caught him quickly before his body hit the floor. I carried him in the same manner back down one of the hallways, but to my surprise he had passed out within my arms. It was strange, really. To think one that hated me so much would actually allow himself to slip from reality and into blissful sleep while at my utter mercy. He knew the things I could do to him while he slept, and yet his body's undeniable 'need' for sleep seemed too powerful to resist.

Stepping once more into my lab, I laid him on the table, on his front this time, as before and strapped him down. Feeling momentarily and uncharacteristically generous, I laid a towel over his bare back. It wasn't as if I was concerned for his health per se. More so, I wasn't all that keen on letting his injuries become infected. I didn't have a good grasp on the level of the demon's healing abilities, what with the Protomateria interfering.

Stepping away from the Turk's prone form, I tilted my head thoughtfully. Despite the many wounds, he was still quite breath taking. Inky hair framing an almost angelic face definitely drew most people of either sex in. I hummed softly without another word, turned away. Standing in the threshold of my lab, I glanced back once more and felt my lips twitching in amusement.

"Tomorrow," I whispered, "we're going to really experiment."