Warnings: Language, violence. Maybe some icky bits.
Chapter 51 : Warrior's Dance
Sephiroth eased through the murk and barely resisted growling. His team, his lovers, his...friends were in danger and he was essentially useless.
He was not happy with the realization. He was not happy at all.
Over the years, he'd gotten used to sensing where his SOLDIERs were within a wide radius around him. Plus they were such a small group he could practically identify them from their 'feel'. Right now, however, whatever connection he had through the injected Jenova cells was ephemeral in the thick purple fog. Even Cloud's presence, standing right next to him and connected through touch, was muted. As for Zack and Yazoo, they might as well be in Mideel their cells seemed so distant. So distant that he could be tracking them, or he could be hunting down one of Hojo's evil experiments that wanted nothing more than to eat them. He couldn't tell and that made him want to spit nails—a handy expression he'd picked up from Master-Sergeant Lutton and very apt for his current situation.
He had a flash of connection, and stopped. It was close, and strong, but still muted as if they were around a corner. Or, he thought, through a veil. And, if they were behind a veil, then all he had to do to find them was—he reached with his mind—rip it aside—he gripped the presence he could feel—and pull them through to the other side.
The fog was gone, the purple-black tendrils reluctantly peeling away from them, which was good, but they weren't in the large room in which they'd first encountered Nero's weapon, which was not. Walking through the fog had transported them to someplace else within the base. He didn't know where they were but, as he inspected the crowded halls, he knew that they were nowhere near Zack and the others; he would have felt them.
He growled in frustration.
"Sir," Cloud's voice was filled with caution rather than disappointment, "Do these... people... remind you of Yazoo?"
The hall was filled with creatures which, although basically humanoid, seemed to cover the whole range of bipedal species of Gaia. However, they all had various lengths of silver hair and various coloured cats' eyes so it was obvious that they were supposed to be clones of Sephiroth, but Hojo—it could only have been him—had played with the genetic samples adding strands from other beings because, although some of the clones had fully formed human features, others... did not. The General could see some that had skin that appeared melted, one feature sliding into another. Others had beaks or claws or feathers or scales. Some seemed sane, walking with a purpose. Others twitched and muttered and reminded the General of the final aspect he'd found in Cloud's fractured soul, Caro, injured, broken and heartbreaking.
"Clones," Sephiroth confirmed. He watched them, all moving in the same general direction. The hallway pulsed with the call of their Jenova cells, synchronized and growing stronger.
They followed the silver-haired crowd as it undulated, like a loose-linked chain, down the corridor. Sephiroth towered over most of the clones and he could see the unity—the attempt to achieve identical growth—in all of them. He could also see the failure, repeated in body after body.
"They're muttering about 'reunion'," Cloud said. "This can't be a good thing, can it." Sephiroth knew the younger man was thinking of what Tseng had said about Jenova rebuilding herself. He knew because he was thinking the same thing.
"Probably not," Sephiroth agreed, "but there might be one good result." Cloud looked up at him in disbelief and he allowed a small, predatory smile. "Wherever this reunion is supposed to take place, it's most likely that Professor Hojo will be there."
The Corporal's soft lips curled and thinned with hate. "I think we should crash the reunion, don't you?"
"Of course." They shared a look of feral intent. Zack and the others weren't forgotten but neither warrior could allow this opportunity to pass. Zack was with Vincent and Tifa, Yazoo and Tseng. It was a powerful group and Zack had survived other, equally unknown situations. Sephiroth would just have to have faith that the SOLDIER would do so again.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Vincent Valentine." The voice was smooth and artificial. Since the boy's mouth was covered in a thick, leather strip and his chin didn't move, Vincent wasn't sure how he was speaking, but he put the question out of his mind as unimportant.
"Nero," he said in acknowledgement, his own voice cool and controlled.
What was important was that the purple-black mist was pulling away, disappearing as if it had never been, and his companions were emerging from the fog one by one. Tseng immediately made a sound, regaining consciousness, if not full function, with the retreat of the deadly mist. They were in a space far, far larger than the one the Nero had captured them in and Cloud and Sephiroth weren't with them. His son was missing
It was a worry the ex-Turk put out of his mind: Sephiroth was an experienced fighter and the small blond had proven to be an extraordinary survivor. They would be alright wherever they were. He had more immediate problems.
The Tsviet standing in front of him was slim to the point of being skinny. Hands too large for his body were peacefully folded over his chest as if he were a corpse standing. His armour glowed with the same blue that Vincent had seen on the other Tsviets. He had mechanical wings, although it was more the basic structure of them than actual wings—bones, but no feathers. It suited his rather austere look. Thin streamers of dark purple circled around him, flowing like ribbons over his body. Nero dipped his head, hiding his eyes behind shaggy black hair and Vincent knew they were being weighed, assessed.
"Yazoo," the Tsviet acknowledged his former ally. To his credit, the clone didn't cower or drop his head in embarrassment. "You are without your brothers; does that mean they didn't survive?" Yazoo lifted his chin but the grief was stark in his features. Nero dipped his head sadly, "I am sorry for your loss." Oddly enough, Vincent thought the sentiment was genuine.
"Do you choose to stand these beings or will you return to your master?" There was no judgement in the creature's voice. In fact there was barely any interest.
In contrast, Yazoo's deep voice was vibrant with emotions, "I stand with my friends." Zack gave him a gentle shoulder-knock in support.
"Very well," Nero replied, "It is your decision. It is a foolish decision, but it is yours to make." His eyes, a reddish-colour that Vincent refused to recognize, looked over the group and the gunman could almost see the Tsviet smiling sadly. "At first, I thought you nothing more than a nuisance. However, it seems I can no longer let you run about unchained. I must protect my beloved brother."
"Your... brother?" Tifa questioned and there was a tone in her voice that set off warning bells in Vincent. They'd let go of each other now but stayed close in case Nero used the fog again.
"Dear Weiss. Powerful Weiss," His voice was filled with adoration. "The only person who ever loved me... and the only person I will ever love."
"You're really brothers?" she asked again and Vincent gathered that ShinRa's forces had believed a different relationship existed between the two elite fighters. Considering what they knew of Yazoo and his brothers, the gunman wondered at Tifa's shock. It wouldn't be the first time incest had occurred between Hojo's specimens.
Nero hung his head and sadness radiated off of him, "But that is all forgotten. In a matter of moments, everything will change."
"How will it change?" Vincent asked. "Meteor isn't here."
"A new life breathes inside him... just as one does in you, Vincent Valentine." Nero's voice rose in devoted fervour. "He needs but one more element and then my dear brother will awaken and he will be the world's saviour."
"He's not gonna be my saviour," Zack muttered.
"Because you're not pure," Nero dipped his head in the SOLDIER's direction. "When the time comes he will take the pure souls, the true souls, from this dying planet and keep them safe as he searches through the cosmos for a new, better home." Nero's voice was charged with the fervour of a True Believer. Talk and logic wouldn't change his mind.
Zack stepped forward, "My girlfriend might have a problem with that. She doesn't think this world is dying."
"She should know," Tseng murmured, voice a little weak but lucid.
"Bet your ass she'd know," Zack nodded, swinging his Buster sword. "And since she's kind of attached to this world, I'm going have to stop you. It can be my apology for not having written in three years."
"Ah, so you wish to dance?" Nero turned to the side and, once again, Vincent felt that the boy was smiling at them. "What is a dance without a partner?" He stretched one mechanical wing and a small cloud of darkness formed and retreated, revealing a tiny figure with red hair and orange eyes. "Meet Shelke. My compatriot."
"Vincent Valentine" she said in a very young voice, "We've found you." Her voice was level, unsurprised at being unceremoniously brought to this room and dropped into a fight.
"Actually," Tseng rose to face the new threat, "I think we found you."
"We walked right into your headquarters," Zack said smugly, "Wasn't even hard."
The newcomer blinked large, orange eyes. "It was Weiss' plan to lure you in."
Tifa snorted, "Yeah right." She tightened her gloves and settled into her fighting stance.
"The final key that Weiss requires is contained in Vincent Valentine." The girl pulled out two batons. They glowed with the same energy her eyes contained. "It was easier to have him bring it to us than to chase him down," she said in a monotone unsuited to the childish tenor.
"The protomateria," Tifa stated.
The blank-faced girl nodded. "It is most important. Without it Omega cannot perform his task properly."
"If he wants it, I guess it's up to us to make sure he doesn't get it," Zack said cheerily. He brought his large blade up to his face. He held it in both hands and appeared to be praying into it.
"You have faith," Nero commented, "but it will not protect you. You will die and feel the essence of death and its ululations that are like a lullaby."
Zack twirled his blade. "You're just fucking creepy."
Vincent had already drawn Cerberus. He held the heavy gun easily and pointed it straight at pair. "Enough talk. Let's dance."
"This is seriously creepy," Cloud said softly. Sephiroth could only agree.
The Corporal had tried talking to a few of the more rational seeming clones but all they'd said was 'reunion' or they repeated a number. Each one gave him a different number and Sephiroth deduced it was their specimen number. He'd checked and they had numbers tattooed on their arms just as his specimen number was tattooed on his arm. The highest number they'd discovered was sixty-two. Sixty-two unfortunate creatures shaped and warped by Hojo's mad will.
He couldn't reach the scientist quickly enough and he would be able to kill him dead enough.
Cloud switched his sword from hand to hand, rubbing at his arms. "Corporal," Sephiroth asked. The young warrior dropped his hands as if embarrassed. "What is it?" the General persisted.
Large blue eyes swung over to him then away. "All my hair's standing on end. It feels like I have bugs crawling on my skin."
Instead of laughing, or whatever else Cloud thought he would do, Sephiroth answered calmly. "It is likely due to the clones' presence. Their Jenova cells calling to yours, or vice versa."
Cloud gave him another look, a subtly mocking look. "That doesn't make me feel any better, Sir."
It didn't make Sephiroth feel better either. It actually made him somewhat worried because if it became necessary for him to control the clones using the alien cells—which he wasn't even sure he could do—then Cloud would be similarly affected. However, since it was a safe assumption that the clones were heading toward whatever piece of Jenova remained with Hojo and that Hojo would be with that remnant, therefore Sephiroth had to plan for a small army of clones to be standing between him and his target. He had to come up with a plan to destroy the clones, or at least sideline them so they weren't a factor.
If only Cloud's body didn't hold nearly as much of the alien creatures cells as his own did then Sephiroth wouldn't have to worry about controlling him. Of course he could flip that sentence around...
"Cloud, did you ever try to use the Jenova cells to communicate with Zack?" he asked quietly, "or to influence him in any way?"
The soldier looked at him with startled eyes. "Um… I-I don't know, maybe?" One of the clones lurched unexpectedly and nearly fell. Cloud automatically put out a hand to help the creature stay upright. A fission of awareness ran up his arm.
The General narrowed his gaze thoughtfully. It wasn't ideal but it would have to do. "You might be able to control the clones—your Jenova cell count is high enough—and that would leave me free to fight Hojo."
"You mean do that thing you do to the SOLDIERs?" Cloud asked and knew he was blushing; this was no time to be getting an erection.
Thankfully, the General didn't notice. "Indeed. It was theorized, when I was still owned by Shin-Ra, that I should be able to influence or control the behaviour of the SOLDIERs through our shared Jenova cells. This is, in essence, the same situation."
"Except that, if I can do that to them, then won't I have the same effect on you, Sir?"
Sephiroth raised a brow in disbelief. "I think that's highly unlikely. I've had many years experience with the phenomena."
He sounded a little smug to Cloud but the soldier shrugged—it was probably true, after all—and turned his mind to their current situation. "What do I need to do?"
Shelke, Zack decided, reminded him of a grasshopper on speed, or maybe a really toxic mosquito, the way she darted in, whapped at them with her powered up sticks, and then bounced away again. He and Tifa took her on because at least she stayed on the ground when she fought and so do they. Turned out, that Nero dude floated all over the place so it was easiest to leave him to the gunmen.
He could hear the other battle though he couldn't spare the time to look. Last time he'd taken his eyes off the girl she'd managed to get a hit in and it had hurt, like a Bolt strike but with an added something that reminded him of Hojo's lab. It had driven him to his knees, dazed. Tifa had come to his rescue with a punch that had pushed Shelke halfway across the room even with her Barrier.
The Tsviet moved in for another hit but he'd learned his lesson: He wasn't watching her with his eyes anymore. He gave a brief thought to his Ice materia and cast it at the spot Shelke would be. It wasn't regular Ice materia, hadn't been since Sephiroth had gotten too close to it. Now it was dark—dark in colour, dark in feel. He wasn't actually sure what its effect would be on a former-human. He wanted to find out though.
Problem was, the kid's Barrier was the best he'd ever encountered. It was taking them freaking forever to break through. He really wanted to get his hands on the kid's Barrier materia so he could figure out what she'd done to it. It wasn't fucking natural, that's for sure.
The Ice flew through the air, a dark shadow on the ground, and hit Shelke's Barrier with an audible crack. Tifa's Quake followed right after and they could see the small Tsviet struggle to maintain her footing. He saw Tifa moving in for an attack so he quickly threw out a Blast Wave to weaken the kid's Barrier even more. It was less than half the strength it had been which was still too strong for most of their attacks to do any real damage.
The evil warrior in the itty-bitty body blinked at him as he swung at her Barrier knowing that his Buster was going to bounce off of it... again. "The extreme potency of this shield materia is comparable to that of a barrier field," she said, her little girl voice uninflected, remote. "All this effort serves no purpose."
"That's okay, sweetheart," Zack replied, dodging her two power sticks, "I don't know how to take 'no' for an answer. Ask any of my friends."
Besides, it was weakening. Even the strongest, most mastered, Barrier magic could only take so much damage before it had to be re-cast and hers was starting to break down, Zack could tell. He just had to keep whacking at it until then, which meant actually landing a hit on it, which would be a lot easier if the girl would just stay the fuck still!
"That is both an illogical and unreasonable expectation," she responded.
Zack didn't even bother to swear.
"You do realize that one or all of you will likely die in this foolish endeavour?" the itty-bitty baddy asked. "You could join us, save yourselves."
"And let you kill the planet?" Tifa sneered, "I'd rather die."
"Been there, done that. Got the awesome cosmic powers to prove it." Zack bent to allow Yazoo to launch himself off his broad back in an attack on bandaged guy. The clone hardly left an imprint which was pretty impressive considering the kid's size.
"It isn't logical," Shelke said in her oddly robotic little-girl voice, "I don't understand how someone could give her own life for that of strangers." She twirled her batons and Zack could feel the crackle as she reinforced her Barrier. Shit.
"When a person has someone they care about, giving their life is sometimes the least they can do," Tifa answered her, shaking out her fists. To someone who didn't know the fighter, it would look like she was trying to loosen up tensed muscles. To Zack, who'd fought with her before, it looked like she was powering up one of her attack materia. Iron Fist, if he had to guess. He tried to work out her attack vector so he could follow it up with his own.
"Although," the Nibelheimer kept talking, keeping the Tsviet distracted, "it seems like there are a lot of people around me who don't need a reason to risk their lives for that of another."
"Very well," the little girl said, still sounding puzzled but less concerned, "It is your choice after all. Just know that it does mean—"
She didn't get to finish. Tifa ran in with a punch that literally bent the Tsviet's Barrier even as it pushed the bitty warrior back, slamming her against the wall with such force that she bounced inside her Barrier. The mountain girl followed it up with a kick to the jaw that had so much power Tifa flipped right over. Even with the materia's protection it lifted Shelke up off her feet. When she dropped, Zack was there, landing a jump that shook the walls of the cavernous room. It also shredded the rest of Shelke's Barrier.
"Tseng," Zack called out even as he swung the Buster at the cornered Tsviet. The Turk didn't answer in words. The SOLDIER felt the approaching magic and jumped out of the way. Tseng's Silence hit the girl firmly, oozing over her like a second-skin, and ending her ability to cast magic for a while.
"No more Barrier for you, little girl," Zack crowed. He lifted the Buster, ready to split her in half, when a dark purple smoke surrounded her. He swung his sword and hit... nothing.
"Fucking shit! Where'd she go?" He spun in time to see the smoke deposit her behind Tseng. She shook herself, disoriented but not for long enough. Her batons sparked and she stretched out a delicate hand and fried the Turk with them. Orange-red light coruscated over the Wutaian, stiffening his muscles and forcing a pained sound from him. He dropped to his knees gasping for breath, trying to force air into his seized lungs. It wasn't working.
"Crap." That was Tifa swearing this time. She flung out her hand and the green light of a Cure rippled over the Turk's body.
Tseng gulped in a breath. One was all he needed before he whipped his gun around and hit Shelke on the forearm, numbing the muscle. He followed it with a punch, then a kick as he got back on his feet. He managed one more strike to her chest before the tiny Tsviet back-flipped out of the way. He shot at her, but she blocked and the bullets ricocheted wildly.
One of them hit Vincent. He absorbed it with a grunt, the pain distant and somehow unconnected to his body. He wasn't even close to being forced to transform so, until his body reached that point, he kept his focus on his opponent. He needed to because Nero teleported... again. To paraphrase Commander Fair, it was highly annoying.
*I could smite him for you and then we wouldn't have to listen to him anymore.*
Vincent ignored Chaos' eager offer. There was something in the demon's voice that made him cautious. It was as if killing the dark Tsviet wouldn't be enough to satisfy Chaos, not this time, and Vincent decided to let caution win over expedience. He reloaded and fired, reloaded and fired.
"Soul wrought of terra corrupt," Nero mused, gracefully moving away from Vincent. "I should have realized. My darkness would have no control over you, would it?" One of Nero's guns flipped down so that he could reload it. The other continued to fire.
*He is an irritating creature,* Chaos sneered. *You should really let me smite him.*
Vincent ignored them both even though he was tempted to agree. The dark Tsviet talked in a breathy, condescending tone, as if the fight were a mere inconvenience. It wasn't the first time the ex-Turk had encountered this trait. In fact, it seemed the more insane the opponent the more they liked to hear themselves talk. He had as little understanding of it now as he had forty years ago.
There was a flash of darkness shot with light, disorienting in its inconsistency, and then Nero... changed colour, turned blue-grey instead of blue-black. His winged body seemed to blur and then separate until there were three of him. Or some semblance of Nero the Sable...all three versions seemed oddly two-dimensional.
However, they could still shoot at them with real, very solid, bullets.
Zack sensed the bullets heading toward him and Tifa as they worked to corner Shelke once again. He quickly flipped the Buster sword to his back and used it as a shield. As he had before, Zack gave thanks to Angeal's father who'd put everything he had into getting the best weapon for his son. He gave thanks to Angeal's mother who had given the blade to him when Angeal no longer felt worthy. As for thanking Angeal… well… he was working on it.
He shook off the morbid past and focussed on the very dangerous present. He cast his Dark Ice at the form that was floating right in front of him. Nero, this version of him at least, looked kind of… diaphanous. The Ice hit the weird wrapped guy and froze him into place for a moment, long enough for Zach to build up some speed. The SOLDIER jumped up, still flying forward, and let his leap carry him and the Buster right past the dark Tsviet. The large blade cut right through the body, smooth and clean yet somehow off. Like there hadn't been enough of the guy or like when the VR room programming malfunctioned and the enemies had more light than substance.
"Please tell me that killing the ghost hurts the real guy?" he asked of the air.
"We can only hope," Tifa said as she shot past him, rising up from the ground and punching another one of Nero's ghosts through a wall. It flickered, stunned, and was destroyed by the combined fire of three determined gunmen who were easily firing enough rounds by themselves to equal a freaking company of regular forces.
He grinned. He had some seriously scary friends.
"Well that was unexpected," Sephiroth stated curtly, needlessly brushing non-existent dust from his coat.
"Yes, Sir," Cloud agreed. He tried to hide the smile that wanted to break through: so much for the 'many more years of experience'.
Actually, Cloud thought, it was kind of nice to know that the effect ran both ways. That he could, if he wanted, arouse the General just with the power of his mind... or rather, the combined effect of Jenova cells and mako, but they were in his body so that made them his, and he could make his lover shudder for him just like Sephiroth could do to him. Not that he'd thought the General would ever abuse the effect; it was just that it made the smaller man feel less... vulnerable. Or maybe equally as vulnerable was a better way of putting it; made them sound more like partners, each protecting the other. It was a good feeling and it had nothing to do with enjoying the large swordsman's helpless writhing and breathless moans.
But it was still a bad time for an erection. Cloud sighed and adjusted his pants.
"There may be another way, Sir," he suggested. "I remember, in the lab, Zack accidentally... I don't know... pulled the Jenova cells out of me. He hated the idea that I'd been given them so much—" He remembered the look of absolute horror on his friend's face, despair and guilt mixed in just for fun. It was kind of sad that it turned out that her alien cells were an essential part of the SOLDIER formula.
"What happened?" Sephiroth's smooth baritone brought Cloud out of the unhappy memories.
"This... stuff came out through my skin." And that wasn't a happy memory either. "A thick black goo oozed out and dripped onto the floor, and then the drops tried to... to move toward each other, gather back together."
"Reunion," the General murmured. Cloud's eyebrows rose, startled. He hadn't thought of it like that but it fit.
"It nearly killed me," Cloud continued, "I started to throw up and it was the same black stuff. Then it started to come out my eyes and ears. My muscles cramped and I couldn't breathe. At first we thought it was just a reaction to the shot, a coincidence, but he did it again to this other guy Hojo was experimenting on." Cloud could remember him vaguely, he'd been pretty messed up by then, unable to keep reality in focus, but he had memories of a skinny guy twisting on his cot, begging the voices to leave him alone. "He did it one final time, just to make sure that it wasn't a fluke, and then never did it again." Because the guy had died, Cloud didn't add.
"That would make a good distraction," Sephiroth said in satisfaction.
The corporal wasn't finished. "It's even better than that, Sir. Once outside of a living... host, I suppose, the cells died within minutes."
The General stopped in shock. "They died," he repeated. "Just died?"
"Yes, Sir," Cloud confirmed, "Dried up and flaked away."
Sephiroth's smile turned feral. To be rid of Jenova's threat once and for all. "Well, well, well. I do believe we'll be able to surprise the good professor. Explain to me how the process works."
"Impressive. Perhaps Azul and Rosso never stood a chance against the mighty Valentine."
It was the second time Nero had been forced back into a single form. It had taken an unfortunate length of time as his writhing streamers of darkness swallowed up their bullets without damaging the dark Tsviet at all. Despite Zack's comment so many days ago, Vincent did not have an ammunition factory under his cloak.
It didn't help that Nero was irritating to listen to. His breathy nasal tone was annoying Vincent… a lot. Plus Chaos was twisting inside him, whispering a blood-thirsty counterpoint to Nero's patronizing narration. Between the two creatures Vincent had an unhappy suspicion that this battle was no more than a delay while something of greater importance happened elsewhere. They were running out of time, he was sure of it.
"What about me?" Zack yelled as he dodged an attack by the small Tsviet, with the body of a child and the lifeless eyes of a killer. "Don't I count?" The SOLDIER managed a quick swipe at Nero in passing.
He obviously didn't expect it to connect, and it didn't, but it did force the creature to move and that interrupted the condescending speech Vincent was sure he had planned.
Vincent would be grateful for the small mercy.
The three gunmen—he, Tseng and Yazoo—had developed a decent rhythm. One of them was always firing on the oddly wrapped Tsviet. Nero would shift, usually telegraphed by a thickening of the purple-black clouds around him, and either he or Yazoo would find his new location immediately. Tseng was always a moment or two behind since his perception, no matter how well trained, was still only human normal. Unfortunately Nero hardly seemed damaged by all the gunfire and Vincent suspected that the cloud drifting around him in ribbons acted as some kind of shield.
Suddenly he was surrounded by a purple-black cloud that pulsed around him, thick and dark.
*Really,* Chaos said with a sneer, *Does that boy think his little cloud is enough to hold us?* Into Vincent's mind was fed the ability to ignore the darkness and he stepped forward easily, firing a few rounds at the Tsviet as he shot at the silver-haired clone who had taken refuge behind an odd shaped wall.
The Tsviet wrapped himself in his cloud and jumped away from Vincent and his weapon. "Well, well. That was interesting," he said, unfolding and folding his metallic wing structure. "Are you not curious, Valentine? Curious as to how you can be immune to my darkness?"
It was Tseng who responded. "It is the creatures inside him, those make him immune don't they?"
"My darkness can absorb as well as extract almost anything." They could practically here Nero's satisfied smile. "However, some things remain—things as black as the heart of a daemon. Soul wrought of terra corrupt."
"Chaos," Yazoo murmured.
"I believe so," Tseng returned.
"It makes sense," Yazoo commented.
"What does?" Zack asked as he stood behind the Turk. He took a moment to gulp a mana potion. His Blast Wave hurt Shelke but not Nero. Dark Ice would hurt both of them if he could land it. His Transform was useless, both of the Tsviets were immune, and he couldn't risk using the Comet materia in here with everyone bunched into a small space. It was too bad because it would be fucking cool to watch.
"That Chaos has something in common with the Tsviets," Vincent answered calmly reloading as the others fired at Nero.
Zack always found it useful, although kind of weird, how upset the bad guys got when they were ignored by the people they were trying to kill. He'd seen it in Genesis, back when he was a bad guy which he apparently wasn't anymore, and Hojo hated to be ignored with a passion that was brutal. Zack had learned never to ignore the crazy professor: the pain wasn't worth it. Still, being blasé when the Big Bad spouting apocalyptic or genocidal fantasies always seemed to put them off their stride so, as a battle tactic, he never undervalued it. Nero was no different. The SOLDIER saw him pull his skinny frame up to its full height and lift his chin... They'd offended him.
Cool.
He checked over his battle but Tifa seemed to have Shelke well in hand. The fighter had somehow lifted the Tsviet up in the air and was beating the shit out of her. After that, Tifa would throw her to the floor and stomp on her some more. He had a couple minutes before any move by him wouldn't throw off the mountain girl's rhythm so Zack could spare a moment to watch Nero's show.
"Omega's awakening is near and Chaos has been drawn out of the shadows to serve as his guide, his herald. Chaos is Omega's squire. Its only purpose is to serve Omega," Nero spat at them, twin machine guns still firing, "This fight goes against what he is, what he wants." The cloud around him thickened and Nero shifted himself farther away. "Can you feel it within you, Vincent Valentine, struggling to get out? Wanting to fulfill its destiny?"
*Yes! It would be glorious. I would be glorious!* the demon shouted inside Vincent's mind making the gunman wince.
'You'd be bored silly,' Vincent thought back at him, bringing up memories of the fights they'd had participated in since their release from the cave. He thought of the night he'd spent with Tifa, exploring her passion as she'd explored his. He imagined meeting the president of ShinRa and gleefully punching him in the face and knocking him on his fat ass—a small punishment for allowing Hojo to run free all these years.
He could feel the demon's smile. *You may be right, my immortalis. I shall have to consider your arguments.* Vincent knew he'd won nothing.
"You gotta admit, Sir, Zack has a point. Why do these facilities have rooms as big as a chocobo run?" Cloud mused, tone dry as the Corel Desert. "It is, to put it mildly, a waste of space."
"Anything that feeds the ego of its user can never be considered a waste, Cloud," Sephiroth responded, his tone matching his companion's. "It is a bureaucratic law."
They had reached the end of their journey. A large two-level room, a ramp had fed the clones into the lower central area, like cattle into a pen. The two warriors hadn't gone into the lower level, recognizing it for the trap it was. Instead they'd climbed up onto the upper level which was a narrow walkway. The outer wall was lined with equipment that beeped and glowed with lights. If it hadn't been so similar to the set up in the lab, Cloud might have found it pretty.
Sephiroth pointed out a box suspended above the pit, "If there's anything left of Jenova, it would likely be in that. Hojo will drop it amongst the clones and then this... reunion... would occur."
"That is precisely what will happen. I'm glad to see that your brain hasn't atrophied over the years. I designed you well, Specimen-S," said a nasal voice. Hojo had arrived from some secret entrance. He held a switch in one hand, a dead-man's switch. Probably it controlled the winch that would be used to lower Jenova's remains into the pit which meant that Sephiroth couldn't kill Hojo from here. They had to get closer.
"Hojo. I can't say that I'm surprised that you're here." The General's voice was steady and calm. Only Cloud could feel the pulse hammering in the larger man's body. Cloud had to work hard not to freeze in fear or grovel in trained response. Sephiroth's grip on his hand tightened, grounding him, reminding him that he wasn't Hojo's creature anymore. Gratefully, he squeezed back, knowing the reassurance would work both ways.
"Where else would I be?" the scientist sneered, "This is the site of my greatest triumph."
"Your plan is to reunite Jenova's cells, which you used these poor souls to breed, and then what?"
"Then we shall travel the stars together, seeking out new worlds to conquer."
The Corporal steadied himself, closing his eyes so he could better sense the vibrations of the massed alien DNA. He gave Sephiroth's hand a squeeze, letting him know he was starting. The General pressed back twice, acknowledging the message.
"Why would she take you with her?" Sephiroth asked, "You will have served your purpose."
Cloud pulled on the cells, telling them to come to him, that he was one of them, that he wanted them to join him in Reunion. He could feel the mass responding, craving to be one again. Whimpers rose from pit, soft and easily unheard for now.
"How will she take you with her?" the silver-haired warrior asked "You are hardly equipped to travel through space."
"No, not in this pathetically weak body, but I have a much better one waiting for me. Once we have the protomateria, I will be able to control Omega, merge with him, and Jenova and I will fly through the stars." The scientist laughed a grating sound that made Cloud shudder. The blond soldier did his best to ignore the conversation, keeping his focus on his task, but sometimes it was hard.
"I thought Weiss the Immaculate was Omega's vessel." Sephiroth's comments were meant to keep the scientist distracted as they moved closer to the professor.
Cloud followed the gentle tug on his hand, like a flower to the sun. He sent the pull out a little stronger, sent the craving to be whole out to the other cells hosted in the clones' bodies and they were responding. The Corporal knew was likely a death sentence for them but it was their deaths or the death of the whole planet. Cloud swallowed down his bile, and focussed.
"He will bring Omega forth, yes, but then the Weapon shall be mine to use." Smug, so smug. Sephiroth wanted to kill him now but he couldn't risk it.
"That's not what DGS believes."
Hojo cackled. "I know what those religious idiots in Deepground think, after all, I designed them, but it's of no concern," he cackled some more, "because I designed them. They needed a certain amount of autonomy to perform their function but, having learned my lesson from you, Specimen-S, I programmed in a failsafe that I can engage at any time and their absolute obedience will be mine.."
The General ignored the growing sounds of pain from the clones in the pit. It was still faint, but he was able to detect where the alien cells were escaping from their hosts and soaking into the clones' robes. Hopefully, the cells would be trapped in the cloth and unable to return to the host bodies.
"Why," the silver-haired warrior asked; a nice open-ended question that should hopefully cover what his partner was doing.
Hojo cocked his head puzzled. "Why?" he repeated.
"Yes, why." The noise was growing from the pit. Some of the clones had already collapsed and the General could see a growing black slick on the metal flooring—Jenova cells. "As long as I've been aware of you, you've wanted to leave this world. Why?"
"Because I am a great man," the professor answered, puzzled that the question had to be asked. "This world it's too small, too limited, for an intellect such as mine. Perhaps, somewhere out there—" he flapped his hand toward the sky "—will be someone who can truly understand my genius." A particularly loud groan pulled Hojo's attention toward the pit. "What are they doing?"
"If you have Omega, why do you need Jenova?" Sephiroth asked hastily.
The professor pulled his dark eyes away from the clones. The lights from the computers reflected like stars on the lenses of his glasses. "Jenova has always valued my talents as they should've been; has always understood that this world is too small to contain me. I have been loyal to her in ways that—" he paused, frowning down at the clones even more fiercely. He stepped closer to the edge and stared into the crowd.
Most of the clones had fallen, on hands and knees and clutching at themselves as the thick black liquid oozed from their very pores. Cloud was breathing in controlled pants. The way they taught soldiers to manage pain if injured, until help arrived. The blond warrior's fists were so tight that Sephiroth knew he'd have bruises even with his genetically-enhanced physique. They were running out of time and the Corporal knew it.
The dark eyes widened. "What is this?" Hojo demanded. "What are you doing?" He glared at the tall swordsman and finally noticed the blond soldier standing beside his prize specimen. "Specimen-C, I'm surprised to see you. You barely had a functioning brain cell after your last treatment. You showed such promise in the beginning. It's a pity that you turned into such a failure." The nasal voice was filled with disdain. Cloud ignored him, concentrating on drawing out as much of the alien DNA as possible.
"Looks like nothing's improved in that regard," the scientist harrumphed and Sephiroth knew he'd just dismissed Cloud as the threat. Excellent.
Sephiroth, filled to capacity with living Jenova cells, had been monitoring Cloud's progress. The cobbled together plan was working. The hum caused by being so close to so much of the alien DNA had lessened considerably which meant that the cells outside the clones' bodies were dying. Not as fast or in the quantity they'd hoped but it was a start. He just needed to keep Hojo distracted.
"Jenova is just a collection of cells that grow, like bacteria or a plague, until it kills off all its living hosts," Sephiroth's voice was deliberately dismissive. It had the desired effect.
"She is a wonder!" Hojo shouted, "A gift, that only one such as I could appreciate. Where would you be, oh great general, if it wasn't for what she gave you? Of course it required my touch to make it work. I can't believe they considered using Hollander's process. It was totally inferior." The professor was waving his arms. Clearly the thirty-year old insult still rankled. "It used only dead strands so of course it poisoned his specimen's. I will admit that his idea of filtering the cells through a breeder in order to give it stability." He was talking of Gillian Hewley, Sephiroth realized, he had to be. "His technique was crude but I perfected the procedure."
"You used your wife as the 'breeder'." Lucrecia, his mother. Just another tool.
Hojo waved it off. "She was convenient and easy to convince and, although flighty, her genes were superior. Still, you were flawed. You had your chance to become truly great in Nibelheim three years ago and you threw it away!" Now spittle flew from his mouth as he pointed at Cloud "You chose that mewling little creature instead of your true destiny as Jenova's new host. Intolerable!"
Beside him, Cloud fell to his knees and Tsurugi dropped to the floor as the blond warrior clutched his head. A thin stream of blood ran from his nostril. A wail rose up from the pit. Sixty voices crying out in pain. It was too much for even Hojo to ignore. He turned back to the pit, took a step closer. "What are you doing?"
The black ooze was too thick to be dismissed as a trick of the light. "What is that? The clones... they look like they are dying. But that's impossible unless..."
Sephiroth had to do a quick check on his lover; strategically ill-advised but emotionally imperative. He gave the blond corporal a healing potion and made sure he drank it down before returning his attention to their nemesis. As he stood he raised his hand, gathering power.
"You're ruining everything." Hojo looked up at his silver-haired creation and lifted the dead-man's switch. "I won't let you." The Firaga burst from Sephiroth's fingers before the words had left the professor's mouth.
It should have hit him dead centre, throwing Hojo back against the equipment in a fiery ball, instead the ground shifted, lurched, and Hojo lost his balance. He danced on his feet, desperately trying to stay upright, and the cast Firaga that should have disintegrated him, only grazed his side. The flames stuck to the professor's long white lab coat and it caught on fire. He released the button and tried to pat out the flames and the box started to descend in a swinging arc.
The General was already casting the second Firaga at the box suspended over the pit but the room shifted once again, even harder than before, and the cage swung as it dropped. The stream of fire heated the metal but nothing more. It didn't even slow the descent.
"Earthquake?" Cloud asked weakly. He grabbed his sword and stood beside the General, ready to back him up. His vision was still blurry and his head pounded but he wasn't dead so, as Zack would say, everything's good.
Before the General could answer, Hojo screamed. "What is that fool boy doing? We're not ready yet." He was trying to remove the burning lab coat but his arms were tangled in the sleeves. "They haven't even obtained the protomateria. Omega will be completely uncontrollable."
One final lurch and the professor's already unsteady stance became unrecoverable. He was lifted up and tipped over, right into the pit with the bleeding clones. The black liquid quickly turned his white coat grey. The box, finished its descent, opened and spilled its contents. Where it touched the clones, they dissolved. Where it touched Hojo, it latched on to every available surface, covering his face, his hands, and burrowing under his clothes until it sank into his skin.
Hojo screamed.
It wasn't as satisfying as it could've been because both former specimens recognized it as the sound, not of a dying man, but one being altered. Hojo was changing.
But into what?