Warnings: Language, mention of past torture, inanity
Chapter 52 : All Hell for a Basement
The ground shook and everyone struggled to retain their footing, except Nero who lifted up and floated above it all.
"What was that?" the small one asked. She stared at the far wall before turning her large, orange eyes on her fellow Tsviet. "Nero, what is happening?" Vincent and the rest stood quietly, listening and trying to figure out if this was going to result in more shit for them to deal with.
The dark warrior floated down to land lightly. His hands unfolded and it somehow seemed significant. "Soon, my dear brother will awaken," he said.
"But he's not ready," Shelke protested. "According to the professor, he needs the protomateria in order to be complete."
"I do not believe Professor Hojo is concerned with what my beloved brother truly needs."
Vincent saw Zack bottling in a comment or perhaps bitter laughter at the understatement. He was a little surprised that the bouncy SOLDIER had that much control. He turned his attention back to the Tsviets and their conversation, watching as Nero slowly twisted his head, first covering his face with his long hair then tipping back so the bandages were exposed. "Weiss does not need the protomateria so it is for some purpose the professor hasn't shared," he finally said, "and I don't believe Professor Hojo is trustworthy."
*Another understatement,* Chaos said with sneer. *Once we are finished here, we really must find the elusive Professor Hojo. I look forward to dismembering him.*
"But Hojo created us, created Weiss," the girl sounded vaguely puzzled, "He wants only for Weiss to fulfill his destiny."
"And he will," Nero agreed. "Weiss, beautiful Weiss, is complete."
*'Beautiful Weiss'?* Chaos hummed in interest. *I find myself curious about this paragon of manly virtue, my immortalis. Perhaps he would trade sexual favours in return for us not killing him?*
Vincent prayed fervently that he would never find out as he stepped back towards his companions who, following some unspoken signal, gathered close. "Omega is rising," the ex-Turk announced.
"We heard," Zack rolled his eyes.
"It has to be stopped."
Zack started to roll his eyes again but Tifa punched him in the arm. "That's your job, isn't it," she said to Vincent. "What Cloud said at the meeting about the squire fighting the final weapon or something—"
"And Raincloud said the same thing in this, um," everyone was staring at him, "this dream thingy that we, uh, shared." They were still staring at him. "It was mystic shit, okay? It doesn't have to make sense."
"Understood," Tseng responded dryly and everyone politely ignored the tide of red filling the SOLDIER's cheeks.
Tifa ignored the by-play. "If he's to stop Weiss from becoming Omega, he has to find him first."
"Well," Zack replied scratching his head, "the way the itty-bitty one looked over there when she started talking, I'd have to guess Weiss is somewhere behind that wall."
Tifa looked over at the doorway half hidden in the dim lighting. "Oh," she said, blushing a little herself.
Zack ignored her embarrassment. "The trouble will be getting the two of you over there without the Bobbsy Twins interfering."
Yazoo asked, "Why both of them?"
"It was something Cloud said in one of his trances," the tall SOLDIER replied, "That Vincent needed to have his Heart close by when he fought the final weapon."
"And that's Tifa?" the clone's voice was surprised.
"Would it be anyone else?" Vincent asked in return. His voice was matter-of-fact, as if the dark-eyed fighter was the only logical choice. It lacked eloquence, but made up for it in bedrock certainty. Tifa's blush grew and she glanced away shyly. It reminded Vincent that his love was young really, barely out of her teens. It was a side of her that was as engaging as her tough competence.
"Shelke doesn't seem as devoted to Weiss as Nero does," Tseng commented, ending the moment, "He's the one we'll have trouble with."
"Yazoo, you engage the girl—you've got her speed—the rest of us charge Nero and Vincent and Tifa just keep going."
"That's not much of a plan," Tifa said.
The big First grinned, "It's got the benefit of surprise."
"That what you always say when you have no rational strategy," Tseng said dryly, "However, it often works for you."
*It's not like there's much choice here, my host, so can we just get on with it?*
"Plus we don't have many options," Vincent added.
"Good point," Tifa grinned, cheeks dimpling. "I'm willing to try it."
Zack grinned back, "On three then?" He twirled his Buster sword.
"On three," Tseng agreed. He'd already checked his weapons; they were fully loaded. Vincent cast a final Haste on them all.
"One." Yazoo ran a nervous hand down his long coat and flipped his fine hair away from his eyes.
"Two." Tifa stretched muscles grown mildly tight from standing still.
"Three." The battle was on.
"He's absorbing the cells," Cloud announced, still very aware of Jenova's DNA. He shifted his grip on the General's hand. Now that he wasn't trying to pull the alien cells out of the clones he didn't need to hold it, but he wanted the reassurance. Sephiroth made no move to disengage and Cloud thought maybe the tall swordsman needed some reassurance too.
"Use your Fire materia," the General ordered and Cloud may have been weaving a little but there was no way he was ignoring that tone from his CO.
He mustered his will—what was left of it after the fight with the alien cells—and a sphere formed in the air in front of him. He threw it at the spot where Hojo had fallen. Beside him Sephiroth lashed out with a wall of flame so hot the metal railing started melting. It should have been enough to incinerate Hojo but it wasn't. As the fires moved through the pit, clones writhed and screamed and burned and died. As the flames moved closer to the still screaming professor, they turned blue, thinned, and disappeared, dissolved by streamers of light shooting out from the mass.
"Shit," Cloud said, praying.
"Agreed."
"What do we do?"
Masamune flicked through the air, unseen and barely heard. "Prepare to fight."
Fight Hojo…
Of course they were going to fight Hojo. It was a given, like death and pain and… and… It wasn't' like he hadn't known this was the point of confronting the professor, his tormentor, but he'd been with Sephiroth and Sephiroth would fight Hojo and Cloud would guard his back against the clones and it would work and it would be easy. Now he had to fight Hojo too.
Bile rose; he swallowed it down. Heart raced; he breathed in counts of three. Limbs seized; he flexed them discreetly.
"You are perfectly capable of facing anything, Cloud," Sephiroth said in a warm voice. Cloud wondered how the General had known he was freaking out when his hand was lifted to soft, sculpted lips for a kiss to ease its trembling.
Oh.
The General wasn't finished, "In fact, you are one of the strongest people I know."
"I can do this?" Gods, he sounded like a little kid. His cheeks flamed in embarrassment.
"We can do this," the silver-haired warrior stated and Cloud knew it was true.
"Okay then," his voice wasn't too shaky, "Let's do this."
Zack couldn't wait to tell Seph that his stupid-ass plan had worked. They'd charged Nero and Vincent and Tifa had slipped on past like a greased Mandragora. Neither of the Tsviets had a chance to block them either. Yazoo hadn't just shot at the itty-bitty one, but had run in and jump-kicked her across the room, regaining his feet in graceful tumble that suggested lots of feline DNA had been used to create him. As for Nero…
It turned out the guy was weak against swords. Bullets he could dodge or block using his weird metallic skeleton wings because their trajectory didn't change. A sword was a living weapon and moved at the whim of its wielder. So Zack, seeing that Nero had his wing things up, would change his swing to a different opening and the Tsviet didn't know how to deal with it. The SOLDIER had already opened up several deep wounds in the fighter and could tell that Nero was slowing down. Soon, he'd be at a dead stop.
"I assure you, I'm not as easy to kill as you seem to think."
Crapshitpissfuck. "Honestly? I don't think you will be," Zack half apologized for his verbal incontinence, "It was just too good a pun to resist."
The dark Tsviet tipped his head. "It was humour?" he asked even as he continued shooting.
"Only to Zack," Yazoo stated as he reloaded Velvet Nightmare. Tseng kept the tiny DGS warrior away from the gunman while he was vulnerable calmly judging the moments until he'd have to dodge out of the way of her batons. She too was bleeding from several wounds. Unlike Nero, she had a harder time with the gunmen. It seemed bullets moved faster than she did.
"Your planet is about to die and be gloriously reborn when Weiss transforms and you make jokes?" The oddly wrapped Tsviet translocated himself close to where Tseng was now the one reloading. Maybe Nero hoped to get in a sneak shot or two but it didn't work. The Turk dove out of the way while Yazoo shifted his target to the floating warrior, covering his companion instinctually, like he would've for Loz or Kadaj. Zack wasn't even sure the clone realized he'd done it.
"Hey, you gotta go with your strengths," Zack replied and cast a Dark Ice at him. A weird ripple ran over the Tsviet when the spell hit. It reminded Zack of Tseng's Silence materia but, if it was a Silence spell, it made no difference in this battle. Nero didn't seem to do any spells. Still, it could come in handy somewhere up the road.
"You are a strange one," Nero stated disinterestedly. And all Zack could hope is that he kept his 'pot/kettle' comment to himself this time.
There was a loud cry from Yazoo's side of the room, too high to be either the clone or the Turk. Shelke was hurt and hurt bad. There was a flash and Nero did that smoke thing of his. Zack knew where he'd gone and raced to join Tseng and Yazoo, intent on protecting them. Oddly enough, Nero didn't bother attacking the pair; all his attention was on the fallen girl.
Shelke was a bleeding pile in the corner, the blue light in her armour dull and unimpressive just like the orange glow of her eyes. She still held her batons, but limply, and the orange glow was gone. They were just sticks.
"Shelke," Nero said, passive voice tinged with something that could, maybe, be classified as concern. "Shelke" he repeated. It was concern. Zack felt kind of crappy that he somehow felt that the bad guys shouldn't care about each other. He wanted them to be like Hojo, which would make it very easy to kill them. But Nero was acting like Yazoo with his brothers. Concern made them far too human for the SOLDIER to feel entirely comfortable killing them.
On the other hand, their lives versus the whole planet?
He sighed in resignation and moved closer to the pair, making sure to stretch his hot muscles so they didn't seize up.
"I'm sorry," he heard the girl say. "I've failed you."
"Nonsense," Nero replied. "You knew this would happen eventually as we cannot go with him."
Yazoo and Tseng were pulling extra cartridges out of their nearly forgotten packs. It was odd how they'd all found other things to do while the two Tsviets said good-bye. It was definitely going to be 'good-bye', Zack knew because, even if the purple-red liquid didn't look like normal blood, that was what it was. There was a lot of it already on the ground and more was joining it with every pump of her heart.
"I wanted to see Ascension," she sighed. Her eyes closed and she slumped a little deeper against the wall. She was gone.
"Poor Shelke. She was the weakest of us, but Weiss was ever fond of her," Nero's head dipped and curved like a slow moving wave. He turned to face the three Gaians who waited, restocked and ready. "Now I must absolutely ensure that my beautiful brother achieves his destiny, don't you think?"
"I think you're a nutjob," Zack responded.
"So rude," Nero intoned, "I must break you of the habit." His pseudo-wings stretched and flexed. His guns flipped to the ready position.
Zack twirled his huge blade. "I'm ready when you are asshole."
It was almost like the SOLDIER could see Nero smiling behind his bandages as he opened fire. No matter. He charged even as Tseng and Yazoo started shooting. His Buster blurred beyond vision as he swept incoming bullets out of his path. Nero shifted. Zack turned and chased him to his new location. Nero shifted again, desperate to avoid engaging with the swordsman. It left him vulnerable to the other two who were shooting so fast it created a continuous roar of sound. Purple-red blood dripped to the floor under the Tsviet every time he stopped moving for more than a couple seconds.
Zack threw out a Blast Wave that caught the Tsviet and shook him to the floor. He landed awkwardly and had to put out a hand to steady himself. His guns stuttered, stopped, then started up again. Zack ran in, sword lifted for the killing blow.
The Tsviet shifted, but it wasn't as far as he'd done before. When it happened again, a short hop rather than a full jump, Zack knew they'd won. Yazoo and Tseng knew it too as they started to close in on the dark warrior.
"You're done, Nero," Zack said, offering the Tsviet the option of surrender even as he knew it was useless.
"You are far too optimistic," Nero said in his usual uninflected tone. He was bleeding out, but he didn't seem to care. "I am not finished yet."
"Fine," Zack spat, "If that's the way you want it." He hefted his huge sword and prepared to kill his enemy but, before he could move more than a step or two closer, Nero wrapped himself in his dark mist. It swirled around him, absorbing him, consuming him it looked like, before rising to the ceiling. It didn't go through it, which was what Zack kind of figured it would do, but instead it just kind of sat there... and undulated.
The three fighters came together, reloading weapons even as they stared upward.
"It's growing," Tseng was the first to say it.
"Shit," Zack said in acknowledgment; he'd hoped his eyes were wrong.
"He lives in the Dark, gains power from it," Yazoo commented and the First sighed again because he'd sort of figured the swirling darkness wasn't a good thing.
"That Azul guy changed into something new when he got hurt bad," Zack mused.
"You killed Azul?" Yazoo asked, eyes opening in awe.
"Chaos and Vincent did," the SOLDIER answered, incurably honest, "but I helped."
"You think that's what is happening to Nero?" Tseng asked, looking over to the SOLDIER he'd once known well and had always respected.
Zack looked back at him and his lips twisted. "Don't you?"
Of course he did, the Turk conceded, because why should their luck improve now?
Tifa and Vincent descended down metal stairs and steep ramps, crossing over bridges that were no more than wide pipes with rails. And always they moved down, always deeper in the hole that was the Northern Crater. These were the mechanical guts of the complex and things spun and pumped. The air was heavy and filled with the hum of the modern world. Vincent was somehow surprised that it was possible to breathe down here. The former Turk and son of a scholar didn't know the origins of the Crater, no one did, but it had always been there. There had been theories about volcanoes or a cataclysmic impact, or just geological shifts. What he realized as they descended deep enough for the air pressure to change, is that it was far, far deeper than anyone of his generation had ever realized.
They came to a large landing with computers lit up and working, measuring something that Vincent couldn't bring himself to care about. There was a wide set of stairs to take them even further down and Tifa headed towards it automatically but something held the gunman back, and turned his eyes towards an unremarkable pressure door.
*He is there, my Immortalis,* Chaos whispered eagerly. *I can feel Omega's power.*
'That is not reassuring,' Vincent responded. He felt the demon's chuckle, *I know.*
Out loud he called Tifa back. He checked for locks or other security measures—including machine guns mounted above them, ready to shoot any interlopers—but there was nothing. He looked at Tifa, wondering if she was ready for this, and she gave him a small smile as she shook out her arms.
*The adrenaline is high in the small warrior,* Chaos leered, *Adrenaline makes for great sex.* Vincent ignored the comment and put his hands on the wheel-latch. He gathered himself to force it open and nearly stumbled when it turned easily.
"Well maintained," he commented, "despite its distance from the main complex."
"That's a good sign," Tifa stated and flexed her hands in her battle gloves.
It was a good sign as far as finding their target was concerned but, from what little he'd managed to pick out of Chaos' ramblings and flashes of imagery, Omega was a quantum level or three above Shelke and Nero on the danger scale. He looked down at his companion, so fierce, so small—tough but still young. She was gifted and strong, Vincent knew, but she was still merely human and she could get hurt, seriously injured or even killed. The ex-Turk's breath backed up and his heart pounded and he was terrified.
She shouldn't go in with him.
He opened his mouth to tell her…
*If you say that to her you will insult everything she is. You cannot do that to our small warrior, my immortalis,* Chaos said softly.
Vincent dipped his head beneath his collar covering his hesitation.
What the demon didn't say, but Vincent instinctively understood, was that he could tell Tifa to stay here where it was safe and she likely would but it would destroy forever the trust it had taken them so long to forge. They would stay together for some time, if they survived, but the guilt, the endless second-guessing and the doubt would wear away at whatever they could have had. He hadn't trusted Lucrecia, not really. He hadn't trusted that she would choose him over her husband and her career, because leaving Hojo for a lowly Turk—no matter who his family was—would have barred her from any research facility that ShinRa owned or controlled. He'd thought that she would choose her husband and her career and so he'd never given her the choice. He wondered now, as he had wondered before, if he had trusted Lucrecia to be strong enough to accept her love for a man not her husband, would the past have happened as it did?
*You cannot know, my host, the past cannot be changed, but the future? The future is ours to play with.*
The future is ours…
He looked down and saw that Tifa was slanting him a mischievous look, a look tempered with caution and firm resolve. She was young, but not innocent and not unsure. Vincent nodded. He wouldn't underestimate Tifa; she deserved more than that from him.
*And we deserve to get laid sometime in the near future don't you think?* Inside him, Chaos was practically purring in anticipation and Vincent realized his unwilling resident had chosen which side it would fight on… Because of Tifa and the possibilities she represented, Chaos—Heaven's Squire—was going to fight against Omega, its very reason for being.
Cloud's vision was right.
So, instead of begging her to stay behind, Vincent asked a different question: "Shall we go stop the end of the world?"
The grin he received in answer was blinding.
If the room with the trap for the clones had been big, this room was something beyond colossal.
The light in the pit had expanded, fed by their materia maybe, definitely fed by the mix of Jenova cells and mako the clones had contained; it had expanded until it exploded and went... elsewhere, dragging him and the General with it.
Cloud tried not to look at the stars as they spiralled and twisted around them and tried not to throw up when it felt like he was falling. He knew he was standing on his feet, knew he was still holding the General's hand, except he felt stretched and exposed and like he shouldn't be here… wherever 'here' was because it certainly wasn't the pit room they'd been in before. It was a stage, a platform in an infinity set up just for them. This place wasn't meant for mortals and that made it a fitting background for this fight.
They floated down, landing softly on the only part of the space that had any light.
Who… what? He could barely form words enough to ask the question. He looked up at Sephiroth and knew the General was just as baffled as he was.
It didn't make him feel any better.
:Tiny minds, small dreams: Cloud heard the words even though there was nobody around to say them. He checked; the space was large and empty.
"Pathetic insects crawling around in the dirt when the stars are there waiting for one strong enough to grab for them." This time, the young warrior recognized the voice; the sneering tone was too familiar. It was Hojo. It was how he spoke when he was getting ready to prove his superiority by spilling another being's blood. Pulling out their muscles... listening to the screams...
"You would hardly be strong enough if you hadn't piggy-backed an alien in your body."
Sephiroth's voice was a calm stroke down Cloud's spine. He reminded himself that he wasn't in the lab now. He was free. He had a weapon. He wasn't helpless. The only screaming he'd do now was in bed with the General. It was a pleasant thought or maybe a vow, Cloud wasn't sure and didn't care. They could do this. "Does that make her the parasite, or Hojo?" he asked.
"Either way, they don't belong on Gaia anymore," Sephiroth responded confidently. He could feel the General's alertness as he tried to penetrate the darkness for any sign of their enemy.
:Kill them: the voice ordered :Then we can destroy our prison and ride the cosmic winds: Cloud finally recognized it. The voice belonged to Jenova. It was different from the way she'd sounded back in the underground city but he was certain. She must have used Hojo's body to create a new one for herself.
He frowned. If she was using Hojo's body, how come he could hear the professor talking too? He never heard Chaos' voice but Tifa had said the WEAPON was always talking to Vincent... inside Vincent... He sighed; his life was weird.
"Hojo never was one for fighting," Sephiroth sneered gently bringing Cloud's focus back to the situation at hand. "He much preferred having his opponents drugged, bound and helpless. Even then, he usually had someone else do the work."
"A coward," Cloud agreed, even though he'd never seen that in the professor. Not the point though; the point was to get Hojo and Jenova to come out and face them.
It worked. He did come out of the dark but Cloud wasn't sure the professor could be called a 'he' anymore, not really, not the way he'd... changed. He was an 'it' now. A big, freaky 'it' that was beyond being classified as either a creature or a monster and had gone right into being a horror.
"Gaia's grace..." he whispered, appalled and almost sick.
He could see the remains of Hojo in the thing floating before them. It had the professor's torso and head. The small glasses still perched on his sharp nose and still hid the scientist's cold, lifeless eyes behind their shiny surface. His black hair was still long and greasy. The thing, whatever it was, had definitely been based on Hojo. Except that it was all wrong, so very wrong.
It had no legs and no arms. It had wings, huge wings growing from distended shoulders that somehow looked misshapen and unkempt rather than full and strong. Instead of legs it had a... a growth, like a tuber or a root, except with a huge freaking orb in the middle that glowed an evil, pulsing red. Tendril-like things draped from the growth, whipping around as if trying to catch something to eat and Cloud wondered if the... the thing actually had a mouth down there. He didn't want to find out. To top it all off—literally—there was a second body growing up and over the first. Cloud recognized its shape right away: Jenova, whispering in the ear of the bizarrely altered scientist as she'd probably been doing for decades.
This is what Hojo wanted for the man he'd claimed as his son? This... abomination?
"You're fucking sick!" Cloud hissed. He thought he'd whispered the words but here, in this other-space, his voice carried easily. "He was supposed to be your son and this is what you wanted for him?"
"I'd hardly expect a mind as unsophisticated—"
"This isn't sophisticated. This is insane. Just like you," Cloud cut him off, voice flat and hard and the most unforgiving Sephiroth had ever heard, "You were barely human before, could hardly scratch yourself a place on the surface the Lifestream; now… now you don't belong at all." Cloud swung his sword and it hummed as it cut through the air.
Underscoring the movement was the echo of distant thunder that the silver-haired warrior could have written off as part of this environment except that the eyes on Cloud's wolves flashed and he could hear them growl. It occurred to Sephiroth that his lover's patron god was taking a very personal interest in this fight.
It also occurred to the General that, if Cloud's Odin was anything like Zack's Shiva, that interest might not be a positive thing.
Nero's darkness had swollen into a freaky stalactite that reached down toward them from the ceiling.
"Can we hurt it yet?" Zack asked, not really hopeful. He stood, hip shot and arms crossed, staring up at it; his sword was sheathed on his back.
Yazoo took the shot and, like the others before it, the bullet disappeared into the swirling mass. He didn't look surprised and neither did the big SOLDIER.
"That wasted some more ammunition," Tseng said dryly, "Considering we might have need of bullets later…"
"We could always leave, follow Vince and Tifa out the door and let Nero do… whatever he's doing." Zack suggested putting his clasped hands behind his head and stretching.
"You've said that before," Yazoo pointed out, "But I don't see you moving anywhere."
"So I'm curious," Zack shrugged, "shoot me." He paused. "I didn't mean that literally."
Yazoo smiled and put Velvet Nightmare back in its holster. He caught Tseng looking at him and winked. One dark eyebrow rose, the only indication that the young clone had finally surprised the unflappable Turk.
Zack's eyes were still on the roiling cloud. "Does it look more solid to you?"
*He knows we're here, my Immortalis,* Chaos sniffed, *There's no need to sneak.* Vincent ignored its petulant comment. He had the impression that the demon believed being cautious was the same as being a coward. Turk training had taught him otherwise, as had life. In this case, however, Chaos might have a point.
They'd entered a huge space that only had three items of interest: One, a pool of green-white liquid that bubbled and steamed, filling the air with the acid-sweet scent of pure mako. The second was a large throne-like chair that sat on a platform in the middle of the mako sea. It somehow seemed to be both made of the liquid and to be feeding it into the final object of interest in the room. A man, closer in age to a boy but too big physically for the designation, sat in the chair and was wrapped around in thin tubes as if they were a woven blanket. The tubes fed into slender needles that covered arms, legs, torso… anywhere there was an open patch of skin there were literally hundreds of tiny needles piercing the man's body. Since he was almost pure white in colour, from his hair to his fingernails, it was easy enough to discern his identity: Weiss the Immaculate…
"This is Weiss?" Tifa asked, frowning at the form which was slouching, unmoving, in the odd glowing chair. "It's—he's—it's dead?"
"No," Vincent responded because Chaos felt Weiss' heart beat, "Hibernating."
"That's creepy," Tifa said. She took another step closer. "He's naked."
"I am uncertain of the protocol that exists between couples," Vincent said, voice dry, "Is it acceptable for one's partner to notice the state of undress of strange men?"
She smiled at him, a cheeky little grin, "Remember, Vincent, committed not blind. Especially not blind when it's all on display like that." She waved a hand in Weiss' general direction.
Weiss' eyes opened, ice blue under white-blond lashes, they would've been easy to miss except for their mako glow. "Vincent. Vincent Valentine," he said, "That name is familiar."
Vincent and Tifa turned to face the Tsviet. They took a couple steps away from each other; both to split the target they made and to give each other enough room to manoeuvre. It was automatic and, to Vincent at least, a bit unexpected. It usually took many hours of training or fighting together to develop such unspoken strategy. *She is your heart,* Chaos said, *or some such romantic rot.*
It might have been a factor, Vincent conceded.
"Vincent Valentine, son of Grimoire Valentine, formerly of the ShinRa Research Department—the Turks—lover of Dr. Lucrecia Crescent and biological father of Hojo's most successful experiment of the SOLDIER series, Specimen S." Weiss leaned forward and as he moved the needles and tubes moved with him in a rippling wave that was hypnotic and extremely disturbing. "You hold the protomateria within you."
"So I am told." Vincent agreed. "I was also informed that you wanted it."
Weiss waved a languid hand, "Hojo desired that I have it but further investigation indicated that he wanted to use it to pervert my ultimate purpose."
"And what is that purpose?" He and Tifa were slowly moving farther apart as they spoke.
"Omega is the final WEAPON; the one that will carry this planet's souls to the stars," Weiss said. He had a smug half-smile on his face. It matched the lowered lids that partially covered his eyes. "This world is going to end, and I am going to save all those that deserve it."
"It's only going to end because you and Hojo want to destroy it," Tifa snarled and Vincent winced because he hadn't wanted her calling attention to herself. Too late; the Tsviet's pale, pale eyes swing over to the small fighter. "You don't have the right to decide who does or doesn't deserve to survive," she added.
"You are naive, my dear," he said soothingly and Vincent could see Tifa's hackles rise. "It has always been the duty of the strong to decide who among the weak deserves to live."
Tifa didn't back down, "You weren't anything special until Hojo changed you, made you into a soulless mutant."
Weiss laughed; a smug rolling sound that filled the huge space. "Possibly not but the Weiss-that-was is not the Weiss-that-is. Only a strong shell could hold Omega's might and it could not be just anyone. There was something in me, as there was something in Vincent Valentine that made us the only choices for becoming what we are." He leaned forward and the needles and tubes rippled like wheat in an unholy wind. "Once he had found me, Hojo had his people gather up the 'uncontaminated' to create a stream of refined mako, in order to awaken Omega inside me. I am filled with clean mako, pure and clean. It makes me the perfect host for Omega. You, Vincent Valentine, are filled with tainted mako, impure and unclean."
Vincent's voice was dry as he responded to Weiss' taunting statement, "And that makes me the perfect host for Chaos?"
*I would hardly call you perfect, my own.*
"I would hardly call this situation 'perfect'," Vincent replied almost in unison with his unwilling guest. "Chaos was forced to exist inside me."
Weiss waved that away. "Like Omega, Chaos could have no real existence outside a human host." He shifted in the chair and the needles and tubes shifted with him. "Unlike the planet's other WEAPONS, which are simple constructs built to perform simple tasks, we—our WEAPONS—are complex in both design and purpose. I will choose which souls of this world to save then we will seek out a world where they can start fresh and clean and perfect. In order to achieve that purpose, both Omega and Chaos require the intricate complexities that only a human brain can provide." He was really leaning forward now, practically out of the chair. The needles and tubes had silently and steadily migrated out of Weiss' chest and stomach to his back leaving no marks behind, not even a single indent, from where the needles had punctured his skin. Chaos thought it was creepy and Vincent whole-heartedly agreed.
"Now my body is one with Omega, just as yours should be with Chaos." Weiss said. He stood up and the needles and tubes peeled away, disappearing into the throne-like chair. "You must allow it to happen, Vincent Valentine, you must allow Chaos to control you. It is the only way they will survive in space is if we—Omega and Chaos—have achieved perfect union with our bodies."
Vincent ignored most of what the Tsviet had said. "You choose," he asked instead.
For some reason he had a picture of his mother sitting in her morning room organizing a large event with both her housekeeper and her manager. It had had something to do with his family's position in history and it had to be perfect, of course. She'd spent many hours with them and used their input as experienced and intelligent people. They were valued members of her staff, indispensable she'd often said. And she would not eat with them. They worked for her, they made her look good, but they were 'the help' and that made them a step less—less intelligent, less creative, less valued by society—than she who could trace her ancestry back to the court of Henry II. Vincent had never understood how some people felt that innate superiority over anything, not then and certainly not now.
"Of course," the Tsviet confirmed, smiling. "If we are to make a perfect world then only the most deserving specimens should be used, don't you agree?"
"They are all part of the planet," he argued, "I think they all deserve to live." In a smooth, quick motion, Vincent lifted Cerberus and fired all three barrels, easily catching the recoil. He waited for Weiss to dodge so he'd know which direction to fire the next round.
Except the Tsviet didn't dodge.
Instead Weiss pulled two katanas from behind his back and gracefully and easily deflected the bullets to either side.
As he twirled the two weapons, smaller versions of Sephiroth's great sword, Vincent blinked. It somehow seemed like the Tsviet was twirling four blades. As if he was moving so fast he'd created an echo. "Do you not understand, Vincent Valentine?" Weiss taunted, "I am one with Omega, a pure, perfect being. You cannot hurt me."
*He is right, my host,* Chaos said. *You are augmented but still merely human. You cannot beat him like this.*
I can try, he answered back.
He fired again, both weapons sounding almost as one, aiming for Weiss' chest and legs. He hoped that by splitting the target the Tsviet wouldn't have enough time to deflect all the bullets. He looked for the flare of the projectiles hitting a cast Barrier. There was nothing: not a wound, not a flare; nothing, just that blurred spinning of the katanas and an eerie echo of Weiss' pale body that had Vincent blinking even harder to clear his vision.
"I see I must force you to accept your destiny, Vincent Valentine," Weiss said. Then he smiled and, if his smiles before had been smug and condescending, this one was pure evil enjoyment. "I look forward to the contest." And then he moved...
"Is it solid yet?"
"No." The response was immediate and in stereo.
"Honestly," Yazoo scowled at him, "Why do you keep asking that? The answer hasn't changed in the last two minutes."
"It is a thing that children do when they are impatient to receive some promised treat or reward." The Turk stood, hands clasped loosely in front of him, serene and perfectly fucking calm.
Zack stopped his squats—he'd lost count but who cared. "Are you calling me childish?"
Tseng looked at him with dark eyes. "I did not but you obviously see a resemblance."
The SOLDIER put his hands on his hips. "You know, when this is over and if we both get out alive? I think I'm finally going to kill you."
A small smile, very small, tugged on the Turk's lips. "You will not."
"Yeah, well, Aerith likes you so I suppose..." Zack shrugged his shoulders unhappily, "I just wish we could get this fucker started." He glanced up, opened his mouth...
"No!" Yazoo said firmly, "It's not ready yet."
The weight was immediate and overwhelming, pressing, pressing, until he had no breath and he couldn't move and he just knew he was going to die.
The tingle of a cast Esuna flowed over him, clearing out the weight on his body and in his mind. He jumped up and gave the General a nod—he was good now. Another tingle and he could feel himself healing the physical damage more quickly than normal. Sephiroth must have cast Regen on him which meant the General was preparing for a major battle. Cloud went through the materia he carried and did the same. He cast a strong Barrier that wouldn't help against magic but it might protect against a tentacle or two. Speaking of...
One of Hojo-Jenova's twitching appendages reached toward them, trying to sneak in a back-attack. Cloud spun with Tsurugi and sliced it, a glancing blow because the tentacle flowed along the blade rather than the blade cutting through the tentacle. It hurt though. The flinch ran up the wiggly limb and Jenova snarled :Such defiance! It is useless against us:
Sephiroth ignored the taunting voice. Instead he cast one of his Firagas at the abomination. It was the odd blue-white that all of Sephiroth's fire casts now were and it was hot enough to singe Cloud's eyebrows from a third of the way across the platform. The General threw it as casual as normal kids threw stones. It was impressive and scary and, if Cloud was honest, a bit of a turn on. He shifted his stance and told himself that his timing sucked...
The thing that had been Hojo beat its wings and easily moved out of the way of the stream of blue-white fire. It should have scorched it, melted feathers or something, because it was close enough. Cloud looked intently but the abomination seemed untouched.
"My original intention, in injecting myself with the Jenova cells, was to prepare myself to become the host for Omega," the Hojo part of the creature stated.
"You wanted to become Omega?" Cloud asked, putting distance between himself and the General trying to split the thing's focus. He caught a glimpse of Sephiroth leaping up Masamune poised and ready to strike. Jenova saw him as well. The wing closest to the swordsman pumped and created a wall of air pressure that forced the General back in a tumble.
Crap, Cloud thought: two heads, two sets of eyes, and equal control.
Hojo seemed oblivious to the action occurring on his-its right. "I could hardly believe when that fool female's theories proved to be correct. Superstitions and legends! Barely worth considering until I saw Chaos form in the tube in front of me. If she had been correct about Chaos then perhaps everything else in the story was as well." Cloud realized that the Professor was talking about Vincent.
"So you began injecting yourself with DNA from an evil alien being?" He threw Fire at the Jenova part of the creature; more to keep its attention on him while Sephiroth tried again to slice it with his sword. This time it worked, but not enough.
"She isn't evil," Hojo spat and the tentacles writhed. "She is brilliant and wonderful and has seen more that you will ever think of."
"And probably destroyed it too," the comment came from Sephiroth just as he cast another materia. Sparkly light glittered around the heads of the duo; there was even the faint sound of tinkling bells.
:Pathetic: Jenova sneered. "I'm disappointed in you, Specimen S." Hojo's sneer was almost exactly the same as the alien's. "That you would think Mystify would cause us to turn on each other."
There was a whirring sound and the orb in the pair's belly lit up. Cloud didn't need Sephiroth's yelled warning to know that this was going to be nasty.
A red beam, not of fire, but of a burning energy shot out of the orb. It swept over the platform and Sephiroth jumped over it when it swept his side. Cloud dodged by rolling under it. He felt when his shoulder got nicked by the beam; it was like having your muscle ripped strand by strand followed by a dousing in salt water. It was bad, but he'd felt worse. He stood up, shook out the worst of it and ran forward while they concentrated on the General.
Sephiroth was casting Aero, and Cloud figured he hoped it would destabilize Hojo-Jenova as it floated. It didn't. But it did distract them long enough for Cloud to get a good strike in along the left shoulder which he carried on down the spine. He had loaded Elemental Strike into Tsurugi rather than into his armour because they'd agreed that this fight would be more about offense—hit fast, hit hard—than defence. Having the extra damage of an element attack in his main weapon could only improve their chances, and it worked... kind of. He could see the frost appearing beside the cuts. Then a thick, dark liquid seeped out from beneath the thing's skin. It warmed up the flesh and sealed the wound. Only a thin pale line indicated where Tsurugi had opened up the thing's skin.
Hojo laughed, "Foolish, foolish boy. Did you think we wouldn't consider how to repair physical damage?
"Don't care," Cloud ground out and took another swing at their tuberous body before jumping off.
"You were always stubborn, like most of those mountain peasants in Nibelheim," Hojo scoffed. "It's why I thought you would be a good subject for my research. You weren't."
:Don't talk at the insects: Jenova interrupted her other part :Kill them:
Cloud saw movement beside him but wasn't quick enough to evade the long tendril that whipped toward him. It hit his Barrier, and that absorbed some of the blow, but the hit was still powerful enough to bounce him off the hard surface of the platform. He tried to roll when he came down the second time. It wasn't pretty but it did the job. He was still standing, still had his weapon in his hand and he still wasn't a helpless lab rat anymore.
"Anything to disappoint you," he said and summoned Kjata.
He'd heard about Summons materia. A person couldn't be in the military and not have heard about them but he'd never used one before. Rare didn't even begin to describe how few there were in the world. So he could be forgiven for squeaking—just a little—when he felt himself pushed out, displaced and this huge thing took his place. He was aware but not in control. He tried to just breath and let it happen but it was too similar to Hojo's lab.
He tried to tell himself that he wasn't there, this wasn't the lab and he wasn't a prisoner, but it didn't help. Then his world darkened and he felt surrounded, embedded, in something so much more than himself; more size, more power, more age—just more. The Summon; Kjata, dwarfs him. Cloud sensed that Kjata dwarfed them all including Sephiroth and the monstrosity that was Hojo-Jenova... and maybe they could throw in the platform too. He also somehow knew that he was Kjata and Kjata was him. He wasn't sure his soul or spirit or whatever was big enough to be the Summon. In fact, he was pretty damn sure it wasn't: He was limited and it, somehow, was not. It hurt.
{You Summoned me and I came}
He felt the words more than heard them. They came from his bones and his skin—from the air he breathed. Good thing Summons were so rare, he thought with an attempt at wry humour, because this would really mess with a person's mind.
He concentrated on what was going on outside of him because it should help keep him... sane and at least somewhat in control. There was Sephiroth, calmly adjusting to the new tactic, throwing Firaga's at the enemy, keeping his distance in case there was some sort of blow back.
{You Summoned me and I came} it repeated.
There was some kind of question buried in the words but all they meant, essentially, was that Cloud had asked for this, had asked to have this creature invade his mind and use his body.
Oh, he finally understood: permission. It needed permission or it couldn't completely come to this world. Shit. He couldn't do it, couldn't surrender like that anymore. But he also couldn't let the world be destroyed because he didn't have the courage to face his past. He cursed and felt like puking but there was no way he was going to back down now. No way, was Hojo going to win.
He thought his permission and his thanks at wherever the Summon was and felt Kjata's amusement even as it took over his consciousness. {At least your cause is good, little human}
The thought made Cloud realize that he wasn't just fighting for the people of Gaia; this was the Summons' world as well. The Summons', the Gods', the Lifestream and the planet itself; how many other beings made this planet, this speck in the universe, their home? And Hojo and some alien bitch wanted to destroy it all because it wasn't 'big' enough for them. He wished Kjata well and let the Summon take over, retreated from control as he'd learned to do under Hojo. He felt the Summon's warm approval and knew that it had decided to let him retain awareness so that he would know what the Summon did with his body, his soul or whatever it used when brought into the physical world.
The first thing that happened through Cloud was the electricity. He felt it as it sparked through his body, and when the lightning thrummed through the air outside himself, striking the Hojo-Jenova creature and a wide circle around it.
Cloud felt it in his veins like a plucked string. It didn't hurt exactly, but it was definitely more than a tickle. He had just enough time to wonder if this was all there was to the Summon when there was ice. Thick and sharp, it formed a ball around their enemy. The temperature all over the platform dropped and Cloud could feel his skin tighten; he could see his breath misting in the air. Any colder and he would start to go numb but the frozen sphere exploded, or imploded actually, driving the razor-sharp shards towards Ho-Jenova. Cloud could hear their screams of pain and rage.
Ice turned to fire, bright sparkly balls that circled and left fiery streamers behind them. The tendrils flicked out as if trying to bat the orbs away but quickly pulled back into the mass of Hojo-Jenova's body as the smell of scorched meat drifted through the air. There were more screams and Cloud was half ashamed to know that he enjoyed hearing his tormentor—tormentors?—suffer. The other half was jumping up and down like a little kid shouting 'yeah!' So much pain to be paid for as if the debt could ever be paid...
He saw the General on the far side of the enemy. He was standing calmly in the windstorm that was the Kjata summon and casting other materia at the monstrosity. Cloud recognized the blue-white of Sephiroth's Firaga and there was a blinding flash of pure energy that the soldier thought was Flare. He couldn't feel any of it though, insulated as he was by Kjata's bulk. He felt the massive Summon rear before it dropped its front feet to the ground in a thundering crash. A wave appeared in the dirt of the platform, a deep ripple, as if the Summon had turned the very air and earth into water. It ran along the surface and Cloud was dismayed because, of course, Hojo-Jenova floated.
He'd underestimated the Summon.
Whatever was in the wave that pulsed out from under its hooves, it affected more than the physical. The wave passed under the abomination Hojo had become and it flung back both its heads and screamed. Dark spots appeared on its body. Several of the tendrils hung limp and useless. A vile smelling liquid dripped slowly onto the platform where it pooled and bubbled on the dirt.
Odin's balls, Cloud thought, it's a really, really good thing Summons were rare if that's the kind of power they brought to a battle.
The General took advantage of their enemy's distraction and flew at it. Masamune blurred under his hand and they cut swaths of power or something into the air that hit the creature full on the body. It opened gashes that hissed and bubbled and bled more disgusting liquids.
Cloud was shrinking...
He panicked then gave himself a mental smack. Kjata was leaving, returning to whatever plane of existence he lived on when he wasn't being summoned to this one. {Fight well, little human} he felt as it faded from his consciousness.
Then it was just him, standing on his own two feet, holding his own sword in his own two hands, looking up at the creature in front of him from his own two eyes.
He felt really, really small...
"Alright, now you can attack," Yazoo said. The clone was already firing, Tseng barely half a second behind him.
"Yes!" Zack called out in triumph.
This was the moment he'd been waiting for. As agreed they all backed up and took shelter under overhanging steps and Zack cast his Comet materia. He hooted when the huge stones ripped through the still-unformed rock that Nero's smoke was turning into, especially when things exploded inside it and the sparks flew. He didn't even mind when they missed Nero's construction and hit the equipment lining the room. There were even more sparks and explosion, and some twinkly lights as the computers malfunctioned.
"Now this is how they do it in the movies!" he shouted happily.
Tseng ignored him. Yazoo flinched when one of the large boulders landed a little too close. "You're insane," he said to the big First. "You know that right?" Zack flashed him a blinding grin and Yazoo's breath caught.
"If you think he's bad, just wait until you meet Reno," Tseng said. The Turk had cast both Barrier and M-Barrier on the team but even he couldn't help but duck when a fast-flying piece of wiring whipped right at his head. "He would likely be out there trying to jump from one asteroid to another in an attempt to reach Nero on the roof."
Yazoo turned his large blue cat-eyes on Tseng. His delicate mouth was open, just a bit, and once again he looked so very young. "I thought Kadaj was crazy..."
The smallest of smiles whispered across the Wutaian's face. "Welcome to my world, Yazoo."
AN: I was given the gift of ficart! Shinimigami7 did a quick drawing of Tifa vs. Shelke that is pretty awesome. Go check it out and leave her a note. h t t p :/ duetmaoim. deviantart. com /#/d2vp4pv