Author: Zhampy
Rating: T / PG-15
Genre: Humour/Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own a single thing in the FFVII Compilation. See if you can spot all the references I steal throughout this fic!
Summery: Professor Hojo and Professor Hollander must release their pent-up aggrevations out on eachother. It's a Science Off! This can only lead to bad things for Sephiroth, Genesis and Angeal, and the rest of SOLDIER.
Contains: Main pairing is Cloud/Sephiroth with a Zack/Aerith side-dish and some other minor pairings. Some OOCness for humourous purposes, AR, couple of OCs, and occasional foul language.
a/n: I hope long chapters don't bother you readers. Sometimes they just get away from me. I'll try to knock it off in future :(
Modus Operandi
Episode Six – Science Off!
Despite what the common person may have thought, it wasn't easy being the General of SOLDIER. Being the closest thing to a walking god and ShinRa's most powerful weapon. Sephiroth, the Silver General; the Demon of Wutai. No one understood the sacrifices he had to make to appear untouchable—to appear more than human.
For example, the most natural of bodily functions he were forbid to show: sneezing or burping. At least not in public anyway. At least not without a trip to the labs and Hojo throwing barbed questions layered with traps sprinkled with insinuations for him to trip over and scrape a knee. Not that he were being paranoid or anything.
Then his stomach rumbled and he hunched down instinctively with humiliation, his eyes peering left and right checking for any invisible interlopers into his private space. Good, no one had witnessed that mild show of weakness.
Speaking of...
He really fancied a ginger snap right about now.
No one dared to touch his things without strict permission, and even then people looked a little light-headed while doing so. So his bottommost desk drawer was safe to keep a surprise or two in. Today he had sneaked in a special offer Tonberry brand bag of ginger snaps all shaped like little lanterns and knives.
Then his office door burst open without the slightest hint of a warning. Genesis barged in just as he sat, open-mouthed and about to stuff the largest handful of ginger snaps, ever, into his gaping maw.
Genesis blinked for a second.
Sephiroth blinked back.
"..."
Still with an obscene handful of gingery treats in hand.
Wait, he shouldn't think that with a redhead in the room.
"..."
"Um," Genesis started slowly, "Hojo and Hollander are fighting in the mess hall. You might want to come and see..."
"Off caws," Sephiroth said, barely moving his open mouth and thus barely understandable.
Genesis kept his wide-eyed expression pinned on the General the whole time he slowly backed out of the room.
Goddamn it.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
Genesis hadn't been kidding when he'd said the two scientists had been fighting. When Sephiroth had finally put in an appearance in the mess hall all hell had already broken loose.
Hojo was stood barely restraining his two-headed dog monster (that is to say; it had a head and a butt-head) as it snarled and frothed at both mouths. Because no one dared touch him under threat of mako poisoning, the SOLDIERs present had occupied themselves with holding back a volatile Hollander instead. What the bearded scientist had hoped to do to Hojo and his butt-headed monster Sephiroth did not know, nor particularly care to.
"He took my ball," Hojo whined as Sephiroth dared be the only person to approach him. "Get me my ball back!"
Sephiroth's brain suffered a fatal shut down momentarily before he could speak again. "You're upset Professor Hollander took your ball?"
"It's a very important ball," Hojo explained sharply. "The very scientific world could rest on this ball's spherical shoulders. But more importantly, it's mine!"
"You kicked it into my office! It's mine now and i'm keeping it!" Hollander shouted in retaliation.
"That's not fair!" Hojo complained in turn.
Hollander threw off one of his captors as he waved an arm about fanatically. "Yes, and i'm going to take it out back and have it popped!"
Hojo's eyes widened in fury. "Sabotage!" he shrieked. Then he released the grip to his ethical-punch-to-God leaving it to scatter the gathered SOLDIERs in terror with both its heads snapping at crotch-height. "Go for the jugular, Precious!" Hojo encouraged his slavering pet.
"Alright, we'll have none of that." Sephiroth stunned God's Abomination (that's the dog, not Hojo—though wouldn't that be great too?) with the flat of Masamune. Hojo paid his unconscious dog-monster no heed.
"And you call yourself a vegetarian?" he instead sneered at his fellow professor.
"It's not alive," Hollander snapped back, alluding to the ball.
"How would you know, you're an abortion of a scientist!"
This clearly got up the bearded professor's nose as he rolled up his sleeves and shook his fist at the gremlin in a lab coat. "Oh, hold me back, hold me back! I don't know what I might do!"
No one held him back but Hollander struggled against himself anyway.
"I will get my ball back," Hojo declared, the underlying threat not going unnoticed. "You'll see. And then you'll regret it."
That did not bode well. Perhaps a third party could resolve this. That third party was not Angeal, but damnit, the Ebony Lieutenant was going to try anyway.
"Perhaps there is another way to resolve this," he tried grabbing for that increasingly attractive middle ground. "A non-lethal, non-destructive way?"
"There is only one way to settle this," Hojo hissed dangerously.
But the other professor wasn't backing down. "A science-off! Winner takes all!"
The men gathered released a collective groan. Oh, no, not this again. As if things hadn't just returned to normal following the last science-off (getting that purple tint off the walls had been torturous). Hojo and Hollander both stood already competing for the title of "Best Glarer"—a title of which Hojo was the defending champion, mainly due to his gremlin-like appearance and because Hollander's vegetarian face couldn't contort properly.
"Sephiroth, come!" Hojo ordered as he spun sharply to leave the room with the General following at a short distance.
Hollander huffed and beckoned with his hand; "boys." He led Angeal and Genesis (who had been standing in the back, slack-jawed) away.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
Lab assistants scattered as Professor Hojo stormed into the room, his slightly hunched figure commanding and authoritative. By contrast, the ridiculously tall Sephiroth, who usually exuded authority, looked downtrodden and vaguely annoyed. The assistants performed their best impression of lab mice and gathered in one corner of the room squeaking nervously.
It wasn't check-up time! It shouldn't be check-up time! No one had told them it was check-up time! They needed to prepare! The walls hadn't been reinforced since the last time, Henry was still in the medical bay minus two unimportant fingers and an entire kidney, and the frog was still suffering post-traumatic stress disorder! There just wasn't time.
Thankfully the professor and his prized experiment completely ignored anyone else in the room. Not that this stopped the assistants from continuing to cower in the corner.
"You must stop cavorting with those failures," Hojo muttered contemptuously as he reorganised tubes and beakers and other scientific stuff about the workplace. "Their mediocrity is contagious."
Sephiroth was a little perplexed about how he could avoid spending time with his immediate subordinates, but shrugged anyway. Whatever. Hojo was no stranger to lip service. "Yes, professor."
"But before we begin..." Hojo snapped a string of orders at one of the reluctant assistants, drawing him out from the huddled mass of fear in the corner. "Bring Precious here!"
The now conscious but still clearly hurting two-headed dog was lead obediently into the lab. Hojo shooed Sephiroth out of the way and indicated that the large questionably canine monster should be lifted onto the table, which Sephiroth reluctantly obliged with. He was pretty sure the "dog" deliberately kicked him in the throat, but perhaps that was attributing more intelligence to the thing and he was not willing to do that. Either way, Hojo shoved him aside and threw his arms around the head that wasn't doubling as the rear.
"Aww, my poor Pwecious. Was that big meanie Sephiroth nasty to you? Did he hurt you, my poor little baby? You're a good doggy, Pwecious. How many SOLDIER crotches did you tear out today? Whose my most special little guy? You are! You are! I wuv you, Daddy is so proud of you, boy."
With a silent grunt, Sephiroth had to turn his head away. Listening to people baby-talk was the worst thing ever. Perhaps even worse than listening to Genesis spewing Loveless quotes because he were too unoriginal to create his own poetry. No, maybe not that bad. Nothing could be as excruciating and yet as boring as listening to Genesis fawn over his limited edition, extremely rare misprint—haha look, there's a misspelling on the cover see? It clearly says "Colin" instead of "Colm", see?!—signed edition of Loveless for the umpteenth time that morning. Then again, if Genesis did create his own poetry its questionable quality would drive him to reduce the Crimson Lieutenant into a lumpy red pulp. Perhaps it was for the best that the man wasn't the most creative person on the planet. Wait, his mind was wandering again. If that happened too much it'd have to be reported. He unwillingly tuned himself back into Insanity FM.
"Why have you named that thing but not any of your other specimens?" Sephiroth asked, if only to put a halt to all the goo-goo and gaa-gaa-ing.
"You're talking about the dog I love, don't call him 'that thing'. And besides, I only name the things that I like."
This made Sephiroth feel mighty sick.
"Your mother named you," Hojo quickly informed him.
He didn't feel ill anymore.
"But we have a more pressing matter to see to. If, for some absurd reason, I were to lose this science-off my work will be reassigned to the cubbyhole down the hall that fat hack bumbles around in."
And if there's one thing that ShinRa desperately needs right now it's a printing press that works in Zero G and underwater, Sephiroth thought.
"Release the Mating Tube!" Hojo ordered of his assistants.
And honestly, by this point, Sephiroth really shouldn't be surprised by anything that happened in the labs. And he wasn't. A large glass tube lowered from the ceiling and secured itself to the floor, which opened up, raising a strange monster that only the Professor would be interested with. This assumption proved correct as Sephiroth's mind was already wandering to the whiteboard that challenged him to decipher its exotic hieroglyphs. Of course, Hojo proved himself to be the distracting irritant that he was when he spoke up, a slight quiver in his voice.
"Ah, but will it breed?"
A writhing squid-like monster as large as two Zacks and maybe a quarter of Genesis (this is called the SOLDIER scale of measurement) with antlers and a tail, pulsing for the kind of wet oxygen you only get in water. And the resident laboratory frog.
Sephiroth observed the two specimens. "I... don't think you quite understand genetics, professor."
Hojo reacted instantly, backhanding Sephiroth, but it had little more effect than an incredibly ugly mosquito hitting a very handsome diamond-encrusted section of the Junon cannon protected with an electric fence and barbed wire that also happened to be patrolled by guard dogs. "Don't you talk to me about genetics!"
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Sephiroth instead directed his dwindling attention to the two specimens. And he had to hand it to them; the poor things really were trying their darnedest to mate. The frog was slipping and sliding all over the weird horned-squid monster, but no matter how desperate for it the frog was, it simply couldn't couldn't find a solid grip. Because frogs have no opposable thumbs, you see. And because the other thing was in the process of violently dying.
"I chose a frog, of course, because they're very horny creatures," said with a slight hint of perversion.
"I see..." Sephiroth recoiled with disgust.
"Ehehehehehehe!" Hojo then began cackling.
Sephiroth simply watched him.
"Ehehahahahahaha!"
Sephiroth remained thoroughly unentertained.
"Fufufufufufufufufu!"
Sephiroth checked his non-existent watch.
"Heeheeheeheeheehee!"
A lab assistant brought Sephiroth a cup of tea.
"Ahahahahahahaha!"
Sephiroth completed some outstanding paperwork.
"Kekekekekekekekeke!"
Sephiroth finished his tea.
"... gasp... gasp... gasp... gasp..."
Sephiroth began twiddling his thumbs.
"JUST FUCK ALREADY!" Hojo screamed.
"Good lord," Sephiroth rolled his eyes in a highly immature manner. He will flog himself later for this lapse in discipline.
Hojo sumushed his reddened face up against the glass tube. He never so much as flinched when a rogue tentacle crashed against the glass with a very different sort of passion than what Hojo had intended (in passionate death throes; it was quite the magnificent beast). The professor and his specimen that he currently wasn't trying to mate with a frog watched as this experiment died a very violent death, leaking a yellow liquid as it abruptly came to an end.
"Planet, I hope that's puss," Sephiroth reassured himself quietly.
The tube was opened and the two-Zacks-and-a-quater-Genesis sized squid monster was removed quickly. Hojo picked up the flattened frog with a distinct expression of disdain and deposited it into the nearest waste disposal bin when an assistant approached. The young man was braver than any SOLDIER Sephiroth had ever witnessed to be speaking with the professor so soon after such a fantastic failure, or he was just really dumb. Yeah. It was most likely the latter. Either way: something to go down in the ol' diary!
"Shall I dispose of the carcass, doctor?" the lab assistant asked.
"No. No, take it in the back and freeze it. Oh, and ask the kitchen staff if they would be open to some more... exotic ingredients," Hojo licked his lips.
"And the frog?" the assistant asked again.
"Gross! What civilised person eats frogs?!"
But unfortunately this meant he had yet to produce something for the science-off.
"It can't be that difficult," Sephiroth scoffed. He grabbed two random test tubes, one filled with pink sludge and one filled with blue.
"No! Don't mix those chemicals!" Hojo shrieked, but it was too late.
KABOOM!
The lab was instantly filled with a dark purple smog and choked with coughing. No, sorry. The lab was instantly filled with coughing and choked with a dark purple smog... no, actually maybe that did sound better the first way. Well anyway, Hojo was angry.
"You utter child," the good doctor growled. He couldn't see Sephiroth but knew the man could hear him.
"My apologies, professor," his experiment coughed.
The air filter kicked in at this moment and soon the smoke had been sucked into the vents and released into Reeve's office instead. Hojo barked and shouted at his assistants to begin the clean-up then rounded on his most prized specimen. Sephiroth had the most suggestive purple explosion all over his face. That suggestion being that he'd stupidly mixed some over excited chemicals that had blown up in his face.
Hojo jabbed the silver-haired man with a spindly finger.
"You."
"Me."
"Sephiroth."
"Yes?"
"You will be my presentation."
"Oh," Sephiroth deflated, this moment of excitement immediately ruined. "Great."
"Of course Project S is the greatest thing I have ever produced," Hojo began on another of his self-serving, egotistical, manic speeches about his own brilliance and about how Hollander was as useful as a sponge in the desert. "Don't know why I didn't think of it before! I should just send you down there alone, but of course I must show my face. Otherwise you will merely stand in the back attempting to camouflage against the walls. There is a reason i've made you unable to camouflage, you know. I could do it! I have an iguana! Would it kill you to put on a little showmanship? I'm tired of that inferior red failure garnering all this undeserved attention! Strut about a bit; swing Murry—or whatever your ridiculous sword is called—around some, and if you should accidentally take off the failure's head, then so be it."
Sephiroth really didn't know how best to reply. "... sorry?"
Hojo studied his purple face closely for a while. "Fetch the hose," he eventually muttered to an assistant.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
Meanwhile Angeal and Genesis squeezed into Hollander's tiny lab room. It was little more than a cubicle filled with so many godamned plants, beads and tie-dyed cloths that the scientist's desk was barely visible. The pair of Lieutenant Generals stood shoulder-to-shoulder for lack of space and watched as Hollander manoeuvred himself into his seat. It was kind of sad that the desk also had to double as an operating table.
Hollander had fallen from President Shinra's good graces since his rival, Hojo, had seen better success with his experiment. But he and his own two experiments were marginally useful so they were still kept around. Genesis was not bitter about this in the slightest (this is a lie). Of course, once the underdog working beneath both Gast and himself—but now the head of the department—Hojo was being a complete shit about it. That's why Hollander would not lose this time! To regain past glories! Failure was not an option!
He pushed his potted ceanothus aside and levelled a serious gaze at his boys. "I took seventy millilitres of ordinary tap water and put it in this beaker, and seventy millilitres of rainwater collected from the laboratory roof and put it in this beaker... don't ask me why. I just did."
"..."
"..."
Genesis and Angeal simply nodded mutely.
"But anyway," Hollander tried to make a show of spinning around in his chair but it bumped into a fern. He cleared away some of the clutter on what would be a far wall if the room had been large enough for that sort of thing, to reveal a blackboard.
"He couldn't even upgrade to a whiteboard?" Genesis murmured despondently.
"Chalk is better for the environment," Angeal whispered back.
"How is chalk better for the environment?" his friend replied sharply but quietly.
The blackboard let out an atrocious screech causing the men to recoil in pain as Hollander dragged his nails down it. "Chalk is biodegradable! It doesn't choke the Planet with its man-made taint!"
"How is that better? You can't recycle chalk. It just disappears when you've finished it. You're wasting resources," Angeal queried as he poked at his sensitive ear. Not that he actually had much interest either way.
"Chalk is a natural resource! It has a soul and will return to the planet when its purpose is fulfilled! Plastic is a poison!"
"Chalk has a soul," Genesis repeated slowly.
Hollander nodded.
"Wait, wait, wait," the Crimson Lieutenant waved his hands in confusion. "You're telling me chalk has a soul? So when you've used it do all those little bits of dust have souls too, and do they all organise a reunion and merge back into one big, fat soul? Or is it just the one soul you slowly kill as you use it?"
There was a pause before Hollander replied. "I... the soul... lifestream—just shut up! Plastic is a poison!"
"Really? 'cause according to Sephiroth, Hojo recycles his soulless plastics," Genesis shrugged.
"Yeah?" Hollander huffed indignantly. "Well, Hojo can blow me."
"And how is that going to help us win this science-off?"
"Oh! Right!" Hollander snapped his fingers. "The science-off! I forgot about that. To regain past glories! Failure is not an option! Blah, blah."
Angeal facepalmed. Hollander turned his attention to the ball next.
"So that's the thing you stole, huh?" Genesis asked.
"I prefer to think of it as 'requisitioning' it," the professor said. "That damn Hojo thinks he owns the place. Well he doesn't! He only owns ninety-nine percent of the place. This is my one percent of lab space! Whatever comes in here is my property!"
"But you have to walk through the rest of the department to leave," Angeal said slowly. "Does that mean Hojo owns you when you're walking through?"
Genesis laughed. "You are pretty whipped," he commented quietly.
Hollander spun around pointing a stern, chubby finger at the redheaded SOLDIER. "Don't think you're too old to go over my knee, son!"
"Ugh," Genesis wrinkled his nose. "Is that what you're into now? Should I tell accounting?"
Dropping his accusing finger, Hollander eyed his experiment coyly. "You know, Project S doesn't talk to his doctor in such a manner."
"Yeah, well, Seph is kind of a robot, so..."
Angeal smiled proudly when Genesis didn't rise to the bait. Didn't bite the account. Didn't—whatever! Professor Hollander on the other hand, looked disappointed, but there was something sparkling in his vegetarian eyes.
"Really?! Is that true?" he spluttered incoherently with hope. "Because that's the sort of thing that could get a person fired. Or the firing squad. Maybe both! It's like all my birthdays have come at once! I'm so happy! Wait, maybe I could have the robot shoot Ho—the person in question. Sweet, sweet irony!"
"Professor..." Angeal started.
"Oh, just wait until I tell my LARP group! They'll be so proud of me, i'll get to play the King for once! In your face, Jeremy! Now who'll have to play the manure-shovelling peasant who gets stabbed in the first act. Hah! Karma's a bitch!"
"Nobody's a robot, professor," Genesis interrupted. "Unless you're not telling us something..."
Angeal frowned when his friend sent him a suspicious glance.
"No one's a robot? It's not true?" the disappointment in Hollander's voice made even Genesis feel bad, and that was quite the feat. "Oh... well, I guess Jeremy can be the King again..."
"We're sorry, professor," Angeal said.
"Pfff, speak for yourself," Genesis huffed in a weak attempt to regain his stature.
If it wouldn't be weird, or if he weren't worried that his hand might melt, Angeal would've patted his doctor comfortingly on the shoulder similar to how he would when Genesis scuffed his best boots and made a fool of himself in public, or when a nubile young woman would turn down his advances. Or when the secretary on sixth would threaten to call the authorities on him. Or when the new recruits would report sexual harassment causing Sephiroth to put Genesis on President Shinra guard duty. And then the Turks would trick him into putting his head through the security bars and put staplers down his trousers. When he really thought about it, Angeal realised he patted Genesis quite a lot the man's shoulder must have had a hand-shaped indent in it by now. Either way, Hollander wasn't getting his much-enjoyed sympathy, the shit-sweeping LARPer.
Hollander dropped into his chair with a huge childish pout on his bearded face. Completely disregarding his two experiments he grabbed a bag from his desk draw and proceeded to stuff cheesy powdered treats into his depressed fat mouth. This description brought to you by Lieutenant General Genesis.
Angeal and Genesis shared an awkward look. "So. This science-off...?" Angeal prompted.
"This!" Hollander jumped from his seat. He held up a random syringe that had previously been laid abandoned on the desk.
Genesis drew himself back and eyed the medical appliance warily. "What's that?"
"It's a syringe."
Genesis huffed. "Well I know that. What's in it?"
Hollander observed the murky substance in the syringe and shrugged nonchalantly. "We'll find out soon." He climbed over the desk for lack of better space to manoeuvre and aimed the needle towards the Crimson Lieutenant.
Angeal looked on worriedly as his friend backed up against (what would be) the far wall, the terror clear in his eyes. As the mystery needle moved closer Genesis folded in on himself, getting entangled in a wall scroll advertising calming breathing exercises and the four essential steps to a more serene inner peace.
"That's enough! Get away from me!" Genesis screamed in fear. Hollander stopped his dramatically slow advance as Genesis waved his hands about in a defensive slapping motion, knocking the syringe across the room and narrowly avoiding skewering Angeal with it. "Ugh, you go too far! If you wanna put sticky liquids in me, that's fine, I'm all for it! But goddamn, wash your hands first, god!"
The professor gazed down at his Cheeto dust encrusted fingers.
"Oh, my god, I nearly got it on me, 'Geal," Genesis breathed frantically as his friend patted his shoulder. "It-it's in his neckbeard and everything! I have to sit down."
Angeal lowered his companion into the sole chair opposite the desk he never would have occupied himself because honour. "I'm sorry, son," Hollander said sadly, but Genesis just shuddered as if a cold cheesy wind had crept up his spine.
"Perhaps we should postpone this... whatever it is," Angeal suggested.
"No, no!" Hollander snapped upright. "There's no need to do that! Look, see! I'm washing my hands, la, la, la." He licked his fingers clean which only caused the pair of friends to stare, then began moving towards them again. "There, all done, see?"
"YOUR BEARRRRRRD!" Genesis shrieked and socked the professor clean in his flapping mouth.
Bullseye! Angeal's bound and gagged inner sense of fun cheered in direct comparison to how the man presented himself to those without the ability to read minds. He moved his Comfort Hand (oh my god, not like that!) from Genesis' shoulder to that of the professor laid out awkwardly over the desk. Of course Hollander had his head and shoulders hanging across the opposite end of the desk, but Angeal's deliberating sense of compassion and unbearable need to be in everyone's personal space drove him to position himself over the professor and claim the man's shoulder with his Comfort Hand.
"If I had a camera..." Genesis chuckled.
"Genesis!" Angeal dismounted the professor and glared sternly at his bestest friend in all the word. "Recovered that quickly?"
The redhead shrugged. "Meh."
There was a long silence broken only by the bubbling of the lavalamps mounted on the walls.
"Well, I guess we should get going?" Angeal rubbed the back of his neck, at a loss as to what to actually do.
"Ughh..." Hollander righted himself and shook off the effect of being punched in the talker by a super-SOLDIER. "We should just... get down there. I'll think of something on the way... argh."
"Just don't blow Hojo, okay," Genesis said shortly, causing Hollander to give him a strange and insulted look.
"And don't forget the ball," Angeal reminded his doctor, to which the well-fed man grabbed his most precious bargaining chip. "And you; apologise to the professor."
"Excuse me, professor," Genesis reluctantly said as he tried to think of a way to apologise that would allow him keep his dignity and yet satisfy Angeal at the same time. "Are you wearing socks with sandals?"
"... yes," Hollander sobbed.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
"This should be entertaining." Dead-Zack and Dead-Aerith had settled themselves down in the lifestream, watching the events through their state-of-the-art flat-screen ghost-LCD HDMI ready Dolby Digital surround sound TV with the nifty 3D effect and green tint, that they totally hadn't appropriated from the old folks section of the lifestream.
The arena had been set-up outside the main building in the courtyard after reports came from Reeve that Hojo was working with The Purple Mist again. It was a simple, slightly raised circular platform surrounded with spectators stands that were filled to collapsing point with SOLDIERs and ShinRa employees. Local pundits had somehow (bribery) infiltrated the event to hock their shoddy merchandise at inflated prices, and had so far, somehow (more bribery), avoided security. It wasn't every day that the average employee got to see the charming and charismatic Genesis, the admirable and respectful Angeal and the awe-inspiring face of SOLDIER, General Sephiroth together. So the one guy selling knock-off My Little Prez dolls, and Sephiroth, Genesis and Angeal figurines was making a killing and would probably end up hired as a ShinRa suit for his cunning. Don't say that the ShinRa Electric Company doesn't offer poors soul-sucking, nine 'til five, unrewarding job prospects with no health coverage or pension. That is libel. Off to Corel Prison with you!
The much sought after science-ball sat on its own little podium, being guarded closely by a crack team of nobody.
Hojo presented himself first and ordered Sephiroth into the centre of the ring. Sephiroth couldn't have looked more unenthusiastic if he'd tried.
"Oh, he's fallen back on Seph again," Zack scoffed in the process of throwing popcorn into his mouth. "Man doesn't have another original idea in his head. He always resorts to releasing Seph."
Hollander stepped forward next and indicated his boys. Angeal and Genesis looked more confused than anything else.
"No surprises here either. Do something different!" Aerith heckled.
"Two against one?" Hojo sneered. "I see your sense of sportsmanship hasn't improved."
"What's this I'm hearing?" Hollander feigned an expression of shock. "You think you can't handle my boys? You're intimidated. Are you admitting my boys are better?"
(because that is a blatant lie)
"Nothing of the sort!" Hojo snapped. "Sephiroth, attack!"
Sephiroth turned around with a look that expressed he'd much rather attack than do whatever had already been organised between them, but the matter was out of his hand. "We're not doing that," he reminded the professor.
"Precious, attack!"
"No." Sephiroth stunned the butt-monster once again.
"Ah, maybe another time," Hojo accepted defeat, but glared at Genesis who blew a raspberry in return.
The two-headed canine(?) was dragged from the stage by the nervous looking, poor soul who could only be described as a reluctant referee.
"Poor, Kunsel," Zack frowned, but was really grinning.
With the monster safely deposited over the side of the arena, Kunsel now had the pants-shittingly terrifying job of arranging the three SOLDIERs to face the spectators, and only Angeal was willing to co-operate, probably in part due to sympathy. Sephiroth wouldn't take orders (or requests, or pleadings, or begging) from anyone other than Hojo or the President, and Genesis just plain refused. But eventually they were organised after Hojo whipped out his pointy stick. The kind used to point at things.
Then some apparatus began to be brought and set-up on stage which elicited a barely audible groan from Sephiroth. Angeal and Genesis considered their friend, perplexed as to what was even happening right now, but going by the silver-haired man's reaction it was not good. Things moved along quicker and...
"What the hell is this meant to be?" Genesis spluttered. "A dog show?!"
"We never agreed to this!" Angeal continued.
"I did," Sephiroth muttered despondently.
Then it struck the vegetarian genetic scientist. His eyes widened upon the realisation.
"You stole my idea!" Hollander shouted.
"As has already been proven today; if anyone is a thief it is you," Hojo snapped back.
Evidently, Hollander's last minute idea was of a similar vein as Hojo's well-thought out master plan. To show off their best scientific achievement was to put their prized SOLDIERs through an obstacle course akin to a dog show to be judged by an entirely non-biased panel of their own lab assistants. Sephiroth sighed. As if he hadn't witnessed Hojo do the same thing with Precious, but at least now Genesis and Angeal would have to suffer along with him. It maybe didn't seem so bad in that respect.
Oh... no, nevermind. It was still pretty demeaning.
But then why would Hollander think of something like this? Sephiroth's expression asked.
I don't know! Genesis looked distressed.
The clearing of his throat brought all attention to Hojo as he tapped his little extendible pointing stick across his palm. "Let's begin, shall we?" Not caring for any pretences he jabbed the stick in Sephiroth's direction and indicated him sharply.
Sephiroth himself didn't really look any different than he would on the average day. If anything, he looked vaguely ruffled, as if he could snap at any moment, and then everyone one present would regret it. Whatever 'it' was. Not that any of this really mattered as the entire arena was silent and openly gawking at the General. When it came to Sephiroth nothing much needed to be said aloud—he was beautiful and dangerous, and everyone wanted to be him or be with him.
"I rest my case," Hojo smugly snapped his pointer down, radiating an air of superiority that almost suffocated the place. It was a while before anyone else spoke up.
Hollander scoffed. "Your project doesn't even know how to use the public transport system."
"No?" Hojo scowled. "Well my project can fall from twenty stories without damaging his femur!"
Sephiroth looked annoyed at this. He didn't fall, he was just gravitationally challenged! And did people have to keep bringing that incident up? Genesis rubbed his femur in embarrassment.
"MY projects can see beyond the event horizon!"
"I don't—that's not actually possible," Hojo said quietly.
Angeal rubbed his eyeballs in shame.
"Project S can breathe underwater!"
"Projects G can breathe in space!"
"Project S has no need to breathe!"
"Projects G have never breathed!"
"Alright, I'll put it in a language you imbeciles can understand." Hojo turned to the audience, "would you rather have two back alley burgers that the clerk spat in, or a single five star cuisine?"
"Just keep in mind that the cuisine has no people skills," Hollander quickly pointed out.
"W-what. Why would cuisine need people skills?!" Hojo snapped.
"Your cuisine is defective! My two burgers are well-adjusted to the outside world."
"That is irrelevant. Cuisine is produced for battle!"
"I think you'll find that burgers work well in teams. I have never seen cuisine anything but a loner."
"My cuisine is the ultimate lifeform! Your burgers just make people sick."
Hollander paused a second. "Wait... we're still talking about the boys, yeah?"
"Ah, to hell with it. Just fight," Hojo grunted. "We all know who'll win."
And not a single spectator was surprised with this eventual breakdown in competition. Sephiroth remained as unresponsive as a brick wall, Angeal held out his hands in exasperation, Genesis haughtily crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, and Dead-Zack and Dead-Aerith exchanged money. In fact, the only people who looked even remotely interested about this change in procedure were the two professors.
"Welp, nothing more to see here, folks," Dead-Zack informed the large group of other dead people who had gathered to watch their stolen TV.
"You're just saying that 'cause you lost all your money," an anonymous old guy said.
Zack watched his fellow dead girlfriend flip through and flaunt her ill-gotten gains. "In hindsight, I probably should've known they'd end up fighting. I'm an idiot."
"Hindsight is 20/20," some old woman said.
"Are those the odds of who'll win?"
"Want to bet on it?" Aerith asked.
"No!"
Now all the spectators moved the fuck away. This is the reason why they were not amused with the recent turn of events. It wasn't every day a random ShinRa scrub got to see the three top SOLDIERs battle it out. It also wasn't every day that they ran the risk of being incinerated by a stray fireball.
Professor Hojo looked positively giddy that just the mere thought of eradicating that smug red failure would cause him to lose all control over his bowels. Professor Hollander had the determined look of someone who had been ridiculed and laughed at their whole life, which is to say; he didn't look much different than normal.
With a practised air or boredom, Sephiroth, Angeal and Genesis readied themselves. It was common knowledge that they sparred with each other, there being no other matching up to their ability, let alone their competence (this is a debatable point), but there was no heart to this display.
"Get ready, Sephiroth. You're going to be destroyed and then I shall stand above ShinRa."
"You will never stand taller than me. Unless you get on Angeal's shoulders."
Genesis looked to his friend.
"No, Genesis, we're not doing that," Angeal told him.
Also, Hojo was creepily leering at Genesis and he didn't need that.
Possibly because of this reason, or perhaps because Genesis was kind of stupid, he moved first. Angeal could only sigh as he watched his friend dart across the arena—he really had better things to be doing than playing on the whims of the two scientists. Like he had his scratchy beard to thoroughly groom and be upset that no one had commented on his attempted moustache yet.
Rapier met Masamune with a lightning fast clash of steel.
"Whoa, awesome!"
"Such power!"
Hmmm. Maybe he just wasn't putting himself out there enough for people to notice. His best friend was Genesis after all, and if there was anyone to steal the limelight it was the Crimson Lieutenant. By comparison to his fellow SOLDIERs he was a rather bland-looking individual. He didn't have weird silver hair or wear bright red leather. Perhaps he should look into a unique uniform.
"Did you see that?!" Aerith gasped. "Amazing."
"I wish everyone could witness this spectacular battle," Zack commented.
As one of the top three of SOLDIER he did deserve a unique uniform. Something refined but rugged. He did have the biggest guns of his three friends (Angeal subconsciously flexed his biceps). Something sleeveless, possibly in a dark, strong material. With shoulder pads of course—there were no need to break the trend his group had going. He'd need matching trousers, loose enough to allow for easy movement, and sturdy combat boots. So—he looked down at himself—basically exactly what he were already wearing.
Oh, for—Someone comment on my moustache, damnit!
Sephiroth was almost caught off guard when Angeal suddenly attacked from his other side. Now this was just getting silly. Genesis was jumping all over the place as if the floor was lava and now Angeal was shouting about ungrateful friends and the facial hair they apparently couldn't grow. Someone had do something, and clearly it was him.
"Mmmm." Sephiroth abruptly lowered Masamune. "I really want to eat a ginger snap right now."
Both Genesis and Angeal lowered their own weapons in response. "Now that I think about it, I did have to skip breakfast this morning," Angeal said.
"I hear jam sponge is on the menu in the mess today," Genesis grinned toothily.
"Ginger snaps first," Sephiroth said with an air of finality.
Nobody so much as uttered a peep as the three super-SOLDIERs left the room all the while cheerfully conversing with each other about lunch. Professors Hojo and Hollander remained standing awkwardly at their sides of the ring.
"That was a phenomenal display of prowess and I feel sorry for those who didn't have it described for them."
Hojo regarded his opponent with disdain. "There's only one way to end this," he said shortly. Both men stalked forward so that they stood face-to-face. "How every scientist resolves their disputes."
"No worries, folks!" Zack announced. "It's time for another throw down!"
"Scientific Charades!" Hollander declared to the room. Not wasting any time Hojo immediately threw himself in first.
"Okay then, what's this?" he held out his hands with his thumbs crossed.
"A neutron star about to collapse in on itself," Hollander guessed.
"Tsk, correct."
"Now my turn." Hollander put his arm behind his head and interconnected it with his arm from the front, then bobbed his head. "What is this?"
"The migratory path of the Midgar bandersnatch."
"Yeah, okay, that was an easy one," Hollander conceded.
Now Hojo began jogging in place intermittently whirling his arms around and squawking.
"No noises!" his opponent snapped. "The physiology of a hell house..."
As this continued an audience member, one Cloud Strife, sat in the stands gobsmacked. "What the shit did I just watch?!"
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
a/n: The great thing about writing episodic chapters is I can change positions and not have it matter... i can change the chapter positions. Not me. The chapters. This was originally chapter 11, then 7 and now 6. Because the original chapter 6 is dull and writing it is causing me to commit seppuku. Aren't you excited now?! Don't forget to review if you are of the opinion that chalk has a soul.