Disclaimer: The characters and settings are the property of Square Enix and the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII.
Author's Note: Here I am at last! Hello, nice to meet you, this is Zen here! First off, thank you to everybody who's reviewed since the last chapter. I'm truly overwhelmed by how much people seem to find the idea of cyber-ghost Cloud fun. It's incredibly encouraging. I really need to do my bit and reply to the reviews you've left me. In fact, I'm going to get down to that now! Second, thank you to all who have favourited and followed. It's good to know I've entertained. ;)
A few additional notes to this story, I'm including Veld as a character, but I won't be covering the Before Crisis Elfe storyline. I also won't be covering Deepground, so if you're a fan of Shelke and the Tsviets, apologies. As much as I love intricate plots, including those elements would have made this story far too big for me to keep a grip on it.
As for where this is going, some of you have mentioned young Cloud. Well, I'm looking forward to meeting young Cloud too. He will be rather important. ;)
Without further ado, here's Chapter 5 of Ghost. It's a very talkie chapter, but a lot needed to be discussed. Best, Zen :D
Nobody expected the war to end quite as soon as it did, but after ceasefire negotiations were held and November came round, it was agreed that the Wutai War was officially over.
How a war that looked as though it would never end had been brought so quickly to a close, people could only speculate, although there were some who claimed to have first-hand knowledge.
They said that they were survivors from the bamboo jungles and terraced hills, had hidden in caves and inside temple statues, and they claimed that the fighting at the end of the Wutai War had been so inhumanly savage that Wutai had surrendered as a gesture of protest.
They would not shame themselves, said the remnants of Wutai, by going to war against monsters. War was a matter of honour and honour could only be found in the hearts of men and by sending monsters onto the battlefield, ShinRa had been forcing them to fight a dishonourable war.
War had to be between men, they said, or it held no meaning. Until ShinRa learned to fight a meaningful war, Wutai would not go to war against ShinRa again.
Nobody mentioned the frozen set of the Wutai people's faces, or their shaking hands when they tried to lose themselves in a bar, or their too-wide eyes that looked but always seemed to be seeing something else - something that came out of the dark of the jungle, something that came upon the Wutai forces in a flash of silver and burst of fire as swift and terrible as lightning.
There was no need to say anything, because the fear did not need explanation. The fear did not need discussion. The fear did not need re-living, and no proud nation of people wanted to hear that they had been frightened into surrender.
When the helicopters and planes returned to Midgar, a ceremony was held to welcome back the Soldiers and troopers. Doors opened to the sound of applause.
Under their red-eyed helmets, boys had gone to war and they hadn't come back as men. The men who went to war hadn't come back as men either. They came back as tools and weapons, used to the hilt with hairline cracks in their cores, but the crowd cheered on, and the Soldiers and troopers stumbled off the planes with their sacks of belongings and souvenirs to follow the line of coffins.
The crowd cheered loudest of all for the officers that had led the Final Push.
Sephiroth stepped out, returning as ShinRa's hero, its favourite and deadliest weapon once again. In one hand, he carried the Masamune, and in the other, to Zack's dismay, Sephiroth held the Buster sword.
He was carrying it awkwardly, gingerly even, as if he didn't know what to do with a blade so wide and heavy and, relative to his own, short. It was lucky that he was a tall man. He could hold it by its hilt without its tip catching on the aircraft stairs, but it was all Zack could do to stop himself running to the plane and snatching the sword from Sephiroth before the Buster was damaged (because, boy, would that make Angeal mad, even if one of his best friend's had been carrying it).
But then Sephiroth turned at the bottom of the steps and stood aside of the door, and Zack breathed a sigh of relief at the same time his heart sank to the soles of his boots and a small voice at the back of his mind whispered frantically that there was something wrong, as Angeal, face pinched with pain, was carried out of the plane on a stretcher.
The crowd, however, cheered them on, because the Wutai War was over and surely, for those who had returned, things could only get better.
The door to his office slammed open and bounced off the wall.
Genesis's voice cracked like a whip. "Well, Department Head? What do you make of it now that you've seen him for yourself?"
"It could be an infection," said Hollander weakly, raising his head from his hands. He had been thinking over what to tell Gillian, panicking over what he could possibly say that wouldn't make him seem any more of the incompetent fool than he already felt he was. "A hitherto unknown infection that he picked up in the Wutai jungle, perhaps transported by a mako-mutant type of fly. Something which delays the healing factor. It's not too far-fetched. There are a couple of poisons known to have that effect after all – "
"Don't be ridiculous!" Genesis snapped. "It's been three days since that last battle. His wounds are barely healed. This is degradation again and you know it, Hollander!"
Hollander sighed. Genesis had never shown him much respect to start with, but he had at least before in the past he had pretended to be civil. These days, Genesis didn't even try to pretend, but Hollander couldn't find the courage or the will in him to put Genesis in his place.
Angeal had come back from the War riddled with enough suspiciously slow-healing wounds that he hadn't been able to stand. Hollander had instantly recognised it as degradation, although still thankfully at its earliest stage.
"Well, Hollander? What have you to say for yourself?
It had caused some alarm, of course. None of the Soldiers were stupid and enough of them had recovered from serious injuries to see that Angeal's condition wasn't normal.
"Are you going to speak at all?"
Stress, Hollander had told the Soldiers, before the ripples of unease could spread. Stress, lack of sleep, and a miscalculation of the nutritional requirements a top-performing Soldier First Class such as Angeal Hewley needed to maintain his ability to heal!
"Or are you going to sit there quivering dumb like a child that's run to its mother and hidden in her apron?"
Repeated enough by the PR Department, the Soldiers swallowed it down, but for Hollander the trouble was only beginning, because if Angeal was degrading too then Project G was truly in deep, deep trouble.
At last, Hollander sighed. "Our studies suggested that Angeal's cellular chemistry would be more stable than yours."
"Oh, I see!" Genesis's expression was ugly, all lip curl and too much teeth. "You hoped that I would be the only one with degradation – your only failure. Well! I am sure you did, and for the record, so did I, but that's not the case now, is it? Is it? Now, what are you going to do about it?"
Truth be told, Genesis didn't really expect Hollander to do anything at all. Hollander was pathetic. He was a greasy mouse of a man hiding behind his white coat and lab jargon, but at this point, Genesis didn't care. Genesis was angry, tired, weary to the bones of his body and aching in joints that no normal human being should have.
He felt about as in control of the situation as a new recruit rolling a material pearl in his hand, and just as much as an explosive hazard to everybody around him. Hollander was just an easy target to take it all out on.
Said man mouse muttered something under his breath.
"What did you just say?"
Hollander's face reddened. "If you hadn't pushed Lazard into sending both Angeal and Sephiroth into going to Wutai, Angeal would not have been in a position to sustain those injuries that have pushed him early into the degradation cycle in the first place. He would have been here! Within easy reach of ShinRa care! If only you had been the one to go to Wutai!"
"You mean, 'If only Genesis had gone to Wutai, oh-so-conveniently got himself killed on the frontlines, and therefore removed myself from ShinRa, along with the evidence of degradation and Project G's only known failure'?" said Genesis archly, lowering the hand he hadn't even realised he had raised and closed it into a fist. Hollander had hit a nerve with all the clumsy precision of a mallet – in other words, completely by chance, but it didn't matter if he'd just got lucky, because in the end the blow still hurt. "Well, so sorry to disappoint."
Of course, Genesis had considered the possibility that Angeal might be injured! Of course, he had! It wasn't even a 'possibility'. Every Soldier pulling his weight could expect a flesh wound or ten and Angeal would have done his honourable best to pull his weight and more. Genesis had simply pinned his hopes on the usual safest bet: That Sephiroth was a deadly one man army enough to protect Angeal from the worst of it.
He chided himself. He must have been out of his mind. Genesis was a Soldier, First Class. He should have known better than to pin his hopes on anything at all. He should have known better than to even have hopes.
He swept his hair out of his eyes, gave Hollander a scornful once over that left no doubt of his opinion that the doctor was worth less than the coffee stain on his trousers. "Now, before I get sick of wasting another precious minute of my considerably shorter than average life breathing the same air as you, you will answer my initial question: What are you going to about it?"
"We will continue monitoring your own condition," replied Hollander in a rush. Genesis loomed over him, all but spitting fire, "and from that, we'll work out a sequence of events in the degradation, find the threshold mutation level between each stage then deduce the stabilisation points. You will have to come in more often for checks, of course. I know that you've been avoiding them lately. I'll have a word with Lazard – "
"You'll find that Director Lazard agrees with me that I'm doing far better for my body giving it the rest and relaxation it deserves." Genesis clicked his tongue in irritation. Ever since that wing had budded from his back, he had been doing his damned best to stay out of Hollander's reach. A mutation like that was exactly the kind of thing that made the inquiring minds of the Science Department reach for their scalpels and buzz-saws. Unfortunately, it wasn't only his life on the line anymore. "But, perhaps once in a while, I will find time in my schedule to come your way."
"That is good to hear. In the meantime," Hollander dabbed the sweat off his forehead and reached for a stack of folders that had been shunted to the side of his desk, "I did find something very promising in these. I was given access to these files on my promotion. I haven't had a chance to look at all them properly yet, but this one was very interesting."
He picked out one from the centre of the stack, peered at its label then held it up to Genesis. "According to this file, there may be a young remnant of the Ancient race currently under ShinRa watch."
Genesis took the folder and opened it with interest. "A real Ancient?"
"Well, to be precise, she'd only be half an Ancient, but that's more than enough if she's inherited their abilities."
He flipped through the pages: Report after report in the terse style of the Turks, photographs snapped from a distance charting the growth of a young woman from a little girl. "And? Has she?"
"As of yet, there haven't been any signs to say anything for certain. The Turks have been keeping an eye on her. They're supposed to report in when they notice anything remarkable, but for now, she's simply under surveillance and Company protection."
Hollander twisted that disgusting handkerchief between his sweaty palms. Genesis fought the urge to burn it and make the world that little bit more of a sanitary place to live in. "What will happen to this girl if she does manifest Ancient abilities?"
"The plan is to bring her into protective custody. Aside from those circumstances, however, the Department of Science has been advised to leave her well alone."
Genesis snorted. From what he had seen from the files, Hojo had been cautioned time and time again by the Turks for trying to bring in the girl for some very dubious experiments indeed.
Hollander rubbed his temples. "We're not to bring her in unless absolutely vital or certain that she could be of Company use. The Turks say that it would be too much trouble if it got out that the Company had been studying the Ancients. People would leap to all sorts of conclusions if they began to think that ShinRa was endorsing all of those old wives' tales about the Ancients and the Planet - but the fact of the matter is, even if she doesn't manifest Ancient abilities, she is still quite the biological resource."
That a girl could be reduced so easily to a 'resource' made one part of Genesis instantly recoil, but to his own disgust, another part of him had hopefully pricked its ears.
If the girl was a half-Ancient then surely she was exactly the thing that Genesis and Angeal (and Sephiroth, perhaps, but it was possible that he was something else entirely) had been created to mimic? She was, by her very nature, the closest to how they were supposed to be if they could be healthy. If Hollander could only examine her, perhaps they could find out just where Genesis and Angeal had gone wrong.
"In short," Genesis closed the file, "now that you have access to her, you are considering having this half-Ancient girl brought in for study."
Hollander nodded. "All I need is a good enough reason to obtain permission from the President to have the Turks bring her in. If I could just get hold of a cellular sample or two! Maybe observe some of the key physiological processes of her body, perhaps test her immune responses, she might just give us the answers to how to save Angeal and yourself."
And your precious Project G too. Genesis clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Is providing a cure for mine and Angeal's degradation a good enough reason to bring her in?"
"Of course not!" Hollander cried, burying his hands in his hair. "It is no reason at all. The President cannot know about how degradation is affecting the two of you! It'd be the end! Project G would be finished for sure! He would order the project's immediate termination, which would therefore mean yours and Angeal's – "
"'Forced retirement'? Please." Genesis tossed the half-Ancient girl's file onto the table, where it landed with a slap on the back of Hollander's hand. "If they ever come to force me to retire, I'll retire a whole cohort of Soldiers with me. Between all of us, I'll make sure that it becomes the biggest retirement ball ShinRa's ever seen."
Hollander licked his lips and swallowed. "Could you do it?"
"Be an exquisite host of a ball? Why, of course." Genesis bowed with a flourish of his hand.
"I meant bring in the girl without getting caught by the Turks."
It sickened Genesis just how low Hollander thought he would stoop to find a cure for the degradation.
It also sickened Genesis how tempted he was by Hollander's suggestion.
"Indeed, I could." It was true. He was First Class Genesis Rhapsodos. He could take on a plane full of Turks with one hand occupied by a good book and half his mind composing a critical analysis of the text, and still step out from the fight with his red leather jacket spotless, or at least, he used to be able to. "But I could also roast you dry and grind you into dust as fine as your favourite coffee blend and I haven't done that yet, because I don't feel like it."
Hollander's face fell. "But, Genesis – "
"Having said that, I want to meet her. As soon as possible. In fact," Genesis pulled out his PHS, glanced at the screen and tucked it away, "I have nothing urgent this afternoon, so I'll see her today. The sooner we know if she's any use to us or not the better. I'll leave it to you to get the permission from the Turks."
"Excuse me?"
Genesis rolled his eyes. "You said that the Turks need to approve of the reason to bring her in, but if somebody merely wanted to visit her, as opposed to taking her into custody, I'd imagine the vetting process is much more straightforward. You're a Department Head, Hollander. Surely you're competent enough to arrange this?"
"But why would I send you of all people to meet her? It would be far more productive to send one of my researchers - " Hollander jumped as Genesis slapped the pile of folders on his desk.
"Oh, for heaven's sake! If the President's so eager to see this girl manifest Ancient abilities then I'm sure you can cock and bull something with that quite easily! Just feed him something about an extension of Project G maybe! Pseudoscience mumbo jumbo about looking for resonance, or relatability, between the real deal half-Ancient and your failing fakes - studying their interactions, maybe throw in the chance hope that my presence triggers some of her 'latent Ancient abilities'!"
Genesis sighed and threw up his arms in a gesture of exasperation. "Hollander, I honestly couldn't care less what you say, but you will arrange clearance for me to visit this girl, or else I will walk into the Soldier Common Room, and show all our loyal ShinRa Soldiers this – " he waved a hand at his rotting shoulder, ignored the stab of pain that small gesture sent up his arm, "- and tell them all how sorry I am that every man injected with mako from the year that Angeal and I entered the program and after are all doomed to degrade and die just like the two of us."
"You wouldn't," gasped Hollander, but he looked uncertain, because this was Genesis, and Genesis was the kind of man who thought C-4 should be shared out at parties like cookie dough.
"There will be panic, maybe a little rioting, some spilled blood, and possibly a very messy coup." Genesis's eyes shone with a hungry gleam. "It will be gloriously entertaining, although what happens really will depend on how charitable the Soldiers feel after being told that ShinRa lied to them about the safety of the Soldier procedure, and that all of them will die before they hit the ripe old age of twenty seven. Now, shall I trigger general hysteria and a Soldier uprising or not?"
Hollander shook his head.
"What a pity. Well then, I'll expect clearance to visit this half-Ancient girl within the next two hours. One hour would be preferable. If you manage it in half an hour, who knows? I might bring back a lock of her hair for you. A cell sample! You'd like that wouldn't you?"
"I'll see what I can do," Hollander croaked.
Good. In the meantime, Angeal was in the infirmary and Genesis's considerably eased roster (thanks to Lazard, damn the man for actually having some streak of decency when it came to the Soldiers under his management!) meant he had the time spare for a visit.
Kicking back the hem of his coat, Genesis swept towards the door.
He turned with a wicked smile. "Infinite is the mystery of the goddess, we seek it thus and take to the sky. Thank you very much for sharing yet another ShinRa Company secret with me, Doctor Hollander."
Now that he had finally gotten something out of their meeting, he had had quite enough of Hollander's company.
"Morning, Reeve."
Reeve glanced over the coffee machine to where Veld was precariously balancing a paper cup on his gun-arm. "Morning, Veld."
"Interesting weather today," said Veld, with a nod to the window behind them where rain was sliding down the glass in a single rippling sheet.
The atmosphere of Midgar did funny things to rain. Mako vapours from the reactors meant that Midgar rains tended to fall with a slightly green, luminous tint. The few poetic souls who liked Midgar often compared it to the floating lights over the Northern crater. Reeve, however, along with the majority of Midgar residents, both above and below the Plate, preferred to describe it as 'piss rain'.
"It's very Midgar."
"It is, isn't it? They're saying we're in for a cold winter. Busy day today?"
Reeve pasted on a smile. "Veld?"
"Yes?"
"Let's stop beating about the mandragora."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You've been coming down from your Department every day for the past month to drink coffee from a coffee machine which, sleek, new, and beautiful it may be, makes coffee that tastes like the rain out there compared to what you have in your own Department, so since you're obviously not coming for the coffee," Reeve sipped at his drink and tried to ignore the sound of his heart in his ears, "I can only assume that you're keeping an eye on me for something."
Veld was silent. He frowned into his coffee as if stirring creamer into it was the most difficult task he had been set all week, and just when Reeve was beginning to wonder if he ought to make himself scarce to his office as quickly as possible, Veld spoke.
"I like to think that we are friends, Reeve. We are friends, aren't we?"
Reeve had to think about that. Were they friends? They had joined ShinRa around about the same period and often been forced to cooperate, but Reeve had rather thought their relationship more of a case of 'an enemy of my enemy is a friend' than a real friendship. Their 'friendship' largely consisted of a weekly griping over what money-wasting project Scarlet or Heidegger had managed to convince the President to divert ShinRa wealth to next.
Then again, considering how rarely Reeve spoke to any of his colleagues and how rarely Veld spoke to anybody who wasn't a Turk at all, perhaps in both of their books, this was about as close to friendship they were going to get within this company, and Reeve had to admit, it had been rather nice to have somebody to share small talk over the coffee machine with, even if it was mostly about coffee or the weather.
"I'd like to think that we're friends too."
Veld smiled but on the man's grizzled face, it was about as expressive as a crease in basalt. "Shall we take this to your office?"
As far as Reeve remembered he had left nothing incriminating out on his desk - not that had he done anything of late to be incriminated for. That didn't stop the wriggling unease spreading from his stomach like worms as he led Veld back to his office and informed Miss Wist that he wasn't do be disturbed until they had finished their 'discussion'.
Reeve offered Veld a chair, but the man declined and chose, instead, to pace back and forth in front of Reeve's desk, looking about the small room with an expression as murky as the Zolom marshes.
"You're a decent sort, Reeve." Veld stopped in the centre of the room and fixed his eyes on nowhere in particular, but still somehow managed, in that curious Turk way, to make Reeve feel as if he was sitting under a narrow-beamed lamp. "When I said that I like to think of you as a friend, I meant just that. You are the only remaining Department Head in this pit of vipers with any shred of integrity left in him, including myself. I would hate to have to change my opinion of you over a small misunderstanding."
Slow, measured steps, one leg swinging after the after, the energy efficient stroll that gave the impression of being at once completely in control of a situation and as relaxed as if there was no situation at all.
Veld set down his cup on top of a cabinet. "Which is why, Reeve, I took this matter into my own hands, rather than those of my subordinates."
"Right." Reeve suspected that he ought to thank him but still he didn't know what he was thanking Veld for. "I see, and this 'matter' of yours requires having me under surveillance?"
"Reeve," Veld sighed and squared his shoulders, looked straight into Reeve's face, "for the past month, you've been under investigation for suspected collusion in cyber-related crimes against the Company."
Reeve had enough presence of mind to not spew coffee over his desk, but that didn't stop him choking on his drink and having a coughing fit.
"Cyber-related crimes?" he exclaimed. "Me?"
"Look, Reeve, like I said, I know you as a good man," said Veld soothingly, even as Reeve's heart leapt from his chest to the back of his mouth then fled to take deep breaths at the bottom of his shoes. "If there is anything you can think of, anything at all, that might suggest that somebody might be setting you up to take the fall for their actions, all you have to do is say so."
"Nothing comes to mind." He tried desperately to remember whether there had been any major incidents in the Tower that could have been attributed to a hacker and somehow connect to him. "Honestly, nothing at all."
To Reeve's surprise, Veld looked genuinely disappointed. "I see. Well, I'm sure that there's no need to worry, but I'll have to ask you a few questions. I hope you realise, Reeve, that I'm trying my best within my code of conduct to be honest with you, as a friend, so I hope that you'll be honest with me in turn."
He swallowed down a rising tide of panic. "I think I can agree to that."
Veld gave him an approving nod. "This is for your own good, Reeve. I hope you can see that."
In a light tone that was probably supposed to assure Reeve that this was all just a little misunderstanding and would be cleared up in no time at all, preferably over coffee than the muzzle of a gun, Veld asked, "What happened to your little toy, Reeve?"
Piss rain slid down the window that overlooked Midgar.
"I'm not sure what you're referring to, Veld."
"That little toy cat, Reeve. The one you've been tinkering with all these months, that personal project of yours. Your secretary told me that you were quite fond of it, but she's hardly seen you with it lately."
Reeve stared at him. Cait Sith? How could Cait Sith be related to Reeve and 'cyber-related crimes'?
A creeping realisation stole over him and he began to suspect that, far from being an ignorant bystander, Reeve knew exactly what was going on.
"Well, I have been very busy of late." He waved his hand at the stack of blueprints and contracts in his in-tray. "Surprisingly enough, ensuring the maintenance of the main roads in Midgar and overseeing the development of a new warehouse quarter means I'm finding myself a bit short of the free time I'd need for Cait Sith."
"But, not so short of time that you couldn't miss an information technology and robotics conference at the end of last month, and meeting several academics notable for their work in computing science since?"
They really had been keeping an eye on him. Reeve tried not to think too hard about that, gulped the last dregs of his coffee and thought as quickly as he could. "Well, I can't deny that I have some interest in robotics, purely at the level of a hobbyist, but an interest nonetheless. The conferences are a place to meet like-minded people with the same interests and, if you're in a sticky patch, get some help. As for those academics, I think you'll see if you did a background check on them, which I'm sure you did, that they were all in the Robo-Rebels Society at the University of Kalm and are all still good friends of mine. We meet up fairly regularly."
"That toy cat then – Cait Sith?" Reeve nodded when Veld pronounced the name correctly. "Am I to believe that you stopped working on Cait Sith because you hit one of these 'sticky patches' in the course of his development?"
"Yep, that's right."
"Reeve." Veld stepped up to the desk with his brows furrowed. "Which is it? Did you stop working on your robot because you were too busy to pursue your hobby or because you hit a developmental dead end? Let's keep our story clear, shall we?"
Reeve winced and it didn't go unmissed.
"Come on, Reeve," Veld coaxed him. "There's no need to hide anything when you aren't to blame."
Oh, Reeve wasn't so sure about that. He had let that AI get away after all. Whatever it had done, the buck could easily be made to stop with Reeve.
"Veld?" The man raised his eyebrows. "Is there any chance, as friends, that you could tell me what these 'cyber-related crimes' - that I'm being suspected of being involved with - were?"
"I can't tell you the specifics. However, you should know that the consequences of those crimes have led to multiple deaths already."
Reeve's jaw dropped. "Deaths?"
"Yes. Deaths. In the multiple. People have died, Reeve, and until we know what we're dealing with, we can't confidently say that there won't be more deaths to come."
If that wasn't a blatant twist of the knife of guilt in Reeve's guts, he didn't know what was, and damn old Veld, because it worked.
He remembered the state of the AI's mind when it had manifested. It had been aggressive, angry, moody and volatile. It hurt to think it, but Reeve couldn't say he was surprised if it had gone on to be a killer. An AI wasn't meant to understand the human mind's special brand of stupid and it had been too human for its own good.
To think that he had let that AI go! And now the Turks were after it.
At the thought of that intelligence getting into the hands of the Turks, Reeve felt cold all over. Good gods, the things the Turks could possibly do with it after breaking it down for research! Even the thought of 'breaking it down' made Reeve want to shudder. For something that human it would be tantamount to subjecting it to torture.
Which was more than a little likely what Reeve would be subjected to if he didn't come up with a story that was both plausible and likely to keep the Turks distracted and looking the other direction, whilst he investigated the intelligence for himself, in the next few seconds.
The wind had changed direction, and it drove the rain against his window with the tap-tap touch of a machine gun.
Reeve spoke. "I stopped because I simply didn't have the drive or motivation to continue with Cait Sith. Everything's fizzled away. All the inspiration, the excitement, the fun just isn't there anymore."
Which was entirely the truth. No better story than the true story, after all.
Because after seeing life flicker once in those glass eyes – frightened, lost and utterly enraged - more life-like than Reeve could even hope to imitate with his current abilities - and fade away as if dying, he just hadn't been able to stomach the thought of continuing. He had put Cait Sith in the bottom drawer of his desk and it had felt as if he had laid to rest a body.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Reeve." To his credit, Veld really did sound sympathetic, even as he watched Reeve as close as if under a magnifying glass. "Was there a reason for this sudden loss of interest?"
"A small incident made me lose my nerve, I suppose. It's hard to describe."
"I see, and would this 'small incident' be whatever it was that occurred in this room on the 20th August, at the time of the blackout?"
A smile tugged at the corners of Reeve's mouth and he scolded himself for it, because halfway through lying to a Turk's face was really not the best time to start enjoying himself. "Veld, you clearly know more about this than I do. Is there really any need for you to be questioning me?"
"Well, I'd like to hear what happened that day in your own words. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt here, Reeve. This is your chance to – "
"Come clean?" Reeve smirked, it probably wasn't the most appropriate moment for one, but he didn't really care. "I didn't think there was such a thing in ShinRa. You said so yourself the other day, Veld. 'Here in ShinRa, either you were dirty, or your dirt hasn't been dug up yet'."
Veld blinked at Reeve as if he had sprouted tentacles then gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Reeve Tuesti, you have more balls than the Company gives you credit for!"
"Gods, I hope not, or the Department of Science would have me laid out on a table for examination. The regular number of balls is good enough for me."
Veld chuckled. Feeling more than a little light-headed, Reeve stretched down and pulled out Cait Sith's limp, unanimated body from his drawer – probably never would be animated at all, at this rate.
He set it down on the desk, exactly where he had positioned it on the 20th August. "This is Cait Sith."
Veld looked at the robot with interest. "Your toy cat project?"
Reeve hoped that he didn't look too affronted, but knew he had failed when Veld laughed. "Of course, of course, not a toy - your robot. Does it speak?"
"Not at the moment, although I was planning on giving him a speech function. The day of the Tower blackout, I had him connected him up to this computer to upload a personality interface into him that would have allowed him to do just that."
"But from what we observed of the security footage, Reeve, you seemed to be having quite the conversation with this little…" Veld considered the black and white cat with its glassy eyes and plastic whiskers, its open mouth with its enamel-painted tongue, "…model."
Reeve sighed and tried to look a little nervous, enough that would seem appropriate when divulging something to the leader of the Turks. "When I connected Cait Sith up to the computer, something very strange happened, in fact…" He frowned. "I'm not entirely sure what happened exactly."
Veld leaned forward. "Try, Reeve."
"Well, the only thing I can think is that connecting Cait Sith to the computer activated something that had already been uploaded into him." Reeve let his expression sour. "Somebody, somewhere, I don't how or when, had tampered with Cait Sith - loaded some sort of code onto him, of a like I'd never seen before, and when I connected him up it had some sort of self-trigger mechanism to load into my computer."
"Do you think it was a virus?"
"No, nothing so common or garden as a virus. If anything, I would have called it a cloud of junk data. What I saw of the coding, it was complete nonsense. There was no logic, no reason. It was simply there, and the effect of it was that, for a few minutes, it seemed as though Cait Sith had spontaneously come to life." Reeve paused and checked that Veld was listening, saw that he had his undivided attention and went on. "I thought that Cait Sith might have been possessed by an artificial intelligence of some kind."
Veld's face twisted with distaste. "You mean those confounded computer programs Weapons Scarlet is always developing that just seem to make each generation of her bots more incompetent and an additional mission hazard than the last?"
To be fair on Scarlet, she had undoubtedly been aiming for 'more deadly' and 'with faster draw', and on that front her bots were succeeding, but Reeve decided not to mention that. Veld didn't think much of Scarlet. Few of the Turks did after several of them had fallen foul to a rather nasty little spy-bot that had combined a lie-detector with an acid spray.
In a flash of inspiration, Reeve realised that even if he knew that Scarlet didn't have the ingenuity to make anything nearly so complex as the intelligence he had met, Veld didn't. He could use this!
"Yes, like what Scarlet makes, except nothing as basic as those. For a moment, I genuinely could believe that Cait Sith had come alive and not only was he alive," Reeve turned the paper cup in his hands, "but he seemed to be listening to me, which was why I spoke to it and tried to engage Cait Sith in conversation, in case whatever had been put into him was an artificial intelligence."
"Then it wasn't an intelligence?"
Reeve shrugged. "I couldn't decide in the end. My hunch is that it was a failed artificial intelligence, where somebody had over-reached their ambitions, but a hunch is a hunch without any evidence, and why anybody would put a failed AI into Cait Sith is completely boggling to me."
"Yes, it 'boggles' me as well." Veld's expression was unreadable. "And you lost your nerve because you saw an example of somebody else's failure?"
"I suppose it must have been something like that. It was very disheartening." Reeve swilled the dregs of coffee at the bottom of his cup and mustered up a smile. "Anyway, hence why I've been doing my round of the conferences and calling up my old friends again. I hoped that they'd be able to tell me about some new development in the field that I didn't know about, or, if not that, at least tell me if they were the bugger who'd tampered with Cait Sith."
"You seem rather relaxed about this whole tampering business."
"Mucking around with each other's projects is a bit of a game amongst developers and we're well used to sending each other puzzles of a sort. If it wasn't an artificial intelligence, it could have just been a batch of junk data put into Cait Sith to make me worry and waste my time – a prank, which was why I didn't report it." Reeve picked up Cait Sith and fiddled with its arms, lifting them up and down as if the cat was cheering. "The last time I took Cait Sith to a developers' meet, one of my old circle friends slipped something into his programming that made him sing all six verses of My Bonny Blue-eyed Soldier Boy every time I switched him on."
"So, what we're saying here," Veld cleared his throat, "is that it is very possible that somebody at one of these conferences or meets that you attended had the opportunity to handle your robot and upload a quantity of unknown data onto it, in the anticipation that you would eventually connect it to a ShinRa terminal?"
"Perhaps, but what I do for a living isn't common knowledge. I make sure of it, otherwise I'd have had just as many ambitious students approaching me at conferences as Scarlet does and that would have spoiled all the fun." Reeve looked thoughtful as he dug up another memory. "Come to think of it, Scarlet was there at the one I attended in August - I think it was around August 17th?"
"Really? What was she doing there?"
"Head-hunting for a new project of hers. She saw me there and came to take a look at Cait Sith - spent a good few minutes examining him actually." He had to tread carefully. "You're not suspecting that Scarlet had some hand in this, are you?"
"Hmm, well, let's consider Weapons Scarlet's record." Veld started to pace the room again. "Scarlet has access to artificial intelligence development knowledge. She also has a knack for releasing bots in 'spontaneous field tests' and subsequently losing control of them. We've seen her get jealous easily, and, between you and me, Reeve, there have been plenty of interesting things going on in Weapons since she arrived that would imply that she isn't above sabotaging other peoples' projects for petty reasons of her own. How sophisticated was your Cait Sith, Reeve?"
"Far more sophisticated than any of Scarlet's war machines," said Reeve with no small pride.
"Then I wouldn't put it past her to think you were trampling in her territory and want to teach you a lesson - making your little project malfunction under a faulty AI, for example, maybe enough to injure you." Veld folded his arms across his chest and muttered, "Making AIs that cause grievous bodily harm is her day job, after all. This is all right up her street."
Reeve grimaced and tried not to look too keen to turn Scarlet into the scapegoat. "I don't know, Veld, this all does sound extreme, even by Scarlet's standards. You probably shouldn't rule out the possibility of a Company outsider making Cait Sith into a Wutai donkey."
"True, we shouldn't," Veld stretched out his gun-arm and gave it a shake, "and we shouldn't rule out the possibility of your own self being the culprit yet either."
Reeve covered a guilty shiver with a laugh. "Should you really be making it this obvious that I am under investigation?"
Humming a few notes of a tune that sounded suspiciously like Bonny Blue-eyed Soldier Boy, Veld crumpled up his paper cup. "Think of it like First Class Hewley's Buster Sword, Reeve. It's so bleeding obvious that he's carrying it, it stops the fight before it even starts, and that's the cheapest and cleanest solution to any problem."
Veld tossed his cup into the bin and sighed. "You've got yourself into quite a pickle this time. It's a great shame to have to question you like this, Reeve."
"It's alright. The fact is people have died. What might have started out as a joke of one of my friends or a little petty telling-to from Scarlet, even I can see that it's got out of hand."
"That it has." Veld sighed again. "It sounds as if I'll need a word with Weapons Scarlet. Also, Reeve, I'm going to have to take that Cait Sith of yours with me." His eyes flickered down to the little black and white cat on the desk before returning expectantly to Reeve. "To run a couple of checks at our end."
Smoothing back the whiskers on Cait Sith's face, Reeve lifted him up and held him out to Veld. "Do whatever you feel is necessary."
"Thank you, Reeve."
Veld gently took the robot into his hands. In the Turk's grasp, Cait Sith looked very small.
Lip-reading was a wonderful, wonderful skill.
Especially if, for all his a thousand eyes, Cloud couldn't hear a single thing of what anybody was saying. It had taken him a month and half to learn since figuring out the CCTV but it was definitely worth the time.
Without sound, watching ShinRa Company had made him feel like the permanent resident of an aquarium. The employees went to and fro between offices and canteens, gyms and labs, all moving in Cloud's vision with their mouths flapping, open and closed, open and closed, open and closed, silent as fish, and Cloud had watched it all - every day, every night, every second of ShinRa life.
The voyeurism would have made him embarrassed, but it wasn't as if he had any choice. He was keeping a close eye on Genesis and the Soldiers, and that was a twenty-four-seven job, because who knew when a nervous breakdown was imminent? Besides that, missing a human body with its sleep cycle hormones, Cloud couldn't sleep if he wanted to.
If he had had a body, Cloud would have watched the exchange between Reeve and Veld with his heart in his mouth and the blood ticking in his ears. Scrap that, he wouldn't have just watched. He would gone in there and done something!
Veld was an intriguing man. Cloud didn't know a thing about him other than that he led the Turks, and had led them before Tseng in his old timeline, but any man who put together a team mixing the likes of Tseng, Rude and Reno must have had a sense of humour buried deep down under that granite exterior somewhere.
If asked what he had been expecting of a man who taught Tseng the Turkish ropes, Cloud would probably have answered with a 'Papa Tseng' of sorts, like a Tseng who went fishing in the weekends and drank plum brandy on cold nights, and after all the family had completed their missions (somehow 'missions' sounded very much like 'homework') his Turk children would have gathered around his feet and argued over who could put together a gun the fastest.
He wasn't entirely wrong. From what Cloud had seen of Veld's e-mails, the Tseng Cloud knew from the other timeline owed a lot to Veld. Veld pushed for mission completion in the same way that Tseng had done, driving it home in his men to stay loyal to their orders and he pursued targets with all the deadly stubbornness of a cranky tonberry.
There was one notable difference between Veld and Tseng: Tseng, for all his cool charm, could never quite pull off nice. Veld, however, could not only do nice but also make a stab at normal despite the scars on his face and the curves of a gun-arm under his sleeve, and the people he spoke to tended to blithely forget that when Veld raised his arm to wave or beckon them over, he was also pointing a gun at them.
Watching Reeve talk to Veld and straining to read Reeve's lips had made Cloud buzz with nerves and agitation, but in the end all he could do was trust in Reeve to be wily enough to save himself or at least tread water until Cloud could figure out how to help him from a distance.
Veld in Reeve's office had had his back turned to the camera, so Cloud hadn't the faintest clue what the man was saying, but from Reeve's replies it was clear that the Turks had, for some reason, managed to link the card lock system malfunctions to Reeve much sooner than Cloud had hoped.
Good thing that Cloud hadn't made any contact with Reeve again after arriving in the past. He had been sorely tempted at times, just for the touch of familiarity.
As Reeve and Veld's meeting concluded, he felt the echoes of what would have been with a body guilt, warmth and irrational anger – guilt that he had caused trouble for Reeve, warmth when he realised that Reeve was tweaking the details of Cloud's appearance in Cait Sith just enough to deflect the Turk's attention to Scarlet and muddy the specifics, and utterly irrational anger that the man who would in sixty years' time be responsible for Cloud's present state was now, for some reason, protecting him.
Reeve of all people had no right to try and protect him! It smacked of pity! How dare he pity Cloud?!
To be properly fair to this Reeve and the Reeve of the future, Cloud was as much to blame for his current situation as Reeve was for agreeing to test that infernal 'intertemporal communication device' in the first place.
Although it was Reeve's fault that it worked too well. If only Reeve had built a device that didn't work!
The anger snarled as Cloud shoved it away and locked up its accompanying voice.
Speaking of testing, Cloud was just about ready to do a little testing of his own. His 'Dowser of Delusions of Grandeur', also known as 'Stop Psychotic Rampage Protocol One' was good to go.
Genesis's midnight call had given Cloud the idea to invest in a plan in case certain Soldiers - paragons of mental stability that they were - got it into their heads to burn or destroy the building in the wake of a breakdown.
Cloud lived in the Tower's intranet and mainframe. He was somewhat dependent on the building's continued existence to exist himself, and so after studying and exploring a few more automated systems linked up in the ShinRa Tower, Cloud finally found a way in which he could rain on a rampaging Soldier's parade.
As he searched the CCTV for a suitable test subject, the inner-Zack cackled with glee, or was it Zack at all? Perhaps it was Cloud's own private streak of Yuffie doing the cackling. Perhaps everybody was a little bit on the Yuffie spectrum – and perhaps, in the mainframe, Cloud had spent a little too long in the company of his own thoughts.
Thinking of Yuffie made him think of Genesis. Cloud scanned the CCTV for the man's fancy red coat.
Genesis would do as a test subject. He had been talking to Hollander that morning, not an unusual event in itself, but this time it had been rather heated and Cloud imagined that Genesis could probably do with a 'little something' to cool off his infamous temper, not to mention he was due some payback for setting the Turks on Cloud.
Cloud was going to have to follow up Hollander's conversation with Genesis later. Hollander had shown the Soldier a file. Cloud hadn't been able to see what that file was, but he had read the word 'Ancient' from the doctor's lips several times over, and he could make an educated guess as to whom that file had referred to.
He found Genesis in the infirmary, his coat folded up and draped over the back of his chair, which would explain why Cloud had had trouble spotting him. Well, that taught him to rely on lazy searching tricks. Cloud needed to do better than that.
Genesis was sat at Angeal's bedside, waving his hands as if conducting an orchestra. He was speaking so quickly Cloud could only catch a handful of words, but 'honourable idiot' couldn't be missed, considering how many times Genesis spat it out.
Angeal was lying on his pallet, listening and frowning bemusedly up at the ceiling as Genesis got up and did a very graceful impression of what was probably Angeal jumping in front of a machine gun. If it was Genesis's idea of a joke, it was morbid, in poor taste and frankly his impression was awful, but it got Angeal smiling, something Cloud had been a little sad to note was a rare thing since his return from Wutai.
He decided to leave Genesis in peace - at least, for the time being – and hunted the cameras for another worthy test subject.
A shock of silver hair snagged at his attention.
The inner-Zack and streak-of-Yuffie-in-Cloud exchanged a significant look.
To say that Sephiroth was not in a happy place at that moment was rather like saying the Northern Crater was a pimple scar.
Useless. Every account, every report, every commentator on the incident was useless. They all repeated the same empty facts as to the circumstances around Hojo's death. If it wasn't for Zack Fair telling him about carded door lock problems on the same day and the Turk interest in those apparently trivial system malfunctions, he would have been led to believe that Hojo had died in an accident like everybody else.
The official story involving Hojo's death mentioned only the monster and nothing about locks at all. All personnel who had gone up to Floor 68 had had to sign documents agreeing to uphold the official statement. That had included Genesis, Zack Fair and the other Second Class aide.
Sephiroth felt a twinge of guilt. Zack had been very shaken seeing Angeal return on a stretcher, and Sephiroth had taken advantage of that emotional vulnerability to get at the truth he wanted. He had convinced the young Second to have lunch with him to 'take both their minds off Angeal's condition' then got him to talk about what had occurred at ShinRa during Sephiroth's absence.
Genesis had already stalked off to terrorise the returning Soldiers, apparently intent on finding out exactly what had happened in Wutai to Angeal and, having done his 'Welcome Home' of putting Rapier in Sephiroth's face, was too agitated to stay and wait for the initial report on why Angeal's wounds weren't healing properly.
It had been too easy to get answers from Zack, maybe because he didn't think that the agreement to the official statement applied to between ShinRa colleagues, but far more likely, given how Angeal watched over his student and ensured his progress along the straight and narrow, it was because the young Soldier Second had yet to learn of ShinRa's dark side and fear it.
All Sephiroth had said was, "I heard from Genesis that you were there when they retrieved Hojo's body?", and Zack had quite happily told him all he could remember from that day with liberal dashes of, 'I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but - ', and 'Tseng's a good guy, he probably won't shoot me for this, at least, not in the head – '.
He had even shown him a photograph that he had snapped in the laboratory. That image of Hojo's head crushed in the jaws of, what appeared to be, a six-eyed, six-legged tiger crossed with a squid - presumably the monster that had done the deed – had quite possibly made Sephiroth's day.
He was a good man, Zack Fair, a far better man than Sephiroth. It was a shame to have to exploit him, but there was no room for sentiment on the battlefield and so long as there was an enemy standing in his path, Sephiroth was still in a battlefield.
And, yes, there was an enemy out there somewhere. He was convinced of it, because ever since his return, there had been an inescapable prickling on the back of his neck that screamed of eyes following him, watching him wherever he went.
If Black VIII's release had been deliberate, somebody out there was responsible for depriving Sephiroth of all the answers, all the knowledge, the secrets, that should have been his by right. Perhaps it had been unintentional, but someone had done Sephiroth a very great disservice in killing Hojo so soon and, whoever they were, until he knew better, Sephiroth would consider that 'somebody' his enemy.
He jabbed at the keyboard and the enter key cracked beneath his finger.
Snapped out of his reverie, Sephiroth stopped typing.
He rested his hands with a sigh. At this rate, he'd wear out his fifth keyboard in a year and this one had been custom-made with Soldier strength in mind.
It wasn't the keyboard's fault that it couldn't cope with a Soldier bashing at its keys. A Soldier had to learn control. Control was the key. Control was everything, otherwise a Soldier could be just as much a menace to society as the monsters they were sent to put down.
The back of his neck prickled as if the hand had brushed up against it.
Sephiroth stiffened. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that there was somebody there, in the shadows of the room behind him, still and silent, waiting for something.
Ignoring the feeling, he turned off his monitor, reached for the pile of Soldier program application forms and tried to immerse himself in the gentle task of skim-reading the recruit intake for the coming year.
It was unlikely that either Sephiroth or Genesis would be taking classes, but Lazard always wanted them to be prepared. Secretly, Sephiroth suspected that it was Lazard's subtle hint that they could pay more attention to the lower ranks of the ShinRa military like Angeal did, or at least volunteer their time to helping with the recruits.
All of the recruits looked so young. Of course, they would do because they were young but –
He could still feel eyes on him. Eyes, eyes, eyes, all wide and unblinking, fixed on the back of his neck.
Sephiroth looked over his shoulder.
Just a pair of cabinets, a recycling bin and a security camera winking innocently down from the ceiling. Nothing there that hadn't been there before.
He turned back to the application forms and breathed. This was getting ridiculous.
Maybe it would do him some good to visit Angeal. He had obviously spent far too long in his office, catching up on paperwork that had apparently bred like razor weed whilst he had been away in Wutai.
Sephiroth finished looking over 'Hestry Strandoldt, 16, North Corel', decided to leave 'Cloud Strife, 14, Nibelheim' for later, and rose from his seat.
Target locked on. Cloud stretched his awareness out to the metaphysical button and placed down the data equivalent of his thumb.
Ready.
The handle of the office door turned. Sephiroth stepped out into the corridor.
Aim.
Cloud tightened his grip on the Tower fire alarm systems and squeezed.
Water!
There was an odd sputtering sound from above.
Sephiroth looked up, just as the sprinkler system turned on and dowsed him in a cold shower of water.
Even on the grainy footage of the CCTV, the wide-eyed shock on Sephiroth's face was a sight to see.
Cloud wanted to laugh out loud. He wanted to laugh himself silly and get stitches in his sides afterwards, but all he could do was make do with the memories.
Yes, Sephiroth, he crowed, as Sephiroth unfroze with a jolt and began to make for the end of the corridor (beyond Cloud's localised rain zone), try telling anybody you're going to sail the cosmos now when you look like a half-drowned cat.
It was childish. It was vindictive. It was incredibly satisfying.
Switching off the sprinklers outside Sephiroth's office - because Aerith and Tifa, and later Cid, had all been very keen on the idea of conserving water - Cloud triggered the ones in the next empty corridor that Sephiroth went down, opening them directly over the man's head, but switched them off when a band of Thirds appeared at the end of the passage.
The Thirds took one look at Sephiroth soaked head to toe and standing in a puddle of water and about turned, wisely pretending that they had seen nothing at all.
When they were gone, Cloud switched on the sprinklers again.
Glowering up at the ceiling, Sephiroth clenched his jaw and strode on with a noticeably picked up pace.
For good measure, Cloud turned on the air conditioning, whipping up a nice chilling breeze.
As Sephiroth all but fled from the corridor, Cloud silently laughed.
"Anyway," Genesis finally stopped to breathe, "that is all I have to say."
Angeal frowned and raised an incredulous eyebrow. "No Loveless quote?"
"You don't deserve one."
"Oh, now that does make me feel bad."
"It should do," said Genesis and he fixed Angeal with a glare. "You let that silver-haired lummox suck you into his pace on the battlefield and got shot taking bullets for him, because he wasn't paying any attention to his own safety."
"Alright, alright." Angeal held up his hands in surrender. The bundle of IV drips running from the back of his hand, the crook of his elbow and veins in his forearm trailed across the bed rails like a plastic wrack of kelp. "I'm not arguing with you, Genesis."
"You aren't? Well then. So, the next time you see Sephiroth leaving his back unguarded and there's a machine gun pointing at it, I can trust you to let him get shot."
Angeal's eyes widened. "Genesis!"
"Why not? It'd teach him a lesson. For all we know, the Great Sephiroth could probably stand there and bullets might very well bounce off him – " Genesis trailed off as the infirmary door opened and closed with a bang, and somebody approached Angeal's curtained off corner with heavy squelching footsteps.
Dripping water and breathing heavily down his nose, Sephiroth pushed through the curtains.
Genesis stared. "What in the name of the Goddess happened to you?"
"The air conditioning and sprinkler systems on Floor Fifty One," Sephiroth replied, puffing to blow away the hair that was plastered over his face. With his long silver hair wrapped all around him, Sephiroth looked as if he had been attacked by a tornado full of giant spiders. "They were malfunctioning."
There was a manic, slightly shell-shocked look in Sephiroth's eyes. His gaze flicked up to the ceiling. On finding no sprinkler within three metres of him, some of the tension eased from his shoulders. "What were you two discussing?"
"I was telling Angeal to let you get shot the next time you lose your head on the field," said Genesis archly.
"I see." Sephiroth sank down into the empty chair by Angeal's bed and, wringing out his hair into a bucket that Genesis pushed towards him, nodded. "That sounds reasonable."
"No, it is not reasonable!" Angeal snapped, his face reddening. "What is wrong with the two of you? Sephiroth, you are just as human as the rest of us. A bullet in the right place will stop you as easily as it would stop a trooper, and, Genesis, there is no need to encourage him to think otherwise."
Genesis bit back a bitter laugh. He was going to have to spare Angeal the details of Project G as long as he possibly could. "You're right, Angeal. Sephiroth is just as human as we are. Do you need a towel, Hero of the Dawn, Saviour of Worlds?"
"A towel would be the gift of the Goddess," said Sephiroth despondently, squeezing a jet of water into the bucket with a hiss like a hose.
Angeal whistled. "Get him one, Genesis. If he's quoting Loveless without any prompting from you, he must be desperate."
Having approached the disgruntled nurse mopping up Sephiroth's footprints, Genesis was waiting by the infirmary store cupboard when the e-mail arrived on his PHS.
To: G Rhapsodos
Cc.: List A (DoAR)
Genesis,
I have secured permission for you to visit Aerith Gainsborough for this afternoon. Tseng will be meeting you in Room D23 at 1230 for you to sign the usual official secrecy statements. He says to remind you to be prompt. He will be accompanying you to visit Miss Gainsborough.
I have spoken to Lazard and pressed upon him that this 'mission' you are carrying out for the Science Department is both important to the Company and to your own self as part of ongoing Soldier development projects. He has agreed to clear your schedule for the rest of the afternoon on the condition that, as you will be going into the slums, you are accompanied by another trustworthy Soldier in case problems arise.
I will be expecting a full report when you return, preferably in person. The President has expressed some interest in the results of the meeting and I hope to be able to send some good news.
Regards,
Doctor Greyson Hollander, Head of the Science Department
Not a moment later a tiny green speech bubble popped up at the corner of the PHS screen with a little bell-like chime: A message from the Stranger with all his typically impeccable timing.
Smiling, Genesis closed the PHS, snatched up the towel from the infirmary nurse, and returned to Angeal's bedside, where Sephiroth was still twisting water out of his hair and Angeal was trying his hardest not to laugh at the expense of his friend's considerably dampened pride.
Tossing the towel at the back of Sephiroth's head, Genesis bent to collect up his coat from his chair.
"You're going?" asked Angeal in surprise.
"The wandering soul knows no rest. Things to do, people to fry, ShinRa glory to represent as I do my Soldierly duty." Genesis tightened his belt and adjusted Rapier against his leg. "I'll be back in the evening. Sephiroth, care for a spar after dinner?"
Sephiroth's face lit up then just as quickly clouded. "But your wound from the accident - "
"Is my shoulder wound and none of your business what I do with it. Pity me for it and I will scalp you." Genesis turned up the collar of his coat. "And if either of you two fools starts blaming yourself for it, I will scalp both of you. Spar with me, Sephiroth, Hero of Wutai. I'll make sure to go easy on you!"
Genesis spun on his heel and left the room without waiting for Sephiroth's response.
As the door closed behind him, he heard Sephiroth say, "I've only just returned from Wutai and already he is angry with me."
"Well, that's Genesis for you," Angeal replied warmly. "That's his way of saying that he's delighted to see you again and that he's been bored in ShinRa without us."
Genesis was sorely tempted to blow the door off its hinges and show them both just how angry he really was, except that Angeal was, as usual, right. Anyway, it wasn't really them that Genesis was angry at, even if he did want to set fire to Sephiroth's hair for being so stupidly reckless towards the end of the War.
If he was going to be angry at ShinRa, he needed to focus his anger entirely on ShinRa.
He pulled out his PHS and turned to the Instant Messaging.
The opening message was to the point and, as usual, short: What are you doing?
Genesis made his way along the corridor as he tapped out a reply. I was thinking happy thoughts about setting fire to Sephiroth's hair. Then I remembered that that idiot's hair was fire and scissor-proof and disappointed myself.
There was a contemplative pause. Scissor-proof?
We were Thirds. Sephiroth wanted a hair-cut. Angeal and I tried to oblige with a pair of secateurs. Genesis responded, absently nodding at a pair of nurses who stepped to one side to let him through then whispered excitedly after he went past. The secateurs broke, so then we tried to burn it short with a Fire, and all his freak hair did was smother the flames.
Enough about scissors. What is your purpose for visiting Aerith Gainsborough?
A smile stretched across Genesis's face from ear-to-ear. A passing nurse gave him a slightly odd look. Why, Stranger? Are you worried for the girl?
Yes.
Genesis was mildly surprised. He had been expecting the usual, 'None of your business' or flat out evasion of the question. The Stranger was about as tight-fisted with his motives and concerns as Hojo had been.
Is she something to you? Several seconds passed without a reply. Genesis sent another message to prod the Stranger into response. Do you know her?
No. However, I am inclined to worry when the Head of the Department of Science sends out a First Class Soldier on a mission to the slums to 'interact' with a specific person.
I don't mean her any harm, said Genesis, which was perfectly true. Hollander showed me her file. He suggested that she may provide some clues as to how we could cure degradation on the basis of her biological background, so I am paying her a neighbourly visit to make her acquaintance.
He deliberately avoided mentioning that she was half-Ancient, wondering how much the Stranger knew, or was prepared to show Genesis that he knew, but instead of asking more about the girl's 'biological background' as Genesis had skated over it, the Stranger asked something that Genesis hadn't even bothered to think about: Who are you taking with you?
In the elevator lobby of the Soldier infirmary floor, Genesis paused with his finger hovering over the call button.
How was it that the Stranger seemed to know everything about his mission already?
I've been keeping track of the missions rosters, said the Stranger, apparently taking Genesis's silence for a question, not the one that Genesis had in mind, but his answer was vaguely reasonable. If the Stranger was an employee in the ShinRa Tower, he could simply walk into the Soldier admin floor and look at the roster board whenever he liked. Lazard hasn't allowed you out on a solo mission for the past three months. Why should it be any different this time?
Genesis pursed his lips and jabbed the button to call up a lift. I haven't decided who is coming with me yet. Half out of curiosity to see how the Stranger would respond, he added, If you are Soldier, you are welcome to join me.
Not possible, said the Stranger, but thank you.
Ah, so you're not a Soldier?
You may be right, Genesis lifted his eyebrows, but when the Stranger continued it became clear that he hadn't been answering Genesis's question at all, Aerith Gainsborough might be your best chance in finding a cure for degradation. How she'll help you, however, probably won't be in the way that you imagine. Bringing her into the Department of Science will do no good. She won't be able to help you like that, but returning to what I asked, I have a request.
Go on.
I want you to take Second Class Soldier Zack Fair when you visit Aerith Gainsborough.
"Zack Fair?" Genesis stared at the screen in astonishment, before remembering that the Stranger wouldn't have heard him and typed. Why?
It's for your own benefit. You've worked with him before and he's comfortable working around you because he's used to being around Angeal. If you want to talk to Aerith Gainsborough without her feeling intimidated or nervous in your company, you don't want a nervous tagalong Second or Third.
Those are perfectly good reasons as to why I might want to take Zack Fair, Genesis pointed out, but I was asking why you personally seem interested in having Zack accompany me to meet this girl.
Did the Stranger know Zack? In what circles did this Stranger move that he knew Zack and possibly Sephiroth, but wasn't a Soldier? And if he knew Zack and Sephiroth, how did he not know Angeal and Genesis himself before their mysterious correspondence had started?
A message balloon popped up in his screen. My personal reasons are none of your business.
Oh, really? In which case, Genesis would make them his business.
The Stranger continued on before Genesis could press him: The point is, Zack makes friends easily and holds them close. If he meets Aerith and they become friends, through Zack you could to maintain a connection with Aerith in case you need to speak with her again.
And why can I not make friends with this half-Ancient girl myself?
Because you'd be making friends with a half-Ancient girl, the Stranger replied gracelessly, and not Aerith.
Touché. He had a point there.
The elevator had stopped at the twentieth floor. Goddess, it would have been faster taking the stairs, except that Genesis hadn't wanted anybody to see him get out of breath in the stairwell.
Genesis sighed. You say that she won't help me in the way that I imagine. Then tell me, how will she help me?
Not from within ShinRa's Department of Science.
Yes, you've been very insistent about that already! Genesis growled in frustration, and a health assistant who had been feeding coins into a vending machine behind him dropped her purse with a squeak. But, you see, Stranger, Hollander is getting rather desperate to salvage his project and I'm rather desperate not to die, knowing that Angeal will die soon after me. Maybe there will come a point when l will bring her into the Company, after all, and make her help us. What is there to stop me?
I will stop you, the words dropped heavy as the binding chains. I swear that you won't even make it off the Soldier floor.
Genesis scoffed. You'll play with the locks again and lock me in my room like a naughty child?
If I have to, I'll lock you in and I'll make sure that nobody ever comes looking. Even Soldiers can die of starvation.
The vending machine made a hollow clanking sound like knocking in a suit of armour. It grated against Genesis's ears.
Genesis chuckled. No wonder you want Zack Fair as a buffer between myself and the girl. I'd sooner seize her throat to choke the answers out of her than make idle chit-chat til she decides to help me.
Good. A crisp chime sounded. The elevator had finally arrived, but Genesis paid it no attention. You've realised that it's up to Aerith whether she helps you or not. That's already progress. Talk to her, be straightforward, and tell her what you're really there for. Like you, Angeal and Sephiroth, she has lived with enough secrets to know the value of the truth.
Genesis snorted. And you would have me believe that you don't personally know this half-Ancient girl?
Don't push your luck.
"Whoa, Genesis, you use the Instant Messaging Service? I thought that was just for the fan clubs and Kunsel when he's messing with the fan clubs."
Genesis looked up. Zack was standing between the open elevator doors, one foot raised in mid-step and a Soldier-sized potted cactus in his hands.
Genesis had to concede. Perhaps Zack Fair had some instinct for self-preservation after all, because if Zack had finished that step, he would have walked cactus-first into an excuse for Genesis to put him in the infirmary with severe burns.
He closed his PHS. "Second Class Zack Fair."
Something in his tone made Zack hurriedly dump the cactus outside the lift and snap to attention. "Yes, Genesis!"
Genesis seized Zack by the front of his sword harness and dragged him back into the elevator. "You're coming with me on a mission."
"Yes, si – What?"
"I need a trusted Soldier with me and I don't have time to pick and choose. You can visit Angeal and explain that absurd cactus to him later." Genesis hit the button for the Turk floors below. The doors closed, leaving the enormous cactus behind in the lobby directly in the way of the next person who tried to step out from the lift. "Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall our return. Also, what did I say about us and being on first name terms, Zack Fair?"
Zack grinned, although it wasn't lost on Genesis that that smile had been looking a little ragged around the edges of late. "That it's work in progress, Gen – I mean, sir."
The lift took them down.
Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. This was a tough chapter and I'm glad it's done!
Best, Zen :D