The flawed misconceptions the rabble have about the world never fail to amuse Prof. Hojo.
Consider the concept of time travel. The very term itself is a misnomer. One does not travel in time, it is not a flat field of space or a movement to or from something. It is an existence, continuing or discontinuing, it is a constant if/then prompt being asked by the universe.
Consider a blank page. Draw a line upon it. Has the line traveled? Has it moved? The very surface it exists upon has not altered in any fashion; erasing the line and drawing it a new direction will also do little to alter the structure or appearance of the paper. Do it enough, however, and you will fray the threads connecting it, destroying both line and page.
Time travel is not a question of movement, but of existence and its opposite.
The idea of altering time in some way had never been considered for Hojo's studies in the past. (In this particularly timeline). However, it has come to his attention the more he has considered his own difficulties, the errors which have occurred, the problems which have come from nowhere during his research.
In the last two decades, his every step, his every movement, has been met by the force of another. It has never been something as simple as a political maneuver or a wily rival. It is simply the forces of the universe – they are against him. The outcomes he desires slip away due to one wrong step, to one false movement. It occurred often enough, steadily enough, that he began to realize it had to be something working against him.
Consider the variables: it knows his actions; it knows how to avert those actions to create new consequences. This implies knowledge of what is going to occur before it does, which then allows the 'will' or manipulator to act in such a way to subvert said actions. The more he considered it, and the more he researched, the more he was certain – it was 'time travel'.
Of course, it is not 'travel'. It is an alteration of the lifestream, a shift in the 'wavelengths' of the very energy of the world. It is a radio or television signal; alter the dial just slightly, twist the numbers or antennae just so, and a very different picture will appear.
Such a thing as time and the flow of events across the planet is far too large and chaotic a thing to manipulate easily. Hojo came to believe it had to be a singular actor, some individual, making personal choices to alter actions around them. Otherwise it would be impossible to predict and control the consequences. Someone was altering their own timeline via the wavelengths, the spiritual stream of energy inside them.
Two people cannot occupy the same space at one time – and so a person cannot 'travel back' and become their old self. But these two separate, same selves are connected by unbroken consciousness, and that is the wavelength, the radio signal, that need be changed. The 'future' self need only tune into their past consciousness, sending data back, in order to manipulate time. It would be risky; the longer the manipulation occurs, the more changes made, the weaker the signal, as the source 'future' would be erased and replaced by the new source future. It would require incredible strength of will, intelligence, and spiritual power to accomplish.
And Hojo cannot identify a single person in Midgar capable.
It drove him to greater and more desperate actions to ensure the continuation of his experiments, to find the singular person thwarting them. His decision to fund the Leviathan rebels and direct them towards eliminating his fellow Shinra Department Heads and even the President himself, the only way he could ensure that they were not the source of the time disruption, since he was incapable of testing them in the lab. That did not resolve the issue. It did, surprisingly enough, bring Vincent Valentine back into his care for a short time, and that too, failed to reveal the source.
Of course, when a few of the rebels survived, he sent some of his own men to capture them, a plan which failed. At the same time he followed Valentine and his motley crew to their destination, the small town where his grand experiments all began so long ago. It was fitting. The boy that Valentine was attached to was easily obtained, with a few extra variables, and tests revealed that he was not the source either.
He was, however, an incredible match for the J cells and the Reunion experiment. Even having lost so many clones in his attack on Nibelheim, he finds the venture a massive success. The Strife boy is the perfect clone, and time will prove his theories before long.
Upon his return to the capital he found more vermin moving in the shadows, trying to have him removed. Why Rufus himself did not step forward and take action, Hojo did not know. He'd never seen the man for a coward. He considered the thought the man might be the source before dismissing it; Rufus gains nothing from interfering in Hojo's plans, and if he had discovered how to manipulate time, he would have worked it to his own benefit.
Who could it be!? Who could it be!? It was not Valentine, it was not the Nibelheim boy, it was not lieutenant, and it is not a single member of SOLDIER left at Shinra, nor any of the scientists or politicians working here.
He cannot see his ideas come to fruition, his goals accomplished, if this obstacle is not stopped. Whatever goal they are seeking, he must thwart. But if he cannot find and isolate the unique force, then he must find another way to accomplish this goal.
If he cannot stop the altering wavelengths, then he need only alter some wavelengths of his own.
"It's nearly done…" Grinning, Hojo glances up at his readouts, glasses flashing in the dark. It's late night over Midgar, a pitch black starry sky looming over the towers and plates of the city. He is alone in the offices, alone perhaps on this floor of the building. Until the president is chosen, official work has ground to a halt.
Tomorrow, a press conference and public debate will begin. Hojo will stand across from Highwind, ostensibly to display his own worthiness to take over the company's helm. It's a foolish consideration. He has never thought to take the company's ownership himself, and his actions towards such a goal have only been stalling tactics, attempts to slow his invisible enemies actions against him.
He needed time. Now, he has had it.
Fluttering fingers hover over the keys, the last required strokes across the keyboard awaiting him. Energy is thrumming, lifestream crackling in the room, in the connected computers across the floor, in the wires running up and down offices, through elevator shafts, into forbidden zones. No one knows how Hojo has reclaimed the Shinra labs. Soon, everyone will know.
"Let us see," Hojo sneers to himself. "Let us see this future you were so desperate to erase!"
The Shinra Building is far quieter than Cloud's ever seen it before. Not that he's seen it much, but the few times he has, it's been a fairly busy place. In the middle of the night, leaderless and left spinning, the Shinra forces seem lackluster, almost bored of waiting for whatever disaster is coming next.
"Don't let your guard down," Vincent hovers at his shoulder, hand inches away from his holster. "Just because they have grown lax does not mean we should." Cloud nods in understanding.
A soft smile comes to his face. "Looks like it's gonna end how it began," He says. Vincent lifts his gaze. "Just you 'n me." The other slowly smiles in return.
Only the two of them have descended from the airship outside Midgar to enter the city. Only they slipped through the underground tunnels and old, abandoned labs to find their way up and into Shinra's underbelly. Vincent prowled those shadows as if he were made for them, red eyes flaring in the heavy darkness, leading the way. Now, they stand at the entrance to the underground labs, guarded by a measly handful of half asleep city guards, not a single SOLDIER in sight. The others remain on the ship, to be informed of their departure only when it's too late to stop them.
(Vincent left a note. Cloud does not know the note only reads 'Back later, C & V').
Cloud hopes they're all doing well. He's known them for such a short time, and yet it feels like so much more. It feels like he's known them for years; as if these short days and weeks have been thicker, heavier than the many long, dull years before them. As if he was born to meet these people.
We'll see them again, Cloud thinks, hefting Zack's sword and charging for the doors. I have to believe it. We'll save mom, and we'll go home together.
They charge into the labs, expecting resistance only to find none. A mere half dozen guards, no alarms blaring, no locks, no deterrents of any kind. Cloud handles the few offenders with ease, knocking out and disarming them before tying them up with their own zip tie cuffs. As he does, Vincent approaches the wall, and the computerized pads before each office door.
"Power's rerouted." He pulls open the box forcibly, examining the inside, fiddling with wires. "It's all cold."
"After hours, maybe they're shutting things off? Trying to go green?" Vincent hikes a sarcastic eyebrow skyward as Cloud grins and shrugs. "What else?"
Glaring upward, Vincent frowns. "I don't know, and I don't like it."
They keep moving, trusting to Vincent's supernaturally keen senses to follow the trail. There's nothing the first few levels, but closer to the surface, his eyes brighten and nostrils flare at the familiar presence coming near.
"She's here?"
Vincent nods, eyes darting toward a far hallway. "This way."
The offices and empty cubicles transform into computer labs and large hospital rooms, scientific equipment of all kinds lying dead and useless in dark, pitch black rooms. Cloud and Vincent can see given their own enhanced eyesight; the guards they face cannot, not once Cloud knocks the flashlights from their hands or comes at them from behind.
"You'd think they'd ask why the power was out." Cloud wonders, examining the two collapsed onto the floor.
"In Shinra, you survive by not asking questions."
"Fair," Cloud shoves the two into another room, before shutting the door. Hopefully, they'll be long gone before they wake, and without power, the chances they'll be able to report to anyone seem far less likely.
"Here,"
Cloud's head snaps up, hopeful eyes following Vincent's gaze to a locked door. Both of them can hear movement inside, quiet voices and shuffling feet. "Must've heard the fight," Cloud mutters quietly, moving towards the door handle. "Do you think she's alone?"
"Given the lack of security, digital and otherwise, I don't think the Professor cared enough to secure her," Vincent scowls. "That concerns me. He is up to something."
"Long as it has nothing to do with my mother, I almost don't care," Relief and fear are warring in his heart as Cloud finally reaches out and grabs the door handle, turning -
"HIYA!"
He's expecting an attack; his mother would do nothing less. He's not expecting the attack to come from something shorter than four feet tall, swinging at his kneecaps. Shocked eyes go wide as Cloud stumbles into the far wall, sliding to the floor, pushed and assaulted by not one, not two, but three tiny little cretins shouting and waving their arms at him.
"DON'T HURT MOM!"
"Won't let you hurt her!"
"Yeah! Big meanie!"
"Boys, boys!"
Cloud's head snaps up, forgetting in his relief to shield himself from the blows battering him from above; one of the munchkins gets him in the eye what appears to be a shoe. His eyes water, and not just from the attack. "Mom!"
"Hey!" The shortest, brattiest of the three stops hitting and crosses his arms angrily. "That's our mom! You can't have her!"
"She was my mom first," Cloud finds himself insisting bitterly.
"Seriously, kid, you should know better than to fight with children," Ms. Strife leans against the door frame, looking tired, stressed, worse for wear, and very much alive.
Cloud can't help himself anymore – he leaps to his feet, surprising the kids, latching onto his mother and pulling her in tight. Tears burn as they fall across his cheeks and he nearly sobs into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry ma, I'm so sorry,"
"Won't your fault," She whispers, hands coming round him, one at his waist, another reaching for his arm to grip tight, reassuringly. "That man has no heart in him, none at all. I don't know what he wanted with our village or our people, but nobody could've stopped him."
"We did," Cloud says. "I mean, sort've. We fought back the… well, whatever they were. You n' me were the only ones they took."
"I'm just glad you're alright," The woman leans away, revealing her own eyes are heavy with tears, her hand rising to cradle his cheek. "No need to wonder bout the minds of madmen, let's get on outta here."
A sudden swift kick to his shin reminds Cloud of their other problem.
"And what about them?" He asks dryly, staring at his mother. One of the problems suddenly becomes airborne, as a gloved hand picks up the kicker by the collar, lifting him to eye level.
Red orbs meet green as the little creature starts fidgeting, arms wheeling, his little brothers running over to stand underneath, stomping and kicking at Vincent's gold boots. Watching the display, Jean quirks an eyebrow and smirks.
"Now, Vince, I know it's been a while since Cloud was that young, but surely you remember how to hold a child?"
"Are they?" He asks, looking to Jean. The question isn't said meanly, but literally.
"Far as I can tell." Jean says. "Seems this place was where the, well, unwanted experiments were left around."
"What experiments? Kids?" Cloud scoffs. "What did he want to do, start a daycare?"
"He's trying to create a new species." Vincent lowers the child, still kicking and shouting a storm, back to his feet. "A blend of Jenova and human, a living creature with the same power and capabilities of the alien. Thus far, it seems he's considered Sephiroth his only success."
"You were part of that, weren't you?" Vincent lifts his gaze to meet Cloud's.
"Reluctantly."
"I remember you knew a lot about Jenova and the experiments in Nibelheim, even destroyed some of 'em. To keep Sephiroth from knowing about it?" The man nods.
"What's a Sephiroth?"
All three look down as one to the three bright green eyes staring up at them.
"Well," Cloud sighs. "I guess you're gonna find out."
Lucretia Crescent.
Sephiroth examines the folder set before him, a gloved hand set next to the sole photograph he has of his biological parents. The woman, small, long haired, a soft smile on her round face; the man, stern, hard lines standing in her shadow, half out of frame.
His mother and father.
A finger traces the cut of face of Vincent Valentine, years younger yet almost the same in appearance. Short hair, a serious experience, a dark suit well fitted to what would become the Turks. The man looks so much like him, like Sephiroth did when he was a younger and had shorter hair, yet the other won't even consider it.
He'd thought it was a refusal, another rejection of another consideration of Sephiroth as a person, a human being with connections and feelings. Now, he's not so sure.
Looking across the room he's been given in the Highwind, Sephiroth examines the other piece of luggage he's brought along with him: an old beaten box, soaked in dust, faded wrapping paper and wrinkled, aged baby presents still tucked within. The card sits with the open file folder, the name marking its owner with stark clarity.
Hojo had always described his birth as a 'creation'. He was planned, not the way that parents plan to welcome a child in the world but the way that generals plan excursions and politicians plan campaigns. From his youngest years, he does not remember a single word of kindness, not a bit of gentleness that was allowed him. Toys were not a part of his world; he had no teddy bears, no dolls. His life was made of experiments, training, development his intelligence, measuring his skill.
For years, he'd desperately sought any sign, no matter how small, that Hojo saw him as more than just an experiment; that even if that was how it began, perhaps he'd become attached over time. Then, he'd clung to the dream that his birth mother might have wanted him, not for what could be learned from him or what he might accomplish for science or Shinra, but just for himself.
Then came that day. The strange day when a demon came falling from the sky not to fight against him but in an effort to protect him. A man named Vincent Valentine, who years and decades before had bought the child Sephiroth clothes and toys and wrapped the present like you would any gift for an infant boy.
Sephiroth no longer cares what he is to Vincent; because he knows what Vincent is to him – proof that someone in his past, at least once, saw him as a person.
A knock at the door pulls Sephiroth from his thoughts. He closes the folder and tucks it into the present box, before sending all of it to his storage materia. "Enter."
It's the girl, the Wutaian. She looks angry, bitter to be walking into his doorway, but her firm insistent strides don't turn away. Sephiroth considers what he remembers of her culture, and decides to attempt to form a bridge between them, if he can. He bows. "Kisaragi-san."
"Don't bother." Crossing her arms, the girl scoffs. "I'm not going to like you whatever you do!"
"That is understandable." He says, standing. After a moment's thought, he continues. "I merely wish to make you more comfortable, since you are forced to be near me."
The words seem to surprise her, if the lifted brow is any sign. Then she sighs and shakes her head. "Whatever. I don't care. I just – you seem to really care about the others, at least, so." Looking away, she huffs, hesitating one last time. "I thought you should know. Cloud and the vampire looking guy snuck off the ship about an hour ago."
Sephiroth's gaze widens. Had he really been so distracted? Aerith had warned him that the boy might try and seek out his mother on his own, and insisted that they should follow after. Stretching his awareness, he realizes he doesn't sense another Mako touched person on the ship, save himself and Zack. The girl, Aerith, feels like a bright flare of life as she always does, unlike the more unnatural, artificial glow that SOLDIERs and their ilk carry. Vincent and Cloud are gone.
"Thank you for telling me." He says quickly, striding towards the door fast enough she has to duck out of the way. Then, she's following him down the hall.
"I threw a tracking device on the kid a while ago," She says. The girl has to jog to keep up with Sephiroth's long stride. "Looks like they're under Shinra headquarters."
Looking for Cloud's mother, no doubt. "Why did you wait so long to alert anyone?"
"Figure it was their business what they did with themselves." She says. "Til I saw where they were going. If they're gonna fight Shinra, I want in, and you probably know the best way to get there right?"
He does, though he doesn't get the chance to say. Both of them are sent flying as the ship is suddenly rocked by a massive wave of energy, the likes of which Sephiroth has never felt. It's a psychic slap to the face, an earthquake shuddering through the sky. The girl screeches, flipping head over heels before landing on her feet across the hall, which now has tilted as the ship lurches sideways.
"Have I mentioned I hate flying!?" She screams, growing paler by the moment.
Sephiroth can't respond; his head is reeling, almost as if he were airsick himself. A pounding ache is stabbing into his head, a throbbing that grows and grows with each passing second. The man collapses to one knee, grabbing at his long hair, reacting to pain in a way that he hasn't since he was small. Nothing incapacitates him, but this, this terrible overwhelming feeling, far too much like what he felt that day he lost control and attacked Cloud, in Nibelheim.
"Kisaragi…" He manages, shuddering. The girl meets his gaze with shocked eyes, just in time to see them flare green. "Run!"
Shinra Headquarters is far emptier than normal this time of night. Cid doesn't like it. There's something foul in the air, and its not just the stench of Shinra's sub par, amoral science. He's worried about tomorrow, about how Hojo's gonna play his cards. He's worried about the company going forward, and his own name associated with it, how he's once again been pulled into the crapitalist nightmare that is Midgar city.
He's worried about the kid, the blonde mechanic wiz with the shy glances and dorky jokes and the haunted eyes.
The kid that's goddamn his.
With a heavy sigh, Cid puts an elbow on the desk and his head in his hands. He's had a headache for the last few hours, but that's no surprise; that'll happen when you spend that long digging into Shinra's files. Once he was brought back into the fold he was given a certain amount of clearance. Of course, open the door a little for a guy like Cid Highwind, well, you might as well have handed him the keys to the whole place.
It ain't pretty. He never expected it to be. But it's also just damn weird. Everything that's happened in the last five, ten, twenty years has been goddamn odd, and he doesn't like how much that oddity is associated with himself, with Vincent Valentine, with the kid that both of them are tied to, and the woman who brought them all together.
It was a complete accident that brought Jean Strife and Cid Highwind together, apparently. A mistake of paperwork. Shinra meant to hire somebody else as a guide for the space program that was being put together in those days, but the paperwork was never filed properly, phone calls never got made, the team never showed up. Last minute, a single person at the company reached out to local hunters in the area and Jean was called in as a guide.
Other weird shit happens around Nibelheim. Like how there were orders for part of Hojo's experiments – all coded language for Jenova – to be placed in the labs there; only to find that the piece of Jenova that was meant to be moved no longer existed. Records showed it was last seen two months before it was requisitioned for movement, and then it was just gone. As if someone had known ahead of time what was going to happen and got rid of it. And the signer on all the paperwork associated with Nibelheim and its weird accidents and coincidences? Tseng, currently head of the Turks and, apparently, long time pain in Hojo's ass.
Cid can't imagine the buck stops with Tseng, though, or if that was the case he'd probably be dead, even as influential as he is in the company. Hojo can be a murderous bastard when he wants to be. Someone has an excellent spy ring in Shinra, and Cid has no fuckin' clue who. It ain't him. It can't be Wutai, or how would they have lost the war?
There's another player on the board here that he doesn't know about, and Cid doesn't like being in the dark.
The building suddenly shakes, the lights in the room flickering as the computer terminal flares out. Bad fuckin' timing, he thinks, as the room goes literally dark. Standing, he moves towards the window, following a flare of light that lit up the night sky. Blue eyes widen in shock and horror as the man's mouth falls open with a silent, unvoiced curse.
The building has gone dark; but the night is brightly lit, by the sudden appearance of an impossibly huge, vividly red meteor hanging over the city of Midgar like a shroud of death.
They're on street level in Midgar when the world starts to shake.
Cloud slides to a halt, a bad feeling tightening his gut. Then it hits him – a massive sudden headache, the feeling of a behemoth running full throttle into his skull. He reels, stumbling to his knees, bright lights flickering in his eyes as he tries to pull himself together.
"Cloud, honey? Are you – my god!"
The shock in his mother's voice gets Cloud to lift his head, forcing his eyes open. She's staring, mouth gaping, at the sky overhead, and worse yet, Vincent is staring in as much shock as she. The boys in their arms, two in Vincent's, a third in mom's, and all three are passed out; they very much weren't just moments ago, and Cloud fears that whatever struck him hit the kids, too.
Forcing himself to his feet, Cloud spins round to face the sky, and the red death hovering over all of them. I knew, he thinks as his eyes widen in horror. Before I even saw it. Before I turned around, I knew it would be Meteor. He knows its name. He knows its the name of a spell, not just a space rock in the sky dooming them all.
What's happening?
"Vince, I need you to take my mom and the kids to safety," Cloud turns, desperate eyes meeting his friend's gaze. "Please. I need to know she's safe."
A moment's hesitation, then the man nods. "Of course. I will be back for you."
Cloud steps forward to hug his mother quickly, and the woman grips his hand on her shoulder tight as he leans away.
"You better be safe, boy," She says, voice tense. "You come back, you hear?"
"Yes ma," He manages a smile, stepping back. "Go! Get back to the ship!" Then, spinning on his heel, he's running back the way they came, back to Shinra.
Nobody summoned Meteor this time, he thinks. Sephiroth is on the airship, he thinks.
Sephiroth's on our side.
His mind is reeling. Colors and lights flash in his eyes and the headache just grows worse and worse but he forces himself to run, to race through streets that are filling with screaming, horrified civilians, only just starting to realize the danger coming towards them, impossibly slow and impossible to stop.
Shinra Tower looms overhead, and the Meteor looms larger. He's seeing double, thinking double; like removing a pair of glasses from your eyes, one lens at a time, the vision is distorted on one side, clean on the other, and he can't tell which is real.
Sephiroth , he thinks desperately, please, don't be on the Tower.
"I fucking knew it!"
Yuffie Kisaragi is having a very bad day. Never let it be said that bad days could keep her from being a loud, obnoxious runt. "I knew you were acting!" She snarls, blocking another blow of Masamune with her ninja star. "You're the same monster you were in the war and now I'm gonna kick your ass!"
Of course, it's a hell of a lot of bluster. The only reason Yuffie isn't currently dead is the hallway they're stuck fighting in. The Highwind's tight corridors aren't great for Masamune's movement, and the blade keeps cutting into and getting caught in the walls around them. It's not much for Sephiroth, of course, and he quickly pulls free and cuts the blade loose with ridiculous ease. But it's enough of a stalling tactic to keep Yuffie one step ahead of being sish-kebab, and she's incredibly grateful for it.
"Yuffie!?"
The girl turns, and with some relief spies the Nibelheim woman – Tifa – barreling towards her, with the Midgar girl not far behind. "You might wanna turn around!" Yuffie finds herself shouting. "Unless you wanna die with me, we're kinda fucked here!"
"We're not leaving either of you!" The girl in the dress – Aerith, Yuffie thinks suddenly, did she know that already? - stomps her foot and summons up a staff. She looks angry, determined, and turns to Tifa with a steady certain gaze. "He's not himself right now, but we can bring him back. Be careful."
"He's not pulling his punches!" The ninja's words are almost comically punctuated by her sudden flight across the hallway, slamming into the wall outside the central ship bay. They've come all the way to the bottom of the ship, where the dock and the storage compartment are, which is bad news – it has all the space for that stupid long blade to swing around in.
Tifa appears at Yuffie's side, blocking the next sword strike by actually catching it between gloved hands. "Fuck," A little woozy, almost drunk from the amount of times her head's slammed into metal framework, Yuffie still can admire the technique.
"Get up!" Tifa's arms are shaking from the effort. She shoves the man back a step then kicks his arm, and the six foot tall SOLDIER actually careens across the hall and through the wall into the next room.
"Holy shit I love you," Yuffie gawks at the dented, broken steel, thinking for the first time today that maybe they're not all going to die here. Then she sees the man standing in the opening with not a hair out of place. "And we're all gonna die."
"No one is dying this time!" Aerith suddenly steps in front of both girls, a hand extended, spells careening from her fingers and into the other man, easy as breathing. He's blasted back again, and the girl steps forward, keeps pushing, as Tifa runs ahead and slams him with another kick. This time, he's a moment too quick; he side steps, avoiding both spell and physical attack, and countering Tifa with a flick of his blade. It catches her crossed forearms, lifted in a block, and the force of it sends her back and through the opposite wall, and the wall behind that.
Sephiroth moves to follow the woman, long heavy strides crossing the torn, metal-strewn hall, when a body steps in his way.
"Sephiroth, listen to me," Aerith meets his eyes, gaze firm, weapon lifted but aimed away. Yuffie watches, stunned, before scrambling to her feet to run and help the third girl up. They're gonna need the back up whenever Sephiroth's done with the softhearted healer girl.
The man stands, stock still, sword drawn at his side. Actually, it's not still. It vibrates, ever so softly, a minuscule motion that's almost impossible to see. The hand gripping it tightens, the leather gloves cracking from the strain.
"I know you can hear me," She says quietly, stepping forward, hands lifted. After a moment's consideration, she drops the staff, and it clatters to the floor with a deafening sound.
"What are you doing?" Yuffie, still pushing debris from off the body of the stunned kick boxer, turns to see Aerith disarmed. "Are you asking to be killed?"
"You can still fight this." Aerith steps closer, one step, then another. "We've all come too far to start over again. Maybe I should have spoken to you sooner but I wasn't sure…" Uncertainty clouds her face, then the girl shakes her head and smiles. "I was afraid of who you might be but I should've been more confident in the people I know. People I care about, who care about you."
"Zack has always loved you, in every lifetime. Cloud looks up to you, even when he doesn't know you. I never knew you before all this, but now I do and I can see what they saw in you." Aerith comes to stand mere inches from the man that now shivers from head to toe, his blade shaking in his hand. "I see the human in you. It's weighed down by everything Shinra and Hojo have done but it's there. Otherwise you'd never have wanted a mother so bad! You'd never have been so focused, so obsessed with Cloud all this time!"
"Now you have a chance to really be the person you are. You just have to beat them this last time – beat Hojo at his own game!" Heartfelt, tear filled green eyes meet wide, narrow pupiled emerald ones. "I told you I'd be safe as long as you were around. I really believe it."
Her hands fall slowly to her sides as the man stands stock still, yet shaking. Kind, empathetic eyes shed a tear, and with one last deep breath, Aerith nods – and turns around, leaving her back to the man who stands with his murderous blade drawn.
She meets her friend's gazes across the room, watching as Tifa and Yuffie's eyes stare horrified at the sight behind her.
The city of Midgar is in the midst of a sudden, panicked evacuation mere minutes after the Meteor appears in the sky.
Vincent holds the children tight, and keeps Ms. Strife just ahead of him, safe in his proximity as the crowd breaks and parts around him. The woman is clearly overwhelmed, and exhausted, and the two have to step to the side of the road to give her the chance to rest.
"Sorry," She winces, taking the weight off her leg as she leans against the wall. "Just – gimme a minute,"
Vincent nods, eyes scanning the crowd. The highway is crowded with cars, not enough to stall traffic but enough to slow it. Most civilians have taken to the streets to flee, either because they don't have vehicles or because they're heading for the underground, where navigation by foot will be far easier. It's the only way to get out of town, after all; the gates to the outside world are under the plate.
It's utter chaos. No one understands what's happening or why, they only know that a mere half hour ago, the sky erupted into flames as an enormous satellite began burning in orbit, the pressure decimating the towers that stand over the city skylines. It's still miles and miles above the city but the air pressure is breaking glass, cracking roofs, and sending debris toppling down into the streets below.
He has to put a stop to this; but he cannot abandon Cloud's mother and these children to handle themselves. The woman is exhausted, and clearly won't make it through this crowd on her own feet, but even as a demon Vincent cannot carry three children and the woman. Frustration has him gritting his teeth, before the sound of a car horn draws his attention as a jeep pulls to a halt in the midst of the room, feet from them.
The window rolls down. "Hey, you okay?" A woman leans her head out of the car, concern written across her face. "We've still got a little room, we can take you and the kids!" She's waving her hand and shouting across the street, but it takes a moment for Jean to lift her head.
Recognition brightens her face. She examines the woman, seeing the rough fatigues and the weapons tucked away behind her, her armored companions; but she seems to evaluate them and see them as safe, if her look is any sign. "Help me with the kids," She looks to Vincent. "You heading back?"
Vincent nods. They rush into the rolling sea of people, fighting the current, aided by the woman throwing her car door open to help. A man slides the back door open and steps forward to take one of the kids, still unconscious, and soon all three have been passed inside.
"We'll keep 'em safe. We're heading to Sector Seven's gate, droppin' people off then we're gonna come back and get more." She explains, stepping back into the front seat. "We can keep an eye out for you!"
"No need," Vincent steps back, shaking his head. "I trust you." He does. He doesn't know them, but he's certain he knows of them, that he recognizes the people here, from memories of stories, from photographs. "Thank you, Jessie."
Then, he's gone, transformation overtaking him as he leaps into the air – shocking many around him – but none more so than the young woman at the wheel, who stares in surprise at his back.
"How did he… know my name?"
Chaos knows where Hojo is. He can sense the man from miles away; the closer they come, the more aware he is of him, his life energy, his scent and his movement. Power crackles over their limbs as they press into and through the air front, fighting the pressure of the Meteor overhead, flying upwards into the tower they'd just left behind.
Cloud is likely still on the ground below them. If they're lucky, they can finish this, without the boy ever having to be involved.
The man is in the lower levels, not so deep as they were, but a few levels below the surface, in one of his computer labs. A wall of screens running data and showing maps of the planet stretch across one side of the room. The rest of it, floor to ceiling, is filled with machines, with databases and power sources and cords haphazardly strung across the room. Vincent barrels in through the walls into the outer hallway, before landing gently on his feet.
Best not to damage the horrid man's equipment, before he's certain there's nothing he needs to undo.
"You're here,"
The man faces away from him, hunched over his facts and figures. The room is dark; the only light comes from the dozens of floor to ceiling screens, which reflect against the man's ever present square lens set upon his nose.
Years have passed, yet so little has changed.
Chaos growls, vibrating under Vincent's skin, just below the surface. He itches to rip and tear, to avenge themselves against this monster parading in human skin, and doesn't understand the human's hesistance. He has an animal's instincts for danger – destroy it, before it can destroy you – and has none of Vincent's caution.
"What have you done?"
"Nothing, as of yet." The man doesn't bother to turn around, merely waves a hand at the windows. "A miscalculation. I need only find the proper setting to bring about the right results and all will be well."
The right results…
"And what results would those be?"
The man's head perks up, slightly. Slowly, he turns, and Vincent faces him head on once again, his stomach turning as he scowls.
"Proof." He says, lips trembling. He's fighting an arrogant smile. "Proof of God."
"Of God?"
"That God exists." He steps away from the screen, starting to grin. "That God exists, and I have created him!"
"Of course," Energy roiling, Vincent pulls Chaos back into himself, against the demon's own desires. He must be coherent for this. "Your attempts with Sephiroth, and that alien."
"No mere alien, no" Hojo chuckles, grasping at his chest as if he's greatly amused. "Alien life is biology foreign to our own. This creature, she is alien to life itself. The opposite of it – eternal, never changing, omnipresent, all being. God-like."
"So," Vincent scowls. "You wanted those abilities, recreated in a human being. In yourself."
"Hardly something so juvenile. I have no need for eternal physical existence," He scoffs at the idea of immortality, shaking his head. "No, I merely needed to prove its scientific basis, it's possibility, and all it could do – to show that the J cells are truly capable of all that I have imagined."
"All this, for a scientific theory," Fury rises in his chest, tightens his grip on his weapon and weakens his control over his many demons. His eyes are flaring bright red, his voice deepening. "Just to feed your own swollen ego. So much death and suffering for your pride!"
"You have always been so foolishly short sighted – what have I for pride?" Hojo scoffs, hardly intimidated by the demonic features of the man, the creature, he helped create. "No, I have no need to parade my knowledge. I know it must be true. Once it is certain, once the theories are validated, I will be able to expand, to improve upon it. To build upon this knowledge a new basis for humanity - !"
A new species. As Vincent had always thought, and feared. "A man as divorced from morality as you should have no hand in the creation of any form of life. Not a species, and certainly not a child."
The man's glasses flare as he tilts his head to the side. "Ah," He chuckles, slow and deep. "You are still under the mistaken impression that the child is mine."
If Vincent had a heartbeat, it would have stopped at those very words.
Another deep chuckle. "I am, unfortunately, sterile." The man says dryly. "A side effect of many years of experimentation and bodily augmentation. It was only a minor impediment. Lucretia was fertile, and via artificial insemination, it was simple enough to impregnate her without ever revealing my own incapability."
Vincent gasps, unable to breath. "You – then, who -"
"You are such a foolish man." Shaking his head, he grins. "Refusing to face reality, refusing to face the obvious. You clung to that woman long after it was clear she would never leave the company, or me. It led to your inevitable downfall. And now, you refuse to face the obvious fact that the child I created, the child I took from you, the child I raised," With every word, he steps closer, pushing the trembling man to step further away, "Was yours!"
"No!"
Fury snaps his control and Chaos reappears, barreling into the barrier that snaps into place around the mad, laughing scientist. Another spell erupts, an explosion that sends the demon flying into the next room, crashing into rows of machinery that spark and crack beneath his weight.
"Once a fool, always a fool," Hojo mutters. "It was easy enough to drug your meal and obtain the sample while you were unconscious." The sample. Vincent keens. It has been years since he felt this violated and always at the hands of this man. Another barrier snaps down, sealing off the room Vincent's been thrown into. "Wait there, while I assure the future of the planet's new dominant race."
The fourth time Cloud has to stop to vomit, he hears voices.
He's kneeling, an arm pressed to the wall in front of him, crouched at the end of a dirty alleyway about a half mile away from Shinra's main building. Pain has him blinking white spots from his vision, and his knees are shaking and just won't stop. He's long since stopped vomiting up anything but bile, and his throat is raw from the sensation. He's never had a hangover, but he's pretty sure this is what it would feel like.
"I can't believe the fucker would risk Meteor all for his stupid bullshit -"
That voice. Cloud, gasping for breath, forces his head to lift, and ignores the way the world spins as he does.
"Of course he would. We've pushed him into a corner, and he has little left to lose."
"Stupid selfish fucker. He'd blow up the planet just to prove his dick's the biggest,"
Cloud forces himself to rise, stumbling feet taking him to the end of the alley, into the light of the street lamps.
"We can finish this."
Three people turn into the street ahead of him, running towards the Shinra building. One, a tall man with long black hair in a formal suit, the two behind him dressed similarly, one with long vibrant red hair, the other bald, in sunglasses.
"Hope we can. Do you think Aerith can pull another hail mary in the last inning like last time?"
"It would cost her life, one of many outcomes we are trying to avoid."
Cloud ducks back into the alley, against the wall. Just as the three come close to his position, he snaps out, grabbing the closest one by his long ponytail. The man shrieks, then falls silent as he's pulled into a headlock, Cloud's hand gripping his throat, the other still tight on his hair.
"Alright, you three," Cloud seethes, still catching his breath.
"Huh – Cloud, what the hell?" The red head reels, grimacing. "God, your breath stinks."
"Shut up, Reno!"
The other two freeze, drawing their weapons and aiming at Cloud. Head still spinning, Cloud blinks, trying to clear his gaze.
"Tseng," He says, looking at one, then the other. "Rude. You are going to explain to me just what the hell is going on here, now."
A moment's hesitation, as the two share a glance.
"I fucking told you," Reno mutters, hands raised in surrender. "Didn't I tell ya? I said, before the end of all this, it's not gonna be over – not til goddamn Cloud fuckin' Strife shows up!"
Time travel.
Goddamn time travel.
"More than a decade ago," Tseng starts, weapon drawn but lowered to his side. "Aerith Gainsborough approached me with a proposition that we work together to avoid future catastrophe. Despite her age, I believed her, given her abilities and connected to the planet. She further confirmed it by connecting me to the same source that gave her that knowledge – another timeline."
"Since then, she and I have worked to involve others in Shinra and those connected to past-future events to stop those negative outcomes from occurring. Hojo being a major focus of those actions. It's clear now that he, too, has discovered our alterations and has obtained a way of making changes of his own."
"And the reason my head feels like I've been fucking cut in half?" Cloud has let Reno go, pressing a hand to his forehead, still wincing.
The Turk nods. "It was much the same for me, when I first obtained my alternate's memories. Your mind is reintegrating a lifetime of experiences it did not have moments before."
Another life. "That's how I know you. We… fuck, we fought each other. Fuck."
He fought Sephiroth.
Collapsing, Cloud falls to his knees, gripping the sides of his head.
"Boss, should we, uh, be standing around?" Reno inches back to Tseng's side, eyeing the blonde with concern but not too much of it. "I mean, sucks for him, but Meteor is still hanging out."
"We have time. Some hours. And you were right," Tseng smirks at the younger man. "Before the end, I imagine we will need Cloud."
"He went through a lot back then." Rude says, eyeing his partner. "Has a lot more to absorb than us."
"Yeah, yeah," Reno sighs, looking up. "… what if we carry him?"
With one arm thrown over Reno's shoulder, another over Rude's, the two Turks help the almost comatose former SOLDIER/not SOLDIER move, while their leader takes point, heading back into the Shinra building.
The world is spinning. His understanding of the world is spiraling out of control. Holding him up are two strangers he's never met, two Turks he remembers fighting almost to the death, more than once. They… they killed Jessie, and Biggs and Wedge, they dropped the plate on Sector Seven (Sector Seven is fine, he's never been to Sector Seven), and they – Sephiroth – he – Aerith, she was -
"Fuck, he's throwing up again," Reno winces. "How do you have any left in you?"
Rolling his eyes, Tseng turns, and activates a water materia in his gloves. A spray of liquid covers not only the ill man but the red head holding him. Rude was quick enough to duck out of the way.
"It's a lot. Especially for you." Tseng sounds understanding. "But it can all be processed later when we aren't all dead. Right now, Hojo is using this building to attempt to alter time, looking for the specific timeline he wants – and none of us want him to succeed in bringing him back. Or allowing his current alterations to stand."
"Fuck, I'd rather have Meteor than him," Reno, wiping at the wet hair now stuck to his face, sighs.
"Him…" Gasping, Cloud wipes at his mouth. "You mean… him." He forces himself to stand, blinking heavily. "Burned my village to the ground. Killed my mom. Then… the labs. Zack. Aerith. Everything… it all started with him." Lifting his gaze, he looks out at the sky, at Meteor. "But… before that, it started with Hojo. With that lab, with Vincent. Gods, Vincent." Cloud winces, reeling again, but he doesn't stumble or shake like before. "Sephiroth's his kid!"
Was he always, in every time? Did Vincent ever know?
"Well that's fucked." Reno throws his wet jacket off and to the ground. "Can we go kick his ass now?"
Cloud opens his eyes, and they flare Mako green in the light. "Let's."
"Wait for us!"
The man spins, a smile spreading across his face in sudden delight. The door to the building flies open; behind it, through the large windows, he sees the Highwind, flying in low, her dock open wide. She looks a little worse for wear, but she's still airborne. And standing in her shadow, filing into the building, are the people he wants to see most in a time like this.
The world has been spinning beneath him for what feels like hours now, but seeing them, he finally feels it settle beneath him.
"Cloud!"
Tifa barrels into him, her long legs and powerful stride bringing her into him first. He laughs in delight, spinning in the hug, lifting her off her feet for just a moment. She settles, and its only a moment later that another is leaping at his shoulders, jumping off her feet herself. Despite the fact that they don't know each other, that they aren't friends, Cloud is delighted.
"Hey, Yuffie," He grins up at her, her head balanced over his, both arms pushing on his shoulders, until she settles back down onto the ground.
"I can't believe you left me behind!" She's scowling, but it's friendly, happy. "We had to fight Sephiroth on our own, you know!"
"Sephiroth -?" Eyes wide, his gaze darts to Tifa. She shakes her head, and mouths, later.
Aerith is third, followed by Barret, and Red XIII, and riding on his back is a little robotic cat, Cait Sith. The big man is beaming at him, and Cloud has to grin back, running forward to embrace him. This time, it's Cloud's turn to feel his feet leave the ground.
"Damn, spiky," The man's voice sounds rough, like he's been crying, and when Cloud leans away he sees clear signs of watery eyes beneath those sunglasses. "I knew you could get into all kinds of trouble but this is something else,"
"Does everybody remember?" He asks, spinning around.
"I never forgot!" Aerith pouts, arms crossed. "But, yeah, it seems like it. You all have spent a lot of time around and even in Mako – I think whatever switch Hojo flipped jarred up the lifestream, and folks like us that are so close to it got hit with the whiplash."
"Great, can we all come up with theories later? More killing Hojo, now?" Reno points to the stairs.
"Not without me you don't!"
The redhead groans, head falling to the side, but no one else cares; even Tseng is grinning, clearly amused by his subordinates frustration. Plus, it's hard not to be happy, seeing this – this impossible reunion across lifetimes and worlds.
"Cid!"
Coming down the stairs into the main lobby, Cid barrels into the group, caught by Barret with a big laugh. "We're all here, almost," The blonde glances around. "Where's Vince?"
Concern darkens Cloud's gaze, and he turns to the Turks. "You think he…?"
"He's in the building!" Cait Sith speaks up. "Reeve's been keeping an eye on 'em – he's on the same level as Hojo!"
The mood turns serious, all at once; and as a group, the two teams, the Turks and AVALANCHE, head for the staircase.
Cloud does manage a small smile, for just a moment, when he hears the grumbling complaints from the back of their group, "It's always the goddamn stairs,".
The frequencies continue to alter, and yet no sign of his desired timeline has appeared. The Meteor still hovers overhead, summoned by his first edits to the timeline; Hojo theorizes that the thinning of the barriers created by his device has allowed for the crossover. Meteor, a spell of terrific magical power, is too large to keep from spilling over. So long as his device remains operating, the spell will continue to threaten the planet.
It's no concern of his. Given a few hours, he will find the proper frequency, summon the desired timeline, and deactivate the machine. At that point the timelines should permanently diverge, reversing the damage. Should it not, he has theories of his own about altering the timeline further back, jumping even earlier to stop those whose actions had previously stopped him. The idea is curious. How long, he wonders, could two opposing factions battle through time, altering and altering until the fabric of reality itself tears?
He's considering the possibilities when a great deal of noise comes barreling into his office, far more than he was prepared for. He considered that the boy, Vincent's ally, would appear, and had planned on using the woman – until he realized she had been taking, undoubtedly by Valentine, while he was working. No matter. He is so close to his goal, nothing can stop him now.
His barrier is still in place, and another few clicks has the locked doors at the end of the hall opening, unlocking the pens.
"You'll have to forgive me," The man says, without turning around. "I am somewhat preoccupied. Allow my associates to entertain you."
"This is not entertaining!"
Said 'entertainment' is a barrage of monsters, all kinds of horrid creatures, natural and not so much, kept imprisoned in Hojo's labs below the building. It's as if he's thrown open the doors to every locked cell in the building, and all of them are funneling into the basement they now stand in, stopping their advance towards Hojo.
"Vincent!"
Cloud sees him, sealed off from the others, in another room that also has monsters pouring in. For the moment, competing memories and mental and emotional vertigo don't matter – just Vincent, and Cloud rushes through the crowd, pushing back abominations with his sword, cutting through demonic wolves and harpies and things he can't even name.
"Are you okay?"
Vincent's gun blasts through one then another of the creatures, clean and sudden, quick deaths. "I'm fine. Do you -" He spins, eyes flashing, and Cloud nods.
"You, too?"
"Yes, I – remember." The man appears a little shaken, but not as daunted as Cloud had been. His red eyes flare as he turns to stare across the rooms towards the open office. "The machine he's using is the cause of the summoning, it must be destroyed. He's rerouted the power and clearly has back up generators on this floor, if you can find them -"
"Right, on it!"
Where is it?
Where is it?
He's tried hundreds of frequencies. He's attempted multiple combinations, examined dozens of variations, considered the possibilities. Nothing. Thus far, he has managed to alter the timeline and summon from the alternate world a variety of changes, from the memories of his former enemies and colleagues, even their past injuries. One change brings Tseng to his knees as a gut wound, inflicted by the Masamune in another lifetime, appears on his chest, leading his obnoxious red headed subordinate to scream in real concern and fear. Interesting, but not the desired effect.
He continues, watching as the AVALANCHE leader's arm flickers, the machine disappearing and replaced with his flesh and blood; he watches as the girl fades, her form shifting in and out of reality, ghost like; he watches as the city below alters, an entire sector disappearing.
And.
Still.
Nothing.
"Where are you!?" Hojo screeches, slamming his fists on the machine.
"Right here, Professor."
Hojo spins around, eyes wide. "You -" His gaze narrows. Turning, he scrambles to examine his numbers, the frequencies and changes. What is radiating from the man standing before him is, in fact, the proper frequency for the original timeline. And for this one. The same as Valentine and his associates – a body containing two memories.
He's done it.
"Finally," A slow, broad grin spreads across his face, sweat dripping down his brow. A gasping breath, and he lifts his eyes to the man. "Finally. You've arrived."
The barrier remains in place, as Hojo stumbles, shocked and awed in delight at his own genius. There he stands, god-like, perfected, a specimen unlike any other, one no one else could create. A blend of human and J cells, of alien and mortal, the beginning of a new species -
"It's… interesting."
Sephiroth stands, unconcerned with the monsters surrounding them. None of them dare approach, they dare not even fight, now that this god among men has descended. His creation frightens all things into silence and reverence; the beasts flee for their lives, their rabble stand in silent shock, weapons drawn yet not moving. Tseng, bleeding and near death, has collapsed against the far wall with his men, while the flickering woman attempts to heal him, despite being half nonexistent herself.
"There was so little I desired." Sephiroth lifts his hand, examining the gloved fingers, the smooth palm. "Given nothing, I wanted for nothing, having learned never to expect it. I was a weapon, a tool in the hands of greater men. I did not belong to myself, but to my creators, to the company, to… mother."
The hand lowers, hovering next to his sword, still in the sheath. "When I heard her voice, she promised so much I never had. She wanted me, as no one had." Sephiroth lifts his gaze, burning green eyes flickering between shapes of pupil, round and cat like.
"I was so loyal to you, and to her. When both of you gave me… so little." He chuckles. "Incredible, isn't it? How easily things could have changed." The man glances back for just a moment, his gaze drifting to the blonde swordsman, standing frozen in the hallway. "All for the want of a little concern, a little proof that someone saw me not as a God or creation but as a human being. As me."
The click of a blade slipping from the sheath.
"I don't suppose it's a lesson you'll live to understand."
Sephiroth vanishes. Hojo stares in stunned silence for the minuscule moment he's gone, and never sees him again. In that flash of an instant, the man has appeared again, for all but him to see, hovering ten feet in the air behind him, descending as a vengeful angel upon the man who made his childhood a living hell.
Cloud's eyes widen at the sight – overlain on memories far too terrible to contemplate – as Sephiroth holds his lowered blade, aimed downward, and descends upon Prof Hojo, landing with a heavy thud. His blade slides through the man's barrier with shocking ease; the magic snaps like a popped bubble, and the blade slips into the scientist's torso, through muscle and bone, in one smooth, steady motion.
Cloud stares. A pink dress, blood stained, brown hair, flung back – it's a memory of something that now has never happened. Sephiroth lowers his blade, his free hand reaching back to the machine behind him, flicking switches -
It shuts off. It all shuts off, the red light in the sky vanishes as sudden as it appeared. And in that flash of an instant, Sephiroth is gone.