Professor Hojo hadn't been in such a particularly good mood in years, perhaps not since Subject S had broken a nurse's finger at less than one year old when she'd thought it was a good idea to try and 'play' with him. It had been the first real sign of his body taking to his enhancements. He'd been born stronger than any other infant of course but it was the first time he'd done damage to his surroundings and at such a young age!
He fought the urge to rub his hands together, his current assistants were already proving to be disappointments - developing inconvenient 'empathy' and questioning his plans for Subject C. Which was, frankly, entirely preposterous and not to mention hypocritical when they'd barely complained about the tests they'd done on Subject S up to this point.
No, he'd have to replace Michaels and Morgan - they'd already filled in the paperwork to be 'transferred' but he was the one in charge of where they went and he had zero intentions of them leaving the laboratory - ever. He couldn't let his newest experiment be gossiped about to the likes of Hollander in particular and non-disclosure agreements were only trusted by idiots.
And, besides that, testing his S-Cell theory on adult subjects as well as the infant would yield important data. He'd have to cull the Nibel wolf and the mutated Zu from the specimen cages in the far back rooms of the laboratory and send Michaels and Morgan in to 'tidy up'. Then they could take the monsters' places. He'd not tried to inject a female with Jenova cells since Lucrecia, but S-Cells were another matter. He would need to try the J-Cells again at some point on a female subject that wasn't also going through pregnancy, the data was all skewed by that.
Hojo pulled out the handheld tape recorder from his pocket and set it on the table, carefully labeling a new cassette, considering whether anyone worthwhile might be poached from Hollander's team just to spite the man. He decided it wasn't worth the effort, or the chance that even a great deal more money might not prevent them from simply reporting back to the other doctor. No, he'd try and get Ballard back from Midgar and get his suggestions for a new hazmat specialist.
Dr Rivers at least was made of sterner stuff, not batting an eye when he'd had her weigh Subject C and perform the calculations needed for his first Mako treatment the previous night. But then she'd been here the longest and had seen others come and go in… various ways for the last two years. The stainless steel basin hadn't been used in several years, not since Subject S had grown out of it, but its contents glowed faintly even in the bright lights of the lab.
Hojo snapped on elbow length rubber gloves and looped the top of the protective apron around his neck and tied it in place behind him and nodded towards Dr. Rivers to begin making her own notations. A second set of eyes was always useful, you never knew what you might miss. It was, in some ways, regrettable to need anyone else - not when you worked under the noses of anyone who might steal your research. The sort of assistant he'd always desired was still in the realm of science fiction, but then superhuman SOLDIERs had been as well until his own genius had made it happen.
Once Subjects S was fit enough for combat and spent most of his time training, C would be enhanced enough to toddle along after him. Then he'd have time to plan his experiments for creating the perfect assistant to aid him in his research - he'd need to research behavior modification, then perhaps delicate bioelectrical stimulation and a little… pruning of particular bits of brain matter. If SOLDIER was the future of warfare and defense, cyborgs were the future of data collection and perhaps other menial tasks. If this disagreement with Wutai went the way the President expected then he'd have plenty of captives to test it on.
Subject S wandered into the small exam room curiously, toweling off his shoulder length silver hair. His own twice weekly Mako shower was done with, the decontamination shower leaving him smelling faintly of disinfectant. His bright green eyes, so interestingly pupiled like a cuahl, were locked on Subject C over the transparent walls of his cot. Subject C had light blond hair and blue eyes, but one of his theories involved the transference of physical traits between subjects.
What little knowledge he'd stolen from Gast's aborted research into the Cetra after he'd disappeared with his own experimental subject was that Jenova had been gifted with a powerful ability to assimilate and mimic memories and knowledge from other beings and recreate them almost perfectly. It was how Jenova had insinuated herself among them. One of his theories was that enough exposure to S-Cells, like J-Cells, would cause the subject to take on the physical characteristics of Subject S.
It would be very interesting to see if C began to take on S' hair and eye color - although he doubted the pupils could transfer over… The most fascinating possibility was whether or not the subject would fully take on his appearance and become something akin to a fully realized copy. The thought of such a full transformation, something akin to an almost cloning effect, made his pulse speed up.
S had remained fascinated with the infant since he had arrived and Hojo hadn't done anything to discourage it - in fact he preferred it. He'd considered, at first, that the boy could become jealous and perhaps even sabotage his experiments on C but instead he was quickly growing enamored. All to the better, when Subject C would be wholly devoted to him, if the connection between them might be accepted instead of fought. If he became a perfect copy, all the better.
Forcing himself back to the subject at hand, as it were, he turned down to look at Subject S, "Be silent if you're going to watch boy, you know I don't like any commentary getting in the way of my dictation."
The Mako in the basin was heavily diluted, in fact ten times more diluted than Subject S' had been treated with at the same age as Subject C. Of course he'd been absorbing Mako from the placenta in the third trimester, he naturally had more tolerance from birth. This basin had first held Subject S at only six weeks old.
The tape recorder clicked on and whirred to life as he scooped up Subject C from the cot, "January 12, 1987, approximately 10AM, Subject C - Mako Submersion Treatment 001. Now, let's see how he takes to it. Preliminary testing indicates a moderate level of sensitivity to the substance, necessitating a much more gradual increase over the next two years than was accomplished with Subject S. Without having samples from the mother, more's the pity the town wouldn't hand over the body," he sneered, "my hypothesis is that has been some sort of previous Mako exposure in-utero. Likely from an introduction of contaminated water from the runoff of the reactor or the Mako springs feeding it. Although it will make progress slower it does perhaps make him an even more suitable subject for S-Cell grafting."
"Poverty and lack of resources possibly led to the mother using the river or an unsafe well for drinking water when she was cut off from the town's supply from lack of funds." He paused and considered, "Now that I think about it that may have been what led to her death. I may summon a team from Midgar to exhume the body for further examination - discreetly so as not to cause a scene from the townsfolk of course." The villagers already were under the assumption, according to gossip he'd collected over a meal at the inn, that Subject C had been taken to some orphanage in Midgar by the men who delivered their last batch of supplies.
"Beginning submersion," he lowered Subject C into the shallow bath, the infant's skin rapidly growing pink where it touched. It was an unusually quiet little thing most of the time but he began to fuss immediately from the discomfort of the mild chemical burns. Subject S made a soft gasping sound of surprise as Hojo let go of the infant and let him sink to the bottom to be fully covered.
"Oh no need to be so dramatic," he rolled his eyes, "the mammalian diving response makes infants below six months old or so automatically hold their breath underwater."
He counted thirty seconds according to the second hand on his watch and brought the infant back out of the bath. Subject C began to splutter and gave a weak scream as he was transferred to the examination table and the light above it was turned on. He'd gained enough weight since his arrival to be precisely on track for his assumed age of five months, but he still had times when his reflexes and pain responses were muted. The moderately higher pain tolerance, or at least low reactivity for his age, was promising. Of course, in a few years, if all went to plan, he'd be beyond visibly reacting to that sort of thing. Subject S would set a good example.
"Subject C was immersed in a Mako/Saline solution of eight percent. Skin is slightly pink overall from mild first-degree chemical burns, well within the usual results from the prescribed amount of Mako exposure. A little more welting around the elbows, heels, and back of his shoulders from contact with the bottom of the basin where some Mako had concentrated and not entirely mixed with the solution."
Faintly green water clung to the infant's skin as it continued to wail, the sounds of distress growing a bit stronger the longer Hojo refrained from cleaning it off, "Pain response is below normal levels for the Subject's age for it's first submersion, although more so than Subject S at the same stage of physical development."
Subject S had always been above the curve for everything of course, having been exposed much more deliberately from before birth and then beyond. He'd surpassed the usual infant milestones at a prodigious rate, physically, mentally, and psychologically. He'd been speaking in clear and complete sentences by two years old and able to read by three and then to read far above the accepted level by five. His eidetic memory was unparalleled and his ability to retain information and, more importantly, to understand what he'd learned was impressive - he'd theorized from Gast's research that this was an inheritance from Subject J.
"Submersion of thirty-five seconds and residual exposure afterward for five minutes to be repeated in three days, decontamination bath to follow each procedure." Hojo used the end of a tongue depressor to turn off the tape recorder and tossed it in the garbage, gloved hands still damp from the Mako bath. He picked Subject C up and turned to Subject S, still avidly watching everything he did, and handed the infant to the older boy before he waved back toward the shower.
"If you're going to be nosy you can be useful. Go clean him up and bring him back in here when you're done," he said, stripping off his gloves and apron. He needed to go upstairs and call the primary laboratory in Midgar and have Ballard get things moving so he could bring himself and a replacement for Morgan as quickly as possible. He wanted to begin on the adult subjects as soon as they were available, both S-Cell experiments should run parallel to get the most accurate data.
—
Sephiroth held Cloud close against his chest, the tiny drops of Mako still on his body leaving darker red marks like freckles on his already sensitive skin. He quickly turned the water on and hung his towel outside, shucking off his pale gray sweatpants and leaving them on the floor for when he was done. Cloud kept wiggling, his face scrunched up and more red than the rest of him, and it was hard to hold him up safely with one hand and he only barely managed it.
The water that hissed out of the jets and overhead spigot stung his skin and made Cloud flinch and whimper but the temperature, just below lukewarm, soothed the light burns and got the remnants of Mako out of the baby's tufts of yellow hair and off of his skin. He cupped his hand to get a palm full of water and poured it over Cloud's eyes, gently rubbing his fingers over his eyelids and through the tiny eyelashes where he knew the substance could cling.
He shoved a hand under the soap dispenser and pumped a bit of white foam onto his fingers and touched the on/off panel with his elbow to stop the water before rubbing the disinfectant into Cloud's skin with circular motions. Cloud hated it, especially when he carefully washed his eyes, nose and mouth, and again when he cleaned around the port in his arm that the doctors used to give him medicine and IVs. He squirmed and whined as the harsh substance intensified the stinging feeling of Mako burns, "I know," he confided, "it hurts a lot at first but it makes you stronger."
Sephiroth knew the baby would get used to it eventually but he still felt something clench in his chest as tiny tears welled up and streamed down Cloud's face - made worse when he had to swipe the soap over his eyelids and across his mouth and nose. He tried to be gentle, but the harsh soap had a burn of its own on top of the already damaged skin from the submersion.
"See, it's okay," he whispered even more quietly, bringing Cloud up and resting the baby's cheek on his shoulder. He turned the water back on and carefully rinsed both of them off again. Cloud's soft hiccuping sobs slowed as he was toweled dry. "You have to learn not to cry though. Sometimes it gets worse if you make a scene and interrupt them or make it hard for the tape recorder to pick up dictation. It's very bad if they have to start all over."
Sephiroth lay Cloud down on the wet towel while he redressed. He was starting to feel mildly ill himself, as he always did after a Mako treatment, and he couldn't let them see that right now. He'd be sent to his room so he wouldn't bother people if he vomited which he almost never did, not that he lost control of himself that way often. Usually it only happened when they'd drastically upped the dose.
He hoped Cloud wasn't feeling too badly but it was almost inevitable. Better to get him to whatever came next for today's experiment so he could rest sooner… he kept worrying about whether Hojo would decide Cloud was too much trouble if he turned out to be too sickly to take the treatments.
Sephiroth tried not to look too interested when he brought the baby back to the examination room and ignored the bad feeling in his stomach so it wouldn't show on his face. If he was quiet and out of the way they might not kick him out to go work on his schooling until he was sure Cloud was alright. Dr. Rivers followed him inside, pen scratching on the papers tacked to her clipboard. Sephiroth hadn't even noticed, but she must have been taking notes as he'd washed the Mako off of Cloud.
She didn't have the sort of look on her face she might have if she'd overheard what he'd said to Cloud but he couldn't relax yet. The doctor had once strapped him to an examination table all afternoon because she thought he'd kicked her on purpose after a treatment. He hadn't been as good at holding still during injections when he was smaller. He'd make sure Cloud knew better when he was big enough to get those too.
"Good job," Hojo said, brusquely, as Sephiroth gently placed Cloud back into the plastic walled cot. The professor didn't say things like that often and he couldn't stop himself from preening under the praise. It was unbecoming of him as a future SOLDIER, he knew, but still.
"I just gave him a bath," Sephiroth ducked his head, using his curtain of hair to hide his pleased expression.
"Hm," Hojo began setting up the IV stand that hooked onto the cot, "you were quick and thorough. The nurse in charge of you when you were Subject C's age was ridiculously inefficient. She didn't last long."
The tape recorder was clicked on again and Hojo wheeled over a small tray, "January 12, 1987, approximately 10:30AM, Subject C - Post Mako submersion assessment 001, followed by first S-Cell treatment 001."
Sephiroth watched silently as a small needle was pricked into the bottom of Cloud's foot, then the back of his hand. Cloud whimpered slightly, squirming a little against the mattress, but didn't cry out, "Subject's pain tolerance is of interest - skin is still flushed from the mild chemical burns but he isn't whining and needle prick only elicits a small reaction. Note: perform subsequent tests between Mako exposures to watch the progress of said pain tolerance and the limits thereof, end note."
Carefully, he folded his hands behind his back, his tongue bitten between his teeth but well hidden in his mouth. He knew that biting his lip or the inside of his cheek was unacceptable, such things showed weakness and since he was going to be a SOLDIER someday he had been trained out of it. The nails on his left hand bit into his right palm, just enough to ground himself but not enough to really break the skin. He'd be caught out if someone saw blood.
He didn't like the thought of Cloud being put through the pain tolerance tests when he was so little. He kept his lips shut against the desire to suggest it might be better to wait until the baby was old enough to talk and actually use the pain chart on the wall. But, there was nothing he could do about it… and maybe it would be better that way? If Cloud was harder to hurt it would be easier for him, most of the time. The Mako would make him stronger, it was the same way they were making the SOLDIERs already, and that would make him even better at not being hurt…
"The second stage of today's procedure, a .25ml infusion of S-Cells diluted in a standard saline solution," The professor made a soft humming sound as he took Cloud's wrist and hooked the IV up, "results, if any, to be recorded in one hour intervals for the next six hours. No noticeable changes are expected at this time but we'll keep monitoring…" The tape recorder was clicked off and slipped back into Hojo's pocket.
Hojo lowered his gaze from the bag of liquid hooked to the cot down to Sephiroth, "Subject S, you're relieved from studying this afternoon. Sit here with Subject C, quietly, and tell me if he does anything interesting and…" He patted his coat pockets for a moment and came up with a notepad and pen, ripping off several blank pages and thrusting them against Sephiroth's chest, "take note of your mood and record how you feel every, let's say, twenty minutes."
Hojo ambled out of the room, Dr. Rivers at his heels, muttering to himself, "I don't expect anything but I won't take chances either."
Sephiroth pulled over the rolling chair sitting in the corner and hopped into the seat, neatening the crumpled papers by rubbing them against his knee and then realizing he couldn't just write on them that way. He hopped back up, opening drawers methodically until he came up with an unused notepad and carefully used the back of it to prop up the pages he was given. He didn't want to mess up the new notebook, even if it would be easier to use, just in case he got caught using it and wasn't supposed to. He carefully jotted down the date and glanced up at the clock and noted down the time too.
The pen hovered over the first pale blue line on the page and he tried to think about how he felt. What did the professor mean about what his mood was? Truthfully he wasn't certain if he felt safe saying he was worried about Cloud - and then that he was worried he'd not be allowed around Cloud as often if he was showing how attached he was. The last assistant he'd gotten attached to had disappeared - would they disappear Cloud? Would they take him to another lab? He knew Hojo had one in Midgar, would he send Cloud away if he thought the baby was interfering with Sephiroth's progress?
Anxiety fluttered in his stomach, the faint nausea he'd been fighting down after his Mako shower built until he was struggling to not throw up. He hopped up quickly, swallowing hard, and pushed the chair over to the sink. He frantically glanced back at the still open door, straining his hearing to see if anyone was nearby or watching. There were cameras, of course, but they just recorded and nobody watched them unless they needed data from an experiment he was pretty sure of.
His throat burned and he tried to be as silent as possible as he retched into the sink. He turned the water on to rinse it down the drain, ducking his head to take small sips and cleaned his mouth out. It was lucky he hadn't eaten anything today other than the two nutrient supplements he always drank in the mornings when he was going to have Mako. He had those so he wouldn't make a mess that was hard to clean up if he was stupid enough to lose control of his stomach, like he just had.
He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and then rubbed that on his pants before rushing to put the chair back and grab his papers.
Waiting until his hand stopped shaking, he carefully wrote down, 11:00 AM "I don't feel anything unusual."