Last revised: 11/12/2002
Completed: 

[fic][FF7] Hollow: a Conflicts of Interest sidestory (1/2)(very rough
draft) 

This is the first half of my COI sidestory about Cloud and Zack's
experiences in the Nibelheim labs.  I hope to have the last half done
in the next few weeks or so.  ::sweatdrop::

For those who are unfamiliar with the story, feel free to check out
the story at my website (listed below) or at fanfiction.net. 

  http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=24055

==Warning!===  
I know that some parts of this sidestory (especially the timeline) are
inconsistent with previously written chapters of COI.  I'm planning to
go back and rewrite parts of those chapters to make everything
internally consistent.  ^_^;;;

I just saw a little video clip from Kingdom Hearts Max, the Japanese
version.  Apparently, there's a scene or special feature when they
have
Sephiroth and Cloud fighting each other!  Woohoo!  *__*

This is a VERY rough draft so I apologize in advance for the typos and
mistakes.  I hope you enjoy this sidestory and I'd appreciate any
comments and/or criticisms!  ^_^  

-----------------------------------

SUMMARY:  Cloud and Zack both managed to survive the massacre at
Nibelheim, but can they survive the events that follow?

Title: Hollow - a Conflicts of Interest sidestory
Author: Madamhydra
Email: madamhydra@aol.com
Status:  WIP (work-in-progress)
Archive:  www.madamhydra.net/COI.html, fanfiction.net
Type: Continuation - Alternate Reality
Rating: R
Spoilers:  entire FF7 game

********** WARNINGS ********* WARNINGS ********* WARNINGS **********
  Violence
  Obscene language
  Mature themes (references to abuse, torture, rape, etc.)
  Implied sexual content
********** WARNINGS ********* WARNINGS ********* WARNINGS **********

Disclaimer: (Full Disclaimers at the end) Final Fantasy VII is the
copyright and property of its creators and legally associated parties.
 Used without permission.  Not for profit.

  ( ... ) represents internal dialogue
  / ... / represents flashbacks

  (  ) are character thoughts
  /  / and //  // and { } are mental dialogue of various people
  [   ] are miscellaneous images or sound effects

======================================================================
  Hollow - a CONFLICTS OF INTEREST sidestory
    A Final Fantasy VII fanfic by Madamhydra
======================================================================
  Part 1 (very rough draft)
======================================================================

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  I'm the man in the box 
  Buried in my shit 
  Won't you come and save me, save me 

  Feed my eyes, can you sew them shut? 
  Jesus Christ, deny your maker 
  He who tries, will be wasted 
  Feed my eyes now you've sewn them shut 

  I'm the dog who gets beat 
  Shove my nose in shit 
  Won't you come & save me 

  Feed my eyes, can you sew them shut? 
  Jesus Christ, deny your maker 
  He who tries, will be wasted 
  Feed my eyes now you've sewn them shut 

    -- "Man in the Box" by Alice in Chains 
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  
======================================================================

  [ 2 months after the Nibelheim incident ]

  President Shinra closed the report folder and leaned back in his
chair. Steepling his fingers, he gazed across his massive desk at the
long-haired woman.

  "An interesting research proposal, Dr. Roissy.  Very interesting,
indeed.  And one that could yield considerable dividends for Shinra,
if you can deliver."

  The scientist smiled confidently and said, "The preliminary animal
tests certainly provide strong evidence as to the feasibility of this
project."

  "True, true."  He stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully, then said,
"And you want to use Major Faelan and the other survivors from
Nibelheim in this project?"

  "Yes.  I think that Faelan's participation will maximize our chances
of a successful outcome.  And as for the others, they're already
expendable."

  "Hmmm.  But it's still a considerable security risk.  After all,
Faelan's is a SOLDIER, First Class.  One of our very best."  He shook
his head with genuine regret.  "A pity that he got embroiled in this
Nibelheim mess.  To lose the two best members of SOLDIER in a single
botched operation... what a waste of resources.  In a way, I'm glad
Faelan survived, but it's also damned inconvenient.  I've been
wondering what I should do with him.  We can't let him go -- he knows
too much."  

  Roissy leaned forward slightly and said, "But that's just my point,
Sir.  My initial data indicates that Major Faelan is the optimum
candidate for this experiment.  It would be a terrible waste to simply
terminate him when he can still serve Shinra's interests, although in
a rather different capacity."

  "Experimental guinea pig, you mean."

  "I'll admit that it's not nearly as glamorous as being a SOLDIER,
but that doesn't make his contribution any less valuable.  Especially
now that Sephiroth is now missing in action, and presumably dead."

  "Hmph.  Do you know that Hojo's already expressed a strong interest
in keeping Major Faelan alive?"

  "I've heard some rumors to that effect."

  President Shinra drummed his fingers on Roissy's report.

  "And you think you can keep Faelan securely confined for the
duration of the experiment?  For years, if necessary?  In your
proposal, you made it clear that this is a long-term project."

  "I've studied the problem extensively and I believe I'm come up with
a workable system."

  "Any chance of getting Faelan to cooperate willingly?"

  "Unfortunately, I don't think so.  The one thing he really seems to
want is the one thing we can't give him -- namely, his freedom. 
However, he's a reasonable man, so there might be some room for
negotiations in the little things."

  "And what does Dr. Savois say about this?"  He tapped the report. 
"SOLDIERs are your sister's area of expertise.  So why isn't her name
on this proposal?"

  Roissy sighed, then said, "I have my sister's full support.  And you
are quite correct.  Under normal circumstances, both of us would be
presenting this proposal to you.  Unfortunately, my sister and Dr.
Hojo have had an ongoing professional... feud, you might say,
regarding the best direction for Mako- and Jenova-related research for
many years.  Because of this disagreement, Dr. Hojo has barred Savois
from the Nibelheim labs.

  "Savois was concerned that her involvement would create
complications.  She felt that it was in the best interests of the
project that her name not be associated with it.  Especially if Dr.
Hojo chooses to view this project as competing with his own line of
research."

  Shinra and Roissy exchanged meaningful looks.  They were both very
familiar with Hojo's territorial, vindictive, and spiteful nature.

  "True enough.  Your sister is a sensible woman.  But I hope you
don't mind if I confirm your statement myself."

  "Please, Sir.  Feel free to do so," Roissy said with a generous wave
of her hand. 

  President Shinra picked up the phone and dialled.

  "Dr. Savois, please.  Yes.  Ah, Doctor.  Have you read your sister's
proposal?  Hm.  You have.  Do you have anything else to add?  Yes.  I
see.  Your position is perfectly understandable.  But you will be
happy to provide the project with support and comparative data.  Good,
good.  Thank you."

  After hanging up, Shinra said, "Well, that's settled."  He paused,
then added, "You have another sister, I believe.  Will she also be
involved in this project?"

  Roissy shrugged indifferently.  

  "I suppose so.  But if she does, it will only be on the most basic
levels.  Unfortunately, Montessi simply doesn't have the particular
spark necessary for a great researcher.  However, she makes a
perfectly adequate lab technician, so I suppose I could use her to
collect the raw data."

  He laughed loudly, then flipped a copy of the report open to its
title page.

  "Ha!  You can pick your friends and colleagues, but you can't pick
your relatives, eh?"

  President Shinra scrawled a short note on the title page, then
signed it with a flourish.

  As he handed the signed copy to Roissy, he said, "I want you to know
that I'm expecting great things from this project.  Not immediately,
of course.  I know this sort of research takes time.  But I would
appreciate receiving positive progress reports."

  She rose to her feet and gave him a graceful bow.

  "I feel quite confident that the results of my experiments would
fully satisfy your expectations.  Perhaps even exceed them."

  He uttered a low, rumbling chuckle. 

  "We'll see, won't we, Doctor?"

  As she left his office, President Shinra reached over and opened
another copy of Roissy's research proposal.  The title page read:

    DEVELOPMENT OF SECOND GENERATION
         -SOLDIER- COMBATANTS

--------------------------------------

  [ M months after the Nibelheim incident ]

  The guards dragged him into the lab, threw him into the padded
chair, then strapped him down good and tight.  When his bare skin got
pinched in one of the buckles, he uttered a pained squeak.  For that,
he got a vicious slap across the face.  The only thing left to do was
subside into quivering silence.

  Was it his painfully oversensitive hearing or was he just imagining
the sound of high heels marching purposefully down the hallway toward
the lab.  He started to shake even harder.  No, that drumbeat of doom
was REAL.

  He knew who was coming.

  The door swished open.  He heard himself mewing brokenly as dread
and terror continued to build, but by now, he was totally beyond
shame.  He squeezed his eyes shut in a last, futile effort at denial.

  The clicking heels came to a halt beside him and Dr. Roissy spoke in
her usual soft, delicate voice.

  "Hm, he's lost control of his bodily functions again, and we haven't
even gotten started.  This is starting to become wearisome.  Johnson,
from now on, use the catheters.  Now clean him up, so we can get
started.  And when that's done, get him prepped."

  "Yes, doctor," said a deferential male voice.

  He cringed as a team of lab techs briskly wiped his naked body and
the chair, then squirmed involuntarily as cold, latex-gloved hands
forced the lubricated tubes inside various bodily orifices.  One of
them, a woman, prodded his genitals and said something that made the
other technicians chuckle.  Once, long ago, something like that would
have infuriated him.  He now wished with all his heart that contempt
and nasty jokes were the only things to endure.  He felt the sting of
various needles, both large and small.  There was a jaw-stretching
gag, followed by clamps to hold his eyelids wide open.  Under the cold
white glare of the lab lights, his eyes seemed to pulse and throb in
their sockets in time with his frantic heartbeat.  The warm liquid
trickling down his face....  Was it tears or blood?  He didn't know.

  "Finished, Dr. Roissy," the lead tech said.

  His eyeballs rolled upward to see the doctor looking down at him
with that coolly amused smile of hers.  So pretty, so delicate, with
her long brown hair and petite build... but so horribly cruel.  God,
how cruel.  And no matter how much she hurt him, she kept smiling. 
Hurting him made her happy.  He was sure of it.  When he saw the
familiar oversized metal visor in her hands, he cringed back into the
chair, a choked scream clawed its way up his throat and built up
behind the gag.

  "Stop that pathetic whining, Cloud.  You know how that irritates
me."

  She waited a moment until he managed to quiet himself to her
satisfaction, then continued, "Today we begin a new series of tests. 
If you cooperate, this part won't be nearly as painful as the Stage 1
experiments.  However, if you refuse to cooperate, I might have to put
you through Stage 1 all over again.  And if you thought it was
unbearable the first time around, trust me when I tell you that I can
make things much, much worse for you.  I hate wasting my valuable
time.  I hate it even more when I have to waste my time because my
experimental subject wants to be 'difficult'.  Understand me?"

  He nodded frantically.

  "Good.  Now pay very close attention to everything you see or hear. 
Everything, no matter how minor or trivial, because I just might give
you a pop quiz.  You know what will happen if your answers don't
satisfy me."

  He made more wildly desperate nods.

  She lifted the bulky metal visor, complete with heavy earpieces and
a frightening array of wires and cables, and placed it over his head. 
He felt the pressure as she tightly clamped the device onto his skull.
 Once in place, the visor blocked out everything, leaving him locked
in darkness and silence.

  Blind and deaf, he wanted to scream and claw the damn thing off his
head, but the memory of Dr. Roissy's threats kept him paralyzed with
fear.  She promised that resistance would only make things worse, and
she was a woman who enjoyed keeping those sorts of promises.  All he
could do is lie there and endure yet another agonizing assault on his
sanity.  He didn't have a clue what they wanted from him.  If they
would only tell him, he'd do it.  He'd do fucking anything to stop the
hellish 'treatments' they kept putting him through. And after each
session, it became harder to think, to remember....  They were turning
his head into a raw, bleeding, empty hole and he didn't know WHY.

  For a long time, nothing happened.  He started to shake in terrified
anticipation, and the fear of being punished for even that little
movement just made him tremble even harder.

  When the first image finally flashed in front of his eyes, he nearly
passed out in relief.  Instead of the horrors he expected, all he saw
was... Zack.

  The image of the SOLDIER completely filled his vision, but he still
managed to pick out a few details of Zack's surroundings.  Looking
amazingly at ease for a prisoner, the major sat on a cot in a spartan,
but roomy cell that looked like a weird zoo exhibit.  One wall of the
cell was completely transparent, while the rest of the walls were
painted an oddly soothing shade of blue.  The SOLDIER looked a bit on
the thin and pale side, like he had been recovering from some sort of
extended illness.  Suddenly he saw Zack glance upward toward the clear
wall although he couldn't see what had attracted the SOLDIER's
attention.

  Through the headphones, Zack's calm, confident voice filled his ears
as the SOLDIER said, "I'm doing as well as can be expected, given the
circumstances," and gestured casually at his surroundings.

  There was a brief silence, then Zack added, "You're wasting your
time.  I've already told Hojo all that I'm going to."  Another pause. 
"I don't care if he believes me or not.  He can take it or leave it."

  Zack was clearly talking TO someone.  But who?  He couldn't hear or
see anyone else.  Confused, bewildered, he allowed his concentration
to wander and ended up missing the next few sentences of the one-sided
conversation.

  In a cold panic, he wrenched his attention back to the scene before
him, desperately trying to memorize every detail of Zack's speech and
behavior.  He HAD to.  If he couldn't answer the doctor's questions
correctly, he would be punished horribly.

  The interrogation seemed to go on forever as Zack remained calmly,
but thoroughly uncooperative.  As he eavesdropped on the seeming
endless conversation, he began to whimper helplessly behind the gag. 
How could he possibly remember all this?  Again his attention wavered
and again several of Zack's sentences slipped by.

  When the visor finally went dark and the headphones fell silent, he
sagged limply in relief.  His head felt so strange and tight, as if it
was an overfilled balloon ready to explode.  He found himself
repeating bits and pieces of Zack's conversation to himself in a
desperate attempt to memorize as much as he could.

  As his imprisoned head lolled heavily from side to side, he vaguely
felt a sting in his thigh.  An injection of god-knows-what, but he
couldn't find the energy to care.

  Then it started again.  The images of Zack, and nothing else.  The
sound of Zack's voice, and nothing else.  And every time he thought
and hoped the whole thing was over, there was always more.  More
things to pay attention to.  More things to memorize, just in case the
doctor questioned him.  But somewhere around the ninth or tenth
conversation, he simply couldn't concentrate any more.

  The doctor was right.  This wasn't painful like the earlier
treatments.  But in a way, it was *worse* as merciless flood of
information poured relentlessly into his skull, through his
clamped-open eyes and through his unprotected ears.

  He was drowning in Zack.

  An eternity later, someone lifted off the metal visor.  But even
with it gone, the images of Zack still danced across his vision,
scenes more real to him than the laboratory around him.  He could see
every flicker of expression, every gesture, all the little nuances of
Zack's body language which were becoming more familiar to him than his
own.

  It was the same with the voice.  As soon as the gag was removed,
disjointed words and phrases tumbled helplessly out of his mouth. 
Zack's words, in Zack's voice, for he had no words or voice of his
own.  Or at least none that he could remember.

  Cold fingers gripped his chin tightly.  A not-Zack voice said
something to him, but it was meaningless to him.  Anything that was
not-Zack was simply incomprehensible.

  "And how are you feeling, Cloud?"

  Gibberish.  Sheer gibberish.

--------------------------------------

  "Orienne, I really don't see what this is supposed to accomplish. 
He sounds like a brain-damaged parrot!" Dr. Stephen complained.

  "Oh, you're quite right, Lawrence.  This is just mindless mimicry,"
she responded absently as she leaned closer to examine Cloud's glazed,
hugely dilated eyes.

  "So what's the point?

  "I'm testing his receptiveness," was her rather cryptic reply.

  "Whatever THAT means.  And what if Dr. Hojo finds out about these
experiments of yours?" he demanded.

  "My research has been fully approved by President Shinra.  Hojo can
play the scientific prima donna all he wants, but he's still an
employee of Shinra.  Besides, Hojo's fully occupied with his own
little projects.  Who's going tell him about mine?  Not me.  Nor you,
I would sincerely hope.  He certainly won't find out from our little
Cloud here.  At the moment, he's barely aware of his own existence or
identity."

  "All right, all right.  But would you mind explaining why are you
spending so much time on this little experiment of yours?"

  "What, are you feeling neglected, Lawrence?" she murmured with a
provocative little smile.

  "That's not the point.  We're both scientists and I admire your
dedication to your research.  What I don't understand is why you seem
so enthusiastic about torturing this poor sod out of his mind!"

  "Don't tell me you're feeling sorry for him," she replied with a
mock-gasp of shock.

  "Sorry, for this worthless little runt?  Hardly!" Stephen retorted
with an angry snort.  "It just seems like a big waste of time.  You've
already got him totally broken.  The guards tell me that just hearing
their footsteps in the hallway is enough to make the poor bastard wet
himself."

  "I know," Roissy said in a distracted voice as she jotted down some
notes on a clipboard.

  "Then why continue with these treatments?  And what's with making
him watch all these surveillance videos of Major Faelan?"  He stopped
abruptly, then exclaimed, "Don't tell me you're somehow trying to
brainwash him into believing he's Faelan!"

  She smiled down at the twitching, incoherently babbling young man
strapped in the chair and said, "I'm not interested in a shoddy,
brainwashed copy of a SOLDIER."

  "Then what the hell ARE you interested in!?" he exploded in
exasperation.

  "What I want...," Roissy reached out and ran her fingers
possessively through Cloud's sweat-soaked hair, "is to see the genuine
Zackary Faelan looking back at me out of these pretty blue eyes."

  Stephen scowled angrily.  "But why?  I would like to point out that
you've already GOT the real thing locked up in a security cell four
floors below us."

  Roissy threw back her head and laughed.  "Oh Lawrence, your problem
is that you lack true vision.  And my idiot sister Montessi is even
worse!  Can't you comprehend what I'm trying to achieve here?  I want
the real thing, in THIS body.  Because when I'm through with him,
Cloud won't merely think he's Zackary Faelan.  He will BE Zackary
Faelan.  There's a subtle, but profound distinction.  Try to
appreciate it."

  As Dr. Roissy picked up a cloth and wiped away the drool on Cloud's
chin with a proprietary air, she continued, "It's much more than just
the transfer of a few memories or even physical skills.  I'm talking
about the very essence of an individual.  I can make him BECOME Zack
-- heart, mind, and soul, if you want to use get metaphysical about
it.  Only the physical body will be different.  Do you understand the
implications of that accomplishment, Lawrence?"

  "Like what?" he grumbled sulkily.

  She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "For starters, how
about the creation of the next generation of SOLDIER, my love?"

  He reared back in astonishment and blurted, "What!?"

  Roissy gave him a smug little smile.  

  "There's no question that the SOLDIER project has been a success,
Lawrence.  However, the present version does have some fairly
significant limitations.  You know the basic dilemma.  The selection
process is a constant series of compromises because of the need to
find candidates that can both physically tolerate the process AND
mentally cope with the resulting changes."

  "Yes, yes, I know all that already!" he said impatiently.

  "Now bear with me, Lawrence.  Each living thing has a different
physical tolerance for Mako exposure.  It can adapt to a certain
point, but no further, and that point is a near absolute limit.  Once
that threshold is exceeded, creatures undergo gross physical and
mental changes.  In short, the Mako treatments no longer enhance, but
instead destroy the subject.  This physical limit usually is not an
issue because most people would go insane long before that threshold
is reached. However, there are a few rare individuals for whom the
physical, not the psychological, is the limiting factor."

  "You're talking about Faelan."

  "That's right.  Mentally speaking, he's a nearly perfect choice. 
Strong-willed, yet adaptable.  Focused and disciplined, without being
narrow-minded or obsessive.  Confident, yet realistic and
level-headed.  Those are the mental and emotional traits that cope
well with the trauma and changes associated with Mako exposure. 
Unfortunately, his physical tolerance for Mako exposure is actually
only moderately higher than average."

  "But his performance ratings have always been at the very top of the
scale!"

  "Zack's degree of physical modification may not be as great as
others, but he excels at making the most out of what he has.  Imagine
what he could do if his body could have tolerated even greater levels
of enhancement.  But to get back to the point, his body has already
reached its physical limits.  Subjecting him to any additional Mako
treatments will almost certainly kill him.  That's why he's taken so
long to recover from that case of Mako poisoning he received in the
Mt. Nibel reactor."

  Roissy pointed at Cloud and continued, "Now his case is almost the
reverse of Zack's.  Our tests indicate that Cloud here has an almost
freakishly high physical tolerance for Mako.  However, mentally
speaking, he's utterly unsuitable -- weak, emotionally insecure, and
mentally unstable.  Putting him through extensive Mako treatments
would certainly drive him stark raving mad.  Not that it would be a
great loss to anyone," she added with a careless shrug.

  "I still don't...."

  She sighed impatiently, then said, "We already have the basic
knowledge to create a near perfect body.  Think about it -- a body
that are capable of surviving and regenerating from almost any
physical injury, one that's superhumanly healthy, strong, and agile. 
But no one's bothered to fully explore the true limits of that
technology because an insane combatant, no matter how strong or fast,
has only limited practical use.

  "So that has always been the limitation in creating SOLDIERs -- the
constantly conflicting requirements of mental and physical
suitability.  But what if we can separate those requirements?  What if
we could choose candidates based solely on their mental resilience OR
their physical tolerance, and not worry about both?"

  "And then what?" Stephen said, now starting to look interested in
spite of himself.

  "Combine a body enhanced to its fullest potential with an extremely
strong and resilient mind, and what do you get?  Maximum performance. 
In short, the next generation of SOLDIER.  A super-SOLDIER."

  "And how on earth do you propose to do that!?"

  "By transferring the mind of one individual into the body of
another, of course," she replied blandly, as if it was the most
obvious concept in the world.  

  "Is... is that possible, Orienne?" Stephen said, looking both
fascinated and rather skeptical.

  "I've already tested the basic theory on rats, dogs, and lower
primates, and it's worked.  Now I'm ready to try the procedure on a
human subject."

  "Are you suggesting...?"

  "Why allow Cloud's physical potential go to waste simply because of
his useless psyche?  With him, we have a perfect opportunity to test
the very limits of our ability to enhance the human body's
performance.  As for his mind...."  She shrugged eloquently.  "It's
very unlikely that it will survive the augmented enhancement procedure
intact.  In fact, it's more convenient for our purposes if it doesn't.
 It'll make the process of flushing out his mind, and replacing it
with a superior one that much easier."

  "My god, Orienne!  So you're planning to transfer FAELAN's mind
into...!"

  "That's right."  She patted his cheek like an approving school
teacher.

  "How do you plan to accomplish that?  Don't tell me you're planning
to transplant brains or something like that!"

  Roissy waved her hand dismissively.  "No no no.  That would never
work in this case.  A Mako-enhanced immune system would be certain to
reject such large scale tissue transplants."  She gave him another of
her smug little smiles.  "I'll be using a more subtle approach. 
Instead of a gross transplant, I will be employing a very small amount
of a very specific type of cell -- cells that I know WON'T be rejected
by the host body."

  "And they are...?"

  She smiled triumphantly.  "Jenova cells.  Lawrence, darling, haven't
you been keeping up with the weekly lab briefings?  When you extract
Jenova cells from one creature -- call it the donor -- and inject
those cells into another creature -- call it the recipient or host --
a mental link forms between the two individuals.  The strength of the
link depends on how many Jenova cells are transferred, the mental
strength of the donor, how much the Jenova cells have already adapted
to the donor, and various other factors, but you get the general
idea." 

  "A mental link?  That sounds extremely dangerous, especially when
you consider that the person on one side of that link is probably
going to be mentally unstable, if not outright insane!  We're liable
to end up with two crazy people instead of just one!"

  Roissy looked stunningly beautiful, her face delicately flushed and
her eyes glittering with excitement as she responded to his objection.


  "Ah, but that's one of the most interesting part of this phenomena. 
The mental connection is almost entirely one-way, from the donor to
the recipient.  That's the beauty of it.  The donor's thoughts and
emotions flow into the recipient's mind, but not the other way around.
 There is some minor feedback and leakage issues, but in most
situations, they're negligible.  Once the link between the two minds
is established, the neural information will passed from the donor to
the host body and become imprinted there."

  "Imprinted?  Permanently?"

  She said acidly, "The mind transfer wouldn't be of much use if it
isn't permanent, would it?  Yes, the alteration in thought processes
is permanent, you dolt! I'm sure you're well aware that Jenova cells
can alter their structure and the structure of neighboring cells in
response to a sufficiently strong mental stimulus...!"

  Flinging up his hands, Stephen hastily said, "All right, Orienne. 
Calm down.  I'm not trying to insult you.  I was just curious.  Major
Faelan's body already contains Jenova cells from the SOLDIER process,
so you're going extract some of those cells and inject them into
Strife, right?"

  "Correct.  But the neural transfer won't be instantaneous.  Instead
of a flood, it will be more like a slow, persistent trickle of
information.  Rather like being subjected to a neverending stream of
subliminal messages.  Since we're only in the experimental stages, I'm
disinclined to rush matters.  Besides, a conservative approach will
give us more opportunity for detailed observation.  We can work on
accelerating the process later, if necessary.  Besides, I think a more
gradual transfer would be more effective."

  "Just like water wearing away a rock, eh?"

  "More like water washing away mud, in this case, given the relative
strengths of Zack's and Cloud's minds, but that's the general
principle.  Cloud won't stand a chance, especially after I've finished
preparing him," she said, gazing down at her experimental subject with
a faint smile.

  "That's the whole purpose of the current series of experiments and
treatments, Lawrence.  I'm not torturing Cloud for my own amusement. 
I'm simply making his mind more... receptive... before the real
transfer process begins.  And once he's in a suitably sensitized
state, Cloud won't be able to put up any resistance to the flow of
thoughts, memories, and emotions from Faelan's mind.  Really, I'm
simply doing what any competent cook would do when faced with a cheap
piece of meat -- tenderizing it."

  Stephen winced, and muttered, "Well, that's one way of putting it. 
So... you're counting on Faelan's personality totally dominating, and
eventually rewriting Strife's much weaker mind."

  "You don't think so?" she said, raising a delicate eyebrow.  "Are
you suggesting that my theory is WRONG?"

  Recognizing the danger signs, he quickly said, "I'm not doubting
you!  But how on earth are you going to make Faelan cooperate with
this experiment?"

  "Cooperate?  On the contrary, Lawrence!  I'll be spending a good
deal of effort to prevent Zack from discovering what I'm doing.  For
one thing, it's the perfect way to test the one-way nature of the
mental link.  And if he discovers the purpose of this experiment, I
wouldn't put it past Faelan to figure out a way to sabotage it."

  Stephen said with a sneer, "Oh, come on!  He's been our prisoner for
months and he hasn't even made a serious attempt to escape in all that
time!  I think you're worrying over nothing.  I swear you're getting
carried away with that fancy SOLDIER mystique!"

  She stared at him, her eyes narrowing ominously, then slammed her
hand down on a nearby console.

  "Don't you dare underestimate Faelan's determination OR his
patience!  He's just waiting for the right moment to act.  And for
your information, he hasn't tried to escape YET because: (1) he's been
recovering from the near fatal injuries and Mako poisoning he received
in that last fight with Sephiroth; and (2) we've been using the most
stringent security measures I could think of to contain him!  We can't
afford to become complacent!  A little slip up, a few seconds of
carelessness, and you'll soon see just how *harmless* he is!"

  "If he's so damn dangerous, then why the hell are you using him, of
all people, in your experiment!?  Why not you, or me, or one of the
other scientists here?"

  She glared at him so furiously that Stephen nervously retreated a
few steps to avoid a possible slap.

  "Haven't you been paying any attention to what I've been saying?  I
told you that only a very special sort of mind can handle the effects
of the proposed augmented Mako treatments without going insane, much
less being able to take full advantage of it!  If you think that
possessing a moderately high IQ and a few academic degrees makes you
qualified, you're dead wrong!  A person needs a strong personality,
emotional resilience, AND extraordinary mental strength, not to
mention a terrific will to survive.  I'm not ashamed to admit that *I*
don't have what it takes to do it!  And before you say anything, I
know that you don't, either!"

  Stephen scowled and muttered petulantly, "You don't know that."

  She sneered and said with poisonous sweetness, "Lawrence, dear, you
had enough problems dealing with a barely sprained ankle.  Weren't you
the one constantly whining about how much it hurt and yelling for
painkillers?"

  "Now wait a moment...."

  "So tell me. What are you going to do when every nerve in your body
burns?  When every bone feels broken, every muscle torn?  What about
the overwhelming barrage of new and strange sensory information?  Look
at you!  The mere description of the experience is enough to make you
nauseous!

  "And what about afterwards?  Do you have the mental discipline to
remain calm and focused, instead of becoming totally intoxicated and
carried away with all your newfound physical powers?"

  "All right, all right!  You've made your point!" he shouted in a
mixture of embarrassment and anger.
  
  "Aside from being the best suited to handle such an extensively
modified physique from a mental standpoint, there are several
additional reasons for selecting Faelan that I should make perfectly
clear to you," she continued relentlessly, ticking off points on her
perfectly manicured fingers.   

  "Secondly, Faelan's body has adapted extremely well to the Mako and
Jenova cell treatments used in the SOLDIER process.  That means that
once we've injected Strife with Jenova cells extracted from Faelan's
body, the resulting mental connection should be correspondingly
strong.

  "And last, but not least, he's expendable.  Because the only real
way to determine if the mental transfer has worked as intended is to
kill the original mind-donor.  And while there are some scientists who
might be willing to risk death for the sake of their research,
personally, I am not."

  "Fine, have it your way!  I can see that you've already made up your
mind about all this.  Do whatever you like, Orienne!  You always do,
anyway!"

  In one of her mercurial changes of mood, she gave him a coquettish
glance and said, "My, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were
jealous of the good major."

  Stephen huffed and blustered, "That's ridiculous!  Me, be jealous of
some muscle-bound thug!?"

  She nibbled on a long fingernail and said thoughtfully, "I'll admit
he's muscular, but hardly muscle-bound.  And definitely not a mere
thug.  Anyone who's managed to serve as Sephiroth's second-in-command
for over three years has to have considerably better than average
brains."  Roissy shot him a faintly malicious look.  "I know for a
fact that his IQ is quite a bit higher than yours, Lawrence."

  "What-ever," he said sullenly.

  She smiled hungrily, then suddenly grabbed the lapels of his labcoat
and pulled him close.

  "Come on.  Kiss me."

  "Wha...?" he sputtered in surprise.

  "You heard me! Kiss me!"

  "Here!?  Now!?"

  "Why not here?  And why not now?"

  "Well... because!"

  "Come on, don't be a prude."  She nibbled at his throat, then licked
at his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down uncertainly.

  "You... you want to do THAT... with HIM around?" Stephen protested
feebly.

  She shrugged carelessly.  "Why not?  It's not like poor little
Cloud's in any position to complain."

  "But... but... I mean, he's watching!"  He waved a hand at the young
man lying limp in the chair, his glazed eyes still mercilessly clamped
wide open.

  Orienne Roissy snorted, tossed her long hair in exasperation, and
said,  "Well, if that's what's bothering you, I know how to fix that
problem."

  She picked up the heavy metal helmet, then smiled down benevolently
at Cloud.

--------------------------------------

  Cool fingers brushed his cheek.  A soft laugh.

  "I do believe he's crying."

  "Oh, for God's sake, Orienne!"

  Cold.  Why were her perfectly manicured hands always so fucking
cold?

--------------------------------------

  "If you're that worried about performing before an audience, then I
have the perfect way to keep him busy."  With those words, Orienne
Roissy crammed the bulky helmet back down on Cloud's head.  The
horrified young man screamed... or at least tried his best before
Roissy deftly reinserted the gag into his mouth.

  As Cloud squealed and writhed futilely in his straps, the doctor
turned to a nearby console and nudged several of the sliders up a few
notches.

  "A few hours should be sufficient," Roissy said as she set the
timer.  Turning back to Stephen, she dusted off her hands and said
cheerfully, "See?  No more inconvenient audience."

  She kicked off her high-heeled pumps and slinked up to her lover. 
As she slowly unknotted his tie, she purred, "Now, where were we...?"

--------------------------------------

  Most of Cloud's mind was utterly caught up by the renewed sensory
assault, but not all of it.  

  A part of his mind heard every word of Roissy's and Stephen's
conversation.

  Heard and understood it.

  Heard and hated it.

  Then again, that particular part of Cloud already had lots of
practice.  

  It hated everyone who ignored him, starting with his idiot of a
mother.  

  It hated everyone who laughed at him and treated him as worthless.  

  It hated all the people who insulted and humiliated him.

  It hated the ones who dared to torment, hurt, and abuse him.  

  It hated the people who had the things that he wanted AND deserved. 


  It hated every single living thing that had the unforgivable nerve
to be happy while he was so miserable.

  It hated them ALL.

  But the bitch Roissy and that asshole Stephen had just jumped to the
top of Cloud's personal hate list.  They wanted to erase his identity
-- throw him away just like a piece of worthless trash.  All they
wanted was his body.  And to add insult to injury, they were going to
steal his body and to give it to ZACK, of all people.  Zack, who
already had everything that Cloud had ever desired -- strength,
confidence, fame, glory, and most of all, RESPECT.   

  And now Zack was going to get the very last thing Cloud could ever
call his own?

  No way.  No FUCKING way.

  This was HIS body and no one was going to take it away from him. 
Especially not Mr. Perfect Hotshot everybody-likes-him SOLDIER First
Class Zack....

--------------------------------------

  Zack watched as the guard supervisor approached the clear wall of
his new cell.  Jerome Stilton knew his job and how to keep his men in
line.  The SOLDIER didn't make the mistake of underestimating
Stilton's competence, so he paid close attention to the man's words.

  "Okay, Major.  This is how it goes.  We all know about the badass
rep of you SOLDIERs, First Class.  We also know you can make life
around here a real pain in an ass for everyone if you've got a mind to
do so.  However, let's make this perfectly clear -- you're not going
anywhere.  So a little cooperation will go a long way and save me and
my boys lots of wear and tear."

  "I like to consider myself a reasonable man, so I'm listening," Zack
replied in deceptively amiable tones.

  "You get all the basics.  Three hot meals a day.  A clean cell. 
Every day, if the docs aren't doing anything with you, you get two
hours in the exercise room.  Just head through the sliding door that
will open automatically.  There's some basic gear -- weights, a
treadmill, that sort of stuff.  You'll also take your showers in
there.  You want anything else, like stuff to read, you let the guards
or the docs know.  If you ask nicely and behave, you might get it."

  "Okay.  Sounds pretty straightforward so far.  What happens if I
don't do as I'm told?"

  "Going to the exercise room is up to you.  But everything else is
not an option.  If you don't cooperate, we'll sedate you and take you
wherever you need to go."

  Zack leaned up against the back wall.  "And I bet that these doctors
know exactly how to incapacitate a SOLDIER like me, right?"

  "Yeah.  You're a smart guy.  And if you think that you're going to
grab somebody and use them as a hostage or a way to escape, it won't
work.  There's going to be no physical contact between guards and the
prisoner, unless you're in full restraints.  You don't go ANYWHERE
except the exercise room unless you're in full restraints."

  "Ah, let me guess.  Whenever anyone needs to come into my cell,
you're going to knock me out first, then stuff me into a full body
straitjacket or something like that.  Right?"

  "Got it in one."

  Zack sighed.  Sometimes a formidable, kickass reputation could be
damn inconvenient.  He then said, "Go on."

  "We'll use the security lock to pass you your food and anything
else."  The guard supervisor patted the sturdy box-like device
installed near one edge of the front wall.

  Zack glanced around his new cell.  It was plain, but still fairly
comfortable, if one was into the ascetic sort of lifestyle.  Like most
prison cells, it contained the basics -- a cot, sink, and toilet, all
securely bolted into the walls.  The cell also contained a chair and
small table, both made of deliberately flimsy material.

  "And I suppose that I get absolutely, positively no privacy."

  "Nope.  This wall can be either transparent or one-way opaque," 
Stilton demonstrated with a flick of a switch, "which means that
anyone can look at you, but you can't always look at them.  Also, you
and every inch of your cell are going to be monitored 24/7."

  "Cameras, microphones, the whole surveillance shebang, huh?"  Zack
glanced again at the exposed toilet, then said with a wry grin, "then
I guess it's lucky that I'm not an overly modest sort of person."

  The supervisor shrugged.  "That's the way it goes.  Just to let you
know.  The docs plan on keeping a real close eye on you." 

  "Thanks for the warning."  Zack meant that sincerely.  That last bit
of information has been purely optional, a little courtesy between two
professionals.

  Well, it seemed that the scientists around here were going to
continue to treat him like a very valuable, but very dangerous zoo
specimen.  Aside from the occasional minor testing, they had taken a
hands-off approach to his confinement.  Now, from what Stilton said,
the scientists were making extraordinary efforts to keep him healthy,
both physically and mentally, for an extended period of time.  And if
they were taking all this trouble to set up tolerably decent living
conditions for him, it seemed quite unlikely that he was going to be
dissected, tortured, or grossly experimented on any time soon.  It was
a reassuring, yet worrisome thought.  

  Why?

  After all, they were giving him decent food, a clean place to sleep,
room to exercise, and a few books and things to occupy his time.  All
the basic requirements of life... except freedom.

  (Just about the only thing they haven't thoughtfully offered me is a
mate....)

  But sure enough, a few days later, one of the guard tapped on the
clear wall of his cell and asked Zack if he was interested in having
someone to fuck.

  The guard didn't use those exact words, of course.  Instead, he had
unfolded a piece of paper and read off some incredibly stilted
question about sexual relief.  But 'someone to fuck' was what it
basically boiled down to.

  Zack flopped back on his cot and started to snicker uncontrollably. 
The guard looked rather embarrassed, but eventually ended up chuckling
also when the two of them started exchanging dirty jokes about prissy,
anal retentive scientists.

  But when he finally managed to get his laughter under control, Zack
politely declined the offer.

--------------------------------------
  
  [ N months later ]

  Cloud was living in a very particular sort of hell.

  Recently, his life consisted of a series of narrow clear cylinders. 
Sometimes the cylinders were full of glowing green liquid that burned
and oozed its way into his flesh and bone.  Sometimes they were dry, a
tiny stifling cell with barely enough room to sit, much less lie down.
 

  But regardless of whether the cells were wet or dry, full or empty,
they were always surrounded by large panel monitors, so no matter
where he looked, he would see only one thing.

  Zack.

  And if that wasn't bad enough, there were the damn speakers.

  He could hear every sound Zack made with brutal, inescapable
clarity. 

  First, it was just the common sorts of sounds -- Zack's voice, his
footsteps, the rustle of bedsheets, the clink of flatware on
plates....  Between the sensitivity of the microphones in Zack's cell,
the volume of the speakers in his own cell, AND his painfully
sensitive hearing, the constant auditory onslaught was almost
unbearable.  But things soon got even worse.

  Next, he started to pick up the sound of Zack's breathing....

  Inhale.  Exhale.  Inhale.  Exhale.  In.  Out.  In.  Out. 

  ....and now he swore he could hear Zack's every heartbeat.

  Thumpety-thump.  Thumpety-thump.  Thumpety-thump.  Thumpety-thump.

  There was no escape from the merciless barrage of sight and sound. 
Closing his eyes wasn't allowed -- the electrical shocks soon taught
him that.  Covering his ears -- when he could actually move, that is
-- did nothing to block out the noise.  He couldn't even try to drown
out the noise by screaming or shouting, because they had taken his
voice away months ago.  And now, he was no longer sure if he could
remember what his own voice sounded like.

  But the most terrifying moment had came when he realized that he was
starting to match Zack not only breath for breath, but heartbeat for
heartbeat, for minutes or even hours, at a time.  

  And no matter how hard he tried, Cloud couldn't make that terrible,
relentless synchronicity stop.

--------------------------------------

  [ P months later ]

  "I'll take two."

  The pudgy guard slid two playing cards into the narrow security lock
of Zack's cell.  The lock allowed the guards to pass small items like
food or books into the cell while avoiding the risk of direct contact
with their very dangerous prisoner.

  The SOLDIER picked up his new cards, then said with a lazy grin,
"I'll call, and raise you a hundred."  

  On the other side of the cell wall, the pudgy guard obligingly moved
some chips from Zack's pile into the pot.  One of the other guards
scowled at his cards, then scratched his balding head before finally
tossing his cards down in disgust. 

  "Shit, I'm out."

  Zack glanced at the other two guards.  The younger one smirked back
and threw some poker chips into the growing pile on the table drawn up
right next to Zack's cell.  The pudgy guard did the same, but looked
considerably less confident.

  "Okay, show 'em, Zack."

  His grin widened as he fanned out his cards for the three guards to
see.

  "Oh fuck, not again!" the younger guard groaned in disgust, sagging
back into his chair.

  The pudgy guard sighed and added the pot to Zack's massive stack of
chips.

  "Another hand?" Zack said.

  The pudgy guard gathered up the others' cards, then grimaced as he
glanced at his watch.

  "Sorry, no can do, Zack.  Hojo supposed to be arriving soon."  The
guard tossed the rest of the playing deck into the cell's security
lock and started to move the table back to its proper place. 

  "Really?  It's been... what, four months since he was last here. 
And here I was starting to think he didn't like me any more," Zack
said with a mocking chuckle.

  The balding guard said, "Gotta admire your balls, SOLDIER boy.  That
man totally creeps me out," and shivered expressively.

  Zack shrugged carelessly as he shuffled the card deck.  Even after
the guards left, he kept the same slightly bored expression on his
face, always aware of the constant surveillance.

  It hadn't taken much effort to get on the good side of the guards. 
The scientists and lab techs were intellectual snobs, treating the
guards like brainless lackeys and henchmen.  Well, the guards were the
scientists' lackeys and some of the guards were close to brainless,
but nobody liked to have their faces ground in the truth.  It was no
wonder that a little sympathy and his willingness to listen to their
gripes was all he needed.  

  Zack didn't expect the guards to help him escape, but at least they
were willing to talk freely with him.  And from their idle gossip
during their semi-regular poker games, Zack had picked up a whole
array of useful information, both about the Nibelheim lab and in the
outside world.  It had been a casual comment from one of his guards
that told Zack that he hadn't been the only survivor of Nibelheim.

  And now Hojo was back in Nibelheim again.  

  During Zack's first few months of captivity, Hojo had interrogated
Zack relentlessly about the entire Nibelheim incident in an attempt to
figure out what had gone wrong with Sephiroth.  But even if Zack had
known what happened to his friend -- and he didn't -- Hojo would be
the absolutely last person that he would tell.  

  However, in recent months, Hojo had gradually shifted from asking
questions to boasting or ranting about his research projects,
depending on his progress or lack thereof.  God, how that man loved to
talk!

  Zack didn't know why Hojo felt this weird compulsion to talk to, or
rather, AT him, but he was more than happy to encourage the scientist
to ramble freely.  One never knew when a certain tidbit of information
might prove to be useful and he had already learned quite a bit about
Hojo's various Jenova-related projects.

  Zack sat down on his cot and waited patiently.  Sooner or later,
Hojo would come down to talk to him and Zack would be ready to listen.

--------------------------------------

  [ Q months later ]

  Cloud was pathetic.  Weak.  Spineless.  

  All it took was the threat of a little punishment and Cloud was
ready to cooperate with those scientist bitches.  The traitorous
little bastard.  Those bitches were trying to steal his body and the
stupid prick was helping them because he was scared of a little pain.

  Well, Cloud might be willing to cower and roll over like a whipped
dog, but not HIM.

  HE was different.

  While Cloud did nothing when others pissed on him, HE was the one
dared to hate them back, the one who dared to hurt them back for all
the insults and humiliation suffered.  That asshole Beddoes who
laughed at him, the whore who had the nerve to get him arrested... HE,
not Cloud, was the one who made them pay.

  Let the bitches do what they want to Cloud, that worthless little
shit.  

  Unlike Cloud, HE would survive, because he was strong

  Nobody was going to erase HIM.  Not the bitches.  Not Zack.  Not
Cloud.

  Cloud was ready to give up and let Zack have his body, just to
escape the pain.  Well, if Cloud didn't want his own fucking body any
more, HE certainly did.

  And when one really thought about it, Cloud was nothing more than a
damn freeloader.  After all, HE was the person doing all the work.

  Because unlike Cloud, HE was more than ready to fight for what he
wanted.  HE deserved to have a physical body, after putting up with
and taking care of that miserable, whining little asshole for so long.
 HE was doing all the dirty stuff, so why shouldn't HE be the one in
control all the time, instead of Cloud?  Let Cloud spend the rest of
his life locked up in a dirty little corner of HIS head instead of the
other way around.

  HE wanted... no, DESERVED to have Cloud's body.

  Not Cloud.  Not Zack.

  HIM.

  Strife.

--------------------------------------
(end Part 1)
  
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  My youth is wasted - I'm evasive and vague.
  I'm a headless beast - I'm a subtle plague.
  I'm a cheatin' liar - I am naked terror.
  I hurt - I wound - I'm a fatal error.

  I don't make sense - I got my pride!
  Don't need no meaning - I feel no shame!
  I will not believe - I got no choice!
  I'm out of control - And I love it!

    -- "Beast" by KMFDM
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

=====================================================================

-------------------------------------------------
Keeper of Duo's Dark Side ~~~ Duo no Seishi
Saitoh no Koibito ~~~ Corruptor Extraordinaire
-------------------------------------------------
madamhydra@aol.com              /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/:E
http://www.madamhydra.net/
-------------------------------------------------

======================================================================
The Full Disclaimer:
    All names, likenesses, and rights of Final Fantasy VII and its
characters are trademarks, copyright, and property of Square Co., Ltd.
and legally associated parties.  The characters and associated
materials of these works are used WITHOUT permission for the purpose
of entertainment only.  The author of this work claims no ownership,
part or whole, of the original plot and characters.  This work of
fiction is not meant for sale or profit.  
    All original portions of this work is considered to be the sole
property and copyrighted to the author Madamhydra.  No part of this
work is to be reproduced, altered, or adapted in any way without the
author's express permission.

======================================================================