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. ======================================================================