Guilt’s Cost: Part LXXXVII

Hojo’s Donation

Tifa woke up shivering and in a large amount of pain. She was back in her room, laid across her bed with some tattered and blood stained sheet offering her only protecting from the cold she felt. The pain in her abdomen was intense, approaching the agony she had felt when she had miscarried her baby. There were only two small incisions; one just under her navel and the other above her bikini line. The pain she was in was due to the scientist’s carelessness in allowing large gas pockets to remain within her abdomen after removing the laprascope. It even seemed to travel up her back making a dull ache in her shoulders. In a few hours the gas would be absorbed by her body and the pain would subside, but for now Tifa was pretty sure she was going to die.

Despite her pain, horrible chill, and nausea she felt she managed to sit up. Her world spun as she did so and she grasped desperately at the edge of the bed to keep from keeling over. Once she had her bearings about her again, she gazed around the room. The chair that had last been occupied by Cloud’s limp body was vacant, and Tifa was relieved to be freed of the dead man’s visage for the moment. On the floor next to her bed her clothes had been tossed, and she carefully slid off the bed to retrieve them. As she stooped to pick them up and incredible wave of nausea swept over her and she couldn’t suppress her need to vomit. Fortunately she had the forethought to turn her head as not to soil her clothes as the scant contents of her stomach were regurgitated. Having thrown up, she felt a little better and managed to get her outfit off the floor.

Tifa dressed slowly, hoping that by doing so she could ward off her chill and curb any further humiliation. After pulling on her pants, she discovered much to her dismay that she wasn’t able to button the fly, as the pressure it exuded on her belly was too painful.

Finally dressed to the best of her ability, Tifa sat back on the edge of the bed with her arms wrapped around herself. Slouched over in her misery, Tifa closed her eyes and concentrated, listening for any sounds from Vincent but heard none. Her first instinct was to fear that he was dead but she had to push back these feelings for her own sake. Maybe he was just sleeping or like herself, being quiet in hopes of hearing anything from her. This last thought made her want to scream out in an attempt to solicit a response but she had neither the strength nor will. If she did yell out and there was no answer, Tifa felt she would lose her mind.

What seemed to be a few hours passed by with Tifa just attempting to find positions to lay in that were comfortable after her surgery, but she wasn’t having much luck. She found herself on her side looking away from the door when she heard it open. Tifa didn’t need to look to realize that it was Hojo.

He walked right over to her bedside with a small tray in his hands. The scientist was pleased to see that she had managed to dress herself, but when he realized that he was standing in a small pool of drying vomit he frowned. "A little post anesthesia sickness, I see. I expected as much and brought you something for it."

Tifa neither turned to look at him nor respond.

He went over and set the tray on the counter by the sink and picked up a small paper cup from it along with a white cellophane package. Hojo returned to her side, this time the direction she was facing. "I have brought you something for you stomach."

Tifa glared up at him, but the thought of having anything to drink right now was appealing, as her throat was very dry. Feebly she reached out and accepted the cup. She sat up enough to drink and brought the cup to her lips. Thankfully it was nothing more that some clear citrus flavored soda and she sipped at it, not wanting to take so much down at once as to make her sick again.

Hojo smiled, pleased that she was doing as he wished. He extended the package in his hand out to her. "Some crackers. Eat them when you feel up to it."

Knowing that she would need something in her stomach to go with the drink, she accepted the package of crackers and laid them on the bed next to her.

"You will be pleased to know that the procedure was a success, Mrs. Valentine." Hojo grinned, quite pleased with himself. "You were most generous with the number of eggs you gave to the project. I will be collecting my own gametes soon and then I can get to the task of creating the embryo of our new child. How do you feel about becoming a mother?"

Tifa closed her eyes, her emotional pain over his words for the moment surpassing that of her body. "Had I the opportunity, I would kill it before it had a chance for you to begin torturing it."

Hojo cocked an eyebrow. "That is not a particularly maternal statement, Mrs. Valentine."

"I won’t be its mother. A mother is someone who raises and tends her child. You will never even allow me to see it. You’re going to kill me before it’s even created." Tifa threw down the rest of her drink and rolled onto her other side.

Hojo laughed to himself. "You are quite the pessimist, aren’t you? Wait just a moment, I have something I want to show you."

Tifa had her eyes closed again and she heard him walk from the room. After a few minutes he came back.

"Here, Mrs. Valentine. This is your ticket to freedom." Hojo said.

Tifa opened her eyes seeing that Hojo was holding out a black plastic garbage bag to her. She could only imagine what was wrapped up within it, and felt no desire to take it from him. "What it that?"

"Go on, have a look." Hojo held it out closer to her.

Reluctantly Tifa took it, surprised by the weight of whatever was in it. Through the plastic she felt something cold, like packaged meat from the butcher shop. She sat it down on the bed next to her and slowly began to work open the knot at the top of the bag. Hojo stood watching the activity with a most amused expression.

Once the bag was opened, the scent of blood met Tifa’s nose and her hands began to shake. Now she was growing terrified of what she was about to see. When the plastic bag was finally pushed back enough, Tifa stared for several seconds. She recognized what it was, but refuse to accept the truth immediately. As the undeniable realization that she was looking at Vincent’s disembodied arm hit her, Tifa screamed and shot up from the bed. The jolt of her movement caused the bag to fall to the floor and Tifa darted over to the toilet knowing that she was going to vomit again.

Hojo squealed with delight at her reaction, and strode over to where she was retching into the commode. "I told you that he promised me that arm in exchange for your freedom. You should be touched by his selfless act of kindness."

Tifa grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wiped her lips after the soda she had taken just was purged from her. She slowly stood up and turned to face Hojo. "Is he alive?"

"Of course he’s alive. A simple amputation done properly is nothing life threatening." Hojo pushed his glasses up his nose as if he was relating the most mundane fact in the world. He caught sight of her fist clenching and raised his hand. "Don’t even think about it, Mrs. Valentine. He already had to endure losing his arm without the benefit of anesthesia thanks to the little trick you pulled with Cloud. There may not be much left of him, but I’m sure I could still find ways to make his stay most unpleasant."

Tifa crumpled to her knees and began to cry. She didn’t know what to do, and feared doing anything that might cause the madman to do any more to Vincent. "I want to be alone."

Hojo nodded and turned away. He went and retrieved the bag containing Vincent’s arm from the floor and tied it back close. "You will be escorted from the building tomorrow morning. Porter will take you to the train station and buy you a ticket to wherever it is you wish to go. So, Mrs. Valentine, I bid you farewell."

Tifa watched him retreat through her tear filled eyes, somehow knowing that she hadn’t seen the last of him.

***

Hojo went straight from Tifa’s room to Vincent’s. He needed to proceed with the next step of the project.

Vincent’s head was hung as he was still unconscious from his would be surgery several hours before. Hojo dropped the bag containing Vincent’s severed arm in the corner and then stood looking at him thoughtfully for several minutes.

The feeling alone of Hojo staring at him caused Vincent to slowly come around. He lifted his head up but kept his eyes closed. There was a horrible dull pain in his right shoulder and it felt like every nerve in his arm was going off all at once. Vincent recognized the sensation from the time that his left arm had been removed, and he didn’t need to look to know that it was gone.

Hojo smiled to himself upon seeing Vincent stir. "Mr. Valentine, I’m so glad to see you’ve decided to rejoin us this evening."

Vincent finally opened his eyes and stared over at the scientist. He kept his gaze locked on the madman to prevent himself from looking to his mangled right shoulder. His first concern was the well being of his wife. "How’s Tifa?"

Hojo seemed to brighten at what he translated to be interest in the project. "Ah, her donation of gametes went very well, and she has apparently recovered. That is why I am here, actually."

Vincent was confused. "What?"

"Well, now that I have her gametes," Hojo reached back and locked the door, "I need to collect some of my own to create the embryo. I have several frozen samples I could use, but we all know that fresh is best."

Vincent felt a sickness rise up within him. He had a very good idea of where this was going and he didn’t want to be a part of it. Without realizing it, he knitted his brows donning an expression of duress.

Hojo casually went over to a counter and picked up a sterile plastic container. He removed the lid to it and turned to Vincent. "I couldn’t help but notice something as I examined Tifa during her procedure. It looked as though she has suffered some very severe trauma to her genitalia recently. Quite a number of lacerations and sutures and it made me start to wonder."

Vincent cringed as Hojo came closer with the small plastic cup in hand. Anger flared up within him to think that Hojo had touched and ‘examined’ Tifa to discover the wounds she still bore from Chaos’s rape.

The table that Vincent was on suddenly began to recline somewhat until he was leaning back at about a forty-five-degree incline. Vincent rested his head back, finding himself staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly Hojo appeared in his line of sight, looming over him. All Vincent was able to see of the madman was from the waist up as the table itself obscured the rest of him.

Hojo smiled down widely at Vincent. "I started to think that those injuries must have come from you and what I had left you equipped with after our last time together. Am I right?"

Vincent closed his eyes, refusing to answer. He could hear Hojo shifting his clothes underneath the table, and when he heard the faint sound of a zipper his nausea worsened.

"Now, Mr. Valentine, I’m going to need you to help me out here. If I ask you a question, you will answer, and if I ask you to do something, you will comply. Tifa is still here, and if you anger me by continued disobedience, then I will have to take back my promise to let her go unharmed." Hojo leaned down just a little closer to Vincent’s face. "So again, I will ask you, are those injuries from you fucking her?"

Vincent drew in a jagged breath. "Yes."

A slight hint of color came to Hojo’s cheeks, and the corner of his mouth twitched as he licked his lips. "Very good, I can’t believe she would let you, but then again, there must be something wrong with her on some level to be with you in the first place. Does she like to be hurt, is that it?"

"No." Vincent turned his head away, not wanting to look at the scientist anymore.

"So you hurt her without meaning to?" Hojo’s breaths were drawn in shorter gasps. "How could you do that to the woman you supposedly love?"

"It was Chaos." Vincent answered curtly.

"Oh, I see." There was a several second lapse before Hojo continued his interrogation. "So before that you were able to copulate with her without injuring her?"

Vincent struggled pathetically against the restraints holding his body to the table. Even if he managed to free himself he would simply fall to the floor unable to escape.

"Mr. Valentine, I will not tell you again. Cooperate." There was a sweat beginning to break across Hojo’s face. "Answer the question."

"Yes." He continued to look away.

"Very interesting." Hojo had both hands under the table. One holding the plastic cup, the other gliding slowly over his erection. "Although I had the opportunity, you will be pleased to know that I didn’t fuck your wife like you did mine. It was more a matter of science than self-restraint that kept me from doing so. I couldn’t just go wasting my precious sample with a pointless little diversion like her. So tell me, how did it feel when I was cutting off your arm?"

To hear that Hojo hadn’t raped Tifa was little consolation to Vincent in his present situation. "It hurt."

"Hmmm…" Hojo’s voice trembled. "Was the pain exquisite?"

Vincent didn’t quite understand how this line of questioning was so exciting to the scientist. "Yes."

Hojo leaned closer to Vincent, his face now just inches from his own. "Look at me, Mr. Valentine."

Vincent turned his head back, finding Hojo’s lips hovering uncomfortably close to his own. "What?"

The scientist’s mouth twitched again, almost pulling up into a smile. He reached over and set the plastic cup onto one of Vincent’s life support machines and then brought his free hand up to Vincent’s face.

Vincent’s blood ran cold as he felt the sensation of the scientist’s fingers brushing over his cheek. His instinct was to turn away again, but he couldn’t risk doing anything that might cause Tifa to suffer further. He had already sworn to himself that he would do anything to help her escape with her life.

Hojo was pleased to see Vincent not shy away from this touch, and he allowed his finger to come to Vincent’s lips. "Take it."

Vincent’s stomach turned as he felt Hojo’s finger slide into his mouth. He had to struggle desperately from breaking into dry heaves knowing that Hojo would grow angry.

This complete display of submission from Vincent was absolutely enthralling to the madman. "Mr. Valentine… if I didn’t think that you would bite me, or risk losing my sample, I would definitely put something else in there."

Unable to stop himself, Vincent violently turned his head away, ejecting the intruder from his mouth. He closed his eyes, wishing for impossible escape.

Hojo’s now freed hand flew back over and picked up the plastic cup. It was getting close now, despite Vincent’s difficult behavior. "Mr. Valentine, look at me!"

Vincent didn’t react quickly enough.

"Look at me!" Hojo shouted directly into Vincent’s ear.

Vincent brought his face back to Hojo’s, his eyes alight with his hatred of the man.

Hojo’s whole body seemed to tremble. "I’m going to do something, and you’d better reciprocate."

Vincent let out a small cry as he felt Hojo’s lips cover his own. Gathering every ounce of strength that he had left, Vincent forced himself to give in, feeling Hojo’s tongue invade his mouth. Although it really only lasted for a few seconds, to Vincent it seemed an eternity.

Hojo’s body jerked and the quiet sound of his seed being shot into the container could be heard. Hojo pulled away, gasping for air. He brought up the container from beneath the table and held it up for inspection. "Look at that, eleven milliliters. I think that is a new record for me."

Vincent, suddenly caught the scent of semen and faced with the container of Hojo’s sample could no longer control himself and broke into a bout of dry heaves.

Hojo got his clothing back in order and stepped away. He picked up the lid to the container and secured it. "Well, I have to get this started right away, so I’ll be leaving. Thank you, Mr. Valentine."

Vincent barely noticed as Hojo left, still trying to regain control over his stomach. Tears of humiliation burst forth as the memory of Hojo masturbating next to him was forever burned into his memory.