Guilt’s Cost: Part XXXI

Removal

Hojo sat dictating his plans into his recorder. Porter was in the other end of the office trying to fill out yet more expense reports for the scientist.

"The genetic sample from Ms. Lockhart has checked out, and I believe that she is ideal for the Neo-Jenova Project. All that stands between now and the beginning of the retrial is getting Ms. Lockhart to donate the appropriate material." Hojo said excitedly.

Porter’s ears perked up. Although he knew better than to question Hojo about anything, he couldn’t help himself. "Why do we need her if we already have her DNA?"

Hojo glared over at his guard, annoyed at his ignorance. "I have cells of hers, but what I need are gametes, Porter. Have you ever tried to splice the DNA of two people only using ordinary cells?"

"N..no." Porter stammered at the rhetorical question.

"Well, it is by far easier to use gametes, but I wouldn’t expect you to know that. Eggs from Ms. Lockhart will enable me to create the embryo I need to place into the accelerator much quicker." Hojo said, turning back to his recorder to continue his taping. "Once I have the required gametes, I will combine them with my own. I will make certain that the gamete that I donate will be a ‘Y’ carrier, as I wish the specimen to be a male."

A few moments later Porter felt a chill run down his spine as he realized that Hojo had turned off the recorder and was staring at him. Porter put down his pen and slowly turned around, finding Hojo smiling at him. "Is there something you need, Sir?"

The scientist licked his lips in his reptilian way. "Actually, my dear Porter, there is. Please come with me to the lab. Leave your dog here."

Porter felt sick as he got up and walked out of the office behind the scientist. His dog whined as his master left the room.

The chamber containing Cloud’s body was now in the lab. Hojo walked up to it and flipped open a control panel. A loud hiss was heard as the glass door to the chamber began to slide open. A fog of frost fell from the cylinder revealing Cloud’s body inside.

Hojo looked back at Porter. "Come here and help me get him out."

The Turk reluctantly did as ordered and stepped forward, at once being enveloped by the cold from within the chamber.

The scientist hit another button and Cloud’s body fell forward. Porter instinctively caught Cloud, supporting his weight.

Hojo walked to a nearby table and motioned for the Turk to bring Cloud over. "Lay him here."

Porter did as instructed, laying Cloud out on the slab. He stepped back and inspected the body. Cloud was dressed in a white, loose jumpsuit, which contrasted with the slightly blue color of his cold skin. Around his neck was some sort of metal collar. Porter pointed in his curiosity. "What is that?"

Hojo rolled his eyes. Why must I be surrounded by idiots? "It is a life support collar. With his brain not functioning, that collar sends nervous signals into his body keeping it alive."

"Oh," Porter replied. The sight of the once proud warrior now laying before him in a death sleep made him uneasy. To see someone both alive and dead at the same time was eerie.

Hojo pulled over a tray covered in medical instruments and devices. The scientist picked up a bone saw. "You may go now, Porter."

The Turk gladly made his retreat from the lab. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Hojo laugh.

With the Turk now gone, Hojo put the saw down. He wasn’t yet ready to use it; he had just wanted to scare his guard off. He walked to the side of the table and looked at Cloud. Hojo reached out and touched the ex-SOLDIER's face gently.

Hojo sighed, thinking how much like Sephiroth this man looked. In fact, over the last seven years, Cloud had begun to prematurely gray, enhancing his similarity to the specimen he had been modeled after. The scientist closed his eyes for a moment, remembering Sephiroth and how proud he had been with him.

Hojo spoke to the dead man. "So much like him you are. But now I know why Sephiroth failed in the end, and so did you. That worthless contaminant Mr. Valentine ruined the both of you. I hope Lucretia is rotting in Hell for allowing that…that…fucking loser to screw her! Even the thought of Mr. Valentine having been around you, my precious Cloud, makes me sick. What sort of lies did he tell you about me? Did he ever touch you? After all, he seemed to like fucking what was mine."

Hojo wouldn’t have been surprised if Vincent had ever slept with Cloud (although he never had), knowing that his brother Tseng was gay. Nothing ever went on inside the Shin Ra building that the scientist wasn’t aware of, and he had seen first hand Rufus and Tseng together in the Presidential office more than once, courtesy of his personal surveillance system.

One of the scientist’s gnarled hands reached out and began to unzip the jumpsuit covering Cloud’s body. Once done, he gently pulled the garment off, leaving Cloud naked on the table. Hojo cast the piece of clothing to the floor, and inspected Cloud. The wound where Cloud had driven his sword into his body beneath his ribs was crudely sutured shut, and was showing faint signs of healing.

Hojo shook his head in what appeared to be pity. "Why did you do it, Cloud? Was your life really that bad? I will admit, the death of Aeris bothered me, too. The thought of such a wonderful specimen being wasted like that was heart wrenching, but she wasn’t worth killing yourself over, was she?"

Leaning forward, Hojo narrowed his eyes as he looked at the wound more closely. With his right hand, he traced the stab wound lightly, then allowing his hand to trail down Cloud’s abdomen, his hand finally coming to rest on the dead man’s thigh.

Hojo sighed to himself, feeling a wretched urge begin to well up within him. He walked away from the body for a moment to lock the door to the lab and turn off the security cameras. The scientist has ‘things’ he needed to attend to, and no one was going to disturb him from his twisted desires.

Porter made his way back to the office and retrieved his dog. He thought briefly about sitting back down and finishing the reports he had been working on, but the thought of what was probably going in back in the lab made him feel like he should get as far away as possible.

As he stepped off the elevator into the lobby, he ran right into his friend. "Hey, Rude."

The tall man smiled down at Porter. "They still got you babysitting the Professor?"

Porter frowned, patting his dog on the head for comfort. "Yeah, sick bastard is up there right now doing God knows what. Want to go out for a drink?"

Rude nodded. His day had been hard, and the thought of alcoholic bliss was tempting. "Sounds like a plan. The President spent most of the day drilling me a new one over us not catching a certain ex-Turk."

Porter was intrigued. And looked over at his friend as they walked to his car. "Which one?"

Rude shook his head, as that was classified information. "Sorry, Porter, no dice. I’d loose my job if it got out. Let’s just say that your charge Hojo has more than a slight interest in us getting this man, too."

Once at the bar, Porter brought back up the subject. "Hojo has an interest in seeing that we get this ex-Turk you’re chasing, huh?"

Rude knew he never should have said anything to his friend. He was all too aware of what a curious man Porter was. "Yeah."

Porter’s eyes went wide as a possibility came to his mind. "Is the story about Hojo having experimented on a Turk way back when true?"

"Man, why can’t you let it go?" Rude knew his friend could be trusted, but wasn’t going to let him off easily.

"Just wondering." Porter said, seeing that Rude was about to crack. "So is that story true? You were around back then."

Rude nodded after taking a long drink from his beer. "Yeah, it is, and yes, that is who we’re looking for. Happy?"

Porter slumped back in his seat. "No shit?"

"No shit." Rude replied. "You need to be careful, Porter. Don’t ever give Hojo a reason to dislike you. The Turk that he tortured was one of the previous holders of your very position."

Porter’s hackles raised. "He was Hojo’s personal Turk?"

Rude just nodded.

Closing his eyes, Porter sighed. The true reality of the danger his post held sunk in "I really must have ticked someone off to get this assignment, then."

Rude pealed the label from his bottle. "No, actually you were chosen on purpose."

"What do you mean?" Porter sat back up.

"Well," Rude leaned forward. "Your personality profile showed that you were the least likely Turk to anger Hojo and therefore, you would survive this position the longest."

"Oh for the love of Pete." Porter said before downing the last of his drink. "I wanted to be a Turk to be an assassin; to take part in secret missions and hits."

"Too bad you turned out to be too nice a guy." Rude smiled. Somehow he knew that Porter never would have made it as a cold-blooded killer.