Cell Division

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.

I definitely felt better.

I still lay against Hojo. The quiet in the room allowed me to hear his deep, regular breathing as well as feel it. He slept, and the motions of his rising and falling chest lulled me.

One hundred and eighty five women owed their lives to this crazy man. How had he fixed them all in time?

He groaned. His body gave a twitch. His breathing changed and I knew he’d awoken. He turned his head and I knew he looked at me. “Mmm,” he said, running a light finger down my cheek. “You’ve destroyed a four-week run of near sleeplessness, my dear,” he said, and I knew he believed I still slept. “My techs will hate my energy level going upward. Well, the males anyway.”

I heard the office door open and close. The silhouette of a well-built man with short hair appeared. “Hojo?”

“Mr. President,” Hojo answered. “What can I do for you on a late Sunday night?” He carefully set me into the pillows while speaking, seeing my eyes open. A small smile crossed his lips. He drew the covers higher, to my shoulders, and rose to meet Shinra. “Could it be you have good news?”

Shinra clasped his hands together. He and Hojo walked four paces out into the office. “We caught one,” he said. “A team of Turks apprehended a man named Joseph Still running around the compound with a canister of poison gas. He evidently meant to attach it to our recirculating air systems at the top of the building, but couldn’t bypass our security.”

“One,” Hojo said, pouring a double measure of vodka into a glass. “How do you know there is more than one? Two, if he was running around the compound, how do you know he meant to go for the main building’s air?”

“We reason someone else got past the security codes to do this stunt with the women’s IUD’s,” Shinra explained, taking Hojo’s offering of spirits. “We’ve already questioned Still and he does not work for AVALANCHE. He must belong to another group of rebels.” Shinra downed his glass in one gulp. “As to the other issue, it was obvious. Still had all the needed equipment to couple the tank to us.”

“And the poison? What was it and where did it come from?”

“It’s a tank of Tabun,” Shinra answered. “As a precaution we’ve equipped everybody with Atropine Sulfate. Here’s your injectable, and your…assistant’s.” He gave over two, small cylinders, which Hojo took. “As to who made it? We did.”

Hojo slipped the antidotes into his pocket. “Two mg doses of Atropine Sulfate will not help much in a wide-scale poisoning,” he murmured. “Reversing the effects of anticholinesterase agents frequently requires twenty to forty mg doses. Additionally, the compound should be screened for Tabun elsewhere; Tabun is poisonous by touch as well as by inhalation and ingestion.” Hojo began writing on a tablet. “I suggest we assign a crew of decontaminations experts to dust the entire place and the compound in bleaching powder. The cyanogen chloride that is produced is deadly as well, so no one should work without checking their respirators thoroughly.”

“There’s just one thing wrong with that,” Shinra said after about a minute of thinking. “We can’t be a scattered operations that long.”

“Then I suggest putting Mr. Still to the torture and discovering without a doubt what he’d already done and what he intended to do.”

“We’re working on it.”

“Let me know if you need my services.” Hojo put his little notebook away and crossed his arms.

Shinra shuddered. “I think I’d rather go with conventional means of torture.”

“We might not want to take the time.” Hojo yawned and covered him mouth. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Shinra squinted at him. “Where are your glasses?”

“I got contacts,” Hojo lied smoothly.

“Oh.” Shinra shrugged. “About time, don’t you think?”

“Obviously, Mr. President,” Hojo replied, his face set in stone. He did not want Shinra in his office and it showed.

“Huh.” Shinra gave him a hard look. “Enjoying the blonde?”

A smile inched out on Hojo’s lips. “Miss Grey is incapacitated, as you know, Mr. President.”

“You never call me ‘sir’,” Shinra shot back softly.

“You never intimated you required the address, sir,” Hojo said easily. “My apologies, sir.”

“Never mind,” Shinra groused. “I can plainly hear you don’t mean it.” He stomped away. I heard the door open and shut once more.