Cell Division
32
With Jean on one side and me on the other, Hojo approached a tight knot of men in dark blue suits that stood next to a ruined, smoking structure. Dead bodies lay everywhere. I looked at their faces, hoping I saw no one I recognized. I didn’t really expect to know any of these men, but one never knew who participated in Shin-Ra resistance.
“Professor Hojo,” a man greeted unenthusiastically. “We took two alive. They’re not in good shape, I’m afraid; we had to detonate the building. You’ll know them, I’m sure. Only spared these two because they’re on our take-alive list.”
Hojo spared the man one of his stone-face miens. “Jacobson,” he greeted. “I’m surprised you Turks know how to take someone alive.”
Jacobson smiled. “You really hate us, don’t you, Professor.”
“I’m not fond of you elite, hired guns, no,” Hojo replied, looking at his watch. “I only tolerate you because you have a few brain cells. Now, where are the captives?”
“Under the awning. One of them didn’t seem to like the sun very much. You’ll see why.” Jacobson rubbed his hands together. “I’ll get a bonus for taking these two. Too bad the rest of their usual team wasn’t present.”
Hojo’s sharp gaze took in the Turk. “You have a certain panache for your work, don’t you, Turk?”
“No more than you, sir,” Jacobson answered. “You might want to hurry: I think they’ll require stabilizing.”
“Thank you.”
We approached a section of building with aluminum siding sticking out over a ruined entryway. Three Turks with drawn guns watched us gain ground, turning mostly to face us.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Hojo said. “Step back so I can get a look at them.”
I looked down. My heart gave a little lurch. There, lying on the ground, bleeding and unconscious, lay the blond man who’d passed us on the motorcycle during our trip to Indigo’s. Beside him lay a man about half-conscious, black hair matted in blood.
Hojo took one look and began to laugh. “Jacobson,” he called out. “You might want to stop counting on your bonus.”
The lead Turk came to us quickly. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
Hojo gave the blond a nudge with his foot. “Look-alikes,” he stated. “AVALANCHE has them planted all over the place to confuse people like you.” He took the collection’s kit and opened it, smiling.
“Are you certain?” Jacobson frowned. “They look exactly like their wanted flyers.”
“Jacobson, I helped create Vincent Valentine,” Hojo said, putting on a pair of latex gloves. “I did create Cloud Strife. I know when I’m looking at fakes.” He shook his head, still smiling. “The only use I’ll get out of these two is a blood samples. From the look of them they aren’t special at all.”
“Shit.” Jacobson pulled out a walkie-talkie. “I was going drinking tonight on my bonus.” He held his communications device up and hit a red button. “Pull out,” he ordered. “It’s a bust.”
“What do we do with their weapons?” someone asked.
“Dump ‘em. If the men are fake, so are their weapons.” Jacobson gave a great, tragic sigh. “Damn it, this really fucked up my day.”
“You might want to report to the President to start shaking down plastic surgery facilities,” Hojo said, bending to take a blood sample from the blond. “Get client lists and history. I suggest starting in the Midgar area before moving to the municipalities; this was expensive surgery these two had.” He put the blood vial in the kit and drew another slowly. “And, they’re dying, so there’s no need to hang around.”
“Well, hell,” Jacobson said. “I’m not calling a clean-up crew. Let the buzzards eat these guys.” He stomped away.
Hojo chuckled to himself, but I heard him. As soon as the blue-suits began loading back into their choppers, he moved on to take a blood sample from the half-conscious, black-haired man. “Don’t say I never did anything for you, Turk,” he said lowly. “And, be thankful Shin-Ra enlists morons these days.”
Jean scratched his head. “I don’t understand, sir,” he confessed as Hojo handed him a blood vial. “Why take samples from ordinary guys?”
“Because, Jean,” Hojo replied in a patient voice. “These aren’t ordinary men. I lied.”
We stood alone now, Turk-free.
Hojo put the blood away and drew out two syringes filled with green, glowing fluid. “Jean, you’re looking at two of Shin-Ra’s most-wanted, Cloud Strife and Vincent Valentine.” He bent and injected Strife at his neck. “I don’t know why they’re separated from their usual group.”
Jean frowned and scratched his head again. “But, they’re the enemy,” he said quietly, “sir.”
“So, why am I giving them mako and why didn’t I let the Turks pick them up,” Hojo finished for him. “Because, Jean, I like to keep the company on its toes.” He slid a needle into Valentine, meeting the man’s unusual, crimson eyes. “Surprised you’re still functioning, Turk,” he said to the man. “You and the clone need a mako shot every so many years. You weren’t aware Lucretia gave you mako, were you?”
Valentine tried to speak and failed. Gaze cloudy and unfocused, he let his head loll.
Hojo glanced at Jean. “See if you can find their weapons,” he said.
Jean ambled off, shaking his head.
“Yes, my little wife certainly wanted to make sure you were invulnerable,” Hojo continued, speaking to the dark-haired man again. “I suppose you’ll be better now that I’ve supplemented your needs.”
My mind boggled as I made an intuitive leap. Valentine was Hojo’s cuckholder; the man who he’d shot for his wife’s affair. And, Hojo meant to just let him go.
The scientist raised Valentine’s eyelid with his thumb, peering in. “You have your father’s eyes,” he murmured thoughtfully. “You can still breed, you know. If I felt a little more adventurous I’d take a sperm sample from you. The clone won’t breed true, but you will.”
Valentine groaned. “Fuck you, Hojo,” he managed.
“Talking already?” Hojo straightened. “That’s my cue to leave, then. You’ll be recovered soon and out for my blood.” He grinned. “I got yours, though,” he added, patting his collections kit.
Jean returned with a large sword and a triple-barrel gun. “These?” he asked Hojo.
Hojo nodded. “Looks like,” he answered. “Give them back to their owners. Come on; we should return to HQ.”
We loaded onto the chopper. Hojo clutched his collection’s kit to his side, smiling in a very pleased way.