Viral Love

Nibelheim.

Every time I came here, it gave me the creeps. The entire town had been destroyed, but Shin-Ra rebuilt it perfectly, down to the last clump of moss. They’d even populated it with people, brainwashing them into believing they’d always lived there. Cloud couldn’t put one foot in this town, and I only did when I had to.

Hojo didn’t seem affected by the atmosphere. I doubted he cared the entire place was fake. He’d given me the creeps this morning, too. Aside from how he’d handled our assassins, he was acting more and more like the Hojo I knew of old. Muttering, walking all bent over with his hands behind his back, stopping and starting at random, and staring at me like I was still behind glass in his lab.

But, that staring had a tinge of something else, now, of covetousness. It seemed he still wanted me even though I’d made him furious with that Dio stunt. I didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand it felt comforting to have that constant, and on the other it seemed disquieting that I hadn’t turned him off.

We stood outside the Shinra Mansion. Hojo tilted his head. “He knows we’re here. I can feel it.”

I could feel it, too. I checked the sniper rifle, wishing I’d thought to get modifications for it. “We have two boxes of ammo, amounting to two hundred and nine rounds.” I’d already loaded the extra clips. I wished Hojo had a gun, too.

“You’re the marksman,” Hojo said evenly, his eyes upon a certain window. “Your skill is legendary.”

A nice compliment, but no one had perfect aim. I relied upon instinct, not actually sizing up a target with a sight and scope. I looked at that window, feeling my skin crawl. “What are you staring at, Hojo?”

“Quinn,” he answered. “He’s standing very far back from the glass, but I sense him. Jenova cells are good for that sort of thing. Concentrate and I’m sure you’ll see what I mean.”

Unnerved, I tried to focus. A few seconds later I saw Quinn’s heat signature. And, I saw the outline of every monster in the mansion. The place was swarming.

“Oh, you see the monsters too?” Hojo asked, though I hadn’t said anything to that effect. “Don’t worry. I made most of them. They’ll remember me. All we really have to worry about is what sort of security Quinn has in place.” Hojo cracked his knuckles. “You must have made your way out of there with AVALANCHE behind you, am I correct?”

“Yes.” Cloud had been a persistent little pest getting me out of that coffin. “We weren’t very high level at the time. We drank our weight in healing potions, and Aerith had to heal us every few minutes.”

Hojo turned his black eyes to me, curiosity and humor glimmering behind. “It’s hard for me to imagine you at a low level, Turk. You were exemplary even before your modifications.”

I grunted. “Everyone’s had a Phoenix Down at some point.”

“Not me.” Hojo put his hands behind his back. “Tell me, do you see Rufus’ heat halo anywhere?”

I looked again. No matter how hard I gazed, I only saw one outline that looked human. “No,” I admitted. “I only see one humanoid silhouette. Are you sure it’s Quinn?”

“Yes. I can feel his focus upon us. Rufus would feel frantic, or hopeful of rescue, and he wouldn’t be standing free like that.” Hojo shrugged. “How do you feel about setting the mansion on fire?”

I blinked past my initial surprise at his suggestion. “Don’t you want your… equipment?”

Hojo chuckled dryly. “Outdated and probably dangerous,” he answered. “It’s tempting to strap you down in there, but I wouldn’t really do it; I might get you hurt in ways I don’t plan.”

“How comforting that your madness breaks for such things,” I shot back sourly. “You aren’t strapping me down anywhere, madman.”

“I’m not?” Hojo smiled slyly. “Be on your guard, pretty Turk.”

“Stop calling me that.” I felt like hitting him. “And, I don’t think we need to burn down the mansion. The fire could go out of control and burn this entire town to the ground.”

“I’d find that appropriate. This isn’t Nibelheim, it’s just a copy.” Hojo laced his hands behind his back. “Perhaps it feels good to burn an entire town and the people in it; I’ll ask my son if I ever get to see him again.”

That was it. I slung the rifle back on my shoulder, turned to him and put both hands around his upper arms. His wiry muscles flexed as I shook him. “Snap out of that shit,” I said harshly. “You don’t think like that anymore. You’re seeking a cure for X2Geostigma, not plotting the deaths of hundreds of people, and you’re not interested in burning this stinking town!” I let go of him after a final, hard shake, and stepped back to look at him. “You get your revenge on me any way you want, but later. We have to take care of this mess right in front of us first, or we’ll never get any peace.”

Hojo looked toward the house and nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” He smiled softly. “Shall we?”

*************************************************************************************

The house disturbed me. So many bad memories made here, so much struggling, pain and hopelessness. Lucrecia and I pitched many fights between these walls, tilting with each other over minutiae and mountains alike. Here, the Jenova Project flourished. Here, the Turk met his end. Here, I’d lost my last grasp of humanity.

“Upper level,” Valentine rasped, holding the rifle at the ready. “I can feel he hasn’t moved.”

Yes, I felt that too. I followed him, content to rely upon his superior hunting skills.

Up the stairs we went, the rotting, molded carpet throwing polluted dust without our every movement. I put my nose in my sleeve and then discovered that gesture useless; leather doesn’t filter much.

The strains of piano music came as we breached the landing. Valentine cast a glance at me, silently questioning. I shrugged helplessly. I had no idea what we were hearing, or what significance, if any, the music held. I could play the piano, any musical instrument I set my mind to, really. I’d never seen a piano in this house, and I figured Quinn had brought it with him.

Onward we traveled. Without conferring, we took the left-hand option and the secret stairway up. The right hand had a secret stairway downward, and that path would take us to the library, the cellars and to Valentine’s old resting place between labs one through five. We didn’t need to go there, thankfully.

I was glad the monsters did remember me, and that they left us well alone. I’d given them life, such as it was, and they remembered that in their limited way…

“This should be it,” Valentine murmured, bringing the rife up. “I can feel him here.”

I could too. But, something felt amiss. Quinn hadn’t moved since we’d spotted him. I grabbed Valentine by the sleeve. “It isn’t right,” I whispered. “It feels…off.”

“I know.” Lips set in grim determination, Valentine gave a small toss of his head. “It reeks of a trap.” He took a deep breath and kicked open the door.

The first thing we saw was Quinn. He stood in the center of the room, looking out toward the window as if sightseeing. He didn’t turn upon our entrance, nor did he even move in the slightest. Valentine leveled the rifle upon him and slid the action back. Even at this audible clicking noise, Quinn never stirred.

I walked forward. The moment I looked into the man’s eyes, I knew he was gone. Oh, not dead, not by any means, but his mind had long left. All that was left of him was his observant eyes and his bodily functions.

“What in hell?” Valentine asked, standing beside me.

I noticed a piece of paper in Quinn’s fist. Gently, I tugged it free. “Here’s something,” I said needlessly. I unfolded it and we read together.

In coldest ground do bones lie, but never undisturbed. In greenest forest do the living dwell, but without succor. Old oceans leave their own bones, but blood flows mobile as the wind. Ashes and dust petrify, and teeth grow weary of chewing prey.

I stepped back. “I can’t do anything for him,” I said. “End him, Valentine.”

My companion wiped his face and then leveled the rifle. With a single shot, he completed Quinn’s life cycle. Efficiently, he slid another round to readiness and slung the gun to his back. “What does that note mean?”

“I don’t know.” I put the paper away. “More importantly, how long has Quinn been dead?”

“Not long,” Valentine answered grimly. “He wouldn’t have been concerned with eating.” He pointed to a half-eaten meal sitting on a small table. “The setting is placed for one, not two, so his dinner was interrupted without benefit of polite pretense.” He looked around curiously, his red eyes taking in the entire room in moments.

I looked down at the corpse. There, entwined in brain matter and bone fragments, were wires. I stooped and sifted through the mess, finding a tiny camera. “He had surveillance attached to his optic nerve,” I said. “It’ll be useless without his eyes.”

Valentine and I looked at each other.

This wasn’t over.