Viral Love

Valentine did very well for someone suffering hypervigilance. I’d made him like this, to a great degree. After consulting with Leanne’s mentor, Charles Hawthorn, I’d concluded the Turk had Soldier’s Heart. I had a few treatment methods lined up in my head, but no definite course of action yet. There wasn’t any reason I couldn’t try to fix some of the damage I’d done. I could at least address my part of his illness.

He’d come very close to slaughtering me in the hallway. It had thrilled me to watch him fight himself. He had superb control despite the handicap of super-sensitivity. His beautiful eyes filled with fire, tinged yellow, their pupils dilated. Otherwise, he hadn’t moved. He’d barely appeared to breathe.

I’d like to see him focus on more pleasant matters. I felt sure he’d be just as lovely while enjoying himself as he was while stretched thin. Nothing stimulated me as much as watching an animal do what came naturally, and Valentine was pure animal. He had beastly cunning and survival in abundance.

He stood in the center of my research lab, his red gaze never resting long anywhere. Methodical, he marked the positions of doors, of places someone could conceal themselves. He seemed to measure distances and I could bet he estimated how much time he’d take in getting from one point to another.

I shivered. Angry, passionate, pale and perfect, Vincent Valentine could inspire anyone to infidelity. My poor wife never had a chance.

To business. I couldn’t stand here and make calf-eyes over the Turk. Yes, I felt lonely, but he certainly wasn’t open to my sexual advances. In fact, if I did the selfish thing, seduced him, I’d make his mental problems even worse.

I still didn’t know why I cared about his state of mind.

Taking my paper copies of the X2Geostigma files, I dropped them on a clean table. “If you would, while you look you could check my sums for me,” I joked.

Valentine swung his attention back to me with alarming speed. I watched him register the slight insult, then put it away as unimportant. He sat without a word and began reading, managing to be both stiff-backed and deliberately relaxed. He made a careful show of not caring where I stood or what I might end up doing.

Beautiful.

I began working on the Clone’s blood samples, leaving my reluctant guest quite alone.

Time passed. A slight movement in my peripheral vision made me turn. Valentine had a paper up to his eyes. He groped for a pencil from the holder to his left. Slowly, he put the paper on the table and studied it. Then, he carefully began to erase.

Curious, I walked to him and hung over his shoulder. He tensed, but didn’t stop rubbing out an equation. With precise and somewhat cocky movements, he corrected my work.

I snatched the paper and held it up for examination. An apt and proper rectification of my algebra. I looked down at Valentine, who sat in smug silence as he continued to read.

I chuckled. How funny. He’d gotten one over on me and I’d asked for it. Good for him. I went back to my own work and left him again. Some time later, my watch chimed softly, reminding me. I’d set it to tell me when I needed to get Valentine back to his friends.

“I’m not finished,” he growled, though I hadn’t moved or told him the significance of the alarm.

“By all means, read as long as you wish,” I answered mildly. “Especially since you caught a mistake three different people missed.” I noticed some of the papers he’d already finished had little punctures from his claws. Briefly, I entertained a fantasy about him raking that gauntlet down my back. A little tremor tore through me.

Valentine lifted his head and audibly sniffed the air. A look of mild confusion rested on his fine features before settling into careful blankness. “You’re a pervert,” he grumbled. “What could be sexually stimulating about the contents of a microscope slide?”

“Nothing I’ve encountered so far,” I answered, realizing he could smell it when I felt stimulated. Carefully, I did not let that knowledge cause a fresh wave of pheromones. No sense in antagonizing an already hyper-aware, over-sensitized dragon.

Yes, a dragon. That’s what he was. A fire-breathing, shrewd and well armored, bloodthirsty dragon. I’d be lucky to make it through my quest without him devouring me. But, I liked a challenge.
********************************************************************************

I found it interesting that a crazy man could hold his mind long enough to put research together like this. I didn’t know most of the medical terminology, just the math and basic chemistry, but I had no doubt he’d gone as far as he could without those blood samples he wanted so badly.

It had pleased me to correct his math. Strangely, it had pleased him, too. He made no sense to me.

I didn’t have to question his sincerity now, though. At least in his attempt to cure Geostigma, he seemed on the level. By the look of this work, he’d spent months getting to this point.

A wave of musk washed over me. Unbelieving, I turned my head to catch the scent and its source. Yes, it came from him. Yet, he remained busy with his microscope and didn’t seem the slightest bit divided in attention. I told him he was a pervert and he didn’t challenge my opinion.

“I have to take these ruined slides to the medical waste disposal,” Hojo announced. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you here by yourself.”

“Don’t trust me?” I asked, feeling self-satisfied.

“I trust you more than I trust the situation and the other people involved.” Hojo began tossing things into a red plastic container labeled Bio-Hazard. “Within certain parameters, I trust you a great deal. You aren’t motivated by the things Scarlet and Heideggar find important.”

“Except your death,” I pointed out dryly.

“Even so, only the desire is the same; your motivators remain different.” Hojo hefted the container. “They could kill you in the attempt to get me, and I can’t have that. Someone could eventually finish my work if I died, but they couldn’t replace you or the clone.” He motioned to the files. “Would you lock those away, please? The fire-proof safe in the corner.”

I did it, but only because I thought his research valid. I then followed him back down the corridor and into another room. This room gave me an uneasy feeling, as had the walk here. I couldn’t shake the feeling we were being watched.

Hojo opened a chute in the wall and threw his container into it. He stripped off his gloves and tossed them in after it, then went to a hand sink to wash his hands. “Do I get a blood sample from you now or do you need further convincing?” he asked.

“I’ll give you a blood sample,” I relented. “But if that’s all you wanted, you didn’t have to bring us all here. So, what else do you need?”

He wiped his hands, not looking at me. “Blood is a renewable resource, but time isn’t. I don’t know how many samples I’ll need to take, Valentine.”

Suddenly, I heard a loud, grinding click. Hojo stiffened. Going to the door, he tried it and couldn’t force it open. “Son of a fucking bitch!” he shouted, and hit the metal with his fist so hard it dented. “Valentine, if you can’t get us out of here, we’re fucked!”

Alarmed, I went to the door and attempted wrenching it open, but it was tight Shin-Ra security, the kind of door the company tended to use for places considered high-risk. It didn’t budge, and it seemed made of very thick steel. It surprised me Hojo had managed to even dent it, but he’d gone absolutely furious in the space of seconds, and anger always made people stronger.

“Goddamn, fucking, meddling, idiotic mother-buggering terrible two!” Hojo grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall just as I began to hear a hissing sound. Hojo stopped, extinguisher poised over his head. The strangest look came over his face. Abruptly, laughter escaped him. “Oh, brilliant!” he exclaimed. “Trapped inside with gas flooding the room, or attempt to get out the waste chute? It’s like a bad movie!”

“What sort of gas?” I put my nose in my sleeve. I hadn’t smelled anything yet. “Nerve toxin? Paralytic agent?”

Hojo dropped the heavy canister without ever satisfying my curiosity as to what he meant to do with it. Still laughing, he pulled a lighter from his pocket. “Lift me,” he demanded, pointing toward the ceiling.

I couldn’t bear the thought of touching him, but I grabbed his legs and hoisted him high. He put the lighter to a sprinkler and it kicked on, drenching us in seconds.

“It isn’t deadly, don’t worry,” Hojo finally answered the moment I dropped him. “You won’t like its effects regardless.” He ran from chute to chute, opening them and peering inside. “Fuck! All of them thoroughly contaminated, of course! Even if they weren’t, we’d land in either a gigantic pile of medical waste or go straight to an incinerator!”

I could transform and get out that heavy door easily enough, but I’d probably go on a rampage and kill anyone and everyone in my path. Now very concerned, I grabbed Hojo’s sleeve as he stomped by me. “What is the gas?” I persisted.

He reversed my grip, seizing me around my wrist so hard I heard my bones creaking. “Help me get us out of here, Valentine, unless you want me fucking you across this floor!”

I wrenched free, took him by the shoulders and shook him. “Stop it, Hojo! Calm yourself and tell me what’s going on.” No, I most certainly didn’t want him fucking me across a floor. I’d kill him before he could attempt it, gas or not.

Hojo worked loose of me, slippery as an eel as he shed his coat. “It’s a gas designed to get specimens to procreate,” he panted. “I turned the sprinklers on to drop the room temperature, which makes the gas heavy and sink to the floor. But, in a few minutes we won’t be able to avoid breathing it.” He raced back to the small hand sink and opened the top cabinet, throwing things everywhere in the search for something. “We’re the same sex, so we won’t ever fucking stop! Or, we won’t ever stop fucking! With our strength it’s not a pleasant scenario.”

Even as he spoke I caught a whiff of the strange gas. It made me lightheaded. My cock stirred to life. I watched him race back to a chute, a paper bag in both hands. To my horror, I found myself appreciating his looks and the way he moved.

“I’m going to throw this manganese nitrate down,” he said. “Grab that container of N-propyl alcohol and try to get the chute interior completely coated in it.”

I snatched the appropriate, two-gallon bottle and followed him. He ripped open the bag and began dusting the metal passage vigorously. “Mother-fucking Heideggar! I’m going to wring his fat neck!” His skin had taken on a green tint. Stressed, his body attempted a Jenova form.

I sent a wash of the alcohol down. Hojo threw the bag with force. I heard it hit from far below us. Hojo flicked his wrist, and a fireball zoomed down the shaft. He dragged me backward just before the resultant explosion. Flames burst from the chute.

“What good did that do?” I ranted. “All you’ve done is turn our exit into a burning pipe!”

“Shut the fuck up. I know what I’m doing. Did you want to coat yourself in raw medical waste on the way to the bottom?” Hojo strode to the wall, ripped another extinguisher down and tossed it to me. “Lock the nozzle open and throw it down.”

I saw what he intended, then, and did as he rudely demanded. The colder, pressurized contents of the extinguisher instantly cooled the shaft and stopped the fire. We now stood in a solution of ashes, water and powdered flame retardant. If the gas didn’t get us, electrocution would, because the water now threatened to climb halfway to our knees.

Hojo wrapped his lab coat around his left hand, muttering about saving his fingers. “Get in and try to control your slide,” he instructed sharply. “Go too slow and you’ll bottle-neck us at the fork. Go too fast and you won’t be able to choose the dump instead of the incinerator.”

“Which is which?” I climbed in. This was insane. The worst escape I’d ever had to make from Shin-Ra, and I did it at Hojo’s bidding.

“Left should be avoided at all costs,” he said grimly. Hojo started to climb in after me and I began to drop.

Thanks to how he’d burned the chute, I didn’t feel I picked up anything but ashes. However, the ashes made for slick travel. I had to gouge the metal wall with my clawed gauntlet to keep our fall controlled, which he further complicated by landing atop me.

I grunted in surprise at the feel of his hard, wiry body slamming into me. He started cussing again, his unintelligible, loud complaints echoing in the tight confines of the tube. Somehow, he managed to get one of his legs tangled in a strap on my shirt. His added weight caused me to lose my tenuous grip, and we plummeted.

Shit. I was going to die in a Shin-Ra evaporator.

I missed the right fork, but Hojo didn’t. He held me just inside the left hand branch, the strap on his leg preventing me from moving further down. “Goddamn you, Scarlet!” he shouted. “Dragged to my death by a surly Turk!”

I felt his grip slipping. He lashed out with a tentacle, grabbing me about the waist. “No one needs tentacles,” he raged sarcastically. “Why are you modifying yourself with those, Doctor Hojo?” He tugged, bringing me back up to the junction slowly. “Well, that’s three times in one week, Professor Gast, that I’ve used them, you sorry sack of shit!”

“Will you quit your madness for five seconds?” I seethed, punching a grip in the metal wall. Hojo squirmed under me like a lover on fire. We didn’t have enough room in here for him to pitch a fit. I felt the cramped quarters acutely, but him even more so. “Stop writhing like a bitch in heat and get your weight farther over!”

“I am writhing like a bitch in heat, you idiot!” Hojo burst out angrily. “I got a snoot-full of the gas!” To punctuate his point, he shoved upward against me. His cock ground against mine. “Get your right leg over me and start moving downward again! I can’t, because I’m jammed in!” His coherency collapsed into foreign cursing and spasms of panic.

If not for the fact that knocking him out meant dealing with him as dead weight, I’d have indulged myself. Not only had he offended me with grinding our genitals together, I just plain old felt like doing him damage.

“Ow! Mother-fucker, Valentine!” Hojo protested as I maneuvered over him. “That’s my femoral artery you’re dancing on!”

“For fuck’s sake,” I growled, “calm yourself.” I managed to get my knee off his leg and move it to the side, straddling him. “I can’t move past you while you’re thrashing.” Digging my gauntlet tips into the hard metal made a terrible sound, one that made my teeth hurt. Hojo’s panting and ungodly wriggling got on my last nerve.

I smelled the gas again, now, and cold water began to flow around us. The level had finally reached to the top of the chute, apparently.

Drowning atop Hojo while we both had boners. Lovely. This had to be the worst experience of my life.

Hojo read my mind. “Flushed out of a Shin-Ra shit-chute!” he shouted. “Fucking poetic justice, that’s what it is! I’ll grind Scarlet and Heideggar into powder and snort them with my cocaine!”

Not if I got to them first. They’d firmly cemented themselves as my targets. They’d pay for this indignity if it was the last thing I ever managed. “This is all your fault,” I hissed, tangling in that infernal strap that also wrapped around Hojo’s leg. I’d get him, too. If not for his meddling I’d still be in Kalm, drinking imported rum and listening to that decent live band in the inn.

“I take credit for getting you involved,” he admitted, and to my horror I felt him rubbing against me. “I don’t, however, take credit for the stupidity of a meth-head whore and a fat, idiotic ass-wipe!” A hand grabbed my hips. I felt his fingers dig in, then relax and begin a slow, enticing journey upward. “Sweet Shiva, Valentine. You’re as hard and smooth as a marble anatomy study.”

“Get your hand off me,” I demanded, renewing my efforts to just get past him for the right fork of the duct. It was the gas making him act this way, so it had to be the gas that made me want to respond. The amount of water coming through here had me worried. With Hojo and I knotted together, acting as corks, we could indeed drown.

His hand felt beautiful on my skin. He’d wormed his way under my tight leather top and now traced my ribs with exquisite care. He had incredibly long fingers, strong for all their gentleness.

His fucking persistent gentleness alone made me want to kill him.

“I can’t,” he confessed in a broken voice. “Holy Da-chao, I can’t stop.”

“You’ve got to.” I swallowed hard, attempting to move myself farther down and away from his stimulating touch. The strap tying us together wouldn’t break, and I couldn’t reach it no matter how I moved. “Try to get higher while I go lower.”

“I’m wedged in,” he protested.

“Just try, damn you,” I insisted.

Hojo began squirming. “God-damn tight hole! Can you reach my boot?”

“Which one?” I was sweating now. Hojo kept caressing me, and I liked it.

“Left,” he said. “You should find a blade.”

With several minutes of searching, swearing and maneuvering, I managed to find the hilt of an impressive knife. I drew it out and worked it between us. Hojo inveigled a hand and grabbed it. “Give me your bandana,” he demanded, already tugging at the knot behind my head.

“What for?” I fought him a little.

“I’ll need a tourniquet.” Hojo jerked the cloth free. A second later I heard the sound of flesh separating from bone. Furiously, he began twisting. “I’m free. Go ahead and start moving down. It should be easier now.”


He’d cut off his right hand.


Before I could assimilate it, we were falling down the right fork.