DUALITY

CHAPTER 3

SHINRA HEADQUARTERS

12:30 a.m.

He stood hunched over, much like an old tree. He had indeed been weathered by years of taunting, but when looking into his eyes one could see how intolerable and hardened to cold humor he had become, all the more broken to the imposed stupidity of the human race. He was strengthened by an acute observation and dedication to his career. But his commitment to his work had often been mistaken as insanity, which was why he had gained such a fearful reputation throughout Shinra Inc.

The man wore his charcoal hair tethered behind his neck, and it looked much in need of a wash, as it clung sloppily to his forehead. His skin was so pale that it was all too easy to predict how often the man saw the light of day and felt the warmth of the sun outside. He wore a set of glasses that hung slightly below the bridge of his nose. Dark eyes peered over the frames.

"What is this nonsense you've brought to my lab?" he demanded in a tone of ice, shoving his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. "The hour is late..." he growled, thrusting a finger from the depths of his coat and jabbing it at the large digital clock on the wall.

The room was large in itself, bathed in the steady glow of the fluorescent light panels in the ceiling. The walls were lined with capsules of varying sizes, and the tables were swamped in paperwork. Empty cardboard boxes, that had once contained lab supplies, littered the ground, which was also so covered in material that a small path, no more than two feet wide, had been forged through it as the only means of getting about the room.

"I know the hour, Professor Hojo," the doctor responded after a moment. It was in a tone that specified all too well how aware he had been of the possible characteristics of such a confrontation, here, and with the man that stood in front of him.

It had been his first impulse to heed to the higher authority, after all, but now he was beginning to doubt the clarity of his judgment. The doctor struggled not to cower in front of the professor, but it was becoming all the more difficult to mask his fear. Unspeakable, gruesome things about the professor and his policies in his line of work had managed to filter down through the floors of the building, and over time, the doctor had gathered them, and tucked them away in the corners of his mind for future reference. They had been such horrid stories that the potential to actually speak to the infamous Hojo was the substance of a bad dream.

Yet here he was, standing before the man, the dreaded scene willed into living, breathing, and frightening reality.

The doctor thrust the manila folder out before him, as Hojo's eyes shot him a glance that demanded for him to be reduced to a smoking hole in the ground. "I-I'm sorry for the intrusion, really I am, but my discovery was so sudden..." the doctor attempted, struggling to find words at all.

As the expression of disgust on his face deepened, Hojo seized the folder and threw it open, shoving the contents before his eyes.

As he watched, the doctor prayed for a change to come about, for the man's eyes to widen, perhaps, or for his brow to gradually unfurl as his eyebrows raised. He hoped that the professor's irritation would be replaced by astonishment, and, as a bonus, conceivably, praise. The seemingly well-deserved praise.

But all held still, distilled in a most uncomfortable moment of silence, like the calm before the storm. Hojo's face stayed the same, though his eyebrows drew together, and his jaw gradually tightened as his eyes scoured the two pieces of paper. Suddenly, however, the grimace faded, as Hojo's lips slowly curved upward, his eyes narrow as they rose and focused on the doctor. It was impossible to determine what exactly his mind was conjuring, but the doctor could see the cogs turning madly inside Hojo's head.

"I must say, Doctor. You have earned your pay this evening," Hojo remarked icily, the words sliding smoothly and dangerously from his tongue, as they cut through the air and reached the ears of the doctor.

And as he witnessed the look of smugness on the professor's face, the doctor's heart began to quicken. Fear began to crash upon the barrier of stubbornness and determination that the doctor had constructed around him throughout his career. The careless, and often rebellious figure he maintained was beginning to slip away from him at that very moment, as Hojo stepped around him, shut the door to the room, and drew the curtain over the links of the window.

When the doctor had joined Shinra, it had seemed like he had been offered a little piece of immortality. And despite the general belief that had circulated about him, he was not just another faceless member of the company.

But as Hojo caught him by the collar of his shirt, his pale fingers grasping the fine material as a hidden strength well concealed in the cloak of scientific thought brought the doctor off the ground, the humble man began to wish that he had just gone home at the normal time tonight. Just like everyone else. Everyone who was faceless.

Hojo's ebony eyes smiled at him like licking flames, threatening to engulf his suddenly extremely flammable disposition. The doctor's chest heaved for breath as the fabric of his collar dug into his flesh and severely limited his breathing.

"You have earned your pay, but, I am afraid you have stumbled upon a matter far too delicate for your observation," the professor said, his voice a cunning whisper. "Far too delicate, even for your knowledge."

Mercy was never an option, as its existence had been as scarce in the dark interior of the Shinra Tower as water in the desert. The fate of those few, not fortunate enough to keep clear of the danger that could be lurking just around the corner, was just as obvious and as sure as a man staring down the barrel of a gun realized the certainty of his future.

Gun, thought the doctor as he hung helplessly, a few inches above the ground. Scientists never carry guns. Why does my temple feel so...so cold?

A hallway and a flight of stairs away, the evening secretary lay slumped over in her chair, her eyelids flickering with the apparent approach of slumber. Through her ears, the familiar office noises around her were growing all the more muffled as her hearing began to wane, as she was deafened to everything that was not in the world of dreams. A stark crack broke through the air.

It brought the woman out of her wavering position between slumber and consciousness for only a moment, as she struggled to place the noise and link it to a possible source. It had sounded, she thought dreamily, nearly like a gunshot.

But that was nonsense. What would a gun be doing here?
Firmly deciding that she had indeed deserved a great deal of time off, and that she was just too tired, the secretary found no fault in closing her eyes completely, dreaming everything around her away, the simple desk, the computer monitor, the chair, the hallway, the flight of stairs leading to the laboratory where the eccentric old professor lurked...

The manila folder safely tucked away beneath his arm, Professor Hojo shaded his eyes as he crept into the stairwell. It was nearly two o'clock, and so the many flights of stairs were all but deserted, save for a score of night guardsmen and janitors passing every so often, many floors beneath him.

It was customary for the employees in Shinra to inform the highly positioned overseers whenever they should seek conference with them, but this situation was different. Hojo had been frivolously taught that urgency need not contain courtesy, nor custom. It was an unspoken law to science. Discovery permitted stepping out of line-dashing out of line, if necessary. There was no time, no place, for patience and order.

To hell with the proper etiquette, and with policy, the professor thought as he brushed his hair from his eyes.

It was folly, to think he was depending solely on the man whose love for money nearly surpassed his love of sloth. Hojo was depending on the man to listen to him, eventually nod his head in agreement, and give the word to get everything started. Then, the poor fool could be cast aside, and utterly forgotten.

Just like the doctor.

Hojo sneered at the thought of how easy this was going to be.

Just a few of the right words here and there, and...

He snapped his fingers, just as a sinister grin alighted on his lips.

It was all too perfect, and almost too good to be true.

Hojo had taken the stairs, simply because the constant placing of one foot before the other allowed him the time and repose to focus on the here and the now. Each step he took compared nicely to how life worked for him, how each step individually may seem small and impudent, but without even a single one, he could not successfully reach his destination.

As he emerged at last upon the top floor, he slid his keycard into the activation slot. A distinct but quiet hum sounded, and the door shot vertically upward. Hojo stepped through it, and into a large, dimly illuminated room. At the end of the area, there lay a staircase, neatly and elegantly shrouded in a scarlet carpet. As the professor peered up, he noticed a few beams of light scattered on the surface of the carpet, descending from the room above.

The professor grinned. It was as he had hoped.

It may be two in the morning, but some people never sleep.

He climbed the stairs, placing one foot in front of the other in his all too familiar fashion, and before he knew it, he was standing in an ivory room. A desk lay in the dead center. The neon glow of lights cast by the never-sleeping city of Midgar shown brightly below, through a series of windows that encompassed the whole of the rear wall. Hojo, completely immune to the extravagance of the room, advanced.

"Good evening, Professor."

The voice, deep and streaked with mockery, drifted from a great black leather chair, so tall it completely hid its occupant. It faced the great window that overlooked the city below, spun away from Hojo.

"Why, thank you, Sir," Hojo replied with a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice. Silently to himself, he decided since he was up here, with the king of pulling people's strings, he might as well speak the puppet dialect. He might as well play along with the amused antics of the man sitting in the chair.

As Hojo stood there, before the great desk, the chair behind it swiveled on its wheels, revealing the distinguished form of President Shinra. His eyes peered from their sockets like ravenous wolves waiting for prey, green and streaked with blue. His hair was thinning and colored gray, as a sheer sign of his advancing in years. A blue suit, made with the finest material probably known to man, covered his plump figure, made into such a contented state by years and years of pleasure and luxury at the head of the most powerful empire in the known world.

Often, Shinra held his well-preserved youthful poise over his employees, though it was usually shielded in crude humor. He had married young, but his wife had died ten years ago, leaving him with a single son. Name of Rufus, and he had his mother's beauty and his father's wit. He was off in some distant, remote part of the world at the moment, overseeing a resurrected mining operation in an abandoned Mako reactor. Probably living it up, too, undoubtedly, as the princely "duties" he was usually assigned to never really seemed to include very much hard work in the package.

Shinra raised an eyebrow as Hojo stood there, arms crossed over his chest. The professor's eyes fell to the floor, as he found a spot on the carpet and stared at it. "I wonder how you recognized me without seeing me," Hojo muttered. He looked up. "My footsteps, perhaps? Was it their length, or the amount of impact that gave me away?"

The President laughed. "Nothing quite so complicated, I assure you," he said, still chuckling. He spun a monitor on the desk in the professor's direction. "Ever hear of a camera? One of the greatest inventions of mankind. Remarkable how it grants you the ability to see through walls."

"Yes, well...I commend the inventor," Hojo mumbled.

"Right," Shinra replied. He opened a drawer, and his stout fingers fumbled about in it, only to come out grasping a cigar. The President, to Hojo's immense appreciation, had completely tired of amusement, for the time being. The expression on the man's face had immediately molded into one of strict business.

"So what is it, Hojo? Gods above, they joke around about you a lot, but here's one thing they happen to be right about. You never sleep." He paused, taking the moment to strike a match and light the cigar and fix it in his teeth. "Of course, I could say the same about myself. But why sleep the night away? Such interesting things happen at night, after all."

"Yes indeed," Hojo replied, grinning. "Very interesting things."

The President smiled at him. "What have you found?"

Where to begin? Hojo silently and mischievously inquired of himself. He casually tossed the folder onto the desk. Shinra reached for it, looking questioningly into Hojo's eyes.

"Go on, Mr. President," he said, smirking and indicating the folder, "I firmly believe that no further explanation is needed."

"Very well."

Hojo eyes fixed themselves on the wondrous view of the metropolis below. He silently counted in his head as his mind confirmed the sound of the President shuffling through the papers.

3...2...1...

"Is this...is this, real?" The President's voice came in a tone no louder than a whisper.

...0.

Hojo tipped his head enough for Shinra to see the wide, calculating grin on his face. "Just as real as I am now standing before you, Sir. Just as real as the city of Midgar," the professor replied, gesturing his hand toward the window. "I am pleased. I was afraid I would have to explain everything to you."

Shinra laughed. "I'm not that old, mind you," he said, taking the cigar from his lips as he blew a fine stream of smoke. "That was only twenty years ago. I remember everything about it. How it came together, and how it fell apart."

"It only fell apart because of poor security," Hojo pointed out, his words bordered in disgust as an equally grim light came into his eyes.

"The man was...taken care of," Shinra said, the corners of his lips affixed in a sneer. "But the damage has been done. There is no use loathing over the past, Professor. Especially not now, when opportunity lies so easily within reach. Ah, this is excellent."

A moment of silence passed. "She is here, then?" Shinra inquired, not bothering to look up from the papers.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"The hospital, I believe."

"Anything wrong with her? Is her condition critical?"

"Nothing of the sort, she was only over-exhausted, as the latest addition to her record tells me," Hojo drawled in response.

"How long is she here for?"

"Until approximately six this morning." Hojo paused for a moment. "Three and a half hours from now."

The President leaped up from his chair, the cigar completely forgotten as it clattered to the floor. "What are you waiting for, man? Go and get her! Lock her up so she can't escape again!" When Hojo began to laugh, cruelly and thickly, Shinra's face began to turn bright red. "Fool of a man! I would have thought you of all people would have done everything you could to ensure..."

"Calm yourself, Mr. President. I was unsure what you wished me to do. Keep in mind, twenty years is a very long time. Things change, things come to pass, and things come into existence."

Shinra sighed, slowly collapsing into his chair. "Oh, I assure you, Hojo," he said, calmness gradually drawing back into his tone, "Some things never change. And this happens to be one of them."

"Very well, then," Hojo said, his face a mask of seriousness. "Then I have your order to reinstate this project?" The professor spoke the words carefully, as if he were treading on very thin ice.

"Do you really think it will work, Hojo?" Shinra asked, drumming his fingertips on the wooden surface of his desk. "Just how far into research were you? How much did you know?"

"I would have to consult my records," Hojo admitted, "But I assure you, the original plan can go into effect very quickly and very efficiently. All that is required is time and strict, strict observation."

"I do not want to go into this running blind, Professor," Shinra said. "Not after the events of the past. It was far too easy for misfortune to take the helm of the last attempt on the project. Too great of room for error. Do you not remember what you brought forth the last time?"

A flash erupted in Hojo's mind.

Death...don't ignore it...

The professor shook his head rapidly, and began to laugh.

Shirna looked at him questioningly. "Hojo? Get ahold of yourself!

Another flash.

Don't ignore what's coming to them...they can't ignore it...

"For the gods' sakes!" Shinra shouted. "Control yourself, man! Think about it. Do you remember? Twenty years ago-"

"If you'd please," Hojo suddenly bit out, glaring at the President. "Do not speak of that."

As he studied the papers even closer, and peered at the photograph of the woman, Shinra whistled, and laughed. "My, she turned out to be a real beauty," he murmured. "Has to be, yes, twenty two years old, now. And with a name. Aeris. Hmm. Lovely." His eyes shifted to the bottom of the paper, to a portion he had obviously skipped earlier. "Huh. It says here she's in SOLDIER. What the hell would she be doing there? Says she's been in it for three years. Most interesting. I wonder where she was before that? I wonder who her safe-keeper was? If they knew about her? So many questions!" he outburst, shaking his head. "But I will find the answers to them, in time."

Hojo stood by, watching silently, waiting, like a predator for his prey. "Shall I arrange for her to be brought to my lab?" he asked at last, sensing the anxiety that was pouring from the President as freely as a waterfall.

"Yes, absolutely," Shinra responded, nodding his head, returning from an intense session of deep thought. "I will arrange a meeting as soon as possible, within the next hour. We shall discuss everything, and be certain we are chasing a reachable goal."

"Your decision rests well with me," Hojo said, inwardly very pleased. He gathered the papers in a rush, and again, tucked them under his arm. "I only hope this meeting of yours you insist on having is completed before six this morning. Otherwise, all hope is lost."

"Oh, all hope will be restored, if I have anything to do with it." the President called to him as the professor headed for the stairs.

No sooner had Hojo disappeared down the stairwell then he came back up, walking backwards, scowling in front of him, down the steps. "What the hell are you doing here?" he was demanding.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He had been standing at the base of the stairs for little more than a few moments. And yet, he had heard all he needed to hear.

"You're thinking of capturing the girl," Sephiroth said while climbing the stairs, ignoring Hojo completely as if the professor were little more than a decorative statue.

"General!" Shinra exclaimed when he caught sight of Sephiroth. "What an unexpected pleasure. What brings you here in the middle of the night?"

Sephiroth gradually sauntered over to the desk, his arms crossed casually below his chest. He stood silent for a moment, and tucked a stray lock of silver hair behind his ear. A smirk appeared on his face, and he fixed the President with a malevolent, all-knowing stare. "Don't play games with me, Your Highness. Unless of course, you'd prefer to win the one you're playing right now."

Shinra raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"You're thinking of capturing her," Sephiroth repeated, his emerald eyes aflame, and his mouth still twisted into an evil smile.

"What business is it of yours if we are?" Hojo suddenly demanded, glaring at the General.

Sephiroth turned his head to regard the professor, but the expression on his face did not change, making Hojo all the more infuriated.

"Wipe that stupid smile off your face," Hojo insisted. "This is scientific business, you've no place-"

"Hold on a moment, Professor," Shinra said, holding up his hand and sweeping it in Sephiroth's direction. "If General Sephiroth feels he has something he can contribute to our affairs, then he is welcome to offer whatever assistance he deems necessary."

Hojo scowled all the more, but did not leave the room.

"Now, General," Shinra said, "You were saying?"

Sephiroth savored the bit of superiority he had over the abominable professor, but only held his silence for a brief moment. "Your meeting. Discussing the capture of this girl. Why must you capture her now?"

Shinra regarded him with an air of interest. He had figured out, of course, that Sephiroth had undoubtedly overheard the entire conversation. But this was commonplace; the general had a habit of wandering into a room at the right time, seemingly by accident. And he undoubtedly had a trove of knowledge locked up within him from his fortunate encounters with eavesdropping. What fascinated Shinra now was that Sephiroth was actually taking an active interest in what he had overheard, and not carrying on with business as usual as if nothing had happened.

"Why must we capture her now?" Shinra repeated, and pretended to consider it, while scratching his chin and staring at the ceiling. "Hmm. I could answer that, but I'm assuming I don't really need to. You already have an answer. So let's hear it."

Sephiroth smiled again, his eyes glittering. He then turned and began to pace the length of the room, his head bowed in thought.

"If you were to take her into captivity immediately," he began, "That would be quite a mess to clean up. Think of the chaos this girl's family will unleash. It would be…pandemonium at its finest, with countless loose ends left untied."

Shinra, a smile now on his lips, fixed his eyes on the General. "That is all very true. So what do you have in mind?"

"Simple. Let her go," came Sephiroth's reply.

"This is preposterous! A waste of a marvelous opportunity, thrown away without a second thought! Madness, its-"

"Enough," Shinra snapped. He glared at Hojo, and then peered at Sephiroth, as if from a very great distance. "I'm afraid I don't catch your drift."

Sephiroth stopped his pacing and stared wholeheartedly into the President's eyes. "Let her go, out on the streets, but don't let her get too far. Be certain that the records read that she was released without question. Even allow her to meet a few people she knows, let her give them a false illusion. Let her return to her normal life. So when you capture her, it will really seem like an accident.

"Shinra will claim no affiliation, having the evidence that she was released. She will be classified as AWOL. The witnesses she sees will support the evidence that she was outside the building when she evidently disappeared. You rush to hold your meeting, thinking she will slip through your fingers. But if you have too strong a grip on her, she will slide through your fingers."

Shinra sat still for a moment, his eyes distant, as if he were playing the entire scenario out in his head. "Brilliant," he said at last. "Absolutely brilliant. Glad you were here to overhear, General. I will inform the Turks that they have a new assignment: To secure this girl."

Sephiroth grinned wickedly. "Oh no. I was hoping I would be the one to do it."

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