Mako Reactor

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.


It surprised me that Strife took over my recovery period. Neither hovering nor ignoring me, he just sat me beside him at the fire and offered some of his soup. At first I refused. The thought of eating made me sick. Perhaps a half hour later he offered again, the very model of stubborn graciousness. I relented, accepting a bowl and thanking him quietly.

“He really did a number on you, Hojo,” he said, his voice too soft for the others to hear. “Black eye, split lip, a big bite on your neck and scrapes on your front and back.” He paused, evaluating me. “I think you’re missing your left thumbnail; it’s hard to tell with all the gook on your hands.”

“I lost that yesterday, during the airship crash,” I grunted. “As for everything else, I put my dick up his ass. What can you expect?”

He tried not to smile. He failed. “That’s one thing about you I’ve always admired,” he said. “You’re so blunt you make people cringe.”

I met his eyes. “Your number is eighteen,” I told him. “I remembered it later.”

Strife blinked. I knew he’d not expected to ever know what number I’d given him. Years had passed since he’d begged me to know what number clone he was.

“And,” I said, “it reduces to nine, which is the perfect number.”

He laughed. “All this time and you give me my number,” he chuckled. “Well, thanks, I guess.” He leaned up, grabbing Lockhart by the arm as she walked by us. “Hey, Tif? My number is eighteen,” he said, grinning.

Lockhart shot me a look that could melt concrete. “Good to know,” she said. “Want me to stitch it on your long coat?” She walked away swiftly, her head held high.

“None of my friends have any sense of humor,” Strife complained, settling back down.

“They’re ostracizing you for hanging out with the mad scientist,” I told him. “Don’t you think they’re right to do so?”

“No, I don’t,” he said, frowning. “They can be angry at you all they like, but they can’t expect me to not make up my own mind about who I want to speak with.” He took the empty bowl from me and washed it out from a bucket sitting nearby especially for camp clean-up. “I’ve learned to forgive,” he went on quietly. “It was the hardest lesson I ever learned and I’m not learning it all over again.”

“So, if my son came back from the grave another time, and he asked you for forgiveness, would you make him that gift?” I asked.

Strife closed his eyes. A shiver ran through him. Sitting once more, he faced me. “Yes,” he said. “Sephiroth never understood anything that happened to him. He never got a chance to be anything but a killer.”

“I made him like that.”

“You and the world made him like that, Hojo,” he countered. “I wonder; who made you the way you are?”

I flinched. “I can’t talk about this,” I said, attempting to stand. “And for the record, your ability to forgive is borderline unnatural in a human being. I think you learned it from the Cetra.”

“I did,” he admitted, watching me stagger upright. “It was her greatest gift to me.”

I left him at the fire, reeling like a drunk all the way to my tent. I ached all over. Until my blood supply built fully, I’d remain weak. I knew I already had the needed volume of blood, but Jenova and mako had to enrich it, make it a stew instead of a broth.

To my horror, Valentine lay stretched out on my bed roll, arms behind his head.

“What do you want?” I demanded, letting the flap of the tent close behind me.

“Many things,” he answered lowly, “for one, restitution for my rape.”

“I could have let you die, you ungrateful ass,” I replied, leaning on the central pole.

“Yes, you could have done that years ago and the world would have thanked you.” Valentine sat up. He made a successful grab for me, yanking me down to the pallet. In two blinks he straddled me, looking down into my eyes. I found my arms pinned to the cloth.

He smiled.

I’d never seen him smile, and I doubted his friends had either. It froze me, those perfect lips curling upward.

“In an hour, night will fall,” he said softly. “All these people will sleep, except for us.” He sat up while reaching for my much-used tie. Slowly, he slid it free and looked at it. “You choked me with this.”

“Erotic asphyxiation,” I said. “I never intended to kill you with it, moron. But, I thought I could give you a little pleasure while I plundered your asshole. You’d not have achieved an erection otherwise, correct?” Shiva, he stirred what blood I had. Those hard thighs on either side of my hips reminded me of his strength.

Not that I would forget.

“You choked me,” he repeated, “but I think for control, not for hardening me.” He bent over me again, his eyes flaring yellow for the barest moment. “You, Hojo, are a control freak. I’m sure you love wrestling a lab rat to the floor.”

“I don’t think you qualify as a lab rat, Valentine.”

“Not anymore I don’t.”

He pulled the silk between his hands until it creaked. “I haven’t decided which demon to let loose on you yet,” he confided softly, meeting my eyes again. “I won’t decide tonight. I need room to unleash any of my parasitic devils, and there isn’t sufficient play space in this tent.”

For once I felt glad I was me. An ordinary man would piss himself in my position, but I had a lingering case of the crazies and remained blissfully detached from self-preservation. Oh, I could find brief, fleeting concern, but only for the moment. Death didn’t bother me, but torture did. There couldn’t be much torture for me at the hands of any of Valentine’s demons. He’d let them out, they’d hit me a few times, and everything would go black.

Like an idiot, I felt compelled to point this out.

“Your inner demons frighten me much more than your possessing demons, Turk. You cast your mind back and settle on what made you join this little band of mercenaries.” I sat up, propping myself on my hands. “You’re rotten inside and you know it. Your kind is always, always very willing to target a geek.”

His eyes widened as his ears absorbed my vitriol, and he sat too stunned to lean away from me. I got closer, the urge to wrap my hands around his neck so strong I felt Jenova race to comply. Her cells were good in an emergency, giving strength and force to a body extended past its limit, but needing fight or flight.

“You were a bully in school,” I went on, seeing shock in his red gaze. “Don’t deny it; I can see it in you. I know what you are. You were the sports jock who never handed in his papers, never used his natural intelligence, and who made it a point to hassle every poindexter and egghead within range.” I shoved up against him, jarring him. “You were the prince of the school, shoving little brainiac’s heads in toilets and stealing their lunch. But, school doesn’t last forever, and suddenly you’re out.”

I pointed a finger at him, poking him in the sternum while he sat there and blinked at me.

“And then, dissatisfied with the way the real world worked, you took a job doing what you do best; bullying. Only now you’re getting paid for it, isn’t that nice?” I poked him again. “And the Shin-Ra Corporation was just one big school for you to rise in, a popularity contest on a massive scale. You rose to the occasion beautifully, becoming a Turk and mastering firearms with alarming speed.”

My hand traveled upward, helpless to resist the urgings of my brain to throttle him. I was furious.

“And, in true dumb-jock style, you see a geek with a pretty girl and you refuse to let the insult ride. She’s so pretty, and so friendly, and she makes you feel better about yourself than you ever have. She’s a little bit of a geek too, so you know she won’t be able to resist your charms.”

“Stop it,” Valentine whispered.

“But, I’m at the best part, fucking Turk!” I grabbed him, throwing him down beside me and then rolling atop. “You get your pretty little lady away from her science-freak husband and start fucking her brains out three times a day.” I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me. I would see his eyes while I confronted him. “It was an easy thing to rationalize. The poor girl was in danger and needed comfort. You were even getting paid to fuck her.”

“Stop it, Hojo,” Valentine repeated, his voice breaking.

“You let her do things to you, things you didn’t think through. She hurt you and called it science. You let her and called it love. But, the geek husband shoots your sorry ass and throws you in a basement, he’s had enough.”

“I’m telling you, stop,” Valentine closed his eyes.

I leaned close, putting my lips right at his ear. “You decide you’re sorry for failing her, reasoning out you’re a lowlife because she depended on you and you fucked it up. Well, guess what, Turk? You’re a lowlife because that’s all you know how to be. You’ve been one from the beginning, and your growing pains don’t match your stubborn superiority complex. God, I hate people like you. Your beauty and charisma cripple you.”

“Fuck you,” he groaned, managing to get his head away from me.

“And no one knows, do they?” I wrenched him back, making him face me. “No one in the camp knows why you do such penance. They think you’re noble, that your broken heart entitles you to their forgiving, understanding silence. They don’t know what you’re really punishing yourself for. They don’t know you’ve a guilty conscience for excellent reasons.”

I put my face almost upon his, shaking with the strength of my hate and my wretched desire for him. “Poor Vincent Valentine,” I hissed. “Lost his lady love and punishes himself throughout all eternity, which is a long, long fucking time when you’re immortal! No need to thank me; I was glad to help someone wallow in their own, bloody misery!”

Abruptly, I was flying through the air. I crashed through the tent, rolling out to the firepit. People scattered, apparently having clustered to hear our fight. Valentine charged out of the sagging, falling tent, eyes like xenon headlamps. Before I could move, he had me by the collar.

Oh yes, the beating of my life would now commence.

And, I didn’t even give a shit.

He hit me. The force of it almost took my head off. I felt my jaw dislocate, and I sacrificed protecting myself to fix it. If it healed crooked I’d be in trouble.

Valentine dropped me, aiming a swift and terrible kick to my stomach. I’d seen it coming, and my tensed abs stood between me and a session of vomiting. Before he could bring his foot back, I grabbed his leg. I sent him down to his back with one, mighty tug.

“No, don’t break it up,” I heard Strife shout. “Leave them.”

I launched myself upon Valentine, knocking him into the dirt before he could climb upright. We rolled, throwing punches with blurring speed. He broke my elbow and shoved me face-first into the remains of the campfire. I bucked him off and rolled out, singed and stinging. “Come on, jock,” I taunted, getting up. I set my elbow, feeling the break mend.

“You’re an evil little shit,” he rumbled. “A fucking cockroach that won’t stay dead when smashed.”

He tackled me. We tumbled down the small hill and into the creek. He thrust my face under the water. Distantly, I felt how the water relieved the burning. But, I ran out of air. I grabbed his hand, squeezing until I crushed it and he let go of me. “There’s goes the trigger finger,” I goaded, gasping as I got up.

He struck me again in the face. I blinked back unconsciousness. That claw hand packed a wallop. I fell back on my hands and kicked out, catching him in the jaw and sending him splashing. Free of him, I got up and waded out.

The next thing I knew, I ate sand and rocks. His knee on my back, Valentine wrenched an arm behind me. “Smug, know-it-all freak!” he swore, pulling. My shoulder dislocated with a sickening, agonizing pop. I turned to the side, getting him on my pelvis instead of on my back.

Grinning, I shoved upward, banging our cocks together. “You like it rough, Turk?” I asked, spitting sand.

He froze.

I used the moment to shove my shoulder back in place. “I suppose not,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Jocks aren’t supposed to like geeks, are they?”

Valentine leaped off of me. He stalked away and into the night without another word.

Slowly, I got to my feet. I felt terrible now, just terrible. Even if I’d retained my drugs, none of my painkillers would touch this. I knew I had bruised kidneys. If I pissed blood in the morning it wouldn’t surprise me. Another few minutes of abuse and he’d have probably killed me. Frankly, I felt amazed he hadn’t been worse. I knew he had it in him. Nothing could stop Valentine once he felt determined.

I walked past the silent group and went about putting my tent back up.

“You’re a tough little fucker, aren’t you?” the airship captain commented.

I faced him. “Blowjob for a cigarette?” I asked, feeling mean.

The airship captain’s mouth dropped open and he lost his smoke. Cursing, he made a winning grab for it. He stuck it back in his mouth and puffed furiously, assessing me with his eyes. Slowly, he smiled. “Nah,” he drawled. He threw me his pack. “I figure you deserve a smoke.”

I returned his smile, taking two out and throwing the rest back to him. “Thank you.”

I lit up and gratefully smoked while setting my canvas home to rights. I hurt like hell, but I still lived.