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.



“Vincent, you’ve got to stop,” I heard Strife saying quietly from above me. “You’re going to kill him if you don’t stop.”

“He infuriates me,” Valentine growled.

“I’m sure he does.” Strife chuckled very softly. “And, he knows it, too. Don’t you recognize when you’re being led?”

“I realize he’s deliberately taunting me,” Valentine said, his tone deepening even further. “He talks. He runs his cursed mouth until I lose my temper. The only way to shut him up is to knock him out.”

I heard Strife heave a sigh. “Vincent, I’m the last man to judge another, I grasp that. However, I’m the chosen person in charge. Right now no one wants to really acknowledge that, even you. As your friend I want to say this, not as your group leader.”

“Say it, then,” Valentine replied.

“Lucretia is dead.”

Valentine made a strangling sound. “She isn’t,” he said. “She’s trapped in the cave, in-.”

“She’s dead.” Strife interrupted him. “She might as well be, anyway. And, I don’t think either one of you are responsible for the choices she made. Hojo didn’t put a gun to her head and make her participate in the Jenova Project. You didn’t put a gun to her head to get her in bed.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point?” Strife repeated, his voice disbelieving. “Let the past go.”

“Easy for you to say, Cloud; you can’t remember your past half the time.”

I heard Valentine leave. Strife squatted beside me and put his hand on my forehead. “Shit,” he whispered. “You’re burning up.”

I opened my eyes. “Elevated temperature is normal for when Jenova burns out infection,” I said, my tongue only half cooperating. “Leave me for a few hours.”

Strife’s blue eyes measured me. He pulled my collar down, his gaze taking in my new bite. “Why aren’t these healing, Hojo?” he asked quietly.

“I imagine because he’s made me for repeat business,” I answered. “Even Jenova would be hard pressed to heal something that isn’t allowed to close.”

“They’re bleeding a little when you move,” he said. “Your collar is rubbed through with blood.”

“I won’t bleed out.” I began closing my eyes again. I was so tired, so sore. I just needed to be left alone for awhile.

“Do me a favor and stop provoking him,” Strife insisted.

“I can promise nothing.”

“Hojo, you’ll have to,” Strife replied. “He apparently can’t resist what your mouth leads him toward.”

“I know,” I said, chuckling and coughing up more blood. “It’s wonderful.”

Strife got up and stared off into the distance a moment. “I give up,” he said ruefully. “I’m letting you sleep another four hours, but then we have to go. The next cabin is stocked and we all need decent rest.”

“Understood.” I shut my eyes once more.

It seemed only moments before I felt Strife unzipping my sleeping bag and reaching inside for me. He picked me up and sat me in a chair, holding onto me so I could get a grip on the table. Then, he silently and methodically packed up my bag and my gear, gesturing toward a cup of something hot and steaming at my elbow.

I sniffed the contents. Boneset, slippery elm bark and mint. I’d never keep it down, but the young man believed he helped me. For that reason I gave the attempt. Ten minutes later I staggered out onto the porch and vomited over the rail. My bruised stomach couldn’t handle anything but water right now, and even that would hurt.

Eyes watering, I spit up a little more blood and leaned on the porch post. My muscles shook. Spots danced in my vision, and I felt like one, gigantic cramp all over. But, I’d suffered worse. Jenova had no concept of mercy either, especially to a man who kept her locked in a glass tank. It only took one false move to learn that lesson.

Strife walked by me. “You’re in charge of helping him,” he snapped to the side, his voice angry.

I turned my head to see Valentine on the other side of the porch, watching me.

“I won’t do it,” he uttered.

“You will.” Strife marched down the steps, my gear on his back. “You put him in this condition. We need him and we need you, so get to it. We have two hours to make it to the next cabin before Cid and Tifa come looking for us.”

The tension elevated.

Slowly, Valentine approached me. Looming, he stared down into my eyes. “Can you walk?”

I nodded. Maybe I wouldn’t walk for long, but I’d attempt it.

Strife led us onto a trail mostly cleared of briars. I staggered along, acutely aware of Valentine just to my left.

Everything hurt. Twice I had to stop and dry heave. I hated dry heaving. It irritated my stomach for no reason, churning up acidic bile and eating out my esophagus. I spied a bunch of wild chamomile and tore a few leaves off, stuffing them in my mouth. They had a carminative effect. Maybe my saliva would put their juice into my system slowly enough that I could keep my wretched stomach quiet.

“Those will help?” Valentine asked in a rather subdued voice.

I nodded wearily, though I had no idea if they’d live up to my expectations.

He appeared in my vision. “We have to keep walking,” he told me.

I commenced lurching down the trail.

Our destination seemed a beacon. I sat down in the dirt with the cabin in sight. I couldn’t go any further. “I’ll be fine here,” I told my dark and depressing sentry.

He hovered, an awkward uncertainty blanketing his every movement. “Cloud wants you inside,” he said after a moment.

I fell back, delighted to stretch out even if it hurt my back. Turning my head, I spat chamomile leaves. They’d helped a little; I no longer felt like my stomach twisted in knots. “Go, jock,” I ordered. “You’ve done your duty.”

For a moment it seemed he would go, leaving me in blessed peace. But, he stopped before moving two steps. “I can’t leave without you.”

“Oh, fuck it all,” I hissed, forcing my body to shift. “There’s your precious nobility rearing its head.” Slowly, painfully, I got on my knees, gathering my strength. In another few minutes I managed to get up and brace on a tree. My problem shoulder screamed for me to relieve the pressure on it, and I had to piss again.

I noticed less blood this time, which pleased me. Hopefully, an overnight rest would relieve me of my internal bruising.

“Have I killed you?” Valentine asked, watching the pool of red and yellow spread out on the leaves.

I laughed, temporarily and hurtfully cutting off the stream. “You fucking wish,” I declared. “Don’t worry. I’ll be able to rape you again in a day or two.”

Valentine strode off and left me, his head down.

Victorious, I shambled toward the cabin. Strife met me at the stairs, holding out his hand to aid me. “Where’s Vincent?” he asked in a hard voice.

“Had to piss,” I lied.

Satisfied, Strife helped me inside.

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

“Jo, you look terrible,” the ninja said.

“I do?” I feigned surprise. “Did I forget to shave?”

She smiled reluctantly, but the airship captain gave a great bark of a laugh. He sauntered over to me and stuck a smoke in my mouth, already lit, the filter soggy with his spit. I sucked on it gratefully, uncaring over the germ transfer.

“You want me to help you do that, to shave?” Kisaragi sat my pack on the bench between us and proceed to rifle it. She found my straight razor and shaving soap, setting them aside. “Hey, what’s this, Jo?” she asked, bringing up a little vial.

I snatched it and read the label. “Rohypnol,” I murmured. “I thought that was lost in the ocean.” I looked at her over my glasses. “Permission to go through my shit,” I said. “Look for anything else like this.”

The girl wiped the table off with her sleeve and proceeded. She took my few changes of clothes, neatly stacking them after shaking them out. She turned my socks inside out and paired them. My waterproof notebook and pencil she laid on top of my clothes. Carefully, she balanced my toothbrush atop my shaving mug.

“Ooohh, I’m glad I didn’t just grab without looking,” she said softly, bringing out an uncapped syringe.

“Hide that,” I ordered lowly.

The girl pushed the needle into one of my stacked shirts. “Here’s a few more vials,” she said.

I looked at them one by one. A cocaine and water solution, a dose of Hypnocol, and morphine. They were gifts from heaven.

“Oh, wow,” Kisaragi said, her fingers twining around a glint of gold.

Lucretia’s favorite necklace.

I looked at the little, gold heart with the baby heal materia in the center, feeling a pang. She’d worn it nearly every day, until the last, when she couldn’t bear to wear any token I’d given her. I’d never been able to just chuck it. I’d told myself I could sell it for gil if times got hard, but I’d lied to myself.

I took it from her and worked the clasp, showing her the old-fashioned, complicated fastening. “You have to squeeze the barrel while you twist the hook,” I instructed. “Women used to put their pearls on heavy ropes with clasps like this.”

“Won’t gold eventually get too soft to work as a clasp?” The ninja watched me spread it open. The gold reflected in her deep, brown eyes.

“That’s what makes this a valuable piece.” I picked up the ends, draping them over my thumb. “The clasp only looks like gold. It’s made of gold-blown titanium and worth more than the ornament or the chain.”

“Wow,” she repeated, her eyes wide in greedy, feminine appreciation.

I realized I had a choice. I could give her the necklace, effectively getting rid of it without guilt. Or, I could refuse her the necklace and constantly check to see if I still had it.

The little ninja looked enchanted.

I’d never have a daughter. I could bequeath it to no one.

“Lean over,” I said.

I put it around her neck and closed the clasp. “Think you can apply your ninja fingers to the way it works?” I asked gruffly, trying to disguise the softening of my heart. “Don’t you sell this,” I said firmly. “Promise me.”

“I won’t sell it.” The girl ran her hands over the chain, smiling. “Hey, it feels like…love.”

Water stung my eyes. Unable to answer, I shoved all my things back into my pack and stood up. It took me forever to get outside.

Lucretia had taken the necklace off because she hadn’t felt our love anymore. An obvious point, but so brutal, so cutting.

I sat on a rock and buried my face in my hands. The agony in my body couldn’t touch the agony in my heart. I hated that I still mourned her. I hated that I could not forget her.

My glasses got in the way of a good cry. I took them off only to find I couldn’t bring up tears anymore. I wiped the lenses carefully on a relatively clean section of my shirt. Once finished, I noticed I sat in front of a puddle.

Slowly, my reflection came into focus. I looked terrible. My face seemed nothing more than a bruise. Cuts both deep and shallow crawled across my cheeks and forehead. My split lip looked lumpy. I needed a bath. I needed a shave. My torn, sleeveless shirt exposed bruises in every shape and color. Some of them were finger-marks. A few were obvious claw imprints.

Turk-jocks made for interesting companions.

I’d wondered, sometimes. I’d found myself attracted primarily to girls, so I hadn’t paid much attention to the jocks. Except, of course, for when one managed to get me before or after classes. I’d known a few, scrupulously gay geeks who admired the jocks…

School is a microcosm, a copy of the world outside it.

Shiva, I was sore.