[Four Seasons] In the Cage of Crystal and Greed
Closed Starter for the âFour Seasonsâ Divergent Megaverse!
Of how Project âSâ (now named âSephirothâ) and Rufus Shinra first met.
Involved Characters: Sephiroth, 11-12yo ( @ghostofnibelheimâ ), Rufus ShinRa, 15yo ( @thronelessprinceââ )
References: Before Crisis -Final Fantasy VII-
Settings: Midgar, September Δγλ 1992
The sound of the solution dripping from the IV bag beside the bed and into the tube that latched on the back of his hand. It was the only way the boy could tell that time existed in this room.
Too faint to hear through the plastic equipment for most, but not for him. In here, this place with no color that smelled of antiseptic, it was all he could pay attention to. It drilled into his mind, and deafened the only coherent thought he could make.
Where was home, however? Why did the boy so fiercely believe he wasnât there already, when his mind drew a total blank about anything prior his awakening on the surgical table?
This place, it was not home.
He didnât want to be here, but he didnât know where else to go, either. How convenient for whoever had put him in this foreign room where it felt neither warm nor cold.
Day and night, he sat in bed, and waited. Waiting for something to come to his memory, or for someone to come through the door. He knew he couldnât open it himself. The âDoctorsâ made sure to lock it every time. A heavy latch of steel bit fiercely through the door with the command of little plastic cards that they passed before a strange small box attached to the wall right next to it.
He hadnât tried to ask to go out. In truth, he didnât really want to talk to any of them. The boy didnât know anybody here, and he could see the way they looked at him: like something that didnât belong. Emotions he didnât know what to name were plain in their faces whenever they came through to approach his bedside. They seemed more at ease when fiddling with the wires and equipment beeping and buzzing beside him, than the boy they were latched onto.
Maybe he was a machine, too. Was this how a machine was supposed to feel? It wasnât like the IV could tell him anything about it.
He wanted to go home, but how could he find it? This place seemed to be a closed box and torn from all existence. The only thing remotely close to a window was the long mirror on the same wall as the door. Any look the boy would cast to it would be met by an identical one with the same forlorn, empty-eyed expression.
Little did he know, more than one pair of eyes were gazing right back at him at that very moment.
âThere he is, Mr. President. Still alive and in top form, just as I told you. We transferred him last week.â Hojo had a smug grin on his face as he spoke. He was in a good mood today, even enough for his usually slouch and crooked posture to be a bit straighter, making him taller beside his most important investor.
âHe may look a little frail at a first glance, but do not let appearances deceive you. He has yet to hit puberty, besides⊠But he underwent the mako infusion procedure like it was second nature. Almost no side-effects. A light amnesia, but his procedural memory was not affected in the slightest. He should be ready for performance tests very soon.â
A lot was at stake here. And while the man was still disappointed by the lack of Cetra-like talents in the boy, the prospective of the so-called SOLDIER program interested him. His acquired position at the head of the Science and Research Department left vacant by Gast Faremis was on the line⊠and he knew he still had competition.
If he could impress the President before the mess of theories Hollander was toying with back in Mideel bore any good fruit, the seat and all the benefits that came with it would remain as his.
And what a promising specimen this one was.
Today was an important day, at least, so Rufus had been told. Dressed in his manicured white suit that cost more than some peopleâs houses, the all-important tour of ShinRa Electric Companyâs facilities was the one and only agenda for the day. His private lessons were on hold, and his designated socializing hours with âproperâ associates, once more, had been rescheduled. But Rufus figured that as ShinRaâs power amassed, the fewer and fewer of these associates would make his fatherâs cut. In the least President ShinRa had stopped talking about marital arrangements for the time being. No young woman had even half the merits the president needed to even consider opening the kingdom doors of ShinRa, let alone the keys.
And the truth was, no one ever would.
It was a fact. As they toured, meeting with his department head and his overly grand promises for his accomplishments for ShinRa, and that team lead that spoke much the same note, it became painfully obvious. Rufusâ closet things to acquaintances were grown adults kissing up to their future boss in hopes of securing their future. But when they spoke to him, he said nothing. When they looked at him, he stared, bearing into them unfettered, icy depths of apathy.
If they were so frightened about their job security, they clearly were not good enough to work for ShinRa. They said nothing important, nothing even mildly interesting. All the same, Rufus listened, and memorized each face, every word, every bead of sweat that rolled down the collars of their suits.
Then, they were in the labs, separated from a specimen through a thick veil of glass. Rufus peered into the room as his father spoke to this department leadâProfessor Hojo. This man was a bit different from the others. He spoke plainly. And there was more to his eagerness than merely keeping a steady job. Glancing at the man in the white coat through the corner of his eye, Rufus acknowledged that the scientist was hungry. And it made him equal parts useful, and dangerous.
President ShinRaâs large hand collapsed over and around Rufusâ shoulder, a silent command for his attention. Obediently, Rufus looked up.
âSo long as he can meet expectations, heâs valuable to me.â The president stated gruffly, the corner of his mustache tweaking in a gnarled smile that looked closer to one baring their teeth than it was friendly. âOnly valuable things are worth keeping around Rufus.â He wagged a large finger at his son, as though it were a threat. âEverything else is a waste of time and money.â
Rufus blinked towards Professor Hojo. So, this one was a machine, and the product he produced was valuable, at least by his fatherâs standards. It was immediately something of intrigue, drawing the blondeâs interest back to the glass. This time, his father allowed him, now that it was proper for him to survey the âgoodsâ.
The âgoodâ looked like a boy. The boy beyond the glass was younger than he was, thinner, and when their eyes met, it was a void. Rufus blinked, slow, calculating. And then, when he was certain that his father was busy probing the professor more on specific timelines for âwhenâ this testing could begin, the blonde did the only sensible, deliberate thing he could.