Episode One – Creature, My Valentine
I hated him, you see.
Despised everything that he stood for with his conceited stare and upturned nose as if he thought the work of a scientist was beneath his notice. He had the gall to tell me I was a monster when his job was to kill, maim and destroy. The pot calling the kettle black in my mind…
Not that I believe that you would be able to understand. Ha, ha, ha, like I cared what anyone thought of me. I was a scientist and as such I was above and beyond your expectations and opinions.
He started out as a minor annoyance, with his grey eyes mooning after my Lucrecia. I saw it every time he looked at her that he wanted her. Well good, that was all according to plan.
I needed subjects… strong ones. And as much as I hated to admit it, Valentine and his partner were two very powerful men. Could I help that he gave me the opportunity? My sweet wife’s innocence and beauty could not be ignored. Yes, I used her… fully and completely. Do I care? Hmph. Pity the thought.
If it hadn’t been for my superior intelligence I would have almost believed that she would have left me for him. Lucky for me, the girl was a brainless twit and easily led into doing whatever I said. Never even knew I was using her not even at the end when I let her die alone. I had more important things to do… the failure of a child… that was Sephiroth.
He was weak… so very weak at first. No matter what I pumped into his body. He cried and screamed, writhing in pain and agony. It was delicious.
But I digress. We were not here to discuss my son now were we? No, the topic here was one Vincent Valentine… my ultimate enemy…. my own little monster.
He who dared try and oppose me. Well… I showed him what happened when you crossed a brilliant scientist. With all his arrogance and stubbornness, I destroyed that, didn’t I? I can’t help but smirk at the memory. He was so very enchanting to break…
He resisted, oh yes he did. Refusing to open those pert little lips and scream for me, carrying a glare full of hatred for the first five months or so no matter what I did to him. Sometimes it was better that way… it’s better when they resist… ha, ha, ha.
Humans are such predictable creatures, believing in fragile ideals of hope and honesty. I think he truly believed that he would break free and save himself and his one and only true love… the woman that played him for a fool. Ha, ha, ha, priceless!
I had to own him… I had to show him who was more powerful, stronger. With his piercing grey eyes and ebony hair that caused men and women alike to swoon with desire, along with his charm, constantly trying to sway what rightfully belonged to me… I had to show him who was master. He needed to be ruled, degraded and owned.
His body, I scarred and marked with tools, trying to get a reaction. Knives, saws, scalpels, instruments of torture of my own design and still he resisted. It became a game to see how far I could go before he gave in to me and blubbered like a child.
I liked to watch the knife slice through his skin, so smooth and toned at the time. He was in good shape, I suppose being a Turk came with its own advantages. I enjoyed watching the blade as it cut through him inch by inch, the blood welling up and trickling across his skin in little rivulets as he closed his eyes and attempted to keep all cries of agony from his face. But the twitches, the hitches of breath and unavoidable unconscious attempts to get away were unmistakable.
And he was perfect, my Valentine. His body accepted the mako so readily, burning through his veins like a purifying fire, bonding with his blood cells and changing him into my perfect creation… the ultimate soldier… everything my son was failing to be.
It made him stronger and faster… and when I added the mako, he was damn near invincible. It hurt… the pain was excruciating I knew. He bit his lips and bore it, mouth constantly tasting copper in an attempt to prove his tenacious stubbornness.
Why? Why did I hate him so? Why did I insist that his degradation, his pain and agony was my pleasure?
Was it because of his self-assured dignity? Did I enjoy breaking him piece by piece? Cutting on his arm, watching it heal and regrow thanks to the Jenova and mako, only to shred it once more, I took away his dignity and his pride when I tore through his gun arm. But he still resisted.
He fought me with his curses, his glares, and his unwillingness to let a cry of pain escape from his throat. I wanted to hear it… I wanted to see him whimper in fear and sob like a little child. I desired to see him broken, beaten and bloody at my feet as I stood over him in triumph. All in the name of science of course… all in the name of science.
He bled for me, writhed for me but he wouldn’t scream… not until the day I claimed him as mine. He was no longer even human now that he was my possession, my toy to forever torture and crave. He had managed, even in his subdued state, to lord over me and I was not about to let that go unpunished. He became an obsession and I had to show him who was lord and master.
I took pleasure, some might call it sadistic but I call it just rewards, in beating him down, stripping him naked and pushing him to the floor. The white tile was splashed with his crimson fluid, lightly glowing with the vast amounts of mako as he attempted to hold himself up with one shredded and loosely bandaged arm. He tried to fight back, that one lucky shot with a well-timed backwards kick. I knew he still had some fight in him…
The sound as the wrench cracked over his spine was one I will always recall fondly. His back arched, long raven tresses flying over pale skin and a body thin from lack of nourishment. He had to earn his food, you see, and more often than not it was something I’d hardly feed to a dog… Not to mention that a side-effect of mako was that it burned at you from the inside, requiring a far faster metabolism than was normal. I had thought that the Jenova cells would counter balance that effect but that hypothesis was wrong… oh, well.
I wanted him to feel inhuman, I wanted his degradation. His shame and misery was my ecstasy… ha, ha, ha.
I locked him up in that dirty cell while I was busy with Sephiroth. I watched him shiver naked and hungry on the dirt floor amongst the rats and a standing pool of stagnant water. Sometimes I would inject him with hallucinogens, just to watch his reaction. I was not displeased with the results. He would claw at the floor or just thrash about as the injection interfered with the mako or Jenova cells.
He would hold his head and talk quietly to himself as he attempted to combat the voices in his head. Sometimes he would scream at them to shut up or leave him alone, brief lapses in his normally affable composure I am sure. They were telling him all sorts of things I know. They were demons of destruction and death, pain and agony. I knew the images they conveyed would bother him and it was amusing.
There was only one way to make a man feel like less than a man and I wasn’t shy about humiliating and debasing him. He was my Valentine, my creation, I could do as I pleased. To me, he was no longer anything more than a plaything and a scientific experiment… how much agony could a body withstand? Ha, ha, ha… apparently a fair amount.
I sank into him, pushing in deeply and quickly with no preparation, and he was tighter, far tighter and more satisfying than Lucrecia had ever been. His back arched with pain and he bled, everywhere crimson liquid coursing down his thighs and he grunted in pain but still I continued. Every little whimper, every shriek and call for clemency was like music to my ears. I absorbed them and smirked with my victory. He was mine.
Mine to own, control, devour. I hurt him, tortured him, muddled with his mind until he became little more than a collection of guilt and sorrow so that he would forever know he was my possession. I destroyed his mind, shattered it completely so that he would forever question his actions. I took away his self-importance and every last shred of confidence.
It was glorious.
And then… I locked him up; put him in a coffin to sleep like the monster he was.
I had grown too attached and Sephiroth… ah, dear child… he had begun to show promise. Far more than my creature had. He was stronger, Lucrecia’s child. I suppose I could thank the bitch for that but I won’t bother. He had my seed as well. She was little more than a carrier, her body all I needed for an incubation chamber. It seemed that a human child could not function outside of the womb and grow properly with the added influence of mako and Jenova. Lucrecia was a handy and disposal tool.
I threw him away like trash, but I couldn’t completely destroy what was left of a battered and broken body. After all, he was still very much an experiment. I wanted to know what combination of mako, Jenova, and summon materia would do to a man… no, not a man but a creature.
I was more than pleased with the results.
He asked, he cried, he begged that I not push down the lid. The darkness, it was that he feared. It was alive, he claimed, it grasped at him with tainted hands and whispered words of shadows and blood. The voices of the Apocalypse demons, I imagine… I had trained him well. A decisive and utter victory to hear him tell me that I was his master. Ha, ha, ha…
But as for being the ultimate soldier, well, I had found someone stronger, more worthy of my attentions. The defeated Valentine no longer held any appeal to me. He still held a special place in me though, I couldn’t just kill him. Hmph. I don’t think I could have killed him anyways.
I shrugged. The properties of the Jenova cells and the effect of the Apocalypse materia was still not understood. Who knows? Who cares?
So I locked him up, put the key in the safe and guarded it with Lost Number… the last remaining flesh of Valentine’s friend. Oh, the guilt that came with that information. I could see the ache and anguish etched into his face when I told him that it was his fault that I had to do that to Raven. After all, if I had not been forced into making him my possession at an inopportune moment… Raven might have escaped.
Ha, ha, ha. I watched from afar as Valentine tortured himself with that information. Another slice of guilt to the pie and it was delicious.
He never should have defied me, never should have stood in the way of science. He might have gotten away with simple mako and Jenova injections… but the fool dared to touch what belonged to me, so I showed him what it meant to disobey. He had to learn in the most obvious way possible.
Ha, ha, ha. They were coming, I knew. Coming to stop the mad scientist from giving his son the power needed to destroy this pitiful and unimaginative world. But they don’t know of my secret weapon, the tiny ring around my finger that I have held onto for this time. I told him he would be my weapon but perhaps in the many years, that knowledge had rotted from his filthy mind.
Did they think I had forgotten about the Turk in the ShinRa Mansion basement? Did the fools honestly believe that anything that had happened to them was luck? Was the failure so stupid as not to question why he lived and Zack died?
Of course not. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been any use to serve my purpose. Everything… all of this, carefully orchestrated by me. The supposed numberless man who lost his mind, the well-placed Turk in the basement of a decrepit mansion guarded by the insane monster of a long-lost friend…. all part of my plot.
I’m probably going to die.
But long after this, I will still be remembered. When the world thinks it is safe, should these fools manage to destroy my son and Jenova, I shall come back to haunt them. The wheels of destruction and fate are turning, and I hold the key.
But they won’t know will they?
I will carry the secret to the grave with me.
So come little puppets, come destroy the scientist that is trying to give his son power. And seal your fate with that very action… seal your inevitable destruction.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.