Experimenter|Specimen

[frozen_paradigm]

Characters: Vincent Valentine, Hojo, fellow Cage II people? (Use this as an op to threadhop etc?)
Location: Inside the cage, for once.
Time: I dunno. How long did they knock us out for D:
Rating: PG13 for playground taunting/violence/yomama insults.
Open/Closed: COMPLETELY OPEN. Jump in! Save me omg. Or. Y'know. Participate in the beatings,

Comments

<3! ZOMG DYING

[frozen_paradigm]

In that single moment, the rush of blood to his head almost knocked Hojo unconscious, before his heartbeat increased another painful notch and he was fighting the urge to vomit, the air caught entirely in dead space so he could not drag it in nor force it out. Cold sweat drenched his back; his limbs were paralysed as if the animalistic sound of growling had stricken him physically, and as he whirled around to face the voice, he found himself consumed by the brilliant red of the beast's eyes, and, once again, tasted bitter death on his tongue.

He pressed his back as frocibly into the door as he could, vertebrae grated against wood, his fingernails digging at his sides, hands clenching around nothing. No salvation. Just the sight of his murderer encompassing his vision. Hojo was shivering violently, trembling to his very bones, and almost choked as he opened his mouth to speak.

"What- Was that about repentance, Valentine?" But speak he must. Speak against the inevitable for he had no other weapon. "How do you expect- To repent- If you take lives so constantly?"

8|;;; a million years later...

[hellnahandbaskt]

Repentance? What was that had been said-- something he'd told Cloud? Never tried. Never tried, never succeeded. Truth was, some part of Vincent thought there was no real salvation. There was nothing left. Nothing. And it's that same fear, that same gripping, stirring, angry fear that sits so tight on nerves. Like nails raking across them, sending signals before there's time to keep track of them.

It's starting to draw attention, he registers. Vaguely. Just vaguely.

Unimportant.

See, fear has a scent. Has a sharpness. Ashen and dark, thick in the nasal cavity, dragging out the baser instincts.

Hojo feared him. Or, rather, feared what was left.

Vincent had known that long ago, he supposed.

"What's one more?" he asked, careful, simple.

He remembered lunging, somewhere in there, ready to damn well strangle the life out of that pathetic excuse for a "living being"-- no. Not even that. Not anywhere near that. Hojo wasn't human. No human was capable of such atrocities. No human could tamper so easily with the boundaries of morality like that and yet seem so untouched by the consequences. Everything just... seemed like it was running through molasses. Something thicker, maybe. Mind slowing, blanking out. There was motion, and Hojo, and that was all Vincent could really understand. Not getting anywhere, however, that was something he wasn't honestly understanding.

A vague sensation of pain, too... Huh. What an oddity.