Guilt’s Cost: Part XXII

Hidden Treasure

Porter stood up from his desk and stretched. He had spent the better part of the afternoon filling out Hojo’s expense reports from his morning shopping spree. The twenty-six year old man didn’t think this was the kind of work suited to a Turk, but since he had been assigned as Hojo’s personal escort, he had to do whatever the insane man requested.

"I’ve got to figure out who I pissed off to get this gig." Porter mumbled to himself as he closed the report file and picked it up.

It was finally time for the Turk to sign off for the day, and he wanted desperately to get out of the Shin Ra building before Hojo found some other menial task for him. He slipped out of his office and into the hall, walking briskly toward the elevators. All that stood between him and freedom was his stop at the accounting department to hand in his report. As he waited anxiously for the elevator to arrive, he kept looking over his shoulder making sure that Hojo was no where around.

Just as the doors opened, Porter’s heart sank as he felt the old man’s gnarled fingers grab his arm.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Hojo hissed.

Porter turned to face the grotesque man. "I was going to go turn in your expense reports, Sir."

Hojo narrowed his yellowed eyes. "Then you were thinking of leaving, I suppose?"

"Well, it is five o’clock, Sir." Porter said with a slightly guilty tone to his voice. He dreaded angering the scientist, fully aware of what tended to happen to those who did. The rumors that ran through the staff at the Shin Ra lab were the things that nightmares were made of. There was even a tale about a Turk being taken by the scientist some years before. Everyone’s story about what exactly Hojo had done to the man was a little different, but the underlying message was clear; no one, not even a Turk was safe from Hojo. Porter had every reason to be afraid. "If there is something else you wish me to do though, I would be happy to oblige."

Hojo smiled, smelling the fear wash over Porter. But Hojo thought himself a fair man if nothing else, and decided to let him off on time for once. "Well, there is one little thing, but it won’t delay you from your evening of leisure too much."

Porter held his breath, knowing that nothing Hojo ever asked him to do was ‘little’. "Yes, Sir?"

"After you get those reports to accounting, I have some things I would like taken down to the incinerator." Hojo thought this was the type of humbling chore that would let the Turk know exactly who was in charge.

"Oh, all right." Porter hated going down into the basement to the incinerator, but it would give him a chance to scavenge through the trash for any interesting components. He loved messing with the small bits of cast off technology that he found, and he had become quite adept at repairing the electronic items he had collected.

Hojo nodded, satisfied that the Turk was still very much aware of his place in the Universe. He detested the Turks as an institution and had ever since his run in with Mr. Valentine some years before. President Harwin however insisted that all top members of Shin Ra have a Turk guard assigned to them, and Hojo had been unfortunate enough to get Porter. Hojo found him a weak and mentally feeble individual but at least one that was easily kept in line. Then again, Mr. Valentine had once seemed that way as well, and just look at the trouble he had caused. "Good then. I will see you tomorrow, Porter. Be here at six thirty, I have some business in New Nieblhim that I need to get to as soon as possible."

Porter swallowed his protest at having to arrive to work two hours early. "Very good, Sir. Six thirty it is."

Hojo grunted as he walked away. "Good night."

Porter shuddered as he finally stepped into the elevator. He hit the button for the ninth floor where the accounting offices were. On the ride up, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He hated Hojo with every fiber in his being, and dreamed of the day when he could be released from this baby sitting assignment. Being one of the President’s hit men was his real ambition. That is what being a Turk was all about, but he knew that position was reserved for only the best amongst their ranks. His friend Rude was one such lucky Turk, but he had been in the business since the days before Meteor thus giving him a huge advantage in seniority.

After the reports were turned in, Porter returned to the lab floor, finding a cart full of trash waiting for him right outside the laboratory doors. He pulled the heavy cart onto the freight elevator, and jabbed the button to the basement level. As he rode down, he scanned the cart for anything interesting, but it was very full, and he would have to wait until he dumped it onto the trash heap in the basement before his real inspection could begin.

The doors opened into the darkness of the basement. Porter hauled the cart behind him until he reached the trash heap. He upturned the cart pouring its contents onto the floor. The night janitor had just started his shift and was preparing to start shoveling debris into the incinerator after taking a swig from a flask.

When he noticed Porter, he smiled. "Howdy, how’s it going?"

Porter returned the smile. He had come to like the drunk. He had felt bad for the janitor when he had heard that the ASRIO team had attacked him the day before. "I’m all right, yourself?"

"Little sore, nothing too bad." The janitor dropped his shovel. "Wait here, I found another Mako battery a few days ago."

Porter perked up to hear this. He had been looking for Mako batteries for a few weeks now to finish his latest project. As he waited, he heard a sound from the pile he had just dumped. Porter knelt down and started pushing through the tangle of wires and metal, curious to find what had made the sound.

Upon finding what had drawn his attention, his expression turned to absolute pity. "Oh no, what has he done?"

Laying before him was what at one time had been a dog. Hojo had removed its legs and most of its body, having replaced the missing parts with cybernetic amendments. The dog was now more robot than animal, only recognizable from its head. Its limbs flinched weakly as it tried to move, but Hojo had removed its bio-electrical converters before throwing it away, making the animal unable to power or move its body. All the animal could do was blink up at the Turk pleadingly as it lay helpless.

The janitor returned and knelt down beside Porter, surprised to see what was there. "What is that? A Doberman?"

Fighting back tears, Porter reached out and touched the dog’s head. "I think it was, at least before Hojo got to it."

The janitor stood and retrieved his shovel. He made his way back over to Porter and the dog. "Stand back, son. I’ll put it out of its misery."

"No!" Porter shielded the dog with his own body. As much as a dislike as Porter had for humans, he loved animals and couldn’t stand the thought of seeing the dog bludgeoned to death with a shovel. He felt sick inside, and knew that he had to help the animal. "I can fix it."

The janitor set his shovel back down. "Son, do you have any idea what to do for it?"

Porter nodded. "Yeah, it needs bio-electrical converters. I have a ton of them at home. He’ll be okay if I can get those working for him."

"You don’t know what that dog is for, Porter." The janitor looked disdainfully at his young friend. "How do you know that once that thing is put back together it won’t rip your throat out?"

"I don’t, but I have a pretty good feeling that it won’t." Porter scooped up the limp animal in his arms and started for the elevator.

The janitor slipped the battery he had found into Porter’s coat pocket before he got on the elevator. "Well, good luck. I hope you can fix it up."

Porter walked through the lobby with the cybernetic dog in his arms, getting odd looks from those around. When he finally got to his car, he kicked open the passenger side door then heaping the dog into the seat. His arms burned terribly from having carried the nearly one hundred pound creature all that way, and he shut the door with his hip.

He drove to his small house in the suburbs of Midgar, the dog staring at him with its dark brown eyes the entire time. Every once in a while, Porter would reach over and pat the dog on the head, hoping desperately that power converters would be all the animal needed.

He got the dog home and laid it on the kitchen floor. In the bright light, he could finally give the animal a thorough evaluation. It was in fact a Doberman as the janitor had speculated, and it was also a male. Stamped onto the dog’s rear flank was a serial number, and Porter swept away the grime that covered it. The number had been hastily scratched away before the dog had been discarded, and all Porter could make out was a ‘D’.

"D?" Porter said to the dog, seeing that the few inches of tail the dog had wagged at hearing this. "All right, then. D it is."

Porter spent the entire night working on the dog, installing new converters and some other components. Finally, at some point around three in the morning, Porter fell asleep on the kitchen floor next to the animal.

Porter was awakened the next morning by a blast of warm air in his face. He opened his eyes seeing the dog standing before him, staring into his face. He shrugged off the sluggishness of sleep and sat up. He smiled when he saw the dog was apparently able to move on its own. "D, you’re fixed!"

The dog again wagged the stump of its tail, whining slightly.

Porter was pleased with his success and happy to have saved the animal. He looked over at the clock that hung by his kitchen table. He shot to his feet. "Oh shit, six fifteen! I’m gonna be late!"

He looked down seeing that the clothes he had worn all night were terribly wrinkled and he flew to his room to get something else. He flung open his closet, finding himself faced with a dozen navy blue suits. He pulled one out and dressed hastily. His shoulder length brown hair was mussed, but he had no time to attend to it. He grabbed his keys and ran out the front door, followed closely by the dog. As he opened the car door, the dog jumped inside. Porter, in complete frustration decided that it would take too long to take the dog back into the house and lock him in. "Fine, looks like you’re going to work with me."