Hojo

Aerith was trapped in a large plastic tube, while the repulsive Dr. Hojo paced in front of her, free. She stared at him impassively.

"So. About this precious promised land of yours… Come now, Aerith. You misunderstand my intentions. I wish only to satisfy their material greed so I can be left to pursue my great work. Our great work, my dear."

Aerith stared him down. He was probing for a response. He smiled, cackling lightly to himself.

"You're the spitting image of her now. I regret it to this day. If she had only trusted me instead of trying to run, it could have played out quite differently. What a terrible tragedy, to lose the last of the pure blooded Ancients… though not completely. Would you like to see your mother? Albeit through the lens of one of my microscopes. Did you really think we'd leave such a precious specimen to rot in the gutter? We collected and catalogued every last bit of her. Hair, skin, organs, every fragment of every bone… As breathtaking in **** as in life! As you, my dear! Ifalna was elegance, right down to her cellular structure. And there it is. That same elegance."

She stayed silent, though the rims of her eyes brimmed with tears. Finally, a beeping noise mercifully interrupted them,

"Oh—yes. Time for yet another meeting. Sit tight. I won't be long." Hojo smiled maliciously, and departed.