_Playing for Favors_

*zack ficbit*

Sometimes the cravings for something normal got so bad Zack wondered if he’d just start screaming if he couldn’t act upon them. After three years in hell he’d even barter his soul for an hour, an afternoon, a day, if it only meant he could pretend to be a human being a little while. He should have been disgusted with himself, for showing such a weakness to his guards, the random bloodsucking scientists. But mostly, it felt so damn good to get out of his bell jar that sellout or not, he would enjoy every precious second of the lie.

At least he tried to bargain his soul for _both_ of them, most days. Glancing over at Cloud’s cage, he noted the boy was down and out, his back a nasty mapping of stitches as he slept off whatever it was they had done to him this time.

He was sporting his own stitches, seven inches of black thread down his left arm. It still ached where they had cut him. No telling what they had been sticking in, or taking out. For his guess, Zack was betting bone marrow. One of his friends had donated marrow once, a non-SOLDIER. His sister had needed some to recover from an illness. Sitting with the guy in the hospital a week later, the man had confessed that it hurt like nothing else, bone deep. That’s what his arm felt like now.

The mystery was what the hell Hojo’s little flunkies thought that they could do with some Mako riddled, cancerous cellular material from this particular failing soldier. Maybe they were just curious. Maybe they wanted to study how his body was tearing itself apart. He didn’t have the heart to tell them they were looking in the wrong place. His disease was lymphatic, not bone-based. He had kept his mouth shut about it. It was all in his old personnel files anyway, and lab rats had no business telling the PhD’s how to run their experiments. Part drug tester, part training cadaver, part control subject; Ex-SOLDIERSs were a great asset around the lab. Ex-SOLDIERs might even come with the perk of having a punk-kid trooper along for the ride too. It was like an experiment that came with its own built in test set. Zack shook his head. He should have never brought the boy back to Nibelheim. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order in Midgar was better than _this_. Just went to show, even murders could start out with the best intentions.

If they didn’t get out of this basement sooner than later, a murder would be exactly what he was. Zack watched the slim blond’s body breathe for a long moment. Pale and limp, the kid lay like one dead, and probably would for days. He had a hunch Cloud wouldn’t be able to appreciate a little R&R this time; maybe next week.

Glancing back across the room, he sighed wistfully. The scientists were all gone, leaving he and the kid alone except for a handful of guards and orderlies. Even those were feeling pretty relaxed now that their bosses were away, the majority of them gathered around a rickety table by the door, playing poker. Normally, Zack would be trying to exploit this laxity. He had begun plotting in earnest, but the clatter of chips had caught his attention. There’d been a time once where he wouldn’t have let a week go by without anteing in on a game. Playing for chocolate with his friends, playing high-stakes with the Turks, strip poker with Scarlet, it had been his _game_. He’d even taught S-ThatBastard- to play the damn game, just because he had thought it would appeal to the fucker’s naturally competitive nature. It had. The general had been a natural at it. He shook the memory off and watched the game, mesmerized. Two hands worth of sitting-out was really all any self respecting gambler could take.

Zack tapped on the glass of his penthouse-cell to get the guards’ attention. “Will! Hey Will! Deal me in? Please? I haven’t played in three frickin’ years.”

The guard looked appropriately dubious at his request, turning in his folding-chair to stare at him. “Do you think I’m stupid, man?”

“Don’t talk to the specimens, you know what the ‘coats say about that.” One of the more simian orderlies complained at him. “Just ignore the chimp and don’t encourage it. You know what happened last time it got out.”

“Yeah. I remember.” Turning back to his coworkers, Will hunched over, shutting him out.

Zack wasn’t about to give up. “Come on guys, fresh blood? How can you resist. I promise I’ll behave. Quiet an’ meek as a kitten, that’s me!” Seeing that he wasn’t getting any takers, he slouched against the glass wall. “Alright alright, look. Carter I’m sorry I broke your pelvis this spring. There, happy?”

He smiled ingratiatingly at the ugliest of the orderlies hired by Hojo to torment him. For a non-SOLDIER, the guy’s strength was positively freakish. That didn’t stop Zack from laying it on thick and smooth. He hadn’t been a general’s attaché for six-plus years for nothing.

“I mean really, if you hadn’t been so unfortunates as to land wrong on the gurney when I kicked you through that wall, it wouldn’t have happened like that. Or if you’d just have the common courtesy to warm up your fucking hands every once in a while _before_ reaching where the sun don’t shine. That would have helped too. Not that I’m complaining. Never complaining. Just offering a little suggestion.”

“Shut UP you fucking chimp!” The bald man stood up so fast he knocked his chair backwards. The rest of his companions reached out to steady the card table from his abrupt outburst. “If you know what’s good for ya you’ll close your yap and pretend you’re dead, like you’re little golden boy there.”

Zack simply planted both hands against the glass and met the animal’s stare, more than a match for the piggish anger. Sure enough the orderly could only match his ferocious look for a moment or two before flinching and turning back to his game. Carter covered his cowardice with a grumbled, “Fucking psycho,” as he settled back in his abused chair. Zack ‘ookook’ed at him in reply, grinning wolfishly.

The brute was a fine connoisseur of pain. They’d tangled on enough occasions for Zack to know what made the creature tick. Sub-human was only the beginning of Mr. Carter’s personality profile. The only thing that kept him from ripping the orderly’s head off and cramming it in the air vent was the fact that the bastard _knew_ Zack had his number, and also knew that Zack wouldn’t do anything to encourage the orderlies to pick on Cloud. It was a crippling weakness, but a very fair one. Even now he shivered as the man glanced towards the kid’s cage, knowing _exactly_ what was going through the sludge that passed for the man’s brain. Antagonize Carter too much and he’d torture Cloud just for the fun of it. God have mercy on any small animals the guy came across in his free time, they probably never got any from _him_. Zack slammed his hands against the glass in frustration.

“Besides man,” Will had watched their exchange with a worried frown. “You don’t have any money, and can’t bloody-well use the money we’ve got. Not while you’re stuck in there. What would you wager?”

Now Will, on the other hand, was a real straight-up kind of guy. Zack had been watching him for six months now, ever since he’d first come downstairs. The guardsman was a merc of some flavor or another, all of the security was either a merc, or somehow affiliated with the Turks in this place. Will was a replacement for a far _far_ less decent sort of guy named Tray. On his very first day, Carter had marched Will right up to Zack’s cage, and explained to him in gory detail, exactly _what_ had happened to Tray, and how easily it could happen to _him_ if he relaxed for even a second around ‘specimen z.’ Zack had waved cheerfully and said hello. And Will, despite looking a little green around the edges, had the decency to wonder that Hojo was doing human experimentation. They might have had an impromptu discussion on relative morality and the collapse of social norms under extreme situations, but sadly Carter had dragged him off just as it started to get interesting.

Never-the-less, a first impression had been made. Zack thought Will was somewhat sentient, compared to the others, and Will, while suspecting Zack was a criminal under a life-sentence, treated him like a human being by-in-large. He even resisted the general inclination to call Zack ‘specimen.’ Not quite brave enough to buck the curve and call him by name, Will usually settled for ‘man’ or ‘hey you’ when trying to get his attention. For that alone he proved a better class of person than the rest of the lab staff.

If not for the laboratory, the scientists, and Zack’s secret hope to slaughter every last one of the people responsible for keeping him here, they might have been friends.

Appealing to the most reasonable man in the room, he offered a hang-dog look. “But I _do_ have something you want, Will. The best thing you could ask for even.”

“What’s that?” The guard gave him another suspicious look. Will was probably still sore over the fight from last week. Zack hadn’t meant to punch him _quite_ so hard, but he had just be so fucking fed up with getting jerked around by the orderlies that he had snapped and chucked Carter into a door, and belted the two guards down when they moved to interfere. Still, compared to Mr. I-Like-Touching-Inappropriately-Nells, the rest of them had gotten off easy. Now _there_ was one orderly who would never be coming back to abuse Cloud again. The feel of the slimy man’s neck snapping beneath his fingers still gave Zack a warm tingle.

While threatening to hurt Cloud was a good way to get Zack’s attention. Most orderlies still working in Nibelheim had learned that acting upon the impulse usually had violent repercussions. Nells had figured it out in the end, just as several before him. It was only a matter of time before Carter got the message too. Now that he thought about it, the two bruisers had been friends, hadn’t they. He almost felt bad for Carter. Almost.

“Hey, You. What do you think you have to offer that we’d want to risk our jobs, and our _necks_ for?”

“Good behavior.” Zack offered cheerfully. “For every white chip you win off me, I’ll give you an hour of obedience. Red chips get you a half day. Blues get you a whole day. But I have to say that the obedience can only be extended to the winner. And all bets are off when Hojo starts getting catty.” He smirked at the orderlies. “Come on guys, the offer has to be irresistible! Imagine what it would be like, able to do your jobs for a whole day, without me making your lives a miserable living hell! It’s a supreme sacrifice on my part, but I’ll do it. I just want to get out of this jar for an hour or two and play some Midgar Hold’em. How about it?”

Will simply stared at him slack jawed, but the rest fell into an immediate and raucous debate. Relative merits of truthfulness and desirability were raised, and Zack watched it all in amusement, vastly entertained when two of the bigger brutes almost came to blows over the idea. Still, twenty minutes, a pair of professional handcuffs, and a drink of water later, he was sitting pretty on his very own chair, with his very own hand of cards, and feeling a hundred percent better about his life as he contemplated his discards. Three wins later, and a loss later, he was king of the world, having fleeced Carter for close to fifty dollars. Sure he owed Jenson two hours of good behavior but he could probably win those back later.

“You know, man.” Will watched the next hand being dealt. “We never agreed upon exactly what you’re going to do with your winnings. What good is cash to a guy down here?”

“I dunno. I might be able to bribe a grad student or two.” Zack playfully replied. “Get some ribs delivered from Rocket Town, real food.”

“We’ll just take it back from the chimps when we clean their cells later anyway.” Carter had to be a bitch and spoil the tenuous camaraderie at the table. Some people were just sore losers. The others shot the dickhead a warning looks. Zack smiled blandly, not all that riled by the deliberately rude remark; at least, not riled enough to attempt a repeat of the Nells incident. He was still recovering from the T-21 overdose they had subdued him with a week ago, not that it showed on the outside. Mentally he added another few seconds of agony to Carter’s current total.

Zack would have to draw-and-quarter him in order to really satisfy the debt, but sadly resources like that just weren’t available in a laboratory setting. He speculated on the possibilities of having the orderly stuck with the needle instead of him, the next time the T-21 was broken out. Without the mako enhanced blood cells to bond to, the drug was supposedly capable of causing bleeding ulcers inside of a person’s arteries, not to mention some nasty nerve damage, before it eventually KO’ed its victim. No antidote either. What a pity. Zack figured it’d be divine justice really, if the orderly got a taste of it for a change. God knew he liked shooting Zack up on the stuff. The SOLDIER didn’t mind the hallucinations and partial paralysis it induced, as far as sedatives went, it did the job fast enough. But the crap was hell on his stomach for days afterwards, and then there were the reoccurring bouts of disorientation. Those got old after the first time or two.

To give the drug fair-shakes, he wasn’t entirely sure the disorientation was its fault. He had been having dizzy spells for a few days before setting out for this god-forsaken bit of country. They’d just been getting worse as the years in hell went by, the drugs were just helping it along, was all.

He blinked, getting back onboard the conversation as everyone picked up their cards. Making a show of studying his, he sighed. “I figure, I’ll have Will here hold my winnings. That way I can use some of them next time we play, and save up my Good Behavior IOUs for when I _really_ need them.”

“I’ll happily hold your money for you, monkey-boy.” Jenson offered pompously. “No need to bother the new guy.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Zack shook his head. “This guy may be new at his post, but he’s vaguely honest. Or at the very least, isn’t a raving heroin addict.”

“Why you little shit!” The older mercenary stood up abruptly, knocking his chips around and inadvertently flashing his cards to the table. Zack almost laughed to note that he wasn’t the only one who had taken the opportunity to glance at the man’s hand. He saw two queens before he went about soothing the man back into his chair. “I’m not an addict.” The man continued to grumble as he threw away a card and was dealt a new one. “I can quit any time I want.”

He and Will shared a disbelieving look at the pronouncement. It didn’t take an advanced medical degree to know that there was nothing easy about quitting a 200gil a week drug addiction. Zack kept quiet however and took two cards. Three tens beat two queens, but he wasn’t feeling particularly hopeful that someone else didn’t have a better hand. He really didn’t want to give any more of his precious IOUs to a dickwad like Jenson. They all fed the pot, and then Will had the audacity to raise. They were up to five dollars each for the guardsmen, and a half-day of grin-and-bear-it for Zack. Given his options, he cavalierly raised again, throwing another 1-hour IOU into the center of the table.

“Alright, show time.” The orderly by the door sighed, and they all flipped up their cards. Zack glanced and was cheered that he had beaten both Jenson and Carter, but nobody could top Will’s three aces. The others swore as the youngest raked in his winnings. Chuckling as he counted his chips and IOUs. Zack didn’t mind. The guy had lost pretty badly the first round, and now was just about even. If only he could get a beer, and loose the handcuffs, he might have called the day a resounding success. The little annoyances didn’t stop him from playing four more hands however. In the end, Jenson did manage to hang on to hour’s worth of IOUs, as did two of the others. Will, thanks to another outrageous bidding war, scored a whopping day and a half. Walking away from the table with a cool seventy-three dollars, in the guard’s safe keeping, Zack felt that it was a small price to pay for a bit of fun. He was bound to behave once in a while anyway.

“Okay. Back in my jar. I know.” He sighed as the others stood to go to dinner. Too pleased to even pretend to wrestle with them, he clambered up onto his platform and watched as the glass was lowered into place. The handcuffs snapped off and were sucked into their hiding place beneath the floor per usual, leaving him with his customary room-with-a-view-and-little-else. “Don’t forget to feed me too!” He joked plaintively at their retreating backs. “…Man’s got to eat.”

Sliding down the back wall of his cage, he listened to the echo of his voice in the empty cavern of a laboratory. Someone would be down with his bowl of mushy crap eventually, but for now he was entirely alone except for the half-dead kid. The thought of the crew upstairs, digging into their food while talking, arguing, even just being petty and ignoring each other, was suddenly and painfully hard to bear. He missed _people_ missed the chat, the smell, even the feel of being part of a group. Cloud was decent company when he was awake, when he was sane, but one stressed, drug addled kid wasn’t enough. Playing poker and harassing the guards, he had almost felt normal for the first time in months. But such a tiny infusion could barely make a dent in his general depression. Already he could feel the energy, the warmth leaching out of him into the dank basement atmosphere, until he was as cold and empty as could be.

Tilting his head, he studied Cloud from where he slouched. “Hey kid. You awake?” The blond twitched a little, probably more from the pain than any degree of awareness. “Doesn’t matter,” Zack sighed. “You missed it, Spike. I got the deck in my hands twice just now. Did two trick shuffles and even lifted an ace from the middle, right in front of their stupid mugs, not one of them noticed! Just goes to show these jokers aren’t from Midgar. If I had pulled a stunt like that in Sector2, I’d have had half the table pulling knives on me. These mooks wouldn’t recognize a hustler if they lost fifty games straight. And I only cheated on three out of ten.”

He sighed and morbidly studied the hoses and shunts at the top of his cage. “I know. I was being too nice. I’ll get them next time. Hell, maybe next time I should demand Good Behavior IOU’s from _them_! Wouldn’t that be a hoot. It’d never work, mind you, but a man can dream, yeah?”

Inhaling sharply against his misery, he ground his knuckles into his eye sockets, trying to alleviate an excruciating pain that was as spiritual as it was physical. It was just what he needed, a migraine on top of everything else. At least it gave him an excuse for tears, hidden behind his hands his eyes felt wet. “God, just get me out of here. I swear I’ll be a good boy from now on. Help old ladies, pay my bills on time, never curse again.”

“Just… get me out. Please God, get me out.”