The Professor had been angry today. Project Sephiroth had been timed and measured on the machines and the weights and the treadmills for hours, far longer than he ever had been before, and the Professor had snapped at him every time his muscles trembled more than was acceptable. Project Sephiroth had kept his head down and done the exercises again, and again, and again, as commanded.

Held close and tight in his heart where he kept all of his secrets was the tiny click of a bolt being pushed back, of a gasp and the patter of running feet, of two pairs of luminous green eyes meeting his at a distance and a little girl mouthing, thank you.

Professor Hojo could keep being angry. Project Sephiroth wasn't the one who left the specimens' door unlocked, held closed only by a single bolt.