These awful, disgusting things explode into viscous gray matter and goop when slain. Wonderful. As if that wasn't bad enough, as Genesis is sneering in revolted ire, a sudden shockwave feels like it rattles through his skull. He growls, fighting the psionic backlash that has a familiar, lashing feel to the influence of Jenova's degrading cells. But another memory projects over that unpleasant one.

Shinra Manor, before it was abandoned. Genesis recognizes the wallpaper, vivid as if new, and the climbing staircase that makes up the impressive entrance. He turns, hearing a voice, and it's almost as if he's a ghost, watching the past play out. Because he knows this cannot be anything but. Vincent's face is eerily familiar, and his attire gives him away as a Turk even without Genesis' prior knowledge. It's the woman he's speaking to that his heart in his throat.

She's familiar too. But he's only known her from faded photos and classified documents. Lucrecia Crescent.

It's not a happy recognition, either. He's never felt anything but contempt for Shinra's white coats. No matter their connection to his mates. But there's something in Vincent's quiet, agonized disbelief that brings a pang to his heart. He's no love for Turks, no love for much of anything of Shinra, but he can recognize dawning horror all the same, and almost pities the man. He's shocked the Science Department would stoop to this? Naive, really. Or just willfully ignorant. Who can say?

Genesis squeezes his eyes shut against the memory, and shakes his head. The budding migraine blooming behind his eye sockets doesn't abate at all.

"So you knew? And still it surprised you?"