Turning
Tifa was beginning to get anxious when Vincent walked in.
"Oh!" she cried happily. "You're finally home. I was getting worried!" She rushed over to the taller man to give him a friendly hug. Vincent, obviously unused to and slightly embarrassed by such affections, returned the embrace awkwardly.
She pulled back, then looked at her hand. "You're bleeding!" she said, a concerned frown wrinkling her brow. "What happened to your head?"
"Nothing," Vincent said evasively, blushing slightly. "I was just a bit careless on my walk, that's all."
She led him into the bathroom to assist him with tending to his wound. Vincent took off his crimson bandanna, and Tifa giggled a bit as he ineffectually tried to push his hair out of his eyes. She helped him clean it, then wound a bandage around his head.
"Now to bed with you!" she cried.
"But-"
"No buts! It's only for the night. You need to rest!"
He held up his good hand in submission. "Fine." He walked off to his bedroom.
Tifa looked around her house with a sense of pride. They had moved into it a week after Meteor had been stopped, and it couldn't be more perfect for Avalanche's members' comings and goings. It had enough room for fifteen people - which was good, considering when they had company over and everyone was there, that was about how many people were there - and had a lovely kitchen, plenty of space, and beautiful architecture. Reeve, who had originally been the head of Urban Development, had made it for himself to retire in. He couldn't think of a better use for it, though, since he probably would be retiring in it, even with nine other people.
She walked to the kitchen, where dinner was simmering over low heat. She jumped a bit when she noticed Cloud, nibbling on a sweet filched from the top of the refrigerator.
She scowled at him. "Don't eat that! Dinner's almost ready. Besides, they're for Marlene. Have you forgotten today's her first day of school?"
The former mercenary chuckled. "How can I forget? Barret's been beaming about it like she's winning an award straight from the hand of President Shinra himself."
"Except that President Shinra is Reeve, one of our best friends. And knowing him with his generosity, he's likely to give her the highest medal possible for making Barret smile."
Cloud shrugged. "Sorry. It's a term left over from a while ago. And that does sound like something Reeve would do. Oh! Speaking of which, when you were tending to Vincent, a couple of letters came. One was from Reeve."
"Though I can't see why he can't take a twenty-minute hike to see us himself," Tifa said, smiling.
Cloud shrugged again. "I've never seen anyone as busy as he is. He wrote the letter just before he fell asleep at his desk, according to Yuffie, who also wrote."
"Yuffie? Isn't she in Wutai?"
"Nope. Reeve gave her an executive position."
"No way! He's gone nuts."
"Well, hopefully the new 'Executive of Inter-Continental Affairs' will be more responsible than Yuffie was. But it really was a brilliant stroke. Yuffie is nobility in Wutai, so if any crises erupt, Reeve can count on the city's support."
"That's true. What else?"
"Uhm, Red- Er, Nanaki's been given an internship. He'll be a full elder in two years."
Tifa's eyebrows rose. "Wow. Only two years? They must have been quite impressed by what he did in assisting us."
"Yep. Oh, and Cid's been made the head of the space program. They're building a new rocket: The Shera."
"No way!"
"Yep."
They heard the sound of a door opening, and from Tifa's vantage point she could see a burly man with a small girl on his shoulders walk in.
"Oh! Barret, hi!" she called. "How was Marlene's first day of school?"
Barret positively glowed. "It was wonderful! Marlene's teacher told me about how well she did, and said that she really looked forward to being around her."
Cloud covered up a smile at the often sulky-looking man's proud face. Tifa smiled back at them and said, "That's wonderful, Marlene!"
"You enjoyed school, Marlene?" an aged woman coming through the doors asked. She seemed older than her mere forty years, but she was a truly kind and energetic person. Marlene shot Elmyra Gainsborough a gap-toothed grin.
"Yup!" she sang. "It was great. Everyone was really nice! And I know how to write the first three letters of the alphabet now."
The older woman's smile was bright and happy. "I'm glad to hear it! Why don't you tell me all about it?"
The scene was one of peaceful happiness, a startling contrast to the frantic despair of only just over a month ago. Cloud, who had been tormented by a silver-haired demon only a month before, laughed loudly and joyously at a joke made by Tifa, or made one of his own. Tifa, who had been wracked with guilt and loneliness, happily stirred the soup. Elmyra and Marlene, who had been hostages of Shinra, used to blackmail Avalanche, were energetically speaking of the day. And Barret, formerly gull of doubt and fear, was beaming in pride at his daughter.
At Tifa's call of "Dinner!" Vincent, as inscrutable as always, stalked through the door. He seemed lost in thoughts, as usual. He didn't seem very open to conversation, and, indeed, changed the subject when Cloud tried to broach the matter of his injury. The subborn mercenary eventually left the man at peace.
As silently as he came, Vincent left. His thoughts were tangled, and, as he lay down for sleep he wondered if the dreams would come.
President Shinra had, at one point, been a handsome man. He was slim and elegant, with a fine-boned face, and a gracefulness unequaled by any other man. However, that was before he became grossly rich. He was a true metaphor for his company; as Shinra, Inc. sucked up everything in sight and expanded, became huge, so did he.
Vincent couldn't help pondering the man just before he met him. He had, of course, seen telecasts of the man, telling of his greatness, just after he moved to Midgar. But those were always polished bendings of the truth. He would be the only person he knew to see the man.
"You may see him now," said a polite man, a secretary, he supposed. It was rumored that Shinra had over twenty secretaries, and it was established fact that at least twelve of those were lovely young women. Vincent, who was very liberal-minded, had to remind himself that he was coming to Shinra, not the other way around, to keep himself from thinking of Shinra with disgust.
As Vincent walked in, the president was ranting into a phone. In hindsight, he realized this was to throw him off-guard, but when he first stepped into the office, he was suitably impressed. Without a parting word, the older man, a good decade older than Vincent's eighteen, slammed the phone down in its cradle. He turned his attention to Vincent with a carefully constructed smile, a smile hiding the arrogance Vincent would see over the next nine years.
"Now then, young man," he said like a jovial old grandfather, "what can I do for you?"
"Sir," Vincent said emotionlessly, "I come on the behalf of the Turks. We are a freelance group of orphans, unwanted sisters, second sons."
"In short," interrupted Shinra, "criminals."
Vincent realized with a start that one of the most powerful men on the Planet lacked even an ounce of tact. "Not all of us commit crimes, but a goodly portion of us have turned to illegal activities to support those of us who cannot fend for ourselves."
The president snorted, but motioned for him to go on.
"Lately, we have become less and less able to find work. We were hoping to work for the most powerful businessman in the world."
"Flattery gets you everywhere," the man chuckled. "Now, how many of you are there?"
"About thirty, sir."
"Thirty, hm? Well, I want no less than three and no more than seven Turks in action at a time."
Vincent felt despair settle upon him. "I'm sorry, sir, but we look out for our brethren. If some of us starve, then all of us do."
The president chortled again. "Don't worry, young man, I'll give the rest of your Turks positions in the company. I don't trust you any further than I can see you. If you decide to turn against me, be assured that your friends won't live much longer than you do. Now, there is one condition."
Vincent nodded, a bit shocked by the man's blatant threat.
"You will give me absolute obedience. If I tell you to blow your brains out, you do so without asking and questions. Of course, I'll probably ask you to do that to people other than yourselves, but you get the point."
Vincent nodded again, disgusted by Shinra's crude terminology. "I'll talk it over with my friends."
"Good, good. I needed a team of criminals. After all, I need someone to kill the people I don't like..."
A scream roused Vincent from his slumber. He felt dizzy, and had to put out a hand to steady himself before he could climb painstakingly out of bed. His head throbbed with every heartbeat, and he realized the concussion he had feared had happened. He stumbled into the living room.
The yell dissolved into pitiful sobbing cries for help, and Vincent ran even more quickly to the foyer, where he saw an open door. He sprinted outside, and had to squint to see the retreating back, the cries fading along with it. He gave chase, but to no avail.
He was thoroughly winded by the time he stepped back inside. Elmyra stood there, clutching a strip of paper and staring at it hard enough to burn a hole through it. She slowly raised her eyes to Vincent's.
"Vincent...She's gone..." she whispered, then collapsed. Vincent rushed over to her, and cursed blasphemously when he found no pulse. He pounded on her chest, and yelled at Tifa, who had stumbled into the room, to call the hospital. Cloud and Barret, rushed in, the former pale and shaking, the latter with tears rolling down his cheeks.
As if oblivious to this chaos, the pale sheet of paper shone luminously in the moonlight, stirring slightly in a stray breeze that blew through.
You bastards, it read. Sephiroth was the hope for the future, and you killed him. Bastards. You will pay dearly, with the blood of your own. You will pay...
Next chapter
Back to Turning