“So... you’re sure that you didn’t kill him?” the question came filled with humor, but the obvious expectation
of an answer. From the other side of the bars Tyler rolled his eyes and took a half step in the opposite
direction, as if he could actually walk away from the accusation. When he turned back, however, the image-
striped with steel- still remained. Two figures wrapped in blue, staring at him impassively with unreadable
expressions.
“Well?” Rude punctuated Reno’s question, when Tyler still hadn’t answered. He tried to avoid feeling
offended, telling himself they were consumate professionals just doing their job, but there was something
about a line of interrogation related to you slaughtering your own father- it irritated one, is all.
“What I mean is,” Reno began, in case he needed further explanation, “you didn’t happen to kill him in a
dream, or in one of your video game fantasies, did you? We got the run down on your condition, and they
told us you were completely unable to discern the difference, so even if you believe-”
“I stopped having those over a year ago, Ok?” Tyler cut in impatiently. “Pills. Lots of them. Some yellow,
some blue, and once a month a red one that keeps me from developing glands that produce milk. They work
fine. I don’t even own a video game console, for the love of Christ.”
“You own two,” Rude corrected him, leafing through a tablet he held in his hand. Tyler blinked in surprise,
and wondered whether or not they’d managed to get past the police lines into his house to do a blue print of
it. He blinked again when he realized he’d been caught utterly in a lie, but the two catchers didn’t seem to
care in the least.
“Ok, so I own two,” he replied uncertainly, “but that still doesn’t mean the pills don’t work. Because they
do.”
“Just making sure.” Reno said, shrugging. “Too bad the authorities don’t believe you. They say there’s no
way to test whether or not you’re telling the truth besides hooking you up to some sort of mechanical joint,
and even that won’t work until an acceptable amount of time has passed with no unusual mental activity.”
“An acceptable amount of time? And how the hell long is that?” Tyler felt almost every thing in his body
tense up at the proespect of being strapped in- he’d spent the majority of his life like that, and had still never
gotten used to it. After a fourteen or so months of freedom he wondered if something would literally pop
inside him if he tried to go back. He felt nervous enough in this jail cell, and it was one of those cushy kinds
reserved for the sons of government workers.
Or late government workers, as the case would be.
“A week.” Rude said simply, snapping the tablet shut and putting it into his pocket.
“Well fuck that!” Tyler cried, throwing up his hands in frustration. “I don’t even like wearing the same shoes
for more than a week, let alone some metal piece of-”
“-they can’t force you.” Reno cut him off impatiently, less than comfortable in their current settings. “But
until you agree to it- and pass it- they won’t even let you out of here on bail. Apparently a sixteen year old
kid poses more danger to society than an as yet unproven serial rapist.”
“Well I’m not doing it.” Tyler insisted.
“Then you aren’t leaving.” Reno countered.
“That’s fine! That’s why I called you down here! Even if I do get out of here on bail, somehow I think a
decade in a mental instituion will put me at a bit of a disadvantage in a trial setting. That’s why I need you
guys...” he made a wide, sweeping gesture, encompassing the four other members of the Turks and an
untold number of allies and connections they held, “to find out who really killed my father!”
Reno’s eyebrows suddenly appeared over his sunglasses, arched up so they almost met his hairline. “You
want to hire us?” He asked, though the answer was obvious.
“I don’t want to hire you, I want to buy you. I don’t want to become another job, I want to become your
only job. I don’t care what the rates are, I want to be your only focal point until you find out what happened.
I don’t care if you get a call from three dozen models who want you to find out where their bras went, you
ignore it.” Tyler said it all quickly, the speech obviously pre-planned. Not that they could blame him, there
wasn’t much else you could do to occupy your time in a prison cell.
“I don’t think you can afford that, kid.” Reno tried to sound as professional as he could while inwardly
wondering where the little guy in white robes with wings was, who was supposed to appear on his shoulder
and kick the shit out of his ear lobe for bartering prices with an adolescent who was probably more in
trouble than he’d ever been in his life. Maybe he was busy trying to steal the gun Reno had snuck past the
guards away.
“You knew my dad, right?” Tyler asked, changing subjects in a way that was almost, but not completely,
absolute.
“Well enough.” Reno said with a shrug. “The Turks never really interacted with Public Relations except to
tell them which assasination they needed to try to dip in honey, but I’ve fought by his side a time or two, and
thats all you really need to get the scope on someone.”
“Well, did you get the scope that he was careful?” Tyler prompted.
“More or less,” Reno alotted, “I would probably use the words anal retentive, but I’ll refrain due to the fact
he’s in a place now that he can probably fuck with the temperature in my morning showers.”
Tyler paused, swallowing his indignation over the mild slam on his father. Leave it to Reno to think that a
recent death and imprisonment still didn’t call for sensitivity. “Then you should know that he had a little
under a half million gil put away in a retirement fund, and about half that in a life insurance policy. As grim
as it sounds, whoever took my dad out made me fundamentally rich.”
“Ok, so you can afford it.” Reno relented. “But we don’t have a lot to go on. We know that you didn’t do it,
and we know that we didn’t do it. Other than that, we have no idea where to start. Did your dad have any
enemies that you know of, business competitors or whatever?”
“A high stress job with an average income? Oh, they were lining up out the door, let me tell you.” Tyler
shrugged.
“Cute.” Reno said, “but I’m being serious.”
“Well I wasn’t, because I have no idea. It’s not like he did anything besides work though, so it’s got to be
someone from there. Unless he pissed someone off on the drive home.”
“Right,” Reno said, nodding slowly. “We’ll find the guy who did it. Or girl. Or random creature who
happened to be armed. Whatever. You... hang tough.”
“That I can do.” Tyler said. “Just find that prick. But don’t kill them.”
The two Turks, who had been turning to leave, suddenly stopped in surprise. Rude answered first.
“Really?” he said with genuine surprise.
“Really.” Tyler said. “It would really help me out if we’d be able to put this guy on the stand and, you know,
get me out of prison. I’m serious. No killing.”
“Agreed,” Reno said, but his tone was that of a teenager insisting the cigarettes and porno were something
he was just holding for a friend. “Good luck.”
And with that, they were gone, and Tyler was alone again, left to glare angrily at nothing and pace his cell.
***
For the briefest of moments, Vincent wondered what sort of damage the dust of the ground would cause if it
made its way into his insides- and then he collapsed into it, feeling the searing kiss of a dozen wounds in his
stomach come to life. He remembered having a book read to him, back in what seemed like an eternity ago,
when he was a normal but quiet child in a private school. There had been a boy, and his dog, and the dog
had been wounded... the boy had made a sort of clay out of the blood and the mud and used it to seal the
wound up. Whether or not the dog turned out all right, Vincent was in far too much pain to remember.
He’d managed to stay vertical for a lot longer than he’d thought, the alien cells that Hojo had put into his
body lending one of the few benefits they offered in resisting the exhaustion and the pain. It suddenly
occured to Vincent that he had never even tried to find out what sort of alien, mako creation, or synthetic
mix the cells had come from, and it probably would have been a good idea. After all, knowing they had
come from something that could survive being gutted would be nice right now.
Unable to walk any longer, he began to crawl, his wounds causing him to de-evolve in modes of
transportation. The humble buildings up ahead had been evident in the distance for some time, and had just
gotten larger as he walked on. What had started as unassuming black specks in the distance now had a blood
trail leading right towards them, and in the process of that trail being laid had grown into inviting shapes,
and held the over whelming look of salvation.
Teeth gritted tightly in an effort to stem the blood that wouldn’t stop bubbling up from inside him, the pale
man crawled onward, beginning to doubt what he was crawling towards. Even if the people he was looking
for were here, there was very little chance they would be able to help him, and all his prescense would lend
was probably worries and stains.
They had to know, however, about the danger. The people that had come from him would come for others,
this was no accident or random choice. He had no home, and no real possessions, so a robbery attempt was
out of the question. Robbers don’t usually wear military uniforms, to boot, or carry weapons capable of
stopping a charging Chaos beast in its tracks.
No, this was no accident, and this was no small chance. The odds of someone going after the surviving
members of Avalanche were slim, but the odds that they would happen twice if they happened once were
almost a certainty. Fears of reprecussion and revenge aside, the simple fact was that anything the group
could do with Vincent at their side they could do without him. Just taking him out in the middle of one of his
hunts wouldn’t accomplish anything.
The sun was beginning to dip down in the sky, simply adding to his already existent plight. Up here in the
mountain areas the weather could be described as perfect during the day, but when it became night time the
temperature would drop to levels that even the animals fled from. Usually he would embrace the cold, but he
doubted his exposed innards would appreciate it.
There were screams in the distance, but not the ones he was used to, the ones that refused to leave his
dreams. People had seen him, and had apparently managed to get rid of their initial impression that he was
an animal, or a mako mutation. Foot steps reverbrated as men rushed up to him, concerned but wary- human
kindess but one thing, but rushing heedlessly towards a dark stranger who had appeared out of no where
was stupidity.
He fancied for a moment that he should probably stop crawling now that he had been discovered, only to
realize that he already had- if he’d even begun to in the first place. Everything was swimming now, and he
ddin’t doubt that more than half of the things he was experiencing weren’t real. One of the few things he was
fairly sure about was the circle of concerned faces around him, and the matching questions that he couldn’t
even begin to make out.
They were going to move him, he thought, take him somewhere where they could help the best they could.
With his luck, it would be a labratory, where it would take even a poor doctor less than a few seconds to
realize his newest patient was anything but routine, and it might be a brilliant oppurtunity for a scientific
award if he could get some experiments going quick before the chap woke up.
But no... there was nothing like that in this town, Vincent knew. It was one of the main reasons he liked this
town... every inhabitant could tell you to incredible lengths about science, physics, and the stars, but if you
tried to ask any of them how a mako reactor worked they would shrug and continue on their way,
uninterested. People completely dedicated to advancement in only one area of their lives fascinated him- and
were also a very prime canditate for the type of people who would suceed in their pursuits.
He felt himself being lifted up, onto some sort of cart, and despite the attempted gentleness of his
transporters it was obvious they valued speed over care- he didn’t have much time left. The cart slowly
began to roll, each jolt and twist hitting him like a bullet hole to the gut, but he didn’t care. If nothing else,
he had made it to the town. Word of the danger would spread.
“Look at you, Vincent,” a voice came from above him, and inside his head, Vincent groaned, so as not to
interrupt the groaning he was already doing on the outside. Not now, he pleaded, I can’t deal with you
now...
“Oh shut up.” It interrupted, as cocky and focussed as ever. “You got youself into this situation, and don’t
try to blame anyone but yourself for it. You came out of your coffin. You exposed yourself to the world... or
should I say, you exposed the world to you. And exactly what I told you would happen happened, the world
took one look, and was disgusted. Revolted.”
Shallow breaths grew more fitful as they wheeled Vincent along, and the townspeople who had rushed to his
aid shared worried looks as they escorted him towards the towns hospital. They didn’t know much about
medicine, or at least they didn’t know any more than any normal person, but it wasn’t hard to tell when
someone was going into shock.
“So a very few members of the whole go together, and expended effort to make the rest of the whole very,
very happy. You weren’t attacked, Vincent, you were cauterized. A draining wound thats simply been
destroyed so it stops injuring the body. This is a grand day for that body.”
Ignoring the iron sting of his own blood, Vincent forced his eyes open, so he could glare at the visage he
knew would be hanging over him. A pale smirk under dark, speculating eyes, and a mess of dark hair. Hojo.
“Cid.” He said faintly, and then spoke again, his lungs screaming with the effort. “Shera.”
And without even knowing if the people had heard him, he closed his eyes and accepted the darkness.