Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The group were so numbed by Aerith’s murder that they barely reacted when Vincent elected to come with them instead of waiting by the plane like usual as soon as they touched down in the Northern Continent. The only person to question it was Barret, who hated Shinra the most outside of the young ninja.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, turning to stare down at Vincent. “What’s changed?”

Vincent glanced shortly at Cloud before admitting, “My other proficiency besides firearms is using materia. I wouldn’t pretend to be a suitable replacement, but you’ve - you have a gap to fill.”

The look on Tifa’s face made him regret putting it that bluntly, but there was no dancing around it: their most proficient magic user and support was gone and with part of the team struggling to function at all in their grief, Vincent knew the danger signs well enough to know they were in dire need of extra hands before someone got reckless and there was no flower girl there to heal them.

Barret immediately clocked Tifa’s reaction and softened up, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Guess you did clear us path out of the temple…” he said. “Long as you keep your claws to yourself, I don’t got a problem with it. Right, Cloud?”

But Cloud looked over with a completely neutral expression, as though the whole conversation had barely even reigstered with him. “Hm? Sure, fine.”

Then he turned and walked off into the snow, barely appearing to even register Tifa standing trembling and pushing down tears right next to them. Barret’s jaw dropped while everyone else watched on in disbelief.

Cid quickly secured the plane and took out a spear, jogging after them. “You know what? I’ll come along too. No point waiting alone in the snow, right?”

Yuffie huffed, rubbing her arms in the chill. “So much for a balanced ratio around here,” she said, wiping a runny nose on the back of her hand. “We’re getting way too many old men around here.”

“Old?” Cid cried, his voice full of forced bluster. “I’m in my thirties, you know! And Vincent here’s younger’n me, right?”

Vincent didn’t respond. More reminders of Aerith’s missing presence were not helping Tifa, Barret or Red at all - and his age was a can of worms he had no intention of opening anytime soon.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Yuffie went on obliviously, “All you two do in your downtime is take naps!”

“Let’s go,” Vincent interrupted, turning with a flourish of his cape. More than just getting out of this pointless conversation, he wanted to get them moving before they froze.

As they walked he paid half his attention to tinkering with his materia setup - it had been a long while since he’d fought in a team and he didn’t need to bother with prioritising healing as much when it was him alone - and half keeping an eye on the others.

This was the most subdued he’d ever seen the lot of them. And why should he expect anything else? She’d really been the light of the group without trying, and now she was gone…

But Cloud was a different story. He walked out ahead, strides purposeful and confident. It would be easy to assume he had already bounced back, or was just trying to be a strong leader for the rest of them, but Vincent knew better.

He’d seen the way Cloud and Aerith looked at each other, what it meant. He’d hoped going against his decision to keep his distance to help Cloud catch up with her back in the Forgotten City would mean sparing Cloud the pain he knew all too well.

It hadn’t. Vincent had failed again.

But Cloud had taken it in a way he’d never seen anyone react before, not in all his years of seeing people die by Shinra’s hand.

He could see in their faces that Barret and Tifa feared he’d become completely cold and uncaring - he’d heard them whispering about how he’d acted back in the Temple more than once.

Vincent strongly suspected it wasn’t that.

Losing Aerith had broken Cloud in a way they hadn’t even scratched the surface of.

It might have been the snow or the way that no one was talking around him to provide a distraction, but Vincent’s mind kept floating back to Nibelheim. His last winter there as a human being.

The days after he lost her - the hours.

How he didn’t really remember them. It was just a blank, just a void where he knew he must have heard she was gone for good. He didn’t know why he didn’t remember; he’d assumed his mind had just completely broken down for a lot of that time.

Vincent’s chest ached in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He shouldn’t be here with these people. He shouldn’t be doing this, watching this.

He could find Sephiroth on his own and then get back to his manor, where he belonged.

Right when he was starting to hate feeling anything again and had half a mind to take back his offer and leave the group to handle it themselves, someone suddenly came up beside him.

A gloved hand grasped his shoulder, squeezed, then let go. For a second Cid fell into step with him, muttering softly so the others couldn’t hear, “Good call to come along there,” he said. “We both know they’re not in a fit state to be left alone right now - not a one of them.”

Vincent blinked, not expecting to be thanked. His natural instinct to be silent warred with a need to offer condolences to Cid, too - he knew the pilot had been fond of Aerith even if he hadn’t known her as the others had.

But as usual words escaped him and Cid just nodded before going to catch up to Cloud.

That was the real good call. Of all people Cloud shouldn’t be left alone right now.

Vincent just couldn’t bear to be the one to try and find out what was going on in that head of his.

Some mirrors were better off avoided.

They made it to Icicle Inn without too many problems, even if it did take Vincent longer to shake off the cobwebs off his combat skills than he would have liked.

The place was small, nestled in between mountains to give it protection from the bitter chills right outside.

And it was remote - even for a capable group like theirs it had been a challenge to get to. Shinra had scoped this place out, once, for consideration for their reactor project. In the end it hadn’t taken them long to give up on it. Too many logistical challenges. Too little population to justify the trouble taken to set up shop here. After they’d plundered the Northern Crater of the treasure that lay there (or so they thought), they’d left well enough alone.

The perfect place for anyone avoiding Shinra to run to.

There was no way he was still alive. Vincent was as sure of that as he was of anything.

That didn’t stop the man’s face flashing through his mind when he shut his eyes. Letters of the cold, of the challenges he was happy to take on if it meant protecting a new life…

He’d known who Aerith was the second he saw her. Unlike Cid, he’d kept his mouth firmly shut about his own encounter with Ifalna.

He saw her now, too. The same age Aerith was when she died - maybe a little younger. Those distinct green irises picked out by the blinding oncoming light in his mind’s eye -

Tifa suddenly leant into his line of vision. “Is that all right with you? It’s a small town but everyone’s got different priorities - after we restock we’re going to regroup at the inn later, OK?” she told him.

Vincent blinked. He hadn’t even noticed they’d been talking but inclined his head in a nod, anyway.

“You wanna take on any bounty hunter work while the sun’s still up, you go for it,” Barret said, sizing him up. “You can probably outdo any beast that’s out there.”

Vincent stared coolly right back at him, the rest of the party awkwardly exchanging glances.

“Make sure you get back for early tomorrow morning at the latest,” Cloud cut in, giving Barret a warning look. The others glanced at him, surprised he’d spoken. “You get lost, we’re not waiting for you.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Cait said, “Here. They’re cheap, but they’re good.”

The cat tossed him some sort of handheld device. Vincent turned it over in his hands, bemused by what he was supposed to do with it - then he spotted the letters P-H-S carved into the grey plastic.

This was a PHS? When he’d been working with the Turks, they were all large stations or connected to landlines. But now they were portable enough to fit in his palm? What was he even supposed to talk into with something this tiny?

He’d already made a fool of himself fumbling with the keycard reader, so he simply nodded again rather than airing his thoughts in the hopes that would do.

No such luck. “Need showing how to use it?” Cait piped up. Vincent quickly pocketed the device, shaking his head.

Cid raised an eyebrow. “Uh, why would he need help? Anyone his age knows how to use a PHS, for cryin’ out loud.”

Vincent suddenly remembered Cait mentioning coming across his file on the Shinra database. There’d be dates on that file, which meant Cait probably knew far more than Vincent would be comfortable with him sharing with the others. The former Turk glanced down at the cat in warning, but Cait just smiled back at him and said nothing.

Thankfully that was the end of it - the rest were too eager to get indoors to pursue the conversation any further.

Vincent kept back, letting the rest of the group filter off so he could be alone to take in his surroundings. He assessed their exit points just in case Shinra turned up (old habit he’d never managed to shake), but really he was trying to get a read on the houses. There was no obvious signs of modifications anywhere - nothing that looked like one of the world’s greatest scientists had stayed there…

A long, long time ago he’d been expecting to make it here - planned for it, even. He’d just never have dreamed that this would be how it would happen: standing in the snow in the wake of another young woman being murdered by a monster Shinra had made.

He supposed he should find a horrible poetry in that.

But he couldn’t. It was just waste, like always. Stupid, senseless waste.

This time a shiver spasm shocked him out of his thoughts. He wasn’t accomplishing anything standing here - no doubt little remained of Professor Gast anyway.

Right now he should focus on his most pressing concern - getting back in decent fighting shape.

Materia usage and their myriad combinations had undoubtedly developed since he last fought and while his main desire was to hunker down somewhere he could rest and study up further, he knew it’d be irresponsible to do that without at least securing some ammunition first.

The rest of the group was off doing odd jobs to earn money for supplies, so it wouldn’t hurt to contribute in that area, too. On top of that he was willing to bet fiends in the wilds had changed a lot since he’d last been doing field work, especially with all the mako to mutate them.

He restrained the urge to sigh. There was so much to catch up with and he didn’t have the energy or enthusiasm to deal with any of it.

But he knew it had to be done if he didn’t want to end up just relying on his transformations in battle all the time. That would definitely sap his energy to the point of uselessness to the rest of the group…

With that thought in mind, he made a beeline for the nearest weapon shop to use what little he had left to stock up on ammo.

His plan immediately hit a wrinkle when he told them the bullets he wanted only for the young salesman to squint at him and say, “Uh, pretty sure they don’t make those anymore. Sorry, man.”

Vincent blinked. “What?”

The young vendor scratched his neck nervously and looked over his shoulder to yell to his father, “Hey, pops! They don’t make that type of ammo anymore, right?”

The older man looked up from the inventory he was writing up. He looked at Vincent with confusion, coming over to the counter. “No… no, they don’t. Can I ask what weapon you’re using, son?”

With some reluctance Vincent handed over his pistol, watching the older man’s face light up as he examined it. “Well, I’ll be… haven’t seen a model like this for some time. Didn’t these used to be standard issue for Shinra before they updated to the new models?”

They did, but Vincent said nothing in response. The shop owner exmained it a moment longer, pointing out the modifications Vincent had made to his son with enthusiasm and precision. At least Vincent had stumbled on someone who knew their stuff.

“Gift from your father, was it?” the weapons owner asked, thankfully not perturbed when Vincent still didn’t answer. “It’s a damn fine modification job, but it’s basically an antique at this point. You’d be better off replacing it.”

A sense of deja vu overcame him, his old partner’s voice flashing through his head: ‘You’re still using this antiquated bolt action rifle? Now you’re with us, we’ll get you something better.’

Vincent’s shoulders dropped, unsure of what to say. It was such an obvious thing to have happen yet he still felt blindsided by it. Worse, he knew his current weapon like the back of his hand - old or not he knew he could rely on it, how to get the best of it.

The man noticed his hesitation. “Tell you what,” he said, setting it down on the counter. “There’s probably a collector out there who’d be happy to pay for this, mods and all. If you’re happy to pick something out of a similar calibre and size, I’ll let you trade this in as payment. And I’ll throw in the bullets to go with it. Sound fair?”

Vincent started to agree when another voice cut in.

“Gee,” the captain said. “I hope you’re not swindlin’ my friend here.”

Vincent flinched. He was a hard person to sneak up on but he’d been so engrossed in the conversation that somehow Cid had managed it. He gave the man a hard stay out of it look but the captain just ignored it.

“I’m no expert on firearms,” he continued. “But you and I both know that these first issue pistols are rarer than a corsair’s compass these days. You better not be trying to suggest he switch it out for that basic bit of metal?” He gestured at the newer pistol the salesman’s son had picked off the rack. The two of them exchanged glances, the older’s ears flushing red.

“This is standard issue for Shinra now,” the younger man cut in, pushing his father back from the counter. “It’s the equivalent of that old thing he’s got! It’s newer, and superior.”

“Except Vince here modded the shit out of his - even I can see that. On top of the rarity, it’s already superior handling to what you’ve got. No way is that a fair deal.”

“Cid,” Vincent said, knowing full well it was too late to get him to stop but knowing he had to try anyway. And since when did they know each other well enough for the pilot to just start using nicknames? “You-”

“You’re being ripped off,” Cid told him harshly. “The only weapon worth anywhere near as much as your old treasure here is that one.”

And he pointed at the pistol at the far end of the rack - a three-barrelled sophisticated make labelled the Cerberus, clearly the most valuable one by a wide margin.

“Hand that one over, though, and I don’t mention you’d do that to a trusting tourist to anyone else. Deal?”

The old man looked reluctantly between them and his goods before gesturing to his son to bring the three-barrelled pistol over along with a box of bullets. “Fine. But I’d rather not see you here again.”

Vincent nodded mechanically, just grateful to have a weapon without them having come to blows. He detached his materia from his old weapon and loaded up the new (it even had a decent amount of slots), the immensely pleased look on Cid’s face only winding him up more.

As they left the shop Cid lit up a cigarette, blew out a big cloud of smoke - then laughed. “Hah! The look on their face! Teamwork, right, new guy?”

Vincent was silent. The second they were a few feet away he rounded on his heel in the snow and hissed, “What were you thinking?”

Cid looked taken aback. “Huh?”

“You picked a fight for no good reason.”

Cid frowned. “Uh, there was a reason. Weren’t you payin’ attention? Those guys were ripping you off!”

“All I needed was a weapon. They could have refused to sell to me because of the stunt you pulled.”

“So what? I coulda taken you in the Bronco to another weapons seller, one who wouldn’t try to rip you off.”

Vincent folded his armss and glared at him, surprised when his death glare alone wasn’t enough to scare the pilot. “So there are times when it isn’t worth picking a fight. This is one of them.”

“’Cuse me?” Cid scoffed. “I upgrade your weapon to that beauty and you’re bustin’ my chops about it?”

Vincent glared back at him, saying nothing. He could see already Cid wasn’t the type to see sense - if he didn’t understand why picking fights everywhere they went was a bad idea, there was no helping him. In his long isolation he’d forgotten how annoying it could be to deal with these types of people; the ones who had never considered that just shutting up for once was the right answer.

“Somethin’ else I don’t get,” the captain said, confirming Vincent’s suspicions by refusing to drop it. “Firearms are obviously your thing, right? With you moddin’ the shit out of that old one an’ all. But you somehow didn’t realise your old model is practically a collector’s item?”

The former Turk cranked up the intensity of his glare even more, deciding if he had to use force to make Cid drop it, he would. The captain mimicked him by folding his arms and glaring right back, before rolling his eyes and giving up. “Fine, you win! Do whatever you want.” And he shrugged his shoulders and waved as he walked off, blowing out a big plume of smoke as he went.

Vincent watched him silently for a moment before turning on heel, going back to the bulletin board to grab whatever bounties the others hadn’t yet seized. He didn’t even bother reading them before yanking down the flyers and marching off into the barren cold plains outside the little town.

Shapeshifting always took a lot out of him, but right now he felt annoyed enough that he could have happily ripped up half a forest. But even then his anger didn’t last long before doubts began to creep in.

What on earth was the matter with him? If his old gun really had become sort of valuable knick-knack decades down the line, Cid was surely right that he was getting ripped off just trading it in for today’s standard-issue pistol.

But he couldn’t shake his anger at Cid for doing it, for refusing to mind his own damn business. He had the suspicion that much like Cait, the group were probably all busybodies on some level. They had to be, to be so willing to go up against Shinra.

Vincent had been stomping through the wilds at the pace of his thoughts when he stopped short, spotting his quarry only a few feet away. The bloodrush he usually felt rising right before a transformation hit him, hard, and he grit his teeth against the accompanying sharp head pains it always brought.

Images flashed through his mind - tearing the fiends limb from limb, devouring them…

The fiend noticed him nearby, turning and baring fangs. They hadn’t realised the danger yet.

They would soon.

He stood stock still, just watching the creature approach.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Come get me, he thought wildly, sensing the demons in his head panicking as he held back from letting them out. We’ll see who’s faster.

It dived at him.

Vincent dodged to the side - then drew the Cerberus and fired.

Only a few hours later Vincent had cleared all of the bounties, a bunch of monster parts held in his clawed hand as proof of his kills. He’d been in such a flow state with his hunt that he hadn’t even noticed time passing - the sun was already going down and he needed to head back to claim his prizes.

He looked down at the gun in his hands, noticing he still had a decent amount of ammo left. There was no denying it - it was the finest weapon he’d ever owned, managing to stand up to his heavily modded pistol even before he’d made any adjustments to it. It was a long way away from his old bolt action rifle, which had had the tendency to jam at any given opportunity. It was also pleasantly light and easy to handle, which was a very good thing with how achy and unused his muscles felt.

As he headed back into town he found himself trying to think of a way to tell Cid the new weapon was impressive without explicitly or implicitly saying ‘you were right’.

His opinion of the weapon was immaterial, though; he was sure that the captain picking a fight the way he had was completely the wrong thing to do; definitely something Vincent had no desire to encourage if he was going to be travelling with this group for awhile.

He’d failed to think of anything to say by the time he got back to town and headed over to pick up the bounty rewards, by which point he’d abandoned the entire idea. Cid was obviously planning to hang on with the group longer, but Vincent knew full well he was just a tagalong until he got his outstanding business with Sephiroth resolved. What did any of this matter, anyway?

It wasn’t until he had set down his monster parts and looked expectantly at the bounty-giver for payment that he noticed it.

How they wrinkled their nose, stared back at him.

How they kept trying to prompt him to speak even when there was no need for it.

Decades of being alone had deadened him to it, made him forget: he wasn’t good with people. He wasn’t built for this, even before it was obvious to anyone who looked that he was a monster they should avoid.

As he went about upgrading his materia and taking the rest of his reward money back to the inn (why was it so hard to find where they were staying in a village this provincial?), he’d all but made up his mind: keep small talk with the others to a minimum. Focus on Sephiroth and doing what he’d left the manor to do, nothing else. It was obvious they were an odd bunch, probably sentimental to boot. He needed to nip any ideas he’d be anything but a tagalong in the bud - Cid hadn’t seen him transform, so he hadn’t gotten the picture yet.

As soon as he got the chance he’d rectify that.

With this new determination he doubled his pace - then immediately stopped when he nearly tripped over Cait Sith.

“There you are, lad,” he said. “The others sent me to look out for you.”

The cat didn’t look worried, but Vincent didn’t exactly expect the group to be looking out for him. He tipped his head to the side, posing a silent question.

“Ah, better you come see for yourself,” Cait said. “It’s one of the houses - the locals are keeping it like a kind of curiosity for what few tourists they get, but…”

A curiosity for tourists. Vincent’s throat went dry. Surely it couldn’t possibly be that - but then, what else would it be?

He noticed Cait hadn’t moved; he’d stayed waiting for Vincent. Watching.

The ex-Turk nodded quickly, gesturing for him to lead the way. Together they trudged through the snow, Cait making a point to walk by his side instead of out in front.

“You’re one of the few almost dressed appropriately for this weather, you know,” he said. “I’m lucky, of course - I don’t feel it at all.”

Vincent looked down at him sharply and the cartoonish cat smile on his face faded. “Is it worth it?” he asked simply.

“Is… what worth it?”

“Once they catch you playing double agent, Shinra won’t spare you.”

The little robot’s face fell. Vincent felt a pang of guilt - it seemed he was upsetting everyone today, as per usual - but he knew there was no good in dancing around it. Whoever was piloting Cait was taking their own life in their hands - the company wasn’t going to fail to figure it out forever; they were sure to smell a rat as soon as they noticed the group had welcomed him back despite the betrayal around the Keystone.

But Cait’s face turned surprisingly contemplative. Instead of answering, he looked up at Vincent and just… smiled.

Vincent didn’t have time to interrogate what that meant before Cait turned away and said, “Ah. Here we are.” He moved around in front of the ex-Turk before he could climb the steps. “I have tae warn ye, Vincent… this may come as a wee bit of a shock.”

Vincent’s heart sank. It all but confirmed what the house was, but more to the point - Cait somehow knew what it might mean to him. Had that detail been in his file, too?

He opened his mouth to ask - and maybe thank Cait for his discretion so far about the more specific details of his background, no matter the reason - but the cat had already turned and climbed the stairs, announcing to the others inside that he’d found Vincent.

The ex-Turk hesitated a moment longer before following. He steeled himself to see the professor’s life repurposed as something cheap and tacky, like he’d heard the Shinra HQ tour was from the others.

Instead the inside was… plain. Dull, even. A simple house with simple fixtures; exactly as he’d expect of the Professor.

The only giveaway he’d ever lived here was the bank of machines taking up the entirety of one wall of the house. He followed the line of wires up the stone and saw an opening in the roof pouring in green light through a mounted lens.

In the other corner of the room was a crib, dusty and neglected.

And pink. It was the only spot of colour left in the house.

The others were gathered around the console, a shell-shocked air around the whole group.

“You already know this was the Professor Gast’s house, right?” Cait asked quietly. Vincent inclined his head - the cat already knew so he saw no reason to confirm it outright. Then the cat raised his voice and added, “Bunch of video files we found on his computer - these machines were his, used to detect anomalies in the Planet. The cries of the WEAPONs, even back then…”

“The cries of the Planet,” Barret said somberly. “But they caught hers, too.” He put his sunglasses on over his eyes and said nothing more.

“Aerith’s,” Cid clarified for him. “She was… born here. That man was her father.”

Tifa turned away, shoulders heaving with sobs. Yuffie put a hand on her back, for once not saying anything at all.

So Aerith was Professor Gast’s child. Vincent had put together as much, but knowing it for sure…

He cleared his throat, trying to sound indifferent as usual when he asked, “What happened to him?”

The rest of the group thankfully looked only mildly surprised as his inquiry. As before, it was Cait who answered.

“Hojo happened. He found them here - and putting the tape together with company records, well… it’s likely Professor Gast was killed in this very room.”

Vincent’s fist clenched, his jaw aching as he ground his teeth. Here. Hojo had had him gunned down right here. Just like he’d done to Vincent - except Gast hadn’t deserved it. He’d tried to get away. He’d tried to do the right thing.

And he’d died for it.

He felt eyes on him, looked up - Cid was giving him a curious look. Vincent tried to wipe the anger from his face, but there was only so much he could do. His connection to Gast was known only to him and Cait, but Hojo… doubtless the other scientist had a reputation for his enthusiasm for human experimentation by now and with the way Vincent looked, he might as well have Hojo’s signature branded into his gauntlet.

But luckily the pilot didn’t get a chance to poke his nose where it didn’t belong as Cloud distracted everyone by telling Barret to take a seat at the console and saying, “Is there anything we can use to make a copy here? We shouldn’t just leave this data lying around for Shinra to find.”

Barret located a floppy disk for the old terminal, but he looked doubtful. “And then what’re we gonna do with this?”

Cloud’s gaze drifted towards the others, thoughtful. The look of tragedy that had been in the other’s eyes at the unfairness of it all - losing her father, being victimised by Shinra right from birth - was nowhere present in his. He looked energised, excited by the find even.

Almost like he was planning to tell Aerith about it later.

A cold chill struck Vincent.

No. No, Cloud couldn’t be so far lost that he hadn’t really registered that they’d lost her… right?

His red eyes unexpectedly locked with Tifa’s watery ones. He saw the exact same frightening thought playing out on her face, too - and her surprise at seeing it in his, too.

For just one moment, they saw one another.

Vincent glanced away, discomfited. No, he couldn’t entertain that was happening to Cloud - he knew full well what it was like to suffer a loss that devastating, but even at his most abject he’d never retreated into total denial about what was happening.

Cloud surely wasn’t the type to do that… right?

The moment passed when Cloud suddenly turned towards him. “You’ve got a lot of records in the manor, right? We could hide it there for now, next time we’re near Nibelheim.”

“In the manor?” Barret groused. “You’re just going to hand this over to gather dust? None of this matters to him.”

Vincent flinched before he could stop himself; the second time he’d let himself slip in front of Barret. This time Barret noticed his reaction with confusion instead of compassion.

“Look, I didn’t… I mean, you don’t…?” He rubbed the back of his neck, distracted when Cloud took the floppy and tucked it into his trouser pocket.

“Look, I’ll keep hold of it for now,” Cloud said. “C’mon. Let’s head to the inn - we need food and rest when it’s this cold.”

That night was mostly taken up with the group quietly tending to their needs - with everyone’s boisterous personalities dialled way down they were all far more co-operative about taking turns for bathing or using the washing machine.

Vincent participated in the former but was unsure what to do about the latter. He’d gotten some spare clothes from the local stores more suited to the winter - black trousers not unlike his own, boots, a high-necked jumper that was the only one without a chintzy holiday print that would cover his neck and arms nicely - but his old clothes presented a problem.

The shirt and trousers were fine - they were plain black, simple enough to wash. But the cloak was too heavy to clean conventionally - and he wasn’t sure if there was damage he couldn’t see from collected dust over his long, on and off hibernation in the manor basement.

It was foolish, maybe, but he was immediately uncomfortable with the idea of being without his cloak even if his new clothes did the job of covering up his deformities.

He dithered long enough before the inn’s washing machine that Cait came up by his side. “Vincent! I almost didnae recognise you in different duds.”

The cat looked from the cloak clenched in his fists to the washing machine, catching on. “You’re probably nae gonna be able to wash that normally,” Cait said, confirming his fears. “Material’s too heavy. It’ll weight a ton when it’s damp. Buckles might rust, too.”

Vincent lowered it to his side, silently giving up on the idea of doing anything but dunking it in a stream somewhere. But Cait surprised him by reaching up and trying to take it from his hands. Vincent flinched away, but Cait just looked up at him patiently.

“They have a dry cleaning service,” he explained. “The others are getting some clothes together they want cleaning and repairing.”

Vincent hesitated a moment longer, but Cait was strangely patient with him. “They’ll take care of it,” he said. “Promise.”

“Maybe he’s just attached to the scent on it?” a new, younger voice suggested.

He looked around to see Red padding up to them, settling on his haunches and nosing towards the cloak. “Like carrying the manor with you, right?” he asked, tail lazily swinging back and forwards.

Vincent tipped his head to one side. The manor? There was a scent of the manor on him? Had he just become blind to it after being stuck so long in its depths?

“Oh, it’s not a bad thing,” Red reassured him quickly. “It’s just like, uh… a library? Books, dust. Cold stone.”

Vincent blinked. Somehow he’d expected Red to say something worse - a smell of decay, or of antiseptic and chemicals - but when he thought about it, what Red was saying made more sense.

The manor had only been around twenty years old when Shinra rented it out and refurbished it, but the basement lab had never shaken off the smell of old books and the cold stone it had been carved out of. Vincent remembered the scent clinging to his suits no matter what he did, but at some point he’d just stopped noticing it.

He handed over his cloak to Cait Sith without another word. Then recalling how expensive these services could be, he belatedly remembered the money he’d made bounty hunting and took out the remains of his coin pouch, handing that straight over to Cait, too.

“Wait, I don’t need all this-” Cait started to say, but Vincent had already wandered off. He’d been kind enough not to share the rest of his background with the others, but there was still a risk the cat would try and befriend him if he lingered around too long.

He heard Red give a low whistle before he shut the utility room door behind him. “Guess we know who it was who snatched up all the bounties around here!”

The inn was a little too small to avoid everyone completely, but he found a quiet spot near a window to start studying his materia setups. The others conversed and studied topographic maps around him, but they were happy to leave him be.

Or they were, up until Cait tried to hand over the money Vincent had secured to Cloud. As per usual the cat was being quiet about it, but Barret noticed, snatching up the pouch and sizing up the contents before rounding on Vincent.

“So you’re more resourceful than you look,” he said, “But you can’t buy our trust.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes. He knew the man hated ex-Shinra, but he got along with so-called ex-SOLDIER Cloud well enough. This excessive outburst could only be fuelled by one thing-grief. That, or he was the one member who recognised Vincent for the monster he was instead of trying to ignore it.

So Vincent simply said, “I don’t expect you to trust me. I’d take you for a fool if you did.” Cait’s ears drooped, but Vincent didn’t let up. “Throw the money away if you value pride over pragmatism that much. Just remember who else you’re hurting when you do it.”

He’d expected the man might blow his top completely, but Barret surprised him by simmering down as suddenly as he’d flared up. He rolled his eyes and shoved the money into Cloud’s chest with a muttered, “Whatever. I need something to eat.”

Cloud took a look himself, raising an eyebrow at the amount there. He caught Vincent’s steady gaze and nodded his thanks. Vincent inclined his head in return. He didn’t exactly care for the approval of the group’s leader, but it was good to know Cloud valued some things more than his pride.

It seemed some of the others might have felt the same, because a night he’d expected he’d be left mostly alone was instead filled with a dozen tiny interactions.

Yuffie plopping down next to him to give him unsolicited advice on his materia arrangement (happy to keep rattling on even when he gave minimal or no answers).

Tifa going out of her way to make sure he got vegetables in his portion of stew (with a none too subtle suggestion that he was looking a bit too thin for her liking - yet another reason he needed his cloak back to shroud himself in).

Cid asking how his new weapon handled, all the cheer like they’d never argued about it earlier (“Good,” Vincent had mumbled and was relieved he dropped it there).

Cait and Red settling near him at different times of night while they spoke to other people and did other things.

The only people who kept away were Cloud and Barret - Cloud because he was too absorbed in the maps and appeared to be completely in his own world anyway, and Barret didn’t do much more than express curiosity about this new firearm Cid kept bragging about managing to have gotten for him.

Vincent had no idea what to make of it. The money wasn’t some gesture of goodwill, it was just the sensible thing to do. They’d all have won those bounties themselves in time, anyway, what difference did it make if he did it and saved them the bother?

It was hard to ignore that the absence of Aerith was everywhere he looked. Besides the obvious ache that was most prominent in Tifa and Barret, there was a light missing without her. The group’s peculiar adoption of him from one simple gesture likely would have happened much sooner with her around, since she’d never directed any fear or disgust towards him despite his monstrosities.

Besides their grief and inability to talk to Cloud about what the hell was happening with him, there seemed to be an unspoken accord to try to adopt her kindness in her absence.

Much as he wanted them to leave him alone completely, Vincent couldn’t bring himself to ruin anything else today. Whatever they needed to do to cope, he’d bear with it… at least for

now.

He realised way too late into the night that despite having more than one room, none of them could bring themselves to sleep separate from one another. Even Cid seemed to feel it - he put up with being told to put his cigarette out or take it outside if he wanted to stay, and stubbed it out without any further argument.

Time passed.

They gradually began to fall asleep, exhaustion overcoming grief and pain.

Vincent waited. His mind wandered to that floppy disk they’d made. It was very likely the Professor’s last words were on it.

He couldn’t remember the last words he’d exchanged with the Professor. Had he even remembered to mail that last letter?

More of them fell asleep. Still Vincent waited.

He waited long enough to be sure, then a little longer after that.

Finally he got up and slipped out of the room into one of the others they’d booked for the night, sliding off his boots and curling up in the empty bed. Alone again, Vincent let himself relax just a little. He was so used to sleeping in the confined space of his coffin (and then the Tiny Bronco) that he still didn’t know how to get comfortable now he had all this space to himself.

In the end he rolled onto his back and gently clasped his hands on top of his stomach. To anyone else it wouldn’t be a natural way to fall asleep, but for him it was as close to all he’d known for the last years and years as he could get…

As he dozed off he couldn’t help but think he could still pick up the scent of the manor - books, dust, cold stone - on him. His hair. Maybe even on his skin.

Maybe it would never leave him…

A sudden start jerked him back awake, chin sliding off his knuckles where he’d been resting.

He blinked, eyes darting around in an attempt to make sense of his surroundings.

Rows of narrow chairs. Wide windows. A steady rattling noise.

A train. He was on the train.

He checked himself, found his threadbare winter coat and old bolt action rifle still with him.

His foolishness hadn’t gotten him robbed at least.

He looked to his left, out the window and at the city rushing by. His stop. Had he missed his stop? The developing settlement of Midgar was so big and practice had tired him out so much; he should have known better than to doze off on the train of all places-

There was a movement beside him and he looked to his right, surprised to see a woman sitting next to him.

She hadn’t been there when he boarded; he knew he’d have remembered that gorgeous amber brown hair and striking eyes. Had he been sleeping long with her next to him? He was looking such a mess, too - throwing himself into training so hard had resulted in more injuries than usual and he hadn’t had the time to clean himself up before catching his train.

She was looking back at him - watching him even.

“You haven’t missed it,” she said, tone casual like she was just picking up some conversation they’d been having earlier. She looked like she was trying very hard not to look like she was laughing at him, too. The stranger gestured to the ticket he’d left sitting on the tiny foldout table in front of him. “I checked. Sorry to be nosy, but you looked like you shouldn’t be disturbed.”

He flushed. “I-I don’t usually - training was just -” “I know.”

He tipped his head to the side, confused - then he spotted the distinctive lanyard poking out of her bag. “You’re with Shinra, too,” he realised aloud.

She frowned. “Hey, don’t you-”

The train jerked, started slowing down suddenly and Vincent looked around, realising they were pulling into his stop. Almost time to go.

He looked back, finding the woman still watching him, though she was sitting quietly like she was waiting for him to speak this time.

Vincent scooped his rifle up to go, but didn’t stand. He cleared his throat. “Did, um - did you wait with me just to make sure I didn’t miss my stop…?”

And she stood to let him pass, Vincent quickly scooting out past her and hoisting his rifle on his shoulder. The train hadn’t quite stopped yet, but still he lingered.

“You didn’t - you didn’t miss your stop because of me, did you?” he asked her.

“No,” she said, settling back into her seat with a laugh. “Now get going - otherwise keeping an eye out for you would’ve been a total waste. And - wait, here-”

He’d forgotten the ticket he needed to get through the barrier and she leant over quickly give it to him.

When he reached out to take it, their hands brushed. Their eyes locked.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Valentine, a small voice in his head warned him. He cast his red eyes down out of habit, knowing that she’d done him a good turn for no reason - and he was never one to take help without repayment.

“I apologize for the trouble - I owe you one,” he told her, raising the ticket in his hand. They both braced themselves as the train ground to a sudden stop. He heard the doors slide open, backed off down the aisle as he said, “I promise I’ll pay you back, somehow.”

“But - you don’t-” She bit her lip, falling back into her seat for good this time and giving a wry smile as she waved to him.

Vincent didn’t walk off immediately, though. He watched as she scooted over to take his spot by the window, flicking that long, long hair back over her shoulder.

It was only as the whistle sounded that he realised he’d forgotten to even ask her name.

The memory distorted as a new impulse seized him - to get back on the train, to make the moment last long enough to live in - but when he took a step forward the train was suddenly gone and he had accidentally stepped out into empty air, sure to fall onto the tracks any second -

A hand seized hold of his left wrist, pulled him back from the edge.

He turned to look but it was suddenly dark all around, impossible to make out who was at the other end of that tight grip.

“Thank you,” he said, “I didn’t-”

Another train blasted through the tunnel, bathing his saviour in light. A shorter man, dark hair in a ponytail, dark glasses.

“Hojo,” he said. A stone settled in the pit of his stomach. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t.”

His grip loosened, letting Vincent pull free, but somehow the ex-Turk understood the truth. No matter how it looked there was no escaping this dark tunnel. Hojo controlled the world down here.

Vincent turned from him, hyperventilating, desperate. He stared into the abyss of the dark tunnel where the train had gone.

“You always do,” Hojo repeated. A hand pressed against his back. Even through his suit jacket - when had he gone from civilian clothes to his Turk uniform? - he knew that hand wore a latex surgical glove.

Then it curled. The nails became knives, sinking straight into his skin. Vincent gasped, not just from the pain but from knowing how Hojo’s touch would leave its mark.

“Go ahead,” Hojo whispered. “You can get free. If that’s what you really want.”

Vincent didn’t move. His voice died in his throat - he couldn’t have made a sound if he’d wanted to.

“You don’t want to,” Hojo said. “You never do. And you’ve bored me.”

Instead of giving Vincent the choice he tore his hand free, yanking out a large chunk of flesh from his body and Vincent choked noiselessly, raising his arms to either push Hojo away or stop himself from falling into that dark tunnel -

“Vincent!” a voice cried. “Vincent, lad, wake up! Wake up!”

He flinched, eyes opening to the dark and legs tangled in the duvet as he jerked and tried to get free. Cait was sitting with him, fangs biting his lip as Vincent gasped and rolled onto his side, pawing at his back to check there was no bloody wound there.

Nothing. Nothing but his own spine sticking out from his skin.

“It’s a dream,” Cait was saying as Vincent bowed his head to hide his face, trying to catch his breath. “It’s just a dream.”

“Why’re - why’re you here…”

“Saw you disappeared from the room. Just wanted to check you were doing all right - glad you didn’t go out, though. The wind’s a bit strong for someone my size!”

Vincent shook his head. “Don’t need to do that. S’none of your business.” Cait just hummed. “In the meantime, you mind letting me go?”

Vincent looked up - then saw his clawed hand was curled around the front of Cait’s cloak, just like it had been when he lifted him up back in the manor.

He let go immediately. “Sorry.”

“S’all right. You sure you don’t want to come back and be with the others?”

And have a whole crowd of people spectate his nightmares instead? Vincent wrinkled his nose, shaking his head.

“Well, all right. I’ll just take the other bed over there then, if it’s all the same to you?”

So much for his solitude. But he knew he couldn’t complain when everyone had chipped in paying for these rooms. “Do - do as you please.”

The bed opposite hardly shifted under Cait’s slight weight. Vincent meanwhile tried to detangle his long legs from the mess of the duvet, curling in on himself to try and avoid it happening again.

He settled on his side, knowing he probably wasn’t going to bother trying to sleep again. Even if Cait had robotic spares, it wouldn’t do to accidentally tear one of their teammates apart in a nightmare panic.

Originally Vincent had planned to simply do what he’d done before - lie awake while he waited for Cait to drop off to sleep, then dress and sneak off somewhere. It was remote and forbidding out here after all; maybe there’d be more bounties to secure by now.

Maybe his cloak would be clean and ready for pickup.

But as the minutes passed, he realised it wouldn’t be easy to tell when Cait was ‘sleeping’ - the robot didn’t so much sleep as temporarily shut down, which didn’t typically involve a lot of noise.

There was nothing for it but to test it out. Think of something to say that wouldn’t start a full conversation but would help him test if whoever was steering Cait was asleep at the wheel or not.

“Cait?” he said softly.

“Aye, Vincent?”

Damn it. So he was still awake.

“…Sorry. For throwing you back in the manor.”

“Water under the bridge,” he said cheerily. He didn’t sound tired at all, Vincent noted - knowing what Shinra were like Vincent couldn’t help but wonder if whoever was piloting him was some kind of coffee drinking, up all hours junkie. The middle management types certainly weren’t well-adjusted even back in his day…

He was interrupted from his musing by hearing a rustle on Cait’s bed. Vincent glanced over, his night vision good enough that he could see Cait had turned to face him. He tried not to curse - evidently his breaking the silence was unusual enough that Cait had taken it that he wanted to talk.

“Besides. You were just trying tae protect what was in your home, am I right?”

Vincent didn’t respond to that. He had no idea what to say, except that this group’s skill in combat was matched only by their sentimentality. The manor wasn’t his ‘home’, it was his responsibility. Still, he supposed he couldn’t blame him for thinking that after seeing the den he’d made for himself in the basement.

Cait didn’t take offense at his continued silence or try to needle him into talking more, which was something. Though Vincent suspected whoever was piloting him was wide awake and was going to remain so for some time, which meant sneaking away was out of the option. He was just going to have to lie here, wide awake in the dark, until morning came.

It was tough keeping alert, though. Since he’d been - changed, for lack of a better word, he found he was frequently sleepy and being out in the daylight again wasn’t helping. Transforming only made it worse.

To keep himself from drifting off, Vincent found himself doing what he usually did: overthinking. He couldn’t help but wonder why Cait had come to find him. He didn’t know enough about the company’s staff to figure out who his controller was likely to be, but he could start building a profile based on observation. Old Turk habits died hard and given the information Cait likely had on him it was only wise to get some insurance of his own.

It might also help to know how likely Cait might be to be able to stay under the company’s radar and survive this. Another heartbreak was the last thing the others needed right now…

Vincent caught himself in the middle of that thought. He needed to stop thinking like he was going to be with the group on any kind of long-term basis. As long as Cait played it smart, he’d probably be still undercover long after Vincent had already left to return to his manor.

The important thing here was Cait clearly didn’t trust him, and he didn’t trust Cait.

Likely none of them did - and that was for the best, like he’d told Barret. He’d just have to walk the line long enough to get him to Sephiroth, then get out before they all lost patience with his monstrous nature.

A strange noise made him tense up.

He froze, listening to make sure he’d heard it - everything was silent, but then it came again:

a soft, rumbling sound. For a second he couldn’t place it, but then it hit him all at once.

Cait Sith was purring.

Like a soft little engine, gentle rumbles emitted from the tiny robot cat. Vincent was so taken aback he just lay there for a second, holding himself tense as he listened.

Well, if he didn’t know it already from the moogle mount and the tiny crown, he knew it for sure now: whoever had programmed Cait was an eccentric.

He debated speaking again to point this out, but that would give the game away that he was still awake.

Then it hit him: Cait knew.

A robot didn’t breathe, so it wasn’t obvious when he was sleeping, but Vincent was still human, even if he was different. He’d been still, quiet and tense for a good while now and Cait had undoubtedly noticed.

Maybe this odd purring was a sneaky attempt to get him to fall asleep, to stop him wandering off alone.

Vincent tried to hold himself tense as he listened to that gentle sound, but he realised to his chagrin that it was working - his already heavy head was becoming increasingly drowsy. All he wanted was to just listen to that gentle rumbling, drift off to it…

No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He dug the points of his clawed hand into his other arm, hard enough that a soft hiss of pain escaped between clenched teeth.

The purring stopped.

Damn. Now he’d done it.

“Vincent?” Cait asked. “Ye still awake?”

Vincent said nothing.

“Ye are, aren’t you?” he pressed. But he still didn’t sound mad. Vincent’s claw tightened. He was probably drawing blood now. Easy to do it with his arm the way it was.

There was another period of silence and he sensed in it that Cait was thinking hard about something.

“Just wanted to say,“ he said at length. ”I’m glad ye decided to come along.“

His death grip on his arm loosened, just a little. He almost turned to look back at Cait before catching himself. No, there was no way he was being genuine. It only made sense he’d be glad Vincent had joined them - since Cait knew the most about his past he probably thought he had leverage and could control Vincent how he pleased. The ex-Turk hadn’t anticipated the little cat of all people becoming his biggest problem, but he knew he’d have to tread carefully.

He said nothing to that and after a moment’s silence, Cait went right back to purring softly.

Knowing he had no option but to wait it out until morning, Vincent gave in to the urge to let himself doze off a little. He needed rest more than ever now and he couldn’t risk being exhausted when dawn came.

In spite of himself he found the purring comforting enough that he hoped, somewhere deep down, that he wouldn’t just slip straight into another nightmare…

The next thing he knew, Cait was rubbing his shoulder and gently saying, “Rise and shine, lad. It’s morning!”

Vincent mumbled something incoherent before he caught himself, half-remembering where he was when he opened his eyes to a room that was decidedly not his little crypt in the manor. He raised himself up enough to feel the cold creep under the covers, spotting snow and early morning light out the window.

He was in the North - the Icicle Inn.

He looked down at Cait, blinking blearily. He must’ve fallen more heavily asleep than he’d intended to - and actually managed to sleep through the night.

“The others awake already?” he asked, his voice sounding even rougher than usual. Cait cocked an ear towards the door.

“Think Tifa’s up and about,” he said. “Not sure about the rest just yet.”

Vincent frowned. He doubted she’d slept all that much; he’d have to bump her up his internal list of people to keep an eye on along with Cloud. But he wouldn’t let on to Cait - instead he just nodded and shuffled out of bed.

He’d get ready for the day around everyone else; with his peculiar healing factor he didn’t need much maintenance besides sleep nowadays. The others were probably going to put some kind of breakfast together to brave the cold, but Vincent could probably just take the bare minimum and get by on that. The thought of having to sit with the others suppressed most of his appetite, anyway - making conversation with other people was exhausting even when he wasn’t trying to avoid basically any questions about his past.

Besides, the more important thing was getting his cloak back.

There was a cough next to him and he looked down to notice Cait still standing there. “You, uh,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “You sleep well?”

Vincent narrowed his eyes. He nodded curtly, saying nothing else at the suspicious way Cait’s eyes lit up.

If there was one skill peculiar to all Turks, it was sensing the prescence of others of their kind in the vicinity. He realised barely five minutes after stepping foot outside that there were eyes in the town - and they were sure to realise Cloud and the others were here, if they hadn’t already.

He nearly collided straight into Barret in his rush back into the inn.

“Watch it, man,” he said, shoving Vincent back by the shoulder. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”

“The Turks are here,” Vincent told him. “We need to leave.”

Barret regarded him suspiciously. “Hold up, how’d you know that?”

“I just know,” Vincent snapped back at him, intending to barge past him to find Cloud - though thankfully he’d just emerged into the lobby. “Cloud-”

“I heard. We’re heading out anyway, so if you can find us a safer way out that avoids running into them…?”

“He’s gonna catch up with his old buddies, more like,” Barret grumbled. “Lemme guess, back when you were a Turk you got along better with the bald one than the redhead?”

“Guys. We don’t have time for this,” Tifa said, having appeared from somewhere. She’d done her best to look the same as always, but Vincent immediately noticed her red, bloodshot eyes and the shadows under them. “I’ll get the others together. In the meantime - you found us a way out before, I trust you can do it again?”

He belatedly realised she was directing that last bit at him and nodded, heading back outside.

But it seemed he needn’t have worried. A quick check around confirmed his initial suspicion: for whatever reason, the Turks had pulled back to somewhere out of sight. There was a good chance they were still watching and spying from afar, but for now it seemed they too preferred not to fight.

There was one obvious reason for that - Shinra had ordered them to follow Cloud and company to the North. Whether they wanted Sephiroth too or something else entirely, though, Vincent couldn’t say.

He’d thought after the company had supposedly stumbled on JENOVA buried away in the mountain, they would have extracted every last bit of the location for their own purposes. Surely there couldn’t be something else there, something they’d missed.

But if there was one thing Vincent knew about JENOVA, it was that she was a nightmare that never ended. No matter how often he thought he’d seen the bottom of what she could bring in the past, she’d always proven him wrong.

The Crater was the most terrible, incredible thing Vincent had ever seen. A huge scar in the face of the Planet overflowed with fountains of the lifestream and newly formed materia at the bottom - and sure enough, Shinra were following not far behind.

To even get to the bottom, they’d had to face not only some of the strongest monsters on the Planet, but echoes of JENOVA herself.

Muscle memory came back as Vincent faced the calamity; all those times he’d tried and failed against her before. And even now, in his stronger form with the support of the others, Vincent knew they were only fighting her to a standstill, not to her ultimate end.

She always came back. She always became more of a nightmare than before. She was a far more fearsome creature than him, but that much he could relate to.

In the heat of the fight he got separated from the others, holding down the urge to transform as he suspected the true fight was yet to come. Even then it was hard to focus - especially when the sunken skull eyes of JENOVA swung around to look straight into his own.

He kept firing, but his skin crawled with the prickling feeling: she was looking at him, into him. She could see all the other demons he carried inside him, but then - something shifted.

She looked even deeper, to a place even he didn’t know existed.

Vincent fired faster, confused and deeply discomfited. There couldn’t be more to his monstrosity, Hojo had made sure he’d been put through all of it in the manor.

His vision began to blur red. Something wanted to break free, something that felt… different than usual.

But it didn’t.

At that moment he felt laughter in his mind - JENOVA’s, warping into a different voice.

His voice.

The calamity reared up, the voice echoing in Vincent’s head: “So? Will you be the last? Or will you stop me?”

He went to fire, clicked an empty chamber. Needed to reload, to back up, get some space.

JENOVA descended.

A sudden joined strike from the others shattered the illusion of JENOVA into pieces. As she crumbled away, Vincent locked eyes with the others standing across from him.

“What’re you doing?” Barret snapped at him. “What’ve you got that gun for if you’re going to get that close?”

Vincent was about to say he didn’t know what he meant when the AVALANCHE leader gestured for him to look down. The ex-Turk complied - then froze as he saw one of JENOVA’s tendrils was frozen just inches from skewering his midsection before it, too, melted away.

He raised his head, about to brush it off since he knew even if they didn’t that while not ideal, he’d have been able to shake it off. But there was a look on a lot of their faces that he didn’t like.

And worse, he’d seen that look before. He just couldn’t think where.

He lowered his weapon, turning away as he reloaded. They didn’t have time to waste on this.

Not when he could sense something was stirring down in the core of the crater.

None of them said anything to him as they continued walking. But after a few minutes, Yuffie sidled up to him. He looked curiously down at her, expecting another rambling diatribe about whatever was on her mind - but instead she raised her hand and punched him hard in the arm.

He flinched, frowning, but she’d already walked off - falling into step with Tifa.

The young ninja slid her hand around the older woman’s wrist, not quite taking her hand - but close enough.

Vincent looked away from the gesture, chest aching. The ninja was brave, but she was young - this might have been the first death she’d ever witnessed with her own eyes.

Of course she was afraid. And he’d done nothing since waking up but make things worse, for everyone around him.

Vincent retreated further into himself as they descended, speaking with no one. His plan to keep to himself was going to be a difficult one when he was surrounded by a team of people relying on each other for survival at all times.

He was a trouble to them without even trying to be.

The fight against JENOVA paled in comparison to the dual nightmare waiting for them at the bottom of the impact site.

Sephiroth, encased in crystal. Even behind a barrier and from a distance, Vincent saw it immediately - he took so strongly after Lucrecia. She was everywhere in his face - the bangs, the nose, the mouth, all of it. But his hair was an unnatural silver.

What would his eyes be? Warm brown, like hers? Or a marker of all the experimentation he’d undergone before he’d even taken his first breath?

And a man standing looking at him. He wore dark hair pinned back in a ponytail, a labcoat and stood with his hands folded behind his back as he observed. A smile split his face from ear to ear.

Hojo.

The same dread from his dream seized hold of Vincent and he had to steel himself not to stop dead on the spot. He clenched his fists, checking quickly that no one around him noticed his reaction.

And they didn’t. Practically all of them were radiating hatred as they looked at Hojo, even the usually affable Red had his teeth bared as a low growl rumbled in his chest.

He’d hurt some or all of them, too.

Of course he had.

Just another sin for Vincent to add to his generous collection.

It was then that the Professor turned, a peculiar delight lighting up his eyes as he spotted the group advancing on Sephiroth’s crystal prison. His grey gaze took in their number, a slight frown crossing his features as he no doubt noted the absence of the last living Ancient.

Then his gaze moved up, noticing the newly joined ex-Turk and pilot.

Another frown as his gaze lingered for a second on Vincent.

For the first time in three decades, Vincent locked eyes with the man who’d shot him, experimented on him and left him for dead.

Hojo stared back for a moment, not answering as one of the group demanded answers about what was happening. His mouth even twitched, the amused smile so familiar Vincent had to dig his clawed fingers even harder into his palm to reassure himself -

He wasn’t back in the labs, on the operating table.

He was stronger now. More of a killer than he’d ever been.

More of a monster than even Hojo could have hoped.

He started to open his mouth, no idea what he’d even say -

And Hojo looked away. The smile faded as he turned to face the rest of the group, his manner casual like he hadn’t seen Vincent at all.

Like he wasn’t even there.

An odd feeling came over Vincent, the one he usually got when he was about to transform. But it didn’t happen - he just stayed suspended in the present moment, white noise in his ears and his reactions dulled to the world around him.

What was wrong with him? He needed to transform, to rip out that man’s throat, but something was holding him back, holding him still.

He was still as other Shinra higher ups closed in and as Cloud began to act strange, as Hojo taunted and teased the ex-SOLDIER and exulted in the joy of seeing ‘the Reunion’ theory proven true, the scientist so different now than he’d been all those years ago in how openly inhuman he was - no, now Hojo was just being his true self without shame, without shame or remorse…

Vincent was still as Cloud kept insisting he was there in Nibelheim, he remembered it, he saw it, he had to be a SOLDIER and Tifa began to break down right next to him under the weight of their shared past.

He was still as Cloud climbed up to where Sephiroth was entombed, taking his sword and charging at Sephiroth’s crystal prison, screaming at the top of his lungs -

Vincent gasped, finally snapped out of his stupor at the realisation that Cloud was going to kill her son before he’d even had a chance to tell him -

The sword cut straight through Sephiroth’s middle, surely slicing him cleanly in half.

But then something strange began to happen - a black magic rippled across the surface of Cloud’s sword and was leached out of the metal and into Sephiroth, the first SOLDIER’s eyes opening (green, they were unnaturally green, not brown) and his lips raising in a smile as the crystals around him began to disintegrate -

“Shit,” Barret swore. “Cloud just gave him the black materia!”

The whole area was shaking now, Tifa almost collapsing to the floor as she screamed desperately for Cloud to come back, to come with them -

Barret hoisted her over her shoulder, casting on last regretful look at Cloud before he cried, “C’mon!”

And then it happened.

Crystals crashing from around Sephiroth into the ground below opened up a tear in the thin earth at the bottom of the crater, the vibrant green of the Lifestream crashing in waves around all gathered there.

Cloud was looking in horror at his hands, at the power of the black materia leaving the sword and transferring to Sephiroth. He grabbed hold, trying to yank it back only to be thrown back and fall straight down towards the swell of the Lifestream. Vincent had a sudden strange bad feeling seize him just as Tifa tried to tell Barret to turn around, the AVALANCHE leader looking back just in time to -

A WEAPON suddenly burst from the Planet’s depths, maw opening wide and swallowing Cloud whole.

It crashed back down into the water right before the stunned surrounding onlookers, the party all yanking one another out of harm’s way as a huge wave rose up and crashed down around them.

Everything happened in a blur.

Both they and Shinra were escaping the collapsing crater together, the Turks coming out of hiding to make sure the President got to safety. Vincent kept catching glances of Hojo in the fray and maybe he was being too slow because Cid kept yanking on his arm and swearing, then he pointed them all towards a grey airship stationed in and amongst all the other warships at the top of the crater.

“We’re taking her back,” he said, “An’ we’re gettin’ out of here!”

From there everything was automatic instinct - keep an eye on the whole party, shoot anyone who tried to get too close. The rest of the Shinra higher ups were heading for another ship and Vincent earned himself another scolding from Cid when he lingered just long enough to check the Turks had made it. Stupid habit; couldn’t seem to let it go.

They fought their way onboard the ship and demanded the crew take off before they’d even got the thing secured, but with the crater shaking violently beneath them no one put up an argument. Any soldiers were rounded up and disarmed, giving them the simple choice of comply or die.

Some of them chose the latter for themselves - evidently Shinra hadn’t gotten any better at training people not to put “honour” before reason. It made no difference to Vincent, anyway; less potential knives in the back later wasn’t something to complain about. A sight like this was sadly one he was used to.

The ones who complied were either smart enough to focus on survival, or far too young to be here. Nothing changed at Shinra in that regard either, it seemed.

With Cid barking orders the ship was up and running in no time, performing a truly impressive take off with little room to manoeuvre right before the entire crater exploded in a spray of lifestream, the waves erupting high enough they hit the windows of the airship.

Tifa was immediately at the bridge, Barret by her side. The two of them scanned the never-ending sea of green beneath them, but there was no sign of the WEAPON. Vincent had a strange feeling the creature had already disappeared into the depths, but he couldn’t say why. He hated those sorts of feelings - they were always bad and always right.

The rest of them were left standing near the wheel, trying to process everything that had happened as Cid turned the ship to make for a safe distance away.

“This can’t be happening,” Yuffie said, restraining a gag as the ship suddenly lurched. “He can’t - he can’t still be down there-”

“Those two don’t need another loss on their hands,” Cait said softly. “But Cloud’s…”

“The other WEAPON brought Tifa back,” Red cut in. “They’ll do the same for Cloud. They’re not our enemy.”

“I know, I know. There’s always a chance - I’m not gonnae give up. But how can they keep going like this?”

“Speakin’ of,” Cid said, drawing their attention - and strangely looking straight at Vincent. “You good? Seemed like you froze up back there.”

The others looked over at Vincent, all of them surprised - except Cait. Vincent shook his head, about to open his mouth to retort that he was fine and had no idea what Cid was on about when there was a sharp cry of, “Stowaway! Captain - stowaway!”

Vincent raised an eyebrow, about to point out how suspicious it was they were so quick accept Cid as their new captain when he saw who it was that the crew were dragging out of the shadows.

It was a man, shorter than him.

He wore dark hair pinned back in a ponytail and a labcoat and he happily stood with his arms pinned behind his back as he observed them all.

A grin split his face from ear to ear.

Hojo.

Chapter Text

World Regenesis Organisation [hereinafter WRO]

Operation for the Quantification of Unidentified or Involuntary Experimental Targets [hereinafter Operation QUIET]

The responsible [principle architect]: Professor Hojo - director of Research and Development of Shinra (deceased)

The victim [first known adult subjected to unethical human experimentation by the responsible]: Vincent Valentine

Tape details: First discovered in an unordered collection in the Research and Development offices after Meteorfall. Presented as evidence in the Shinra Trials

Classification: Highly sensitive, never to be released

Attached is the transcript used in the Shinra Trials [some details may be redacted at the request of Director of the WRO]

[Tape clicks on]

[Sound: wheezing throughout believed to belong to the victim]

Prof. Hojo: Subject GAI012, Tape 1. The time is-

Prof. Hojo: Oh, awake are we? I was starting to think you’d need some chemical incentive to come around.

Prof. Hojo: I imagine you’ll have noticed the… improvements starting to settle in. I wanted to leave it as a happy surprise but I suspect you won’t be mobile for some time - you might find that wound gives you trouble until the changes take hold.

Prof. Hojo: But as soon as the process is complete, I have every confidence you’ll be fixed. Not just fixed - more durable than ever, stronger than ever!

[Sound: shuffling papers]

Prof. Hojo: Some excitement might be nice. Or gratitude?

Prof. Hojo: I saved your life, you know.

[Sound: silence for two minutes - not an error on the tape]

Prof. Hojo: Once the procedure is complete, you’ll be twice the agent you ever were. So many human limitations be gone! You won’t have to be so married to the combat simulator just to survive the week - don’t look so shocked, of course I noticed. Regardless, you ought to be happy about what I’m doing for you.

[Sound: further minute silence - not an error on the tape]

Prof. Hojo: This is an opportunity, you know. I don’t know what passes for ambition with your type but if you wanted some sort of leadership role you could have it. You could be the template for a new wave of fighters just as strong as you!

[Sound: something being wheeled over]

Prof. Hojo: I hope this attitude of yours is just temporary. I’m not a patient person.

Prof. Hojo: If you expect me to apologize for sh - stopping you, boy, you can disabuse yourself of that notion right this second. What did you expect when you wouldn’t stop trying to tell me how to run my project and take care of my wife? You used to be good at holding your tongue and staying in line. I wonder what happened to change that, hmm?

Prof. Hojo: I am your superior, which means you follow my orders.

Prof. Hojo: And right now my orders are this: you answer whatever questions I have, when I have them. Do that any maybe we can work with each other again.

Prof. Hojo: Do we have a deal?

[Sound: five minutes worth of silence. This is not an error on the tape]

Prof. Hojo: I know you can speak - the surgery was no small thing but all your vital signs indicate you’re sensible and lucid enough to answer. If you’re in pain, say as much - I’m not a sadist, no matter what you might think.

Prof. Hojo: I take it you don’t even want to ask me about how she’s doing?

Prof. Hojo: No? Nothing?

Prof. Hojo: Well, then.

Prof. Hojo: We’ll see how long your stubbornness lasts - I had thoughts of walking you through the procedure so you could understand the gift I’m giving you, but I won’t reward insubordination.

[Sound: metal clattering]

Prof. Hojo: I could kill you. Whatever methods of murder the company of taught you, I guarantee you I know more… imaginative ways to cause pain. I could do anything and you won’t be silent for long.

Prof. Hojo: But I won’t, because I’m smarter than that. Smarter than you.

Prof. Hojo: Don’t you ever forget that.

[Tape clicks off]

Note: Tapes 2-6 are missing. Information needed about whether they are missing or have been destroyed.

[Tape clicks on]

Prof. Hojo: Subject GAI012, Tape 7. The time is - post noon.

[Sound: footsteps on stone]

Prof. Hojo: I’m heading down into the basement at this moment to check on the specimen.

Prof. Hojo: Since he’s still giving me the silent treatment I’m recording these updates separately, where he cannot hear.

Prof. Hojo: The cell enhancement has been successful and the new copies are beginning to propagate. I expect this is causing the specimen a more accelerated sensation of what similar diseases can cause - something of a benign cancer, whose aim is to improve rather than mutate and destroy.

Prof. Hojo: I also expect he is in considerable pain - something I would gladly alleviate if he’d only communicate it directly to me. Alas, since I don’t know what’s happening there is nothing I can do.

Prof. Hojo: I’d honestly hoped he might co-operate with me - I’ve rarely seen someone so efficient at murdering fiends, yet he spurns a procedure that would make him more proficient at that very thing? I can only conclude it’s some personal vendetta. Or these delusions of nobility he simply won’t let go of…

Prof. Hojo: Well, the first task is simple: enforce understanding that he can’t keep silent all the time.

Prof. Hojo: After that, well… it's just too dangerous to save his life and leave it at that. Once he recovers, he won't stop causing me trouble. And I do have some ideas I’ve been itching to try out with a suitable subject. No one would blame me since he as good as volunteered, so…

[Sound: Door opening]

Prof. Hojo: Good morning, my dear specimen! And how are things today?

[Sound: One minute worth of silence. No error]

Prof. Hojo: Still not in a conversational mood, I see. Well, that’s quite all right. Today I thought we might take a break and catch up with some administration. Let’s get you sitting

upright, hm?

[Sound: A mechanical whirring. The lab chair in the Shinra Manor is believed to have been adjustable - attempts to recover it found it in a state of total disrepair, so this cannot be confirmed.]

Prof. Hojo: Last chance for a chat - how about you tell me your symptoms? Dizzy? Tired?

You’re looking a little peaky, but then, who can say with your complexion?

[Sound: 30 seconds of silence.]

[Sound: Something is moved onto a nearby table. There is a faint dial tone before Hojo begins dialling numbers.]

Prof. Hojo: Think you have the strength to hold this? You need to give a check in to your other superior, remember?

[Sound: The phone is ringing.]

Prof. Hojo: Don’t look at me that way, boy. I gave you chance after chance to do the right thing. Let me loosen this side so you can take - should have strength enough to hold this up…

[Sound: The receiver strikes something, probably the side of the table.]

Prof. Hojo: Hah! Don’t try that again.

[Sound: The phone picks up and there is a faint voice on the other end.]

Veld: [INDISTINCT]

Veld: [INDISTINCT]

Veld: [INDISTINCT, more persistent and closer together]

Vincent: Hey… Veld.

[Sound: A chuckle from Hojo.]

Veld: [INDISTINCT]

Vincent: No, I’m here… Sorry. Should’ve checked in a couple… before now.

VELD: [INDISTINCT]

Vincent: What? No, I - I’ve got… a cold. Everyone on the mountain has, has the flu. That’s why I sound-

Veld: [INDISTINCT]

Vincent: The village… I mean. The village is on the mountain. Everyone’s, they’re all sick… it was a bad one, they’re more used to it than I am… So I had to-

Veld: [INDISTINCT, longer response]

Vincent: [crosstalk] No. I know. ‘m - I’m sorry… I’ll get it… done, but I need you to check-

[Unidentified sound - believed to be the Professor hitting the table or Vincent, unconfirmed]

Veld: [INDISTINCT]

Vincent: No… it’s… nothing. Dropped - something.

Veld: [INDISTINCT]

Vincent: No. I mean - yeah, yeah I’m fine, I’m just the only one here to handle everything so I’ve been… been really busy. Forget it for now.

Veld: [INDISTINCT]

Vincent: I’m asking you to.

Veld: [INDISTINCT, more crosstalk]

Vincent: Yeah, I, you know what - Veld - Veld, I don’t have time right now -

Veld: [INDISTINCT]

Vincent: Sorry.

[Sound: dial tone]

[Sound: 2 minutes of silence. Phone is placed back in the receiver.]

Prof. Hojo: Good… good.

Prof. Hojo: That’s all for today.

[Sound: footsteps on wooden floors]

Vincent: …Professor?

Prof. Hojo: Hmm?

Vincent: How much… longer?

Prof. Hojo: The wound isn’t healed yet. The new cells haven’t replicated themselves completely in your body.

Prof. Hojo: And since you’ve proven to be a good specimen with a decent pain tolerance, to be honest with you, I figured you’d be amenable to some others ideas I’ve been thinking of testing out.

Vincent: …No.

Prof. Hojo: No?

Vincent: You know you’re - crossing a line… if you do this. You already did… you don’t have to go any further. Just… let me-

Prof. Hojo: You and I both know it’s no longer that easy. If we’re talking about crossing a line, that’s you. That’s all on you.

Vincent: I don’t think you’ve… fixed the wound like you think you have. I’m going to take a turn… soon.

Prof. Hojo: You’re going to die anyway. That’s what you’re telling me. Vincent: You shouldn’t… be wasting… time here. You should be w-with… her. Prof. Hojo: Really. Then why didn’t you tell me that sooner? Prof. Hojo: Get some rest, Valentine. You’re not thinking clearly. [Tape clicks off]

Chapter Text

Barret had been longing to put his fist through Professor Hojo’s face for a long time, but even he was as surprised as any of them when the first one to react was the quietest of their number.

In a fraction of a second Vincent had his three-barrelled weapon in his hand, safety off, pointed directly at the Professor’s head. “You,” he growled, unnerving red eyes narrowed.

Despite havivng his arms restrained and knowing full well he was in the company of numerous people who hated his guts, Hojo looked unmoved. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked mildly. “You’re not the only one who’s tougher than they look.”

In answer Vincent shifted his aim, deliberately pointing it at the Professor’s skull. He pulled the hammer down.

“Vincent-” Cait stuttered.

“Sure you want to try that?” Hojo asked. “I could crash the ship if I’m… provoked. If you don’t manage to kill me fast enough…” There was a glint in his eye Barret didn’t like. He raised his own gunarm just to be sure.

“At this range?” Vincent hissed back. “You know better than to roll those dice.” “Then do it,” Hojo cried, face suddenly lighting up with an awful smile.

Vincent’s glare turned deathly and Barret hesitated, almost curious to see what he’d do. There was a look on his face he’d never seen there before; one of pure, absolute hatred. The few times Barret had seen him pissed off before it had always been a cool, tranquil kind of anger. This was a white-hot murderous rage.

“Vincent!” Cait Sith cried, getting around in front of him and waving his arms. “Stop - he might be the one chance we have to find Cloud!”

The party all looked down at him, though Vincent still didn’t lower the gun.

“What do you mean?” Tifa asked.

“Uh, well…” Cait seemed to debate something with himself for a moment before saying, “Rumour is the Professor here’s been working on a machine to detect WEAPONs.”

Hojo chuckled. “A little birdie told you that, did they? That boardroom doesn’t keep its secrets the way it used to.”

“Then it’s true?” Tifa demanded.

“Now hang on,” Barret said, sensing they were about to get carried away. “He’d agree to anything to save his own neck.”

“Exactly,” Vincent agreed, his aim refusing to waver from the Professor’s head. “How do you expect him to prove it without him putting our necks in a noose?”

Hojo and Cait exchanged glances.

“…There is a way,” Cait said. “This ship is a Shinra one, so it should have a terminal where we can access the company’s network from here.”

“You expect me to just hand you the password to the Research and Development drive?” Hojo sputtered. “With all my priceless research?”

“You rather get a bullet in your skull?” Barret snapped.

Hojo shoulders twitched like he was considering breaking free, his eyes darting to and fro - then suddenly a deafening BANG rang out as a gunshot punctured the floor right in front of his feet.

Everyone turned to see the barrel of Vincent’s pistol smoking. “You pull anything,” he said, “And I swear to you that you won’t make it out of here alive.”

The rest of the party stared at him, appalled. Barret saw his own emotions reflected in most of their faces - far from the cool customer he’d first appeared, he was quickly in danger of becoming the team’s worst wildcard. And after all the surprises with Cloud, the last thing they needed was another one of those.

He cursed his luck. Why was it always the quiet ones who were the most trouble around here?

The Professor was staring shocked too - right before he burst into laughter. “Oh, this is precious,” he crowed, almost doubling over. “Shinra didn’t make you, boy - they were holding you back!”

“Vince, cool it,” Cid said, trying to push his right arm down. “Take a walk.”

But Vincent refused to move. Barret had the feeling he had no intention of taking his eyes off the Professor.

Once Hojo’s laughter had died down, he gave a long-suffering sigh. “I can see I’ll never be safe from the Turk’s twitchy trigger finger if I don’t comply. Though I do wonder how any among you expect to be able to understand my blueprints, hmmm? There’s a distinct lack of scientific intellect amongst the lot of you, talented though you may be in other departments.”

Barret recalled suddenly the strange mathematical scribblings on the wall of the Shinra manor basement. If Vincent had written those and spent all that time amongst a library’s worth of books, maybe he could help?

But when the AVALANCHE leader fixed him with a hard look, the man said nothing - even turned from Barret’s gaze.

A pile of secrets, this one. He knew then he’d been right in his assessment that the brooding loner couldn’t be trusted.

The silence was in danger of stretching on when Cid suddenly spoke up. “Might not be a scientist, but I am a world class engineer,” he said, punching Hojo in the arm to punctuate his point. The scientist curled his lip. “I can take a look at it! I might not get whatever fancy equations you got goin’ on, but I know my way around blueprints well enough. I can at least tell if you’re talking total hogwash.”

He turned to the rest of the crew. “All right - splitting up time. Some of you come with me, the rest hold up the bridge-”

“I’m with you,” Vincent said immediately.

“Me too,” Barret said, giving the other man a hard side-eye that he completely ignored.

Cid rubbed the back of his head, looking exasperated at the two gunners. “I think maybe Cait should be the other one, since he’s the one who knows how to work terminals, huh?”

Yuffie suddenly perked up. “Wait, you’re relegating the rest of us to look after the bridge?” “Sure am! In fact, you’re the captain in my stead!” Cid told her.

Predictably Yuffie immediately preened at the promotion, leaving Cait to lead the way off the bridge with a very tense party of people on his heels. Barret spared a last look for Tifa, wondering if she’d want to go too - but she caught his eye and simply encouraged him onwards, her expression souring when she looked over at Hojo.

He couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep her distance from the scientist; most anyone would.

Anyone except apparently the newest addition to their group. Vincent had lowered his weapon but he hadn’t holstered it for the walk over, his whole body tense like he was going to snap any second. Barret didn’t exactly know for sure what set off his monstrous transformations - he hadn’t found a tactful way to ask ‘so were you trying to kill us down in the basement, or do you just go into blood rages when you get mad?’ - but he didn’t like their chances of keeping the Highwind airborne if that thing Vincent had turned into made an appearance, never mind what Hojo acted like he had up his sleeve.

Barret bumped his arm, making the man blink and look up at him.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly aware he’d barely exchanged words with him since killing that fiend in Shinra Manor, “You got a lid on it?”

Vincent tipped his head to one side, considering, before nodding and looking away.

Planet help him, Barret was really missing Cloud. At least he knew where he was with his prickly ass.

“Problem, gentlemen?” Hojo said, looking back with a snicker. Before either of them could respond Cid roughly turned him around.

“Eyes front an’ less commentary from the peanut gallery,” he said. He nodded to Vincent before turning back, but Vincent didn’t respond.

Right, they’d spent a lot of downtime together waiting around while the others were off on the Continent doing any number of things. Barret doubted his own ability to get Vincent to fall in line, but maybe Cid would be able to if worst came to worst.

They came to a small room on the Highwind where there was a computer terminal complete with the usual Shinra screensaver. Cait hopped up at the computer, looking over at Hojo.

“Credentials?”

“RDEV02,” Hojo said.

“Password?”

“ineedapassword,” he said readily.

The three members of them fixed him with a hard look. Hojo chuckled dryly.

“Well, it was worth a go,” he said. “You’re all so tense, it’s really such a mood killer.”

“The password,” Vincent barked at him.

Hojo raised an eyebrow. “Extra dash H zero five one two. All in camel case.”

“Hell does any of that mean?” Barret muttered as Cait tapped away.

“Extra is my favourite gum flavour,” Hojo immediately supplied, “H is for my own name, zero five one two is for-”

“Never mind! I don’t actually care that much.”

“You put sensitive information behind the name of your favourite gum?” Cid asked.

“Precisely - no one would think to do that. If you want to keep your secrets safe, you can’t be predictable,” he said. His grey eyes trained on Vincent. The ex-Turk glared right back.

“I’m in,” Cait Sith announced. He started clicking around, Hojo straining against the crew members to try and see what he was doing. Then the cat reached into his ear and extracted a cable, connecting it to the computer. A blue light emanated from the port.

“That’s… interestin’,” Cid said.

“What are you doing? You had better not be poking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Hojo snapped. “And don’t reorganise anything, either, I like my things where I can find them.”

“Not to worry,” Cait said, his robotic body still. “It’s just faster to search this way. Though I’m impressed you can find owt in this mess.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand that I have more important things to be doing. Which Shinra pen-pusher are you, anyway?” he asked. When Cait didn’t respond he rolled his eyes, gaze landing on Vincent again. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Turk - you know as well as I that you were principally in charge of organisation and cleaning up when you worked under me. It was one of the few things you were good at – if you came back to Shinra you could make your existence worthwhile again by working for me.”

The half-smirk on Vincent’s face vanished as soon as it had come, turning frosty once more. Barret glanced between them, perturbed. He vaguely remembered Vincent saying he’d been Hojo’s bodyguard, but he hadn’t really thought about what that meant until now. At some point Vincent had to work under the mad scientist as a bodyguard; he’d probably had to deal with him on a daily basis. Even without whatever change Vincent had taken on, it wasn’t exactly surprising the scientist had pushed his buttons.

Still, the level of hatred was concerning. Hojo had gotten more expression out of Vincent in barely an hour than Barret had seen from him in the few weeks he’d been around. Even after Aerith… after she’d gone, he’d been more remote and closed off than ever.

“Say, I remember you,” the scientist said, suddenly turning his eyes on Barret. “You’re the brute who shoved me around headquarters some weeks back. The AVALANCHE mouthpiece, what was the name?”

“None of your damn business,” Barret grumbled at him. His name had only been splashed on every wanted poster across the region, but the scientist obviously didn’t get out much to know.

“Hmm, suit yourself,” Hojo said. “I merely wanted to make sure you know the company you’re keeping, that’s all.” He nodded towards Vincent. “Lie down with dogs… well, you know the saying, don’t you?”

“Ignore him,” Cid cut in, “He’s jus’ tryin’ ta make trouble.”

“I look dumb to you?” Barret retorted to the captain. Vincent watched on steadily, saying nothing. Barret turned back to the scientist, annoyed by that grin on his face. “And yeah, I know full well the company I’m keeping. Saw it with my own eyes back in the manor.”

For some reason Vincent gave him a look at that. He shrugged back at him as if to say, what? If all he had to hide was his monster form, Barret knew as much already – it seemed to him like the easiest way to defuse the scientist’s interest. But instead Hojo only lit up more.

“Ohhhh,” Hojo said, rounding on Vincent instead. Barret rolled his eyes. He couldn’t keep up with this weirdo. “So you finally met someone who could survive your other form? They truly are interesting specimens, aren’t they?”

Vincent stared silently at him, something in his gaze besides hatred that Barret couldn’t quite read but didn’t like. “Are you done yet?” he asked, his affect so flat it was a bit unnerving. It was hard to tell if he was talking to Cait or to Hojo.

“I found the blueprints,” Cait suddenly said, disconnecting the cable from his ear. He turned the screen so everyone could see, letting Cid take the spot nearest to the screen to examine it.

“It’s definitely a machine for isolatin’ energy readings and followin’ them,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Whether it works, couldn’t say.”

“Of course it works,” Hojo said peevishly. “I designed it.”

“Oh yeah?” Barret asked. “Then how’d’ja figure out which readings are the WEAPONs?”

“You said Shinra witnessed the WEAPON at the Gongaga reactor,” Vincent said softly, not looking anyone in the eye. “So you took the data from there and probably checked the others reactors, too, in order to isolate the specific reading. Didn’t you?”

“Not bad, boy – points for doing the bare minimum,” Hojo said. “Too bad your team mates are too dumb to figure that one out.”

“You…!” Barret took a step towards him with his fist raised before Cid stopped him. He scoffed, turning his back on the scientist. “Whatever.”

“Think I could suggest some tune ups to this thing,” Cid said. “Design works for what it’s sposed to do, but it could be more efficiently -”

“No,” Hojo said quickly. “Don’t touch it. I don’t want your incompetent hands on my work.”

Vincent, who had been near motionlessly watching Hojo up to this point, took a sudden searching look over the blueprints. Then at the scientist, then back again.

“How far along is it?” he asked, not looking Hojo in the eye.

“It’s not,” Hojo said simply, trying to shrug his shoulders and glaring at the crew members stopping him from moving his arms. “I need some rare materials to build it and it’s been incredibly difficult getting the company to grant me a unit capable of retrieving them.”

“Guess they’re too busy with the fallout from the Northern Crater to worry about WEAPON-chasing pet projects,” Cid said. He glanced over at Vincent, the gunner leaning back from the blueprints like he wanted to pretend he hadn’t been looking.

“What kind of rare materials?” Cait asked, swivelling around in his seat.

“There’s a list right there on the drive. Didn’t you find it when you were poking around in my things?” the professor said. “Never mind that - you already know what needs to be done if you want my machine.”

“You expect us to be your gophers,” Barret grumbled. He’d frankly had enough of running around for the scientist’s amusement back in the Drum, but if this was the only way to save Cloud…

“Do you know anyone more capable? All this job will take is the killing of a few fiends and a good bit of travel. You’re not the smartest bunch but in terms of combat capability I couldn’t wish for anything better. And you’ve just acquired a means of getting all around the Planet fast as the speed of thought! What could be more perfect?”

A little too perfect, Barret thought, but he didn’t see they had any choice. It looked the rest of the gathered group was intending to fold just this once, too - but then it was Vincent of all people who spoke.

“And how can we trust you’re building the machine you say you are? Anyone with sense in this scenario would be bargaining for their life. Even with your obsessions I know you know better than that, Hojo.”

“Professor,” the scientist hissed back at him, lunging forward with a snarl full of bared teeth. “I don’t care what pretences you have about having left Shinra, I will always outrank you no matter how long you live-”

“I can supervise,” Cid said, Vincent looking over at him mildly like the scientist’s outburst hadn’t even happened. “Make sure he isn’t pulling anything on the side.”

“We’ll all have to,” Vincent said. “We’d be fools to leave him alone for even a second.” When Barret couldn’t stop himself groaning at the thought of giving up sleep just to monitor the mad scientist, Vincent looked at him sharply. “Are you really willing to risk losing someone else?”

Barret glared right back at him. He did not just go there - Vincent all of people didn’t have the right to lecture them about not caring enough for their team mates. The AVALANCHE leader felt his anger rising, determined to put the cold creature in his place whether Hojo was watching or not.

“So it is true,” a sad voice suddenly said. The three of them looked over to find Hojo’s shoulders slumped, grey eyes staring at the floor. “The last of the Ancient bloodline is really dead.”

“Her name was Aerith,” Barret said, his traitorous voice tripping on the word ‘was’. His eyes stung with tears and he pulled out his sunglasses, the tension suddenly draining out of the room as everyone fell silent.

“It was Sephiroth, wasn’t it,” Hojo continued in that same dejected voice. “Of course it makes sense, but… what a terrible loss for the world.”

“After everything you planned to do to her to steal the Promised Land from her people,” Barret told him, “You’ve got some nerve to act like you’re grieving her.”

“It isn’t grief,” Vincent said, that terribly flat affect back in his voice. “Grief isn’t something the Professor does.”

The others gave him surprised glances, but Barret didn’t. He was starting to put some things together about their new member - things he didn’t particularly like. As far as he was concerned, the group didn’t have one dangerous factor to keep an eye on - they had two.

Hojo, meanwhile, just stewed silently, the look in his eyes turning from that strange sadness to complete coldness in a fraction of a second.

The first location Hojo gave for gathering materials was an odd little shell of a village on a remote little island - or it used to be. The place had been cleaned up far more clumsily than Nibelheim had, to the point that there was evidence of a fire everywhere Barret looked.

Houses that had collapsed inwards. Signs of a once-vibrant orchard, now destroyed.

As the group looked around a circle of partially destroyed houses, Tifa suddenly bent down and picked up an apple that was beginning to rot.

“This is a Banora white,” she said softly. It was the first thing she’d said all morning. Barret had been longing to give her a hug or a kind word, but he feared that doing it in front of the scientist would prompt the man to start twisting the knife. “We’re in Banora?”

“I didn’t know the place had burnt down,” Cid said.

Barret hmphed. “This has got Shinra written all over it.” He turned to look over at Hojo - his arms were still bound behind his back, Cid currently in charge of keeping an eye on him since Barret didn’t trust Vincent to get close without trying to snap the old man’s neck. “Why’d you bring us here? You want us to see this?”

“Not at all,” he said, feigning offence. “I merely wanted a dumb apple. And rumour has it there’s a fiend here that has what I need for my machine.”

“That means going out of the village, right?” Yuffie said. “Let’s do it to it - this place gives me the creeps!”

The group was quiet as they walked, taking a hill to head out of the tiny village.

Barret thought he would welcome the quiet moment, but with no one to distract him he found his thoughts wandering. Every time he shut his eyes it felt like he saw her again, lying in a pool of her own blood after that bastard had…

The more he thought about it, the worse it got.

She was never going to be able to see Marlene again, and he just knew his daughter would have loved to spend more time with her.

She was never going to come home to her mother back in Midgar and if they couldn’t get Cloud back, Barret was going to have to be the one to break the news.

She was never going to spend more time with any of them, or get to know the rest of the group better. Planet, it had only been a few days and the group was already feeling her absence acutely - Cloud might have finally surrendered to the degradation or whatever the hell kind of hold Sephiroth had on him and tensions between the rest of them had skyrocketed, none of which was helped by having Hojo in the mix.

Cloud… Barret didn’t pretend to know exactly what the deal was between him and Aerith (they’d never really had one of those talks with how awkward the ex-SOLDIER was), but he knew Cloud had adored her. And now he needed her more than ever, she was gone.

He pinched his nose, feeling his eyes burn again. Stupid - now wasn’t the time to be thinking about this.

The group stopped walking suddenly and Barret looked around, paranoid they’d spotted him welling up.

But they were looking back down the path, a distinctive red cape some distance away.

“Vince?” Cid called, tightening his grip on Hojo as the scientist leaned over to see what was happening. “What’s up?”

He didn’t respond - either he didn’t hear or didn’t care. Barret was about to volunteer to go drag his ass back into gear when Yuffie sped over to see what he was looking at, tapping Vincent on the shoulder and then looking around him. Barret groaned; there was no getting her back on track when she was distracted by something. At least a little detour might take his mind off the suckiness of basically everything that was happening right now…

Once he’d backtracked to where Yuffie and Vincent were standing looking like chalk and cheese, though, he was surprised to see what had distracted the man was a gravesite.

“This from the fire?” Barret asked, though as per usual Vincent didn’t answer.

Cid left Hojo standing with Tifa and Red at the small gate a couple of feet away before coming to join them. He looked down at the graves, thoughtful. “Doubt it,” the pilot said slowly. “That fire looks recent. The dates on these sure aren’t.”

Barret looked again and saw that he was right: most of these graves were a couple of generations back. He wanted to ask Vincent what was so interesting when he noticed the ex-Turk was looking at one grave in particular - an old one, covered in moss:

MARTEN CRESCENT

ALSO HIS WIFE, LUCIA

Barret wrinkled his nose. Looking at the date of death, the pair of them had died well over forty years ago - these were parents of the generation before theirs. Whatever Vincent’s hangup was, they didn’t have time for this. He was about to say as much when Vincent sharply turned his head to look towards the gate.

The Professor had shrugged free of Tifa’s hold and was ambling towards them, arms still tied behind his back. “You know, I really wasn’t kidding about those apples earlier,” he said. “They were the village’s main export for years. They built this place off the back of Banora White juice - and whatever else they could think to do with their produce, of course.”

“Isn’t that nice,” Barret said, rolling his eyes.

“It is!” Hojo said. “In fact, the money was so bountiful for such a small community that it turned their fortunes around overnight. Banora sent a lot of children to school thanks to their beautiful Banora Whites,” he chuckled, “And they might have even produced some worthwhile minds among those well to do families.”

Barret was about to snark back that this must be Hojo’s hometown if he was bragging about it so much, but then Cid shifted his weight and he noticed the captain giving Vincent another concerned look.

Of course Vincent hadn’t said anything the entire time they’d been in this graveyard, but he was watching Hojo again - only now the look on his face was oddly frozen and stiff instead of the boiling hatred he’d been exhibiting earlier.

This was starting to give Barret a migraine. There was obviously too much bad blood between the two of them for the situation not to boil over eventually.

And since Cloud was no longer here, it was up to him to reassume the role of leader. He pointedly cleared his throat. “Great history lesson,” he said. “Moving on.”

And he marched straight up to Hojo, manhandling him by the shoulder back out of the graveyard. As they approached Tifa and Red scooted out of the way, Red baring his fangs at the skinny scientist with a warning hiss.

Their reactions made him feel momentarily bad about his distrust of their newest member. Maybe he was being too judgemental. Sure, Vincent must have had more of a choice than Red, but he’d still had to put up with Hojo - a man he hadn’t seen a single person have anything but a bad experience with. Who wouldn’t be a little tense after that?

But then he glanced back and noticed Vincent brushing off a concerned word from Cid, and all his more charitable feelings drained away once more.

When they found the fiend Hojo needed for materials, Barret was almost glad to have something to beat to a bloody pulp.

By the time they were done it was growing dark again already and with everyone exhausted from the fight and the day’s events Barret knew he had to make the call to put the search on hold until tomorrow.

He was starting to fear they were never going to get Cloud back, but he kept that thought to himself for now.

The Professor was curiously happy to take a break, too - he allowed Cid to lead him deeper into the Highwind to find a spare room in order to work with Barret following close behind. He looked back and noticed Vincent hovering a short distance away, watching Hojo silently. Barret locked eyes with him, shaking his head in warning.

“Dinnae worry, Vince,” Cait told him, patting his leg and running after Barret. “I’ll go along too.”

Vincent stood watching after them, arms clasped tight around his middle.

“Sure you want to keep him away?” Cait whispered to Barret. “The Professor here’s got him real on edge.”

“Exactly. Once we get Cloud back he can get in line to break the man’s neck, but not before.”

Cait said nothing, merely waving back at Vincent. “Could you keep an eye on the others for me?” he called to him. “They could use some reassurance.”

Vincent said nothing, but it was enough to convince him to turn and walk off back the way they’d come. Hojo looked back, noticing this with an unpleasant grin.

“Kind of you to dispense of the peanut gallery when I need to work,” he said. “Just can’t leave me alone, can he?”

Cid wrenched his arm harder, the Professor only chuckling in response.

Once they’d gotten to a spare room with a large enough table to work, there was a tense moment when Cid shoved Hojo inside and untied his arms for the first time that day. The Professor stretched, rubbing his arms with a long sigh.

“I could use some tea,” he said. “Or coffee. I might have more brainpower than you but I still need sustenance to work.”

Barret rolled his eyes. “I’ll go fetch you something,” he said, though he mostly just wanted an excuse to check on the others. “But you ain’t working all night.”

He’d just managed to find the Highwind’s kitchen - or one of them, at least - when he looked up to find Vincent had materialised by his side.

“Geez!” he cried, flinching. “Say something next time.”

Vincent said nothing, and for once Barret could read the question in his eyes.

“He’s gonna work on the machine,” Barret told him, pouring the hot water. He pointed at the cups, trying to ask Vincent if he wanted one. Vincent either didn’t catch the gesture or didn’t care - he was staring at the cup Barret was pouring milk into.

“Sugar,” he said, his usually soft-spoken tone somehow even softer. “Two, actually.”

“What?”

“If you don’t put sugar in his tea he’ll just reject it.”

Barret put down the spoon, fixing him with a hard ‘what the hell?’ look.

Vincent blinked, meeting his eyes like he’d only just realised what he said. He backed off abruptly, retreating from the kitchen before Barret could say another word.

The AVALANCHE leader stared after him, not sure why he was so perturbed.

Back at the workshop Hojo had gotten all the resources gathered so far laid out and was busily bossing Cait around to get him a means of looking at the blueprints for reference. Barret approached silently, laying the mug on the desk without a word. Hojo barely even stopped giving orders as he reached for it and took a sip.

He pulled back, surprised, and turned to Barret. “Did you make this?”

Barret nodded.

“Hmm.” There was a glint in grey eyes as he took a deeper drink. “Not bad.”

After that he said precious little to any of them. Despite how much he hated the man, Barret couldn’t deny his focus was something to see. He worked ceaselessly, making precise

requests and giving equally precise instructions when he needed something. In the end Cait and Barret let Cid take the lead on being his assistant, as he was used to working that way.

They kept going long past when Barret began to get tired. The others did, too - they started to take shifts as the Professor insisted he was fine to keep working.

It was the middle of the night when it happened. Barret roused from the nap he’d fallen into to find Cid - who was supposed to be keeping watch - had dozed off too. He was about to snap at the man when he heard a peculiar noise.

The Professor was bent over the small work in progress WEAPON detection machine at the desk - and a soft beep, beep, beep was emitting from the device.

Barret sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and holding himself still. As he watched Hojo raised the machine in his hand, the beeping sounds growing closer together.

From what Barret could see of him, there was a smile on that face.

“Thought you needed more materials to finish that thing?” Barret asked. The Professor flinched.

He turned to look at Barret, surprise evident all over his face. Then he smiled, but it didn’t look like he was just plastering it on after getting caught. It looked genuine. There was a light in those grey eyes that Barret didn’t like - far from being tired, the Professor had an almost manic aura.

“Did you make a breakthrough or something?” he pressed.

“I’ve got a reading,” Hojo said, his tone almost sing-song.

“Then…?”

“Oh, no,” Hojo said, his smile shark-like. “I won’t be able to detect any WEAPONs accurately that are far away. I require… more materials.”

Barret frowned, uneasy without being able to say why. “Good,” he said. “Then you’re getting some sleep. Get up and turn around - I need to tie your arms.”

The Professor pressed a button on the device, silencing its beeping. He turned around without comment, not even complaining when Barret tied him to the chair in a position that couldn’t be all that comfortable.

“I look forward to tomorrow,” he said, “I think it’s going to be most enlightening for us all.”

Barret glared at him.

Then he went over and punched Cid in the arm. The captain startled awake, shame-faced.

“Go to bed,” Barret told him gruffly. “I’m taking watch from here.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again anyway. Not with the sight of that smile burnt into his mind’s eye.

The next morning Hojo was back to being more like the playful bastard he’d been the day before. The games began immediately, when the next place he had them visit was even more obscure than Banora - and worse, it was potentially dangerous.

“You’re saying it’s right across the coast in view of Wutai?”

“Well, of course not,” Hojo said. “Wutai is across several bridges and in the protection of a valley of mountains. Isn’t that so?”

He directed the last part at Yuffie, who squirmed a bit under his gaze. She rubbed the back of her neck and shrugged. “Yeah, he’s right,” she said slowly. “But I really don’t get what you want to go to some random plain just off the coast of Wutai for. There’s nothing there.”

“Nothing?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”

“Hojo, you know the ceasefire is hanging by a thread,” Cait said. “We’re not gonnae just park an obviously Shinra airship right on their doorstep for kicks.”

“Then park it out of sight,” he said, sighing as though he was tiring of the whole conversation already. “Are you wasting my time further and jeopardising your friends life with this chit-chat, or are we going?”

The group exchanged glances. Barret didn’t doubt Hojo was bullshitting in some way, but they were on the clock. Tifa had been trapped in the WEAPON’s stomach for maybe fifteen minutes, tops. She was certain she’d been awake for the whole thing, but she’d also described the whole experience in incredibly dreamlike terms, so if Cloud was still trapped there who knew what state he’d be in?

“Fine,” Barret said. “Then let’s move out.”

He looked around the rest of the group, debating if he should ask some of them to stay back and watch the ship. Tifa certainly looked exhausted. She looked exhausted all the time now.

“You want to sit out on this one?” Cid asked.

There was no response - and Barret realised at the same time as everyone else that the person he was asking was Vincent.

Vincent looked as surprised as anyone - uncomfortable, even.

He glanced around the group, shaking his head quickly and turning away.

Hojo chuckled.

Barret gave him a warning glare, his annoyance at the situation growing by the second. Once he had a quiet moment he’d yank the pilot to one side and ask what he knew that the rest of them didn’t.

When they touched down, things got even stranger. The group had piled into the buggy in order to make crossing the plains a little faster, and the party was in no real mood to talk. Whenever they’d rode in the buggy before they’d had a pretty consistent seating configuration - Yuffie up front in case she needed to bail quickly due to her travel sickness, Cloud driving, the rest of them in the back with Aerith always sitting with Red just across from Barret.

Now it felt like there was both less and more of them at the same time. It was Cid and Vincent’s first time in the buggy, the former chewing on a toothpick to avoid annoying everyone with his chain smoking habits and the latter staring straight ahead, watching the land unfolding before them in tense silence.

Hojo had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor between the two front seats. He was apparently already the talkative type but now he was going nearly non-stop, but instead of alternating between the rest of them like he had previously this time his target was Yuffie, of all people.

“Say, you there. Girl.”

“It’s Yuffie - Yuffie Kisaragi, white rose of Wutai and materia hunter extraordinaire,” she said, looking down on him with a harsh expression. Evidently someone had filled her in since yesterday about what Hojo had done to Red and Aerith, as well as how he’d treated them in the Drum. “And I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Really? I just had a question only you could help with.”

Uh oh. If there was one thing Yuffie couldn’t resist, it was flattery.

“Lay off the kid,” Barret warned.

“Naw, guess it’s all right,” Yuffie said, turning in her seat to look at him. “Go ahead, shoot.”

“It’s a simple question. What makes something - someone, rather - Wutaian?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Duh! Being from Wutai, obviously.”

“So they have to be born there?”

“Uh, yeah? That’s how it usually works.”

Hojo hmm’ed and Yuffie frowned at him, turning back around to talk to Tifa instead. Luckily they’d basically arrived at their destination by then, Barret ordering everyone out of the buggy as Cid manhandled Hojo off the vehicle. During the trip he’d decided against splitting up - partly to keep an eye on Hojo and partly because Barret didn’t want to let anyone out of his sight right now.

They weren’t walking together long before they came up to a wide open area where the land levelled out, the ocean leading out to Wutai just visible when they were standing on higher ground. But the area wasn’t just empty plains like Barret had been expecting. Stone ruins raised from the ground, more moss covered than the houses in Banora - whatever had been here had been wrecked much earlier.

Just like in Banora, Barret thought he could see a graveyard in the distance. He was about to head towards it when Vincent of all people spoke up.

“What are we looking for?” he asked Hojo. Strangely all the anger had drained from his tone and he sounded… almost tired. He spoke to Hojo like he hadn’t fired a warning shot at him mere hours earlier.

“Oh, just some iron ore, crimonsite crystal and a transmuter chip,” he said, listing them off on his fingers.

Everyone turned to look back at him.

“Uh, what?” Cid said. “You can get that shit almost anywhere. Why’d we come all the way out into the middle of this godforsaken plain right on Wutai’s doorstep? There isn’t even a fiend to kill this time?”

“I thought you’d appreciate the walk,” he said. He turned to smile at Vincent, who bristled under his gaze. “Don’t you think it’s beautiful here?”

The ex-Turk sighed and rolled his eyes with the air of a disappointed parent. Without saying a word in return he headed off into the plains, leaving the rest of them staring down Hojo.

“If you’re messing us around-” Barret warned.

“The materials are part of the blueprints,” he said, yawning. “Check them if you want.”

Thoroughly tired of the charade at this point, Barret turned on his heel and stomped off. This was even weirder than the scientist’s behaviour when he had them trapped in the Drum - at least his motives then had been easy to comprehend, no matter how annoying they were.

But this? This weird psychological time wasting and odd aside comments and snide little snarky exchanges? What did he get out of that except to aggravate a bunch of people who already wanted his head?

He caught a glimpse of a flash of red ahead of him, slowing down before he could alert him. For once Vincent didn’t appear to have sensed his presence. And once again he was staring

fixedly at something - he’d gathered some of the resources they needed but all thought of their quest appeared to have been momentarily abandoned.

Barret followed his gaze and saw… nothing much, really. Half a wall of stone and the gap where a window might have gone.

When Vincent still didn’t move Barret felt his hackles rise. Cloud was counting on them; every minute he had to spend cajoling anyone to get on with it was a minute less their leader might have to survive. He crossed the distance, not bothering to disguise the weight of his steps as he approached and yanked the smaller man around to face him.

The movement was so harsh that he momentarily caused Vincent’s face to be visible above that high collared cloak, his mouth turned down in an unmistakeable look of sadness - of grief.

Barret let go immediately. The look vanished immediately, leaving him to wonder if he’d seen it at all.

“Need something?” Vincent asked tonelessly. “Uh, no - just a check in. How much you got?”

Vincent wordlessly passed him his gathered materials. “Sorry,” he said unexpectedly, ducking his face back behind his collar. “I’ll get back to it.”

That was altogether more words than he usually got out of the ex-Turk, so Barret let him go just this once. Examining the pile the ex-Turk had provided he realised Vincent had actually managed to get about half the materials they needed, all by himself. He probably hadn’t actually stopped before now.

The AVALANCHE leader looked again where Vincent had been looking, still not seeing what it was he was missing.

There was nothing remarkable about this place; a lot of villages had fell to ruin with Shinra’s rise. Not always by design, but by economic forces - young men and women leaving en masse to take advantage of opportunities elsewhere. The place was about old enough for that to have been the case, but the rest of it made no sense at all.

Whatever it was, he suspected both Hojo and Vincent were in on it. And if Barret couldn’t figure it out there was a chance Hojo could use whatever he was plotting against them.

Another horrible, paranoid thought struck him.

What if Vincent’s big show of hating Hojo was just that - a show? What if they were colluding together on something and the ex-Turk was steeling himself to go through with it? Or maybe Hojo was blackmailing him into complicity…

Or possibly that wasn’t it at all. Possibly Vincent had no qualms whatsoever about the thought of betraying them.

Barret bent to pick up some more supplies from the long grasses, swallowing hard. Losing Aerith had really messed with him - now he was seeing shadows everywhere he looked.

But what if he was right?

If that was the case, there’d be one easy way to figure it out - engineer a way to get Vincent and Hojo alone together, then just listen in. But how to do that? At least some of the others were going to notice his sudden change of heart on leaving Vincent alone with the scientist.

He was still musing it when everyone came back together to check they’d gathered all the resources they needed - they had most of it, except for some hardier materials that would require heading to higher ground.

“That cave system is the fastest way to get there,” Hojo said, nodding back towards a gap in the mountains leading up a steep path. “Then we’ll have everything I need from this place.”

“You’re bein’ real helpful all of a sudden,” Cid remarked.

“I want to get back to work,” Hojo said, smiling the same way he had the previous night. “As soon as physically possible.” Out of the corner of his eye, Barret noticed Vincent actually physically shudder at the sight.

“Let’s do it,” Barret found himself saying. “Let’s go that way.”

The others looked surprised, but he held his ground. A sudden reckless abandon had seized him - if this was a trap he’d rather be the one to spring it, so that he could also be the one to crush it. They all trudged quietly through the dark, the group doing their best to be on high alert even as Barret could tell weariness was setting in.

But the path was quiet. He was just starting to think nothing would happen when there was a low growl from out of the darkness.

Barret span around, making sure everyone was clear before firing off a round in that direction - the rapport lit up the darkness, flashing on snarling teeth and reaching claws.

“I knew it!” he yelled, satisfied they were finally out in the open. Cid shoved Hojo down, Cait using his moogle to pin him to the ground as the rest of them sprung into action.

The group wasn’t at their best synergy with Cloud and Aerith missing, but the building anger of the past few days was obviously getting to more than just him: there was a viciousness in their fighting style that he hadn’t seen since the last time they’d fought JENOVA.

The fiend was a tough one, though - Barret knew they couldn’t keep going on sheer bloodlust for long.

He was about to pull back and hit the team with a pick me up just in case when he felt a wave of healing magic overcome him - and when he looked around he zeroed in on Vincent as the source.

What a surprise. The loner was better at support than he’d given him credit for.

Even with that, though, the tide was starting to turn - magic was running low and in his rage he hadn’t thought to try and pick out the creature’s weakness. Barret tried to hang back, tried to collect himself but the monster was preparing some kind of wide-ranging spray attack.

They’d barely bounced back from the first time the creature had done it, he didn’t think they’d be able to tank it a second time-

“No!” Cait suddenly cried and he saw the skinny frame of the Professor stumble forwards, right into the line of fire.

“The hell are you doin’!” Barret yelled at him - too far away to reach him in time, too shocked to figure out whether to heal or shield him with magic and then it was too late, the creature was already rearing back -

And Vincent was suddenly in front of Hojo, materialising out of nowhere like usual. He didn’t have time to think either, instead just throwing up his arms in the hopes of protecting himself from the worst of the attack.

The spray hit his golden arm dead on, pushing him back - then the Professor grabbed Vincent’s back to hold him in place, his nails curling inward in what looked like a punishing grip.

Barret couldn’t hear anything over the creature’s roar but it didn’t matter, he could see immediately how hurt Vincent was in the way he immediately ducked his head and went tense all over.

The attack passed, the Professor still alive and Vincent stood still curled in on himself.

The creature paused, confused anything could have withstood the assault.

And then the red glow began.

Hojo’s eyes lit up and he didn’t even try to move as Vincent’s body became surrounded by the same unholy light they’d witnessed in the Shinra manor basement and Barret just had time to drag a confused Cid back out of range when the energy exploded outwards, the contortions that had overtaken Vincent last time happening even faster now.

In a second the beast was stood in front of their eyes, the long chain tail knocking Hojo down as he sprang forward.

The fiend, already somewhat worn down from the group’s efforts, was torn limb from limb in a fraction of a second.

The most melee fighters among them who were closest to the fiend - Tifa, Cid, Red, Cait - all got sprayed with a deluge of blood as the beast punched a hole straight through the monster’s jaw.

The fiend stood stunned, reeling for just a moment before it hit the ground with a wet THUD.

There was an equally stunned silence among the group - which turned to a stomach dropping dread as the beast wheeled around, advancing on the scientist laying bound on the floor.

“Incredible,” Hojo breathed. “What a pleasure it is to see that again.”

The beast’s tail whipped dangerously. The jaws dropped, exposing sharp teeth in a snarl.

“…Vincent?” Cid said, sounding completely at sea. Barret pitied him then - he’d not only never seen this before, he doubted Vincent had told him anything about it all those times they’d waited by the Bronco together. Evidently the captain had just assumed they were closer than they were.

The beast didn’t listen. He advanced closer on Hojo. The scientist pushed himself to sit up, shoulders jerking as he struggled with his bonds.

“Vincent,” Cait said, getting around in front of Hojo. “We need him alive. Please-”

The beast just scooped him out of the way with one great arm. It bared its claws, ready to bring them down and gut the man beneath him.

Even with Barret’s distrust he’d spare Vincent over Hojo in a heartbeat. But if he didn’t back off they’d have to force him to - and with how it had taken all they had to take down the beast before, Barret really didn’t want to have to take that option.

He bit the inside of his cheek, hard. He raised his gunarm.

“Someone, get a mobile,” Hojo cried, trying miserably to push himself backwards with only his legs. He rolled in time to avoid the beast pinning him to the spot, cried out as the creature dragged him back by the ankle. “Play Midgar Blues at full volume, now!”

“What’s that supposed to-”

“Just do it!” Hojo screamed, the first signs of fear creeping into his voice. In the struggle his glasses fell off and Barret caught sight of his eyes - and how they were turning a strange brighter green.

Like Cloud’s.

Like Sephiroth’s.

“Someone do what he says!” Barret cried, knowing he didn’t have the dexterity to manage a phone quick enough and instead hitting Vincent with a mild fire spell in the hopes of distracting his attention.

Suddenly old 70s pop music blared through the speaker of Yuffie’s phone and the effect was instantaneous - the beast froze on the spot, rearing up onto hind legs and then began thrashing around with its tail, a howl that was more like a screech ripping from its throat. Barret watched the convulsions, both stunned and confused. There were no obnoxiously high pitched noises in the song that could account for such a reaction, but the creature was practically at war with itself.

It continued on for a long, awful moment as Yuffie stood frozen with the phone raised in her hand.

“Stop it!” Tifa yelled to her over the din, trying to approach the beast before Barret could stop her. “Yuffie, stop it, it’s hurting him!”

Yuffie snapped out of her trance, her big brown eyes shining with tears as she scrambled to shut off the noise.

Even before everything had gone quiet swirls had begun to appear around the beast and just like before, the larger former disappeared in a cloud of red mako, leaving behind Vincent in its place.

He was sitting on the ground this time, long legs stretched out in front of him and breathing hard. The pupil of the eye not hidden behind masses of hair had dilated to the point that the red was barely visible.

“Vincent?” Tifa knelt by his side. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t respond. His eyes drifted down to his left arm and the damage the spray had done to his gauntlet. He examined it with an almost clinical interest, like he didn’t realise it belonged to him.

Hojo pushed past Barret, the AVALANCHE leader catching sight of his hands folded behind his back - in all the chaos, he’d managed to yank himself free? - before he knelt down in front of Vincent.

“Impressive,” he said. “I only wish I’d had the necessary equipment to record such a decisive victory.”

Vincent raised his head, looking straight at the Professor. He stared at him like there was no one else there, watching in stunned silence as the Professor took hold of his left hand by the wrist, turning it to inspect the black wound that had eaten through the metal.

“Not inconsequential,” he said casually, “But not grievous, either.”

It felt like a long moment of Hojo just inspecting Vincent’s arm passed before the ex-Turk blinked, his pupils contracting back to a more normal size. “Don’t,” he said, voice scratchy.

Hojo didn’t release his arm. “You saved my life from that creature,” the professor said simply. “Just like old times, hmm?”

The pistol was in Vincent’s hand and pressed to Hojo’s head in the next second. “I said don’t,” he said, voice wavering.

The Professor merely released his arm and raised an eyebrow, looking at the pistol pressed to his head like it was no threat at all. Hojo stood up, brushing down his labcoat and looking around at the party.

Tifa, Red, Cait and Cid were completely covered in monster blood, the latter staring at Vincent with a mixture of horror and pity. Yuffie was stood with phone still in hand, half-turned away and trying to hide the way she was hastily scrubbing her arm across her eyes.

And Vincent was still sitting on the floor, left arm wounded in his lap and the right limp on the ground, pistol still in his grip.

Guilt bubbled up in Barret’s gut for going along with Hojo’s plan. He swallowed it quickly, rounding on the man in question.

“You! Were you trying to get us killed?”

“Me? Of course not. I knew you could handle it. I merely wanted data,” he said.

Barret glared at him. He nodded to Cid, the captain catching on immediately and binding the professor’s arms again.

“You still need the rest of the supplies, remember?” Hojo told them, practically crowing over their distress. Barret clenched his fist. He longed to hit him to wipe that look off his face, but he didn’t want to scare Yuffie worse than she already was.

“I remember,” he growled. He looked around the party, pressing the beeper to call the buggy. “All right,” he sighed. “Here’s the plan.”

The others looked at him wearily as Barret sized them up, thinking fast. Three of them were still covered in monster guts - only he, Yuffie and Vincent weren’t. Vincent had finally gotten back up, clutching his injured arm against his body. He looked even paler and more exhausted than usual - it was obvious he had nearly completely switched off from the conversation.

“Everyone covered in monster guts, go find a stream and get that mess cleaned up – best you can at least,” he said. “Yuffie, you’re with me - we’re going to get the rest of the supplies.”

It meant climbing the rest of the hill but rather than complain Yuffie just nodded, confirming Barret’s suspicions that she just didn’t want to be left alone. He was glad he could still read at least some of his troops enough to look out for them.

“And Vincent,” Barret said. The man was still staring off into space, huddled into himself. Barret awkwardly laid a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, trying not to shiver when unnerving red eyes turned his way. He swallowed, pushing down the voice in his head warning him don’t do it.

“You’re, uh, going to stay with Hojo in the buggy. Keep an eye on him.”

Cait and Cid exchanged looks. “Uh, Barret,” Cait tried to chime in. “You sure that’s a good-”

“Tie the good professor here to buggy, make sure he can’t move,” he told Cid. “Come on. We’re losing light.”

In the end it transpired the only place they could easily do that was sticking Hojo in the backseat and securing the length of his arm to the rail of the buggy. Vincent mechanically climbed aboard, sitting in the front instead of opposite the professor.

As Cid busied himself trying to adjust the rear view so Vincent could keep an easier eye on the professor, Barret slid a hand into his pocket and recovered his PHS.

Now or never.

Barret activated the function, then set the PHS down on the dashboard along with the resources they’d gathered today like he was just leaving them there to fetch later.

“Vince, come on,” Cid was saying. Barret turned to find Vincent sunk down in the passenger seat, red eyes dull and struggling to stay open. For the second time he felt a pang of guilt about the plan and surreptitiously double checked the professor’s bindings.

They were tight and secure - no way he was going anywhere without chewing through his own arm like the rat he was.

Hojo smiled up at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep the Turk entertained while you’re gone.”

“Ex-Turk,” Vincent said, the response automatic in a way that reminded Barret, yet again, of Cloud. Then more softly he added, “It’s fine, Cid. Stop fussing.”

“But your arm-”

“Oh, he’ll live,” Hojo said. “He always does.”

Vincent didn’t even bother turning to glare at him.

Cid looked over at Barret, discomfort written all over his features. C’mon, Barret mouthed back at him. He didn’t look at Vincent as he clambered back down, marching right over to Yuffie as soon as he got down.

“Give me your PHS,” he whispered to her as the others filtered off to get cleaned up. “Huh? Why?”

“Got an open channel to mine. Know being quiet isn’t your strong suit, but I need you to do it now,” he said. She still looked confused, so he gave in and admitted, “I left it with Hojo and Vincent. The Professor tries anything funny, least we’ll know about it.”

“Maybe you shoulda just stayed if you’re so worried? Or let me hang back; then I can maaaaaybe make sure Vincent’s not mad about the whole… phone thing. Wait, I can do that - it doesn’t need two of us to-”

“No,” Barret said, catching her arm. “Don’t - don’t waste time. Anyway, since when were you worried if someone was mad at you?”

Yuffie shrugged, but her face crumpled a bit in a way that told him he’d pushed it too far.

Damn, sometimes he forgot how young she really was.

“I dunno,” she mumbled. “I just – I dunno.”

“How bout this,” he said. “You’re in charge of finding rest of what we need. Help me out without making a ton of noise about it, an’ I’ll, y’know, throw an orb your direction. Deal?”

She stuck her tongue out at him but didn’t protest. At least the fight from earlier in the day had taken some of the energy out of her - she actually managed to be quiet as he opened the connection to his own PHS and kept it close to his ear.

The silence went on so long that at first he worried Vincent had just decided to throttle Hojo the minute everyone was gone.

Then a noise: the distinct noise of the buggy seat as someone shifted their weight.

Naturally it was Hojo who spoke first. “Do you have a watch? We really ought to time how long it takes that arm of yours to heal.”

Barret rolled his eyes; they weren’t going to be gone anywhere near that long. Hojo badly needed another hobby.

There was a pause, more noise of likely Hojo fidgeting on the buggy seat. It couldn’t be comfortable with his arm tied to it the way it had been.

Good. Barret owed him all that and more, for Aerith and Red’s sake.

“Not again with the silent treatment,” Hojo said. “It was old the first time, Valentine.”

Another pause and Barret put the PHS close to his ear, wondering if the thing had broken. There was no noise coming from Vincent at all. He guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised by that - when he wasn’t being spooky he was doing his best statue impersonation - but it made him uneasy to not know exactly what was happening.

“Tired, aren’t you?” the professor said, to no response.

“He’s always tired,” Yuffie whispered, coming over with materials in her arms. “Hey, you think doing the monster mash makes it worse?”

Barret supposed it must do. He’d never put much thoughts into the mechanics of how Vincent’s modifications worked. He’d never really wanted to.

“I had thought the initial problems you had were the result of - other factors. Well, you know; you must remember some of it. Nice to get confirmation there’s still a tax on the body to do what you do. Room for improvement, don’t you think?”

More silence.

Hojo sighed.

“All right,” he said. “To brass tacks, then. I wanted to make you an offer, Valentine.”

Barret’s grip tightened on the PHS. Of all the bad feelings to be right about…

Worse still, there was a silence as Vincent didn’t immediately shut him down. Was he just hoping ignoring Hojo would make him shut up? There was precious little reason to think that.

Yuffie mouthed ‘What’s happening?’ and Barret held up a hand to keep her quiet.

“How do I put this… I think you’ve got potential. Greater potential than I realised at the time I wrote you off as a failure. Water under the bridge, hmm?” he said. This time he didn’t wait for Vincent to refuse to respond before continuing, “Now don’t go answering too soon - we’d be safer discussing this back in my lab. All you have to do is keep me alive while your - your companions go on this fruitless quest to find the other failure. Then be my bodyguard, get me back to Midgar and I’ll show you how to unlock your true power. Fair?”

Another silence, then strangely Hojo laughed. “Ah, now that does take me back! Where would you be without your patented withering glare? Planet forbid you make engaging conversation for once in your life.”

Yuffie nodded proudly, like she hadn’t even considered the possibility that Vincent might betray them. Barret couldn’t bring himself to share her optimism though.

“I’d ask you to think very carefully about refusing me, though,” Hojo continued. “There’s the easy way and the hard way. And I don’t think you want to do the hard way again.”

“Hojo,” Vincent finally said. He sounded fed up to the point of frustration.

“Hmm?”

“Whatever you’re scheming now, I want absolutely no part of it. Your arrogance knows no bounds if you truly think I would ever-”

“To be honest, I don’t,” he said. “I asked mostly to be polite. The last time I had a willing participant was that speedster SOLDIER; even compared to you he’s several sandwiches short of a picnic.”

“Hojo,” Vincent said again. “If all you’re after is escaping with your life-” “No. That doesn’t concern me.”

“Then what?” Vincent asked, finally a bit of a rise in his voice. “The thought of dissecting a WEAPON is still too pedestrian for you to stop there?”

“To think you still don’t understand, all these years later,” Hojo said softly. “There is no stopping and there are no limits. Not for a mind as great as mine.”

There was a pause and for a moment Barret thought the danger had passed. But then Hojo started speaking again - his tone quiet, soft almost.

“It’s a shame we never did see eye to eye,” he said. “Especially since you owe me for saving your life. Not to mention that if you had any sense, you’d realise you’re better off with me. Given how you are now…”

“Hojo,” Vincent said. “I’m well used to you taking me for an idiot. But don’t take me for a fool.”

“If you’re not,” Hojo said, “Then why are you pretending you have a place with those people

– a bunch of idealists who hate Shinra and the ‘monsters’ they’ve made? Or are you really going to tell me it doesn’t bother them at all, knowing what you are?”

Vincent didn’t answer.

A second later, there was a click - Barret looked down to see Yuffie’s small hand on his, finger resting on the button where she’d cut the call.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s - let’s just get the stuff and get back.”

There wasn’t much talk after they got back to the ship - Barret made a point of asking Yuffie to let him talk to Vincent about what they’d overheard, to which she said only, “What’s to talk about? He told Hojo where to stick it! Just like anyone would.”

Barret wasn’t sure if her lack of interest in the mountain of secrets Vincent was obviously keeping was naivete or some sort of misguided optimism.

Hell, maybe it was just grief. Losing someone so violently probably would make someone her age cling even tighter to everyone around her, even if it wasn’t wise.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a soft, “Barret.” Tifa was standing on the bridge behind him.

Immediately Barret crossed the space and grabbed her in a hug. She clung on to him tightly, neither of them saying anything as long minutes ticked by.

“Where is he?” she asked softly.

“The scientist? Cid and Cait are watching him.”

“I can take a shift,” she offered.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. We’ve got it covered.”

“Today was… a lot.”

He let her go and stood back. “Tell me about it. Keep this between us, but…” He glanced around before lowering his voice and whispering, “Yuffie and I overheard Hojo making Vincent some kind of weird offer over the PHS.”

“To do what?”

“He… didn’t say. Something about Vincent wasting his powers, or something.”

She shook her head. “So he just wants to use him for Shinra’s benefit. Same as always.” She looked him in the eye. “Vincent turned him down?”

“Yeah, but…” Barret rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how Tifa would take this. “I don’t think we can trust him either, Teef.”

“Why not?”

“The way he and Hojo act around each other, it’s - off. There’s more than just Vincent getting some new Shinra superpower from him and regretting it, I can feel it.” He sighed, deciding he might as well air out the thoughts he’d been having for some time now too. “If the secrets weren’t bad enough, guy’s got walls higher than Fort Condor. I thought Cloud was something else, but a rogue element is the last thing the group needs right now.”

“…Secrets don’t automatically mean untrustworthiness,” Tifa said slowly. “He’s helped us in the past, hasn’t he? If anything he’s been more reliable than Cait Sith and you embraced him back onto the team.”

“Yeah, well, that’s different.”

“Why? Because he’s an adorable robot cat and not someone who shapeshifts into monsters?”

Barret bristled. “Tifa, you really think I’d draw the line at someone being modified?” he said, gesturing to his own gun arm.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think it depends what package it came in. And when the label says ‘ex-Shinra’…”

“All right, I get it - just keep your guard up. For me, OK?”

She fell silent for a moment and from the sudden glimmer in her eyes Barret knew she could only be thinking about their absent friends. “Sometimes I think everyone is ‘ex-Shinra’ in some way even if they never worked there,” she said. “Until we came up North it was like their influence was everywhere and in everyone. They break everyone who comes into contact with them.”

Barret hugged her tight again. “You ain’t broken, Tifa,” he said. “I know you don’t feel it right now, but you’re strong. We tough out this craziness a bit longer and we’ll have Cloud back. Then we finish what we started and put the world to rights.”

She was quiet in his arms. Barret knew things rarely looked that simple for her.

If he was honest with himself he felt the same - but if he let that thought any deeper, he might really lose the will to go on. And the last thing the group needed now was to lose another leader.

The next morning Hojo asked for his hands to be bound in front so he could hold the mostly finished prototype of the WEAPON detector in them. He stood on the bridge and theatrically turned the device on, then immediately -

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Hojo flipped it back off again. “Look at that! We’re nearby. I suggest we land right here.”

Barret wrinkled his nose - what were the odds they just happened to be near a WEAPON already? “Here? But-” He looked over at Cid. “Aren’t we hovering near Costa del Sol?”

“There… could be a WEAPON in the ocean,” Red said slowly, though he sounded confused too. “If the machine isn’t malfunctioning, isn’t it worth a look?”

“Quite,” Hojo said. “The rare creature took the words from my mouth.”

“Let’s not tarry,” Vincent reminded them. Barret couldn’t help but notice the bad arm injury was somehow nowhere to be seen the morning after, even though he’d sustained it on his gauntlet. “Cloud is depending on you.”

The others nodded, any awkwardness from yesterday temporarily forgotten as the hopes of finding Cloud again ran high. In that spirit Barret grabbed hold of Vincent’s arm right before he could follow the others.

The ex-Turk looked at him, as impassive as ever. “Something wrong?”

“I just… wanted to say,” he started. Then he let go. “Never mind. You’re right. Let’s keep on trucking.”

Vincent tilted his head to one side, considering him for a moment before nodding.

The ex-Turk said little to anyone as they headed down to the beach, simply speaking when spoken to and quietly checking up on Tifa when he thought no one could hear.

For just one moment, Barret allowed himself the hope that Tifa was right: Hojo was going to provide them with a lead and Vincent could be trusted.

With Aerith and now Cloud gone everything was already as not fine as it could be, but it couldn’t get any worse. It just couldn’t.

As soon as they reached the beach Hojo turned the device back on, only for it to beep at the same intensity as before.

“The fuck?” Barret said. “Why isn’t it any louder now we’re down here?”

“Why isn’t it, indeed?” Hojo said. “Well, that’s probably because the WEAPON it’s detecting has been the same distance away this entire time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Cid said. “Like we wouldn’t notice something that big so close?” “Guys,” Cait said, suddenly looking tense. “Maybe we shouldn’t-”

But Hojo was already moving, making a show of slowly turning around, the detector in his hands growing louder as

Beep… beep…

It passed over Yuffie, then Red.

Beep… BEEP…

It passed Tifa, then Cid, then Cait.

BEEP - BEEP - BEEP

It grew as loud as it possibly could as it passed over Barret and his stomach sank as he knew what was coming, what was going to happen when

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

It landed on Vincent.

“And look at that,” Hojo said, satisfied. “You’ve proven more interesting than I thought, dear boy.”

Vincent shook his head, looking at the confused and surprised faces of the others. “No,” he said. “No, that - that’s not possible. The reading is-”

“Not wrong, thank you. My machines do not lie.” “Vincent?” Tifa asked, hurt creeping into her voice.

“You know everything you - everything you implanted into me,” Vincent hissed at Hojo. “I don’t know what you’re playing at but you know you’re wasting everyone’s time as well as I do.”

“Precisely. I know everything I implanted into you.” With his hands still bound he awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose. “But I wasn’t the only scientist in that manor - now was I?”

Barret didn’t think it was possible for Vincent to get even paler, but all the blood drained from his face at once.

“No,” he whispered. “That’s not - you’re wrong. You’re lying!” “Vincent,” Barret said, rounding on him. “What the hell is going on?”

But Vincent wouldn’t respond, just shaking his head and backing away.

“Yes, it’s exactly as it seems,” Hojo said from behind him. “Not only did Vincent keep this a secret from you, but he hoarded a powerful materia from all of you. To think a destructive WEAPON was in your midst the whole time!”

When Vincent still wouldn’t respond Barret seized him by the shoulders, shaking him. Vincent stared blankly. “For Planet’s sake, say something!” he snapped. “You’re not really-”

Another beep distracted him and Barret whirled around to see Hojo had pressed another control on the detecting device - a small button hidden along the side, near invisible at first glance.

Suddenly the waves began to ripple as something large began to rise from the depths and Hojo darted away from them, running faster than Barret would have expected straight towards the sea. Barret released Vincent and raised his gun arm, ready to shoot-

“Wait!” Cait called, “If you hit the WEAPON detector we’ve lost our chance to find Cloud!”

• And a very familiar machine rose from the waves, with long tendrils and a massive container on its back.

“This again?” Barret snapped.

“Say hello to the Grasptropod Mark 2,” Hojo told them, turning his back so the sharp end of the tendril could cut his bonds loose. “I made a mistake last time by trying to take too many of you at once; you’re too much trouble to deal with, frankly. I won’t do that again today.”

“What’s the plan, Barret?” Cid called, raising his spear.

“Get the detector!” Barret said, “Break his neck and then the machine will shut down with no one to direct it!” He turned to Vincent, punching him in the arm. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, but you’d better not let us down now - sounds like he’s after you this time!”

Vincent took out his pistol, nodding without really seeming to take in what Barret is saying. “He’s lying,” he said faintly. “He’s…”

Barret turned, not waiting for Vincent to get his head back together before springing into action. With the team preoccupied with holding back the Grasptropod he tried to focus on separating Hojo from it enough to make himself a window to shoot the detector right out of the smug bastard’s hand.

His plan was complicated when Hojo pressed a button, unleashing a flurry of missiles to push the group back. In the chaos he scrambled to climb up his own machine, to get to safety right behind the containment chamber.

“We’re gonnae lose him!” Cait cried and suddenly there was a flash of red in front of Barret as Vincent dodged recklessly through the tendrils of the machine to climb it, too, reaching up with his gauntlet and seizing Hojo around the neck, trying to drag him down as the scientist cackled and raised the control in his hand.

“You’re lying!” Vincent yelled. “Tell me that you’re-” He was cut off with a sharp gasp.

A clawed tendril of the Grasptropod had whipped around and stabbed Vincent straight in the chest.

“You’re the one,” Hojo told him, laying a hand over Vincent’s claw before loosening his grip, “Who’s been lying to yourself.”

He got in closer, hissing, “You should have taken my offer when you had the chance.” “Vincent!” Yuffie screamed. “You bastard, let him go-”

The tendril tightened its grip, yanking Vincent momentarily forward before it pulled back and in a spray of blood and gore extracted something round and shining from his chest.

Between strands of blood dripping off the sphere the glow of materia was unmistakeable.

In that instant Barret flashed back to seeing the WEAPON at the reactor, the huge orb of materia implanted in its body. This was nowhere near that size - but if Hojo was telling the truth there was only one thing it could be…

Vincent choked, eyes wide and body convulsing in shock. The tendril barely had to nudge him and he fell straight down the machine, bouncing off of it and landing in a sprawl right in reach of the tendrils.

He groaned deeply, trying to move - and a red mist covered him once more.

Hojo leaned forwards to see, a fascinated gleam in his eyes. The others tried to start forward and get Vincent out of there as Barret stood shocked, but the machine was whipping its arms around and firing missiles as a cover to keep them back.

At the foot of the Grasptropod, Vincent was curling in on himself and grasping at his head, crying out in pain. A red light seized hold of his body, more powerful than anything Barret had felt emanating from him before - then his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head and he slumped back onto the sand, motionless.

“Interesting,” Hojo said, pressing a button on his device, “So the wound is too grievous for even the WEAPON to overcome immediately. Well, no matter… I won’t even need a containment rocket…”

The tendrils converged on Vincent’s limp body, lifting him like a rag doll and moving to deposit him in the machine’s containment chamber.

“No!” Yuffie cried, throwing her shuriken in a desperate attempt to slice through them - but against all the tendrils together it barely made a scratch. As soon as Hojo had Vincent secured he pressed another button to close the chamber, chuckling to himself.

“It’s been… interesting spending time with you all,” he said. “You were always going to be useful to lead me to a WEAPON - I admit I just never expected to come upon one so close.”

“Professor!” Red growled. “This time you’re not getting away with-”

“I’m doing you a favour taking him off your hands, you know,” he interrupted, pressing buttons to make the machine retreat back towards the waves. Some of the group tried to pursue the machine further but Hojo quickly sent out another barrage of covering missiles to keep them away. “Consider it a token of my generosity I’m recovering only one piece of Shinra property today.”

Tifa grabbed Barret’s arm, shaking him. “Barret, do something - shoot him -”

Barret blinked, raising his firearm to gun the Professor down once and for all but it was too late; the machine’s tendrils raised to protect him and as it retreated further into the sea he was soon out of range entirely, heading back across the ocean - probably back to the safety of Midgar and the citadel of Shinra HQ.

A moment later there was the telltale noise of helicopters on the horizon.

“Bastard must have signalled them the second he called up that machine,” Cid said. “He was never going to help us find Cloud, was he?”

“Of course not! He played us all for fools, again!” Red seethed. “We should have known not to let him - we should have tested that thing he was building-”

“And how’d any of us be able to tell if he snuck in other functions?” Cid said. “Even I didn’t spot it and I was watching him the whole time.” He pinched his nose. “And now Vincent’s…”

“We aren’t gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Barret said. “Hojo was right. There’s something else inside him - something he didn’t tell us about! The scientist might’ve been gunning for him from the start.”

“So what?” Yuffie snapped. “We’re going to go get him!” she cried, looking around at the gathered party. At their silence, her anger turned to confusion, indignation. “…Aren’t we?” She stamped her foot. “Are we really going to risk losing someone else?”

Barret said nothing, watching the faint shape of the helicopter carrying the Grasptropod retreating across the waves with their team mate in tow.

The awful feeling he’d been having all this time crystallised - he had the distinct sense that whatever was happening with Vincent, it went all the way to the heart of the rot inside Shinra.

Maybe more than they’d already seen, worse than they already knew.

And Barret didn’t know if he had the stomach to find out.

Chapter Text

WRO : Operation QUIET

The responsible [principle architect]: Professor Hojo - director of R&D department of Shinra (deceased)

The victim: Vincent Valentine - formerly of Administrative Research department of Shinra AKA the Turks (generation 1, 13th member)

Tape details: Further tapes discovered in an unordered collection in the R&D offices after Meteorfall. Presented as evidence in the Shinra Trials

Classification: Highly sensitive, never to be released

Attached is the transcript used in the Shinra Trials [some details may be redacted at the request of Director of the WRO]

[Tape clicks on]

Prof. Hojo: Subject GAI012, Tape 12.

Prof. Hojo: Subject is currently resting under sedation. The newly implanted and improved cells have been propagating throughout the body and have consumed an estimated 90% of the old cells. In previous tests I have established that the specimen’s ability to heal has been greatly increased - for an improvised test on an unplanned subject it’s - it’s a promising result!

Prof. Hojo: For a moment I had my doubts about my approach, but - I wasn’t wrong. This won’t end in my killing him like it could have done. I made an opportunity out of a disaster. Just like the suits are always talking about.

Prof. Hojo: This might be a good time to make a tangent about the subject, actually.

Prof. Hojo: Specimen is a trained Turk at… 27 or so years of age. In physical terms he is tall but would easily border on underweight if he lost a couple of pounds; assuming that hasn’t happened already. He is a marksman or sniper by trade, but training in hand to hand has given him decent musculature and stamina.

Prof. Hojo: All of that is highly uninteresting, frankly. Turks come in a variety of physical types and with a variety of weapons expertise. His build alone is not as unusual as it might be for such a physical job.

Prof. Hojo: The specimen’s background is likely not atypical for his profession, either. His education is the patchwork composition of whatever books he’d read - unusual for a Turk to

have that hobby! - common knowledge picked up from the streets and useless skills acquired by living rough. As far as the rest goes, he’s not as hopeless as some others of his type - observant, sharp. Used to know when to hold his tongue.

Prof. Hojo: Mentally the subject appears stable on the surface. As I said, he used to know when to hold his tongue, how to survive at Shinra. There is, however, a reckless and self-destructive streak underneath that - one that he acts frequently unaware of.

Prof. Hojo: He initially appeared convinced of his own death after recovering consciousness post-surgery, but his greater concern was for - someone else. It’s a curious attitude given he simultaneously appears to think I’m going to skin him just for fun.

Prof. Hojo: Something to keep an eye on if tests to check recovery from mental stressors might prove interesting, perhaps.

Prof. Hojo: Regardless of that, unless that baseline level of intellect can be redirected to see the sense of what I’m doing, the subject will likely continue to suffer under the delusion that the experiments are done solely to further his suffering. There’s a stubborn strain there that’s yet to be ripped out, which frustrates my progress when it increases his reluctance to talk.

Prof. Hojo: However, what is curious enough to make me want to persist is the high pain tolerance the subject possesses, especially for a male. I had noticed this multiple times prior and never had the chance to see what could be done with it. The subject also possesses an unusual eye colour that makes no sense for his not exhibiting any signs of albinism - likely it is the result of a peculiar genetic defect. Possibly something else to look into…

Prof. Hojo: In summation, the subject is as close to an ideal candidate for the further procedures I have in mind, assuming the initial stages are successful.

Prof. Hojo: As a side note - for some reason the wound previously inflicted to the chest has not yet healed. The flesh should knit itself together soon - if not, another solution may need improvising.

Prof. Hojo: However, the initial tests were with minor injuries - bruises, cuts, etc.

Prof. Hojo: To fully test the limitations of the new cells, I need a more - thorough battery of tests.

Prof. Hojo: [Clears throat]

Prof. Hojo: Beginning test of the specimen’s regenerative quality number ten - first major injury test, classification - bones.

Prof. Hojo: Administering adrenaline to restore consciousness…

[Sound: A clattering as Hojo picks up medical supplies, likely from a side table.]

Prof. Hojo: Good morning, GAI012. How are you feeling this morning?

Prof: Hojo: Still groggy, by the looks of it. Where are my manners? Let’s just change out your IV and catheter, check your vitals…

Prof. Hojo: All right, there we are. Any new developments you want to inform me of?

Prof. Hojo: No?

Prof. Hojo: Well, that’s all right - I won’t take offense just this once. Actually I’m excited to step up testing for today.

Prof. Hojo: You remember this?

[Sound: metal scraping]

Vincent: …What’re you gonna do with… that?

Prof. Hojo: Ah, we’re talking today! Then I’ll tell you.

Prof. Hojo: We’re moving on to test your healing capabilities with broken bones.

Prof. Hojo: Since you’re happy to talk, I’ll repay the favour: which bone would you prefer to be broken?

Prof. Hojo: Or rather, which hand? I’m starting small - we won’t need this just yet.

[Sound: something heavy is put down, likely - information redacted by Director’s request]

Prof. Hojo: Left or right?

[Sound: Minute silence on the tape. This is not an error.]

Prof. Hojo: Always one step forward, two steps back with you. I was going to start with your non-dominant hand just in case. I’ll just do that, anyway, since you apparently have no opinion on it.

Vincent: [INDISTINCT]

Prof. Hojo: What’s that? Speak up, boy.

Vincent: When people find out what you’ve done - what are you going to do?

Prof. Hojo: Which people are those, exactly?

[Sound: A cracking sound, assumed to be Hojo breaking one or more of Vincent’s fingers. Vincent cries out in pain]

Prof. Hojo: Other employees at Shinra?

[Sound: another cracking sound and cry from Vincent, as above]

Prof. Hojo: The President?

[Sound: another cracking sound and cry from Vincent, as above]

Prof. Hojo: The board of directors - or in other words, the President’s grad school friends?

[Sound: another groan from Vincent]

Vincent: What’d you t-tell - her?

[Sound: half a minute of silence]

Prof. Hojo: I barely had to tell her anything. She doesn’t care about you right now; she’s got more pressing concerns.

[Sound: a minute passing with just Vincent gasping in pain]

Prof. Hojo: That’ll do. Don’t say I don’t know how to do things in moderation.

[Sound: another minute passing as above]

Prof. Hojo: You know, I don’t think you really believe anything will happen if anyone finds out.

Prof. Hojo: Everyone else at Shinra knows to keep their mouths shut if they want to have any hope of getting a promotion.

Prof. Hojo: As for the outside world, well, why would they believe it? I don’t think anyone wants to think ill of a company that’s done so much to revolutionise the way they live their simple little lives.

Prof. Hojo: As far as provincial little Nibelheim goes, they might love their gossip but you’re the one who very thoroughly primed the villagers to stay out of the manor for their own good, remember?

Prof. Hojo: And all the residents inside the manor has other priorities than one Turk’s life.

Prof. Hojo: And… oh. That rather covers everyone, doesn’t it?

Prof. Hojo: So don’t give me hollow threats again. Desperation and bargaining don’t make for a fruitful working partnership.

Vincent: [INDISTINCT - words too close together and breathless to discern]

Prof. Hojo: Right. So let’s get this set properly. Then we’ll do the other one.

Prof. Hojo: What now, Valentine? Don’t act like I’m just trying to hurt you when I’m merely following the scientific method. Without methodical and thorough enquiry, the data is useless.

Prof. Hojo: If you’re not doing well I can give you painkillers. But you have to use your voice and ask me, like an adult. You’re not a helpless child here, you know.

[Sound: There are hacking, choking coughs. It is assumed Vincent is trying to cough up blood or bile.]

Prof. Hojo: Oh. So the sedatives were the problem. I apologise, I’ll get the dose right next time. We’ll avoid these messes from now on.

[Tape clicks off]

[Tape clicks on]

Prof. Hojo: Subject GAI012, Tape 14.

Prof. Hojo: Tests of the regenerative improvements through breaks on minor bones - fingers, the wrist - have proven fruitful, though the results were not fully unexpected.

Prof. Hojo: To really get a precise idea of exactly how well the modifications are working, I need to get more ambitious.

Prof. Hojo: To begin with there’ll be larger bones broken. Then other types of damages will need to be inflicted.

Prof. Hojo: If that all goes well, then… but I get ahead of myself.

Prof. Hojo: Today I’ve decided to use the tool I found in the manor days prior. I suspect the specimen has been anxious about it since I’ve left it in the lab within eyeshot for several days now. That wasn’t my intent to accidentally cause distress, but well, the lab was the only place it made sense to leave it…

Prof. Hojo: And pragmatically speaking, I’m not strong enough to break certain bones with my bare hands.

[Sound: a door opening and closing]

Prof. Hojo: Already awake today, I see! Looks like the adjusted dose is working out.

[Sound: Metal scraping against stone]

Prof. Hojo: You don’t need to wait anymore. Today’s the day we’re using this.

Vincent: Hojo…

Prof. Hojo: You have a preference for where we start? And if you’re going to ask, I expect you to call me ‘Professor’. I know the sedatives have been… addling you somewhat, but that’s no reason to-

Vincent: What’s - what’s the point? You know I can h-heal breaks.

Prof. Hojo: You disappoint me. You’re letting the pain do the talking.

Prof. Hojo: If you want my respect as an equal you have to at least try to think about what the scientific method to understanding your capabilities is.

Vincent: Respect? You honestly think I want -

[Sound: Vincent has a coughing fit]

Vincent: …your respect?

Prof. Hojo: Excuse me?

Vincent: What in the Planet’s name… are you thinking? You’re - you’re going to cripple me and you’re talking about respect?

Prof. Hojo: Valentine-

Vincent: There’s something wrong with you. There’s something wrong with you. There has to be.

[Sound: Another coughing fit]

Prof. Hojo: …I see you’ve stopped holding your tongue.

Prof. Hojo: If you’d just stuck in your lane and understood your place, you could’ve kept being useful. I wouldn’t have had to hurt you.

Prof. Hojo: I didn’t want to do that, whatever you believe. There is nothing wrong with me that I don’t value what you value, and I’m trying to help salvage something out of this waste you call a life!

Vincent: Wait - don’t - don’t-!

[Note from WRO director Reeve Tuesti: audio is redacted from this point. Refer to Shinra Trial transcript pertaining to defendant interrogation]

Chapter Text

From the moment he watched a bright impossible orb of materia be ripped from his chest, everything happened in flashes.

He was on the ground.

He was being lifted into the air.

He was lowered into a space dark and close, the floor hard underneath him, hard and cold…

He was looking up at Hojo, who was picking his shirt out from the gore of the wound and wrapping something around it.

It stung. It stung.

The hands on him wore latex surgical gloves, just like before. The feel of that touch alone brought decades old memories flooding back.

He was gasping in pain and trying to stop him touching the wound, trying to get free as Hojo’s dress shoe pinned down his left wrist.

The grip was so much stronger than he expected. He looked into Hojo’s eyes and saw JENOVA there.

Home again, the look seemed to say.

He was seized by a power he didn’t recognise for a second time, his vision flooding with red. The tide was so overwhelming and severe that he lost all focus on what Hojo was doing in the hopes of fighting it back.

He might have been begging Hojo for help.

His back arched, the pain mounting as he panicked – but just as soon as it had come, the presence withdrew and he was left panting and struggling to breathe.

“You can’t fight it forever,” Hojo said.

His grip shifted, pinning down Vincent’s gauntlet with his hand as the other turned his head to expose his neck.

“You wouldn’t have so many bruises here,” Hojo was saying, surgical gloved fingertips lingering for just a second on the puncture marks that had never gone away, “If you hadn’t fought me so much.”

Then the needle went in, adding another mark to the collection.

The power inside him reared its head again, fighting hard against the drug and crying out for Vincent to let it take control and get him out of this situation.

As much as he might want to get away, Vincent instinctively held back. A power like that - a monster like that… it would eat him whole.

He was never giving in. He was a sad excuse for a human, but losing what remained of his humanity - he felt his chest constrict and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His hand shot up, clawed fingers curling around Hojo’s gloved hand as his only anchor to reality.

“Planet, just as peculiar as ever, aren’t you?” Hojo was saying. He sounded almost amused. But his voice distorted like he was underwater, growing more distant by the second. “I’ve given you a gift.”

But he let Vincent grip onto his hand until the blackness took him entirely.

Flashes.

A narrow surface under him - a gurney? Straps binding him down. The ceilings above him blue and black, the smooth sterility of a building he never thought he’d see again.

Shinra HQ.

Hojo walking by the side of his head, talking a mile a minute as he always did.

Other people dipping in and out of his vision - Shinra staff, troopers, captains.

He thought he saw the Turks - the ones he’d seen back at the Temple. Confusion on their faces. Surprise.

Others still - important people flanked by guards. Members of the Board - young ones he didn’t recognise; a woman in red, a smart bearded man who looked like he’d seen one too many late nights… eyes that lingered on him until he disappeared out of sight.

But there was one he did know: Heidegger.

The President’s old friend from college and the most power-hungry warhawk he’d ever met.

He was older now. Sixty maybe, grey hairs everywhere in the black beard. The same age Vincent should have been, if time had been merciful to him. He saw the man recognised him, too - he was saying something to Hojo, clapping his hands like he was looking at a splendid marvel and not the broken body of a monster.

Heidegger examined him, whistled softly. “Goddamn,” he said. “Hasn’t changed in years. Where’d you hide this one away, Hojo? Can’t wait to see what you’ll...”

Vincent’s eyes drifted shut and when he reopened them, Heidegger was gone, leaving him alone with Hojo as he was wheeled into an elevator. A needle was in the man’s hand again - those hands wearing bright blue surgical gloves.

Just like before. Just like always.

Vincent’s heart skipped. For the first time in his drug-induced haze he was aware of his own breathing, his heart beating - how fast both were going.

Hojo looking down at him, grey eyes visible under the glasses. That blue-gloved hand reached out towards him - Vincent tensed - and ghosted over the back of his head, moving down to capture long black strands between his fingers. He looked at them with mild interest.

“You grew out your hair,” Hojo observed.

He sounded casual, not making a criticism or a complaint. Vincent’s heart pounded harder - then Hojo pushed his hair and head to one side.

There was a pinch that must have been another needle. The cold rush of fluid followed and he sighed.

Let his eyes drift shut.

Consciousness came back to Vincent slowly. The first thing he was aware of was the pain - a raw throbbing right in the centre of his chest. He knew his accelerated healing had taken the edge off the worst of it, but the ache was still considerable enough that he was grasping at his chest long before the rest of his senses had switched back on.

His shirt was torn, gauze covering the wound right beneath it. Hojo must have patched it up… Hojo.

The whole sorry series of events came back to him all at once and he realised belatedly that if he could put a hand to his chest, he wasn’t bound to an operating table. But then where was he?

His hand smoothed over the surface beneath him, finding a hard floor that almost… thrummed to the touch. Wherever he was, a vibration was coming through the ground, like the building itself was alive.

Vincent managed to pry his eyes back open, finding himself in a narrow, dark corridor where the only light emanated from yellow spots in the walls.

The blue-black metal look of the place told him instantly he was in Shinra HQ - not a part he recognised, but doubtless the building had become even more sprawling in the years since he’d visited it.

The humming concerned him. It was likely some distant power source, though where it was and what it was doing he couldn’t say and wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

Still, he wasn’t being cut open or crippled to prove something Hojo should have known already. He allowed himself the briefest hope that if Hojo had been foolish enough not to restrain or sedate him, he might be able to fight his way out of this.

As Vincent pulled himself up, that strange sensation hit him in another wave. He clung tightly to the wall as red flooded his vision and he was struck still at the sheer strength of it.

It was such an elemental feeling, like part of the Planet was trying to pull him down towards it. If he tried to tap into it, listen to it, he had a feeling he’d be able to understand what the presence was trying to communicate…

No. He couldn’t do that, couldn’t let himself even think of it.

Vincent fought it back, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood to force it down, down,

down...

Finally the agony passed and he slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to his chest, breaths heaving.

What Hojo had told him right before that machine had risen from the ocean flashed through his mind once more.

Claiming this other creature inside him was a WEAPON wasn’t enough for him. He just had to claim Lucrecia put it there, too.

Something nettled him about it, though. He remembered asking Lucrecia about her thesis once, assuming she might still be working on her area of study. How she’d wrinkled her nose and said it had leaned too much into theory rather than practice. He’d been foolish enough to look up her work in the company archive with some half-baked notion of trying to understand it to impress her.

He still remembered the title: The Planet’s Pulse.

But other than that he’d immediately run into his own limitations. Her writing was terse and direct - he could easily imagine her as a student working into the small hours of the night and struggling to make her sentences keep pace with her vision - but the ideas presented were dense and difficult to understand. His education was limited to being able to read and write; something that had been a rarity in his hometown and the bare minimum for any decent job anywhere else.

With the rest coming from whatever books he’d been able to get cheap, borrow or steal his scientific knowledge was rudimentary at best. He knew right away he’d need to read multiple introductory guides to biotechnology before he could even think about touching her thesis.

The frustration at the gulf between them had been enough to motivate him to at least skim read the rest of the thesis in the hopes of grasping the shape of it.

The two things he did remember distinctly were her theorising the existence of a WEAPON she named Chaos, and the one concession to a more poetic style of writing in the whole thesis that Vincent’s lousy literature-poisoned brain naturally latched on to:

Behold Chaos, Omega’s squire to the lofty heavens.

But what in the Planet’s name did that mean? And why couldn’t his stupid memory have retained something more useful from a thesis Lucrecia must have spent dozens of hours pouring over?

No. This was foolish; Hojo was lying. Lucrecia had been in the late stages of her pregnancy; incredibly ill because of the JENOVA cells causing further complications. He’d been days and days in the labs under Hojo’s knife before the scientist deemed him a failure and locked

him up. There was just no way she’d discovered what Hojo had done until it had been long past too late - and by then she’d had her child to worry about.

But then why had Hojo been acting like he hadn’t known? Offering to build a WEAPON detection machine only made sense if he’d genuinely hoped to track one of the Planet’s guardians from some place far away. If he’d thought Vincent held one the entire time, why all the run around? The Professor always had a flare for messing with people but even then it made little sense.

He shook his head. He needed to stop it. He needed to focus on getting out of here.

He was on his own now, which meant he couldn’t afford any mistakes.

His hand naturally went to his hip, trying to find his pistol - and came up empty.

Of course, they’d confiscated it when they threw him down into this strange place along with all his ammo and materia.

“Shit,” he muttered. From now on the only weapons he had were his wits, his claw, his abnormal healing and his unwelcome houseguests.

With as much stock as he could take of his situation done, he used the wall for support and followed the curve of the corridor around to the end. From there it led into a narrow room with a set of stairs, which led to a walkway overlooking a long box of a room.

Down at floor level a couple of zenenes were napping. A pipe ran over their heads, which would have been an easy path - if only it hadn’t been broken in the middle.

Still, not a problem for him if he played his cards right.

He dropped down so he could move soundlessly, having to go slower than usual with the pain of his injury still aching in his chest even when he didn’t make sudden movements. But he was going to have to get up for the next part, so he eased himself upright on the railing and measured the distance while he caught his breath.

The pipe would probably only take one more step before it collapsed completely, but that was fine - he only needed it for a boost point.

Vincent backed up, clenching his fists as he tried not to focus on the pain in his chest.

Then he sprang forwards.

The group already knew of his ability to transform but so far he’d hidden the more athletic, SOLDIER-level acrobatics from them. But being alone he could use his strange new skillset to its fullest, landing on the pipe and collecting energy in his legs before springing straight off of it, jumping high enough to make a perfect arc over the gap.

The pipe bent and broke, falling and alerting the fiends below - but it didn’t matter as Vincent landed neatly on the other side.

Then immediately crumpled to his knees as the pain in his chest flared up, pain near the point of making him pass out.

He panted, the fiends below hissing their indignation now they were aware of prey that was just out of their reach.

A sudden crackle of static startled him.

“Impressive, GAI012!” Hojo said over an intercom. “Now that I think of it, I neglected to test your dexterity the first time around. I’m hoping to correct that now.”

At the sound of his voice the fiends down below cowered, curling into themselves and emitting low, fearful whines. Vincent looked down at them with pity before looking around the room, expecting to see -

A camera. Fixed up high on the right wall, focused right on him.

If he’d had Cerberus he could have taken it out easily.

“Unfortunately for you that walkway doesn’t lead to the exit,” Hojo continued. “So you’re going to have to go down and through anyway. At least the jump was a warm up for you.”

Vincent grasped the railing, leaning over to see what he meant - there was a small gap at the end of the room, but getting to it would mean getting past the fiends.

“Going by what I saw out there near the ruins, you haven’t acquired too much rust. So let’s see Veld’s precious protege in action!”

Vincent gripped the railing tighter, anger flashing through him. He should have known. If it wasn’t cutting someone open without their consent it was his other favourite hobby - combat trials. He looked deliberately over at the camera, gesturing to the fact he was empty-handed and without his pistol.

“Oh, please,” Hojo said. “I’ve armed you more effectively than most any human alive. But, now that I think of it… if you wanted to get out of there immediately, you’d just use the WEAPON trapped inside you. Wouldn’t you?”

Vincent’s grip tightened. He felt the metal under his claw, knowing he could easily make it buckle if he squeezed any harder. If he imagined it was Hojo’s neck instead…

“I’ve remove the barrier holding it back, proving my hypothesis was accurate.” Hojo chuckled. “Why would you work unlike any other WEAPON? This materia is truly fascinating - I suspect once fully analysed I will be able to see an entire instruction set that will explain the circumstances your WEAPON would have activated, if left alone.”

And there it was: Hojo never knew when to leave well enough alone.

Vincent glared, giving serious consideration to just trying to jump high enough off the railing to rip that stupid camera off the walls.

“But you know… if I were a gambling man, I’d bet the house that you aren’t going to do that,” he said, tone turning pensive. “In fact, I’d assume that you’re just going to make things unnecessarily difficult for yourself, like you always do.”

Vincent had already decided the best course of action: ignore him as much as possible. He tentatively pressed a hand against his wound, the starch of the gauze rough against his palm.

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” Hojo told him. “That’s twice I’ve saved your life after you’ve unnecessarily endangered it.”

He wasn’t about to dignify that with a response but he couldn’t help a bitter look from twisting his features. In the labs he knew Hojo was the architect of reality and Planet help anyone who pointed out he was the aggressor in the first place, but to hear him claim that was the second most unbelievable thing he could say.

Something shifted under his skin - not the unfamiliar presence this time but his other demons. Unlike the usual swell of bloodlust and nothing else he felt from them, though, he felt something almost like… anger. Indignation, maybe.

And they wanted letting out to unleash it.

Knowing he had no other weapons and with as good an excuse as any to cause carnage, Vincent swung himself over the railing and got the drop on the fiends below.

With the first fiends summarily torn apart by the Galian Beast, Vincent pulled himself painfully back up to his feet. His body ached the way it always did after he transformed and made the pain in his chest even more acute, but he couldn’t risk resting under Hojo’s watchful eye. Instead he ducked under the low shutter and headed slowly down the corridor outside, coming out into a huge circular area - metal double doors were dotted everywhere and in the centre, a large station with a bunch of terminals was planted in a hideous tree of pipes.

A heavy metal noise from behind startled him and Vincent spun around just in time to see the huge doors sliding shut and the light above turning a warning red. He noticed the number above it read 03, though there was no other clarifying information.

But what did the numbers mean? There were probably tests going on behind each door, but were they just more fiends? And if not…

“Welcome to the Drum,” Hojo announced. “How do you like it? It’s my state of the art testing playground. Shinra gifted it to me as a reward for the JENOVA Project being wildly successful even compared to our optimistic projections.”

Vincent ignored him as he approached the nearest railing, taking a longer look around the forbidding place. It definitely looked like something Hojo would dream up, with a completely unnecessary confusing network of stairs, ladders and levels.

Maybe just getting around his new prison was going to be part of the torture.

He turned his gaze to the walls, noticing the platforms separated by a series of fans - and underneath those, something was embedded in the metal. Something that looked a lot like the round end of a storage tube.

Vincent’s throat went dry. There was little he wouldn’t expect from Hojo, but surely even he wouldn’t be so open as to store dead bodies in the walls - would he?

“What’s wrong? You want to see?” Hojo asked. “Go ahead. Flip the switch over there.”

Vincent glanced around until he found what Hojo meant - an ostentatious switch sticking right out of the wall. He grasped hold of it.

Then stopped.

“No?”

Vincent’s grip tightened. It was just one switch; it shouldn’t be so hard. And yet it suddenly felt like there was the force of the whole world pushing back on that lever.

His hand slid from the switch and he backed up a couple of steps, instead leaping across the entire gap with his cape sailing through the air behind him.

He touched down on the other side, his almost graceful landing compromised when his chest ached so hard he toppled again and had to grab a railing for balance, left reduced to breathing hard and struggling to stand. His hand pressed again over the gauze, feeling from where the pain was how much the healing had progressed.

If he hadn’t transformed so recently, it probably would have sealed over more by now.

There was a long sigh over the intercom. “Strange. I thought you’d be jumping at the bit for more proof of what an awful person I am,” he said. “You’re nothing if not occasionally entertaining, Valentine. But suit yourself. I’m game to proceed immediately to the next trial if you are.”

Vincent’s impulse to ignore Hojo and just explore was somewhat thwarted by the layout of the Drum, as it was a maze of stairs, locked gateways and gaps. His only real guide was the numbered doors, but if the third door was anything to go by they were likely just more combat trials leading to dead ends. He’d first investigated the top of the room near the roof, hoping for an exit or a skylight and found nothing.

Between floors there were elevators, but they had no other buttons or hidden functions he could see that might let him escape this place.

He strongly suspected there was another elevator somewhere, inaccessible from his current position but that would serve as the only way out of the Drum.

Hojo probably also controlled its function - no point having an experimental lab where the subjects could just escape if they looked around for long enough. Even then he should probably try to find it anyway and hope he could engineer an escape some other way.

He was aware of how flimsy a hope this was, but right now it was the best he had.

The Professor was curiously quiet while he searched. He was probably just waiting for Vincent to realise his options were exhausted and start playing his game. Every once in a while if Vincent neared a locked numbered door he would open it in a not too subtle hint for Vincent to go inside.

“It might be easier to get around if you tried in there,” he told him the first time Vincent passed a door.

“Maybe the doors let back out somewhere new?” he said on the second.

“You know, your ‘friends’ weren’t this stubborn about giving me what I wanted,” he said on the third.

Once Vincent had thoroughly investigated all his options and still not found the elusive exit elevator that he hoped existed, there was a burst of static from the intercom turning on.

And then nothing.

Vincent frowned. It wasn’t like Hojo to be quiet.

He checked out his surroundings, noticing the open numbered door right behind him. He looked back towards the edges of the room, trying to find where the cameras were so he could look Hojo in the eye.

There was one mounted on the wall - out of jumping distance but close enough Hojo could probably read Vincent’s expression.

He kept his gaze locked on that camera as he took hold of the nearest railing - and slowly lowered himself to recline on the floor.

He made a show of relaxing his head back against the railing, letting his eyes shut and stretching his legs out in front of him. As comfortable as he could be, given the circumstances and the ache that still remained in his chest.

“You-” Hojo exclaimed, but then the static burst again. Vincent cracked an eye open, confused.

Either Hojo had knocked the intercom button in his rage - or he didn’t want Vincent to know the provocation had worked. Vincent smirked under his cloak. Even all this time later, he could still get a rise out of the superior scientist when he put his mind to it.

There was a long silence with the intercom off. Now he’d annoyed Hojo, he didn’t take the risk of keeping his eyes shut. He instead watched silently around the Drum, using the silent moment to try to figure out what the scientist’s plan could possibly be.

He wanted to see this WEAPON he believed was locked inside of Vincent, that much was clear. But what then? If Vincent gave him what he wanted, was it to be the vivisection table next?

A second later there was another hiss of static. Vincent looked up, keeping his expression as casual as possible so it was like they were just picking up on a friendly conversation instead.

In a rare display of patience, Hojo didn’t talk right away. There was a terribly long pause, long enough that Vincent began to get a bad feeling. He was just using the railing to pull himself back up when there was a metal grinding noise and the professor suddenly said, “Look up.”

Vincent did - and straight into the eye of a turret up above that was turning his direction and locking on. He looked around quickly for somewhere to hide but there was nowhere to go to escape from the bullets - except for straight into the numbered room.

Shots tore up the floor heading straight for him and Vincent dodged back, dithering for only a second longer before he made his choice - and threw himself straight over the railing to land somewhere down below.

He’d barely landed when he saw shots bouncing off the metal in front of him, having to throw himself down another floor to avoid it - but when the bullets continued to fire he had to keep running, finally falling over another railing and crashing down hard at the very bottom of the Drum.

The noise of the rapport finally ceased, though it took a moment for him to be sure with the echoes the gunfire made in such a big space.

Vincent lay on his side for a moment catching his breath, his chest aching as much as ever. He gripped the bridge of his nose, groaning and fighting not to let the dizziness get the better of him. Even as he panted and pushed himself up, he tried to keep listening for any noise from Hojo.

But it was silent.

He frowned, reaching out a hand to help steady himself - and his palm landed on something round and smooth. Vincent looked down at his hand and saw a strange white egg rising up out of the ground under his glove.

The strange presence suddenly made itself known, but this time Vincent didn’t feel it urging him to relinquish control. Instead it was just… there, like it was simply sitting in the room of his mind observing. And there was something off about the aura around its presence. It felt almost - concerned.

Vincent lifted his hand, looking forwards to see row upon row upon row upon row of the white eggs. They surrounded the pillar of pipes in a circle at the lowest level, invisible from further up but inescapable from the ground.

His throat went dry. There were so many of them, but…

But they couldn’t be.

Could they?

The intercom was silent, but Vincent could feel it. Hojo’s eyes were on him. He hadn’t been trying to get him behind the numbered door - he’d wanted him to see this.

Vincent circled around the white egg, stomach only dropping further when he saw the little viewing window in the front of it. The bright light coming from within.

It took only a moment for his eyes to adjust.

Inside the creature was humanoid. But it was no longer human.

He looked down again at the row of eggs.

Hundreds.

There had to be hundreds here.

He’d overheard the others mentioning labs Hojo had under Midgar itself, how they’d run into creatures there. Even at the time and even knowing what he knew about Hojo, he hadn’t imagined the sheer volume of experiments he would have done.

Looking at the mass loss of life here in the Drum, he realised he’d been very, very wrong. Hojo hadn’t been devoting all his time to a single experiment at once like he’d done to Vincent, to Lucrecia, to Sephiroth - to numerous people in Cloud’s group.

He’d lost all restraint over the years, consuming flesh indiscriminately and then leaving the remains as litter around Shinra’s constructed metropolis.

The sin Vincent had committed in failing to save Lucrecia and her child for him was enough to earn him the damned existence he now had. Everything Hojo had done since to Red and Aerith would be enough to earn him excommunication from the group forever, if he ever got the guts to admit his failures to them.

But this? This was a massacre the likes of which he could barely mentally comprehend.

Families upon families had been ruined by his hand and if he was right about what the others had probably seen in the underground labs, this didn’t even scratch the surface of it.

His breathing grew uneven again, vision blurring.

The presence in his mind made itself known again. He felt again if he reached out, allowed the connection, he might be able to understand what it was trying to say.

He didn’t.

He looked up, trying to lock eyes with a security camera from his lowered position. He didn’t know if there was audio on Hojo’s equipment, but he hoped the question on his face was easy enough to read.

Why did you want me to see this?

But Hojo said nothing. He said nothing as Vincent picked his way through the path of the white pods. He said nothing as stray experiments loose from their containment attacked. He said nothing as Vincent nearly got his throat bitten out by one of them when he used his claw to defend himself instead of transform because his brain wasn’t keeping up with his body.

It wasn’t until Vincent saw one of them doing a very familiar lightning attack - the same lightning attack that one of his other forms possessed - and successfully struck it down by punching through its heart that Hojo spoke again.

“That could have been you, Turk,” he said. Vincent watched the experiment collapse to the floor, dead. He didn’t answer, but as per usual Hojo showed no sign of stopping. “If I’d really wanted to hurt you, I would have.”

Vincent kept going past the pods, determined to get through this and out the other side. He finally made it to a slope back up to a higher level, his chest still tight as he tried to ignore waves of that strange feeling coming from the presence in his head.

“And I still could,” Hojo continued. “Imagine losing what little there still is of your intellect. Being driven by nothing but rage and bloodlust all the time, but never being able to sate it - because you can never sink your fangs into me. The tools at my disposal are so much more… sophisticated than I had thirty years ago, you know. Not to mention all the budget Shinra allows me to have for my little pet projects… and they’re certainly very, very interested in you…”

Vincent stopped partway up the stairs away from the pods as another pain struck him square in the chest. His bones and teeth ached, longing to contort and change shape at the mental image of being able to rip out Hojo’s jugular and rend him limb from limb. Vincent shut his eyes, squeezing the railing tightly.

“Those fools who welcomed you into their group,” Hojo mused. “What if after I rearrange your head, I set you on them? Would they realise the brainless beast you’d become quick enough to kill you?”

Vincent winced involuntarily. The group had certainly commented during their first fight that he was a freak who hit like a truck, but he knew some of them would be sentimental enough to try and spare him. But if they were to face Galian without his influence - or worse, this mysterious other presence - he felt sure he’d kill at least one of them.

He swallowed, looking down. Shame rose like bile in his throat, but he gave in - just a little.

He shook his head.

A simple gesture, but it was enough. Hojo didn’t even gloat.

He simply opened the nearest numbered door to Vincent without a word, waiting quietly for his former bodyguard to proceed through.

Already worn out before he’d even faced the worst of what was to come, Vincent complied.

He passed the threshold and into the dark corridor beyond.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind him.

Just like the first time in the labs, Hojo enforced a routine. He would corral Vincent to one of the numbered doors, using fiends from the chambers mounted in the walls as motivation if Vincent resisted, then make him face another fiend within the chamber.

There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what fiend he was put up against; he suspected they were just whatever Hojo had been able to get his hands on over the years. Just like before, Hojo showed no aptitude for gaining combat data whatsoever…

Vincent called on Galian Beast each time and killed them, each time growing more achy and more tired.

But on top of the pain and the tiredness, he’d been feeling strange in other ways. There was a constant nausea and tension in his body, the combat trials only worsening the feeling even

when he came out of them victorious (or at least, still alive). He kept feeling as though he was watching himself from a distance instead of being the one fighting for his life. He always felt that way to some extent when he transformed, but now it was persisting after he reverted back to his ‘human’ form.

“It’s a simple choice: you can fight or die,” Hojo had told him when he’d wanted to see his transformations thirty years ago, “Only one of you is coming out of there alive.”

His chest twinged. It was nowhere near as painful as the gunshot wound he’d suffered all that time ago, especially with his advanced healing, but it still stung, still added to that strange feeling that he wasn’t quite there.

Vincent boxed those thoughts off for now, tapping into his old Turk training to just clear the objective in front of him. He felled fiend after fiend, refusing to call on the strange new presence pressing at the corners of his mind.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about how he was ever going to get out of this place if he refused to utilise the power he supposedly had.

Hojo was curiously silent through all of it, not speaking but letting Vincent knew what he wanted through simple cues.

They both knew he desired to see the WEAPON he claimed was inside Vincent, but so far he hadn’t punished Vincent much for defying him. He had refused to let Vincent rest so far even though the transformations were growing increasingly draining - he’d never pushed his power by doing so many in a row - so he was either recording data from that or just looking to wear him down to a breaking point.

Either way, it made Vincent increasingly ill at ease that Hojo hadn’t acted yet.

He knew what the man was capable of. He knew something was coming - it was just a question of when.

Another trial, another set of fiends. This time they were sledgeworms - creatures that liked to hide in the ground and force him to play whack-a-mole, attempting to stun him from behind.

He had whittled them down to one remaining when the creature landed a lucky hit and stunned him - even in his Galian form his muscles locked up, refusing to move. Right in front of his eyes one of the sledgeworms raised the hammer high in its hand and even inside the safe shell of the beast Vincent recoiled, a memory flashing before his eyes from another time, of grey eyes looking bored and indifferent as they locked onto his…

He rebelled against his beast, flinching back so hard he dissolved the transformation faster than he ever had before, his body still locked up from the electricity but small enough that the hammer grazed his shoulder instead and sent him sprawling.

Vincent hit the ground hard, the pain from reverting back so quickly greater even than the hit.

His ribs were on fire. He could barely see.

He could feel the fiends pop back out of hiding, staying in sight as they noticed their quarry had fallen to the floor and was laying helpless only a few feet away.

He could see he was out of immediate range of their hammers, but as the Galian Beast he’d had to dodge them sending shockwaves across the floor when he retreated to greater distances.

He could hear they were doing that now - and he only had a few seconds to get out of the way.

“Use it,” Hojo hissed over the intercom, “Damn you, use it!”

Vincent tried to push himself up onto his knees, couldn’t.

His ears were ringing.

His vision turned red.

The presence that had been lingering at the back of his mind expanded, but far from seizing hold of him the way the others did he heard a commanding voice that seemed to echo in an empty hall.

Roll left, now.

He did – just in time for the shockwave to miss him by an inch.

Vincent pushed himself off the ground, struggling up to one knee then to standing. He knew sledgeworms normally hid only after suffering grievous damage, but something about the sight of him made the creature turtle straight back into its hiding place.

He held his breath and listened hard, knowing he was going to need to respond immediately to have any chance of killing it in this form with no firearm to speak of.

The presence lingered in his mind and this time Vincent didn’t reject it, just let it linger to see what it would do.

Just like before, it didn’t try to assume control. Instead it said only:

Top left. Too far, just dodge.

The sledgeworm popped out of the top left hole, too far away for Vincent to try to lunge at it with only his claw. It prepared to send another shockwave and Vincent dodged it flawlessly, taking the moment to recover his composure.

The sledgeworm hid again.

Vincent reached out to the presence himself this time, feeling momentarily nervous when his vision stained red - but he stayed in control.

The voice came again: Middle right, use your best judgement.

Vincent spun around to the middle right just in time to see the sledgeworm pop up again, close enough to raise its hammer.

A sudden rush through his blood overcame him and he sprang forward, claw outstretched and digits focused into a single sharp dagger as he plunged it right into the weak spot beneath the sledgeworm’s head.

The hard neck buckled under the strike and Vincent kept going until he had broken through to the other side, stopping still when the sledgeworm’s head crashed down to the ground behind him.

Silence reigned.

Vincent slowly straightened up, wincing as the pain in his body came back in a rush.

How many hours had it been? How long until he could rest?

Surely Hojo himself had to be getting tired. Had to be needing a break.

As if Hojo had read his thoughts, the intercom hissed with static. But once again there was a curious period of silence before he spoke.

“Well,” he said. “Not bad. For a start.”

There was another pause and Vincent looked towards the far end of the room, where the glass viewing window looked down on the testing chamber.

Hojo was now standing there.

Vincent tried not to startle, but it was difficult. His throat closed up, stomach twisting. He clenched his fists, hating himself for that reaction despite everything that had passed. Hojo smiled, pushing his glasses up on his nose. It was oddly nostalgic; Vincent remembered he used to do that a lot when they worked together. It wouldn’t surprise him if Hojo had kept the same pair for the past three decades.

“Dear boy, you look surprised,” he said. “Did you think I wouldn’t come here to see you in person?”

Vincent examined the glass chamber more closely. A good strong jump and enough force would see him smash through that boundary easily enough, and then all he had to do was get his claw around that skinny neck…

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hojo told him steadily. “And it won’t end well for you if you try it.”

There was that glint in his eyes again - the unnatural green creeping into the grey. It shouldn’t have surprised him that the scientist had experimented with his own body, and yet it did. Maybe he’d mistakenly assumed that the professor would consider his own flesh sacrosanct while he ruined everyone around him.

“I need to take my leave for now,” the professor continued. Vincent stared him down but Hojo maintained eye contact the entire time. “There’s a board meeting. They’re anxious to hear about you, you know.”

The temptation to speak bit at him - Hojo couldn’t be trusted to give him truthful answers, but he at the very least he could get under his skin as payback.

From experience though he suspected the easiest way to get under his skin was also the simplest: to say nothing.

Hojo tipped his head to one side with a soft hmph. “It won’t help you to refuse to give me what I want, you know,” he said. “You must have spoken to Heidegger back in the day - I’m sure you remember the types of punishments he’d hand out to his own troops. He was all too willing to torture the precious Ancient to get to the Promised Land; what do you think he’d be happy to sign off on once he understands the extent of your… unique composition?”

Vincent still said nothing. He tried not to be too obvious as he shifted his weight - the tiredness was catching up with him again and he longed to sit down.

“Well, no matter. I’ll be back shortly. Sit tight.”

And he turned and walked off, the shutters out of the testing chamber raising once he’d gone.

Vincent hesitated for only a moment before heading out the way he’d been provided. He should plan, he should do something with the time without Hojo’s eyes on him - but he was exhausted and his whole body was pressing him to sleep.

After a little bit of wandering around he found a small side room with a bench and an empty vending machine in it. He didn’t know why it was there, but it would do. Rather than risk getting caught off guard, Vincent pulled his legs up on to the seat and rested his back to the vending machine. It wasn’t the most comfortable but he’d gotten accustomed to dozing sitting up in the Bronco, so it would do for now.

He let his head sink onto his chest, hiding more of his face in the cover of his collar, and started to drift off.

Right before he fell asleep, he felt the presence again. But rather than trying to push him, the creature flooded his mind with a curious feeling: a warmth, like it was trying to reassure him.

Vincent didn’t like that his understanding of the creature was growing. The barriers were breaking down, despite his best efforts. But he didn’t have the energy to focus on that right now…

It snowed during Vincent’s first winter in Midgar. The city was still being built and there was activity everywhere. There was a kind of buzz to the place, a sense of excitement and opportunity he’d never seen anywhere he’d travelled to before.

He wasn’t there to sight-see, though. He was there for business; his first operation as a Turk. Undercover recon gathering - find the target, identify how much of a problem they might become for Shinra HQ. Take them out if necessary.

He was allowed to wear the Turk uniform now, but the ‘boys in black’ were getting to be so well known that dressing in the suit was as good as hanging a sign that he wanted trouble. Instead he wore his old civilian clothes - plain shirt and trousers and the heavy hand-me down winter coat that was a little too big for him, helping him to look like just another poor traveller who’d come to seek a better life in Midgar. Dime a dozen, nothing to be noticed.

He did make one concession to a disguise, though - colour contacts he’d picked up back at HQ. They turned his eyes from forbidding red to a pale blue, making him as forgettable as possible.

There were a lot of qualities he possessed that were useless in any other scenario - his ability to blend in like wallpaper, moving through the world like a ghost, his taciturn nature - that were actually an asset here. All he had to do was be a fly on the wall and he could often overhear reams and reams of valuable information.

That wasn’t the part that interested him, however. The far more engaging part of the job was the bit that came after - actually determining what information was reliable. Building intelligence networks by doing odd jobs and making himself indispensable in small communities. With people being so migratory around Midgar as the city established himself, it didn’t even arouse suspicion when he would disappear as soon as a job was done.

Today’s was a look into a local gang that had been forming. Shinra had a variable policy on gangs - they were fine enough, if they knew their place and didn’t cause enough problems that building in that sector was affected.

Vincent’s target didn’t know that. He fancied himself some sort of kingpin and was bleeding Shinra of potential young recruits.

They were young, a lot of them as young as Vincent had been when he’d been headhunted to join up. The gangs were obviously providing for them, too - he could immediately see in the area who was working for them by how much better their clothes were.

He found himself in a bar that evening, intending to listen in to the conversations of some local boys he suspected were planning to offer their services to the leader for odd jobs.

That was his way in, Vincent figured. Pretend like he needed the work, assess the man’s operations and then take him out if he looked like he was going to cause trouble.

“Look at that, you’ve barely had any of yours,” the man suddenly said, startling him. He wore glasses, eyes a curious shade of grey as he looked Vincent up and down. Odder than that though was the man was wearing a lab coat over his clothes. “Are the drinks not good?”

Vincent frowned. This man stuck out far too much; striking up a conversation with him would compromise his investigation.

He turned around, hoping the man would simply order a drink and leave.

“Not a fan of strangers, hmm?” the man continued. “What if I introduced myself?” Vincent had the sinking feeling he was a talker and rose to move - but the man suddenly slapped him on the back so hard Vincent’s head snapped forwards and he lost one of his contact lenses.

“Don’t worry,” the man said as he scrambled to find the contact - not easy when it was just a small translucent disk lost against the wood of the bar. “I don’t take offence easily.”

Vincent noticed the other patrons of the bar had briefly looked up at the scene and decided to cut his losses - he left the bar as quickly and quietly as possible.

But it was then he heard a crunching noise in the snow.

He span on heel to see the man following him, looking surprised at the annoyed look on Vincent’s face.

“Leave me alone,” Vincent said.

“You’re not as under the radar as you’d like to think,” the man replied steadily.

That brought Vincent up short. He noticed a badge hanging from the man’s labcoat - and the unmistakeable Shinra logo.

“Does the company know you’re interfering with their operations?” he asked.

“The company doesn’t know a lot of things if it thinks going to war with small time gangs is the way to go,” he responded. “And sending a green operative like you of all people to handle it. You’re not going to survive at this company if you just do as they tell you.”

“What do you want?” Vincent said.

The man actually laughed at him. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’?”

“Haven’t you ever heard ‘nothing costs so much as something you get for free?’” Vincent fired back.

They stood staring one another down in the snow for a long, silent moment.

“Suspicious creature,” the man mused, talking almost to himself. “And ice cold. They weren’t kidding about you.”

That shouldn’t have stung, but Vincent’s fist clenched. “Who wasn’t kidding?”

A shrug. “People. What do they matter, anyway? If they’re talking about you as the most promising new Turk, who’s the one who matters in that equation?”

“…What do you want?” Vincent repeated. He couldn’t tell where he was with this man. He’d never met anyone who ping-ponged from one tone to another so rapidly; he would have just walked away if he didn’t suspect the man would just follow and keep talking his ear off.

“I had hoped the company had greater ambitions, but I guess not.” He walked in a bit closer, hand outstretched with something on his finger - Vincent’s missing contact lens.

Vincent considered him, reached out a little - then right before he was about to take it the man jerked his hand to the side, tossing his contact into the snow where he’d have no hope at all of finding it.

He grit his teeth, patience exhausted. “What is your-”

“You don’t need it - your eyes are an asset, not a liability.” He took another step closer and bent down to get a better look at his one red exposed eye, close enough that Vincent was certain he was trying to provoke him now. “Your approach - the company’s approach - is all wrong. The city is ours and we own everyone in it. We shouldn’t act like we’re scared of them and wanting to get them in line; we should be reminding them that it’s Shinra’s world and they’re living in it.”

Oh, Planet. Was he one of those types who couldn’t stand the idea of holding his tongue because he’d never had to?

Vincent raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to get to the point.

The man sighed like he was being wilfully obtuse. “Tell those hoodrat punks they work for Shinra and lay down the law. Or if you were using your brain, you’d make them loyal to you specifically.”

Vincent bristled. “What?”

“Make them loyal to you, specifically,” he repeated, slowly and deliberately. “I already told you, you won’t survive at the company if you just do as they tell you. You have to make a base of power of your own. Everyone with any presence in the company is doing that - why do you think Heidegger is building up the infantry? It’s because he wants a position on the Board.”

Vincent didn’t bother retorting that the position on the Board was as good as Heidegger’s already - everyone knew he was the President’s old college friend.

“That’s what you want,” he surmised instead. “To rule over the gangs of the city?”

Vincent narrowed his eyes further. Now the whole scheme became clear.

“In return you’d get the benefits of my climb,” he continued. “I want only the best of the best doing the work I need - and word has it that’d be you, or at least it will be in a couple years.”

Vincent didn’t bother retorting that the best of the best was Veld, not him - anyone who made a cursory inquiry into the who’s who of the Turks should have known that.

The scientist held out a hand, either not noticing or not caring at the look Vincent was giving him .

“Professor Hojo,” he said. “I hope this can be the beginning of a fruitful partnership.”

Vincent looked down at his outstretched hand, eyes straying to the man’s badge again. His name was right - but his title was not. Nowhere did it say ‘Professor’ on there - and he knew how particular the scientists at Shinra in particular were about their professional titles.

It was clear the man didn’t just have little understanding of what he was talking about, he outright had delusions of grandeur.

He took a closer look at the man, noticing the quality of the clothes under the lab coat, the styled ponytail he had captured his hair in. Obviously he was educated, but he had to be at least a little well-off, too.

Vincent restrained the urge to sigh. This was so typical of the middle classes: enough wealth to have ambition and too much ambition to realise they were inevitably going to be disappointed when they ran into the same limits as everyone else. Hojo was not Heidegger and was never going to be Heidegger - he was so off-putting Vincent struggled to imagine the higher ups of Shinra ever giving him the time of day.

Fools like him were dangerous. That he was willing to have a conversation this subversive out in the light of day told Vincent all he needed to know. Everything this man wanted went completely contrary to how Vincent had carried himself at Shinra so far - and he had no intention of changing that for some stranger.

“No.” He brushed Hojo’s hand to the side. “Your plan is reckless and stupid, and I’ll thank you to keep it to yourself.”

“Strange,” Hojo said, his smile freezing on his face, “Here I’d thought you were both of those things.”

Vincent glared at him. The Professor had found him in the bar trying to run a covert operation - an operation he’d promptly ruined. He knew full well he was neither of those things - yet the man seemed genuinely sincere in his assessment… and even had the nerve to be upset at Vincent’s rejection.

He rolled his eyes, yanking out the other contact lens and stalking off into the snow.

He read the papers afterwards - the local one that was still independent of Shinra; at least for now. But it was noticeable how much of their article was speculation. They stopped just short of saying that it was like a phantom had done the killing - but only just short.

When his partner praised him for it, there was a small warmth in his chest he’d rarely felt. Let others try to connive their way to the top; he’d rather do the job so impeccably no one would ever doubt him again.

Soon after Vincent received a message on the company’s internal network from a user ID he didn’t recognise.

‘Deal’s still open,’ it had read. ‘If not, then don’t get in my way.’

Vincent moved the mouse, debating whether or not to reply. In truth he had no intention of changing his tune - he’d shut down every gang that got grand ideas about their place in the city while he was still posted up in Midgar. He was n ’t here to make friends, especially not with someone like Hojo .

A curious impulse got the better of him. He clicked on the window to respond-

A deafening alarm startled Vincent painfully awake. He looked around, clutching his chest against the pain from jerking upright. Why did his chest hurt? He pressed at his shirt until he felt the gauze beneath it, all the memories rushing back at once.

In his disoriented state he groped for his pistol, finding nothing. Right. No weapons except for himself.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes harshly, forcing himself off the small bench in case Hojo had loosed another fiend on him.

Right, Hojo. Wasn’t he supposed to be in a board meeting?

Vincent staggered out of the tiny rest room to the outer ring of the Drum. There was red light flashing everywhere and the alarm was still going off, but he couldn’t see anything the noise was for.

A sudden terrible thought struck him. What if it wouldn’t stop going off until he tapped into this odd new power? What if Hojo was just planning to drive him crazy and never stop the noise?

He tried to tell himself that there was no way Hojo would miss seeing the transformation in person - but had he lied? Had he come back from the board meeting already and was watching from somewhere?

Just as soon as it had begun, the alarm stopped.

Vincent stood still in the silence, looking around for some sign of what had caused it or what was coming next.

But there was nothing.

He had no idea what time it was or how long he’d slept, only that it hadn’t nearly been long enough to offset the pain in his chest and ache in his body from so many transformations. Lacking anything else to do, he trudged back to the rest room and tried to doze off again.

If he could just get enough energy together, he might be able to use it to find an escape. But before then…

I’m here.

He startled at the voice echoing in his head, momentarily panicking that it was about to take hold of him again. But it didn’t.

He slumped back against the seat, confusion setting in. The presence was so different than all the others Hojo had implanted in his head - with the others he’d hit some kind of wall and then feel an irrepressible urge rising up in his body that would overcome him no matter how hard he tried to hold it down.

This one was different. It lingered with him but didn’t try demand he cede control so it could puppet him around to create carnage. It could speak and was apparently intelligent enough to think tactically, and its senses were obviously far beyond the others.

Vincent pulled his knees wearily up to his chest. It couldn’t be a WEAPON. It just wasn’t possible.

He let his eyes drift shut, a bad feeling brewing even as he drifted off again…

The company began holding assemblies for corporate updates - most of it typical team building initiatives or updates about Midgar’s building process, but one of them was different.

“I’d like to introduce you the face of Shinra’s future,” the President said. “Now we’re moving away from manufacturing to electric power, I’d like to introduce you to our newly assembled science investigations team!”

On the stage three young scientists stepped forward - one older man and two juniors, both of whom looked familiar. The man was the so-called ‘Professor’ Hojo, the one who’d nearly wrecked his mission in the winter.

The President didn’t bother introducing her or Hojo, though. Instead he gave the mic right to the oldest man, who looked like it was a great surprise he’d been expected to speak.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said. “My name is Professor Gast. It’s a pleasure to meet you all…”

He was off rambling a bunch of platitudes, but Vincent couldn’t help but notice the reactions of his two juniors. The young lady was practically the definition of “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed”; she looked it was taking her a great effort not to fidget or take the mic so she could talk herself. Hojo looked like he wanted the mic, too; though his expression was much more wistful.

Vincent hadn’t mentioned his bizarre proposal to anyone else since it happened; he didn’t care for company gossip and would rather keep as much distance from the man as possible. But he wondered if he’d tried the same thing with anyone else - from what he could see, he’d yet to find a loyal lackey who was happy to play at building empires with him.

His attention naturally drifted back to the young woman. She was looking at Gast with admiration as he spoke, but as he rambled on and on her smile grew more wry and her attention drifted. She started to look out over the crowd - and Vincent’s heart skipped as she looked straight at him.

On reflex, he looked down. But he felt the charge of eyes on him - and after a second, he looked up again.

She was still looking at him, a steady smile on her face.

She gestured with her eyes towards Professor Gast, raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘going on a bit, isn’t he?’

Vincent felt a smile start to creep onto his face.

“What’re you smiling at?” Drake whispered from next to him. Veld looked over curiously, looking over at the stage and Vincent quickly broke eye contact with the young woman. He was about to open his mouth to say ‘nothing’ when another Turk, Miles, scoffed softly. Vincent was worried he’d caught on when the man leant over to whisper to the row of Turks.

“That’s the one I was telling you about - the one in the glasses,” he said.

“The older one?” Drake whispered.

“Naw, the younger one.” He wrinkled his nose and catching Vincent’s questioning look he added, “Right, you were off somewhere when I told the others. I got lost on my orientation and asked him where to go - he told me straight out not to waste his time!”

“Scientists are like that,” Veld said softly, folding his arms in a way that said he wanted no further gossip on the topic. “Bunch of college educated stuffed shirts who think they’re better than everyone else and charge twice the rate to waste the company’s money. You might as well treat them like a client and you’ll get on fine.”

Treat them like a client - in other words, speak only when spoken to and do whatever assignment given so flawlessly they’d have no room to complain. Vincent was certainly good at the former - he’d made a client he was escorting spit out her tea once when he spoke because she’d been so convinced he was mute and the rest of them had never let him live it down - but the rest of the Turks were a mixed bunch when it came to how conversational they were.

But in this case he’d breached that standard long before he ever made the Turks. The young woman from the train remembered his face well enough to pick him out of a crowd. The thought of just acting like they were strangers - for once he couldn’t bring himself to see the sense in that.

There was a strict non-fraternisation rule with clients, too – but some of the older woman he’d worked with had certainly taken a shine to him in his days as a young recruit. The thought of the young woman seeing him as just someone to have fun with – he didn’t think he liked how he felt when he pictured that...

“They can’t all be that bad,” he said before he could stop himself.

The others glanced over at him and he tried to keep his expression neutral, praying with his pale skin he wouldn’t start blushing.

“I suppose,” Veld said slowly, a tense note in his tone, “That Gast is all right. Clever. Humble.”

The others didn’t look like they agreed with that sentiment, since Gast was rattling on and on as lunch break grew increasingly close.

“I don’t know why they’re sinking all this money into the science department, anyway,” Drake whispered suddenly. “If it were me, I’d bet the farm on weapons development.”

“Why? Aren’t we supposed to be supplying energy now?” Miles asked.

By way of answer, she passed a newspaper clipping over to Vincent to show to the others. She looked him straight in the eye, her tone completely innocuous as she said, “See. They might not say it, but this is where it’s at.”

It was a cartoon - Wutai was drawn as a mighty adamantoise, looking unimpressed by a much smaller fiend representing Shinra trying to square up to it.

The caption read ‘Come back in five years, kid’.

But the cartoonist can’t have had too much of a dim opinion of Shinra’s chances.

He’d drawn the company as a tonberry.

Vincent looked away as the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats, something squirming in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at the stage.

Professor Gast’s speech was drawing to a close with a bit of prompting from the President - but this time his eyes didn’t lock with the young woman from the train.

Hojo looked up for the first time, suddenly seeming to zero in on Vincent in the crowd. He smirked, those grey eyes looking right through the Turk. Hojo opened his mouth to speak-

A deafening alarm startled Vincent painfully awake. He bolted upright again, wincing as the pain hit him and he remembered where he was. He slumped against the vending machine and let his head hit the casing with a groan.

This time he didn’t get up.

The alarm stopped after a few minutes.

When he settled back into his former position, it wasn’t with any hope of getting proper sleep. It was from exhaustion.

It was winter when they sent him to Shinra manor. The temperature drop was noticeable the second he touched down in the town, stepping onto the airstrip alongside the general staff sent along with them.

Veld had come to see him off, drawing him into a hug with a quiet whisper of, “It’s only a year. Just as soon as they exhaust Shinra’s budget and patience, you’ll be back in Midgar before you know it.”

“I know.”

Veld drew back, looking around with a sigh. Vincent looked where he was looking, saw the scientists he was supposed to be bodyguarding hadn’t come along with them.

“They’re taking a separate helicopter,” Veld told him. “I told you scientists were a stuffy bunch.”

“Shouldn’t you encouraging me to get along with them?”

“Just do your best on that front. Word is that rude asshole is one of them.”

He didn’t have to tell Vincent who he meant by that. So much for his plan of keeping his distance-

The alarm went off again. Vincent flinched awake, but didn’t try and sit up. The noise stopped. He settled back, tried to calm his racing heart.

He was unsure if Hojo remembered their meeting in Midgar when he introduced himself to all of them. He didn’t have the capacity to focus on that for long, though, because he realised the young lady from the train was there, too. He’d been so caught up in the thought of being isolated on Nibel mountain that he’d only really glanced over the briefing pack.

“Dr Lucrecia Crescent,” she said, shaking his hand firmly.

“How do you do?” he said. “Vincent Valentine.”

“Which century did you get this one from, Gast?” Hojo asked wryly.

“He’s the best of the best,” Gast said. “You won’t have any complaints.”

Vincent opened his mouth to respond that Veld was the best, but Hojo raised an eyebrow and simply said, “So I’ve heard.” He offered his own hand, barely squeezing back at all. “Professor Hojo.”

Vincent glanced towards his badge, noticing he now had the professional title he claimed to have.

He decided to have the good grace not to comment on it.

“Good, so we’re done with introductions!” Gast said, clapping his hands together. “Do you know, this is the first time any of us have spoken with a Turk – right, everyone?”

The alarm went off again. Vincent pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, frustration starting to build. He was half inclined to get up and just try and escape anyway, but the noise stopped after an even shorter interval this time.

He knew it was hopeless, but he wanted to try one last time in the hopes of getting some rest.

“Are you just not a talker?” Hojo asked him once, during one of his paperwork shifts. Vincent was taking a break to make hot drinks for everyone, but Hojo had kept working the entire time. For as little as Vincent liked him, he couldn’t deny he was a hard worker. “Or is this part of your Turk training?”

Vincent wasn’t sure how to answer that, given that it was both.

“Your eyes,” he asked suddenly instead. “What’s wrong with them? How’d you end up with that colour?”

“Genetic defect,” Vincent told him. “...Probably.”

“Hmm.” Hojo turned the pen in his hand, a slight smile on his face. “Looks like you ended up reporting to me anyway, doesn’t it?”

It was the first time he’d referenced their first meeting in all the weeks they’d been at Shinra manor. Vincent sensed it was probably provocation again, so he kept quiet.

“The rest of the underlings working in the manor are certainly not an exciting prospect,” he went on, resuming what he was writing. “But we take what we can get, don’t we?”

Vincent frowned at the ‘we’. Was Hojo still entertaining ideas of making his own fiefdom, even exiled to a podunk little town like Nibelheim?

“It’s not always about numbers though,” Hojo mused, not bothered at all that Vincent wasn’t bothering to hold up his end of the conversation. “I’ve realised sometimes a smaller group is best to build something great.”

“I’m sure,” Vincent said. “It must be really something to work under Professor Gast.” Vincent felt a dark sort of satisfaction at the look on the look on his face. Hojo shifted in his seat. “You know, Valentine-”

A burst of static startled Vincent out of his sleep - but this time, the alarm didn’t follow. He had a bad feeling something different was happening, so he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bench and stood, staggering his way back out of the small rec room to the ring around the Drum.

He could tell he’d not gotten anywhere near enough sleep to counter the numerous transformations, but it was likely the best he could hope for.

And then a new voice played over the intercom.

One that made him stop in his tracks.

“It’s a beautiful manor, if a bit dusty,” Lucrecia said. “There’s sheets over all the furniture, so we’re going to have to unpack the place-”

Vincent grasped at the railing, glaring up at the security camera. Even if he’d set those alarms to go off at intervals, he was sure there was no way Hojo would have missed seeing his reaction in person for this.

“I know you’re there,” he growled, not knowing if Hojo could hear him and not caring. There was another moment of quiet static over the intercom before Hojo spoke again.

“I have everything you want, you know,” he said. “All you’d have to do to get it just play along.”

The door to one of the wards slid open. Vincent didn’t relish the thought of another combat trial, but he knew from Hojo’s sudden silence that he wouldn’t speak again until Vincent complied. And he’d take whatever fight came next over being subjected to that deafening alarm again…

He came to another testing chamber - but this time Hojo was already standing in the observation room above, looking down at him. Vincent folded his arms, refusing to give Hojo the satisfaction of speaking first.

“I know you don’t believe me that Lucrecia is the one who implanted the WEAPON into you,” he said. “Because you don’t want to believe it.”

Vincent’s claw tightened on his arm. He couldn’t deny that, and Hojo knew it.

“But I can be fair. I can give you all the proof you’d want. I can even get you out of the Drum and back into Shinra,” he said. “All you have to do is co-operate with me.”

Pain pricked his arm as his clawed fingers dug in. His throat felt dry as the Corel desert as he swallowed. Said nothing.

“You never were the type to jump to a decision,” Hojo mused. “That’s fine. Just think on it. In the meantime, we have more rounds of testing to do. Even if you won’t give me what I want yet, testing your limits is still valuable data.”

The doors at either side of the testing chamber opened, letting more fiends pour into the room.

Vincent fought almost in daze, his mind struggling to keep up with what Hojo was proposing.

It could all be a lie; Hojo surely had the means to fake data.

But that voice recording wasn’t. He vaguely remembered Lucrecia had pinched a camcorder from Shinra HQ and documented everything when they moved in to the manor. He remembered she kept attempting to film him even as he pushed the lens away or ducked out of the shot. How her voice had sounded when she told him, “Didn’t you say you owed me one?”

Hojo could fake a lot of things. But he couldn’t fake her.

He sensed eyes on him as he fought, looked up to check. Hojo was still there in the observation chamber, something quiet and thoughtful in his demeanour.

Once the fight was over and Vincent had reverted back from the Beast, Hojo left the room without saying another word.

Vincent stared after him, not finding the willpower to move just yet.

He wondered absently how many hours it had been.

From there a new cycle began - more combat trials, each time with Hojo watching from the observation room above.

Each time he’d play audio of Lucrecia speaking. The clips varied wildly - one moment she sounded bright and full of energy, the next subdued.

The next, sad.

Then Hojo took to playing them during the combat trials, knowing that Vincent would immediately try and ground the demon possessing his body to a halt so he could listen.

He got the pair of them hurt more than once, drawing the ire of his housemates. Each time they wanted to punish Vincent for his foolishness, the strange presence would step in - and they’d immediately settle down.

He knew what Hojo was trying to do - build his curiosity for the answers he had. But he found himself getting angrier and angrier at the Professor himself.

How dare he use his own wife as a bargaining chip.

Didn’t it upset him to have to listen to her voice, knowing she wasn’t here anymore? Didn’t he have any feelings at all?

It was after another fight that he heard it.

Lucrecia laughing.

“You’ve got snow in your hair,” she said, trying to restrain a giggle.

He was transported back in time to a day in the manor - they were unpacking the last boxes and something snagged on the last one. Vincent had accidentally pulled too hard and the

pillow within had burst, sending feathers spraying everywhere.

The dumbfounded look on his face had sent her into a fit of giggles. She’d reached over and picked a feather out of his jet-black hair.

It was then he couldn’t deny any longer that he had a crush on her - a bad one. He thought he might have smiled at her then, but he couldn’t remember.

He thought that moment only existed in his memories.

“I was the one filming that day, in case you were wondering,” Hojo said from the observation room. “She said we ought to treat the last box being unpacked like a celebration.”

“I remember that,” Vincent said faintly.

“I saw the way you looked at her, you know,” Hojo told him.

Vincent looked over at him, the grey eyes hidden behind his glasses.

“Honestly I was surprised to learn you had approached her at all, with how bad your social skills were. Still are.”

Vincent felt his chest tighten, preparing himself for the mocking over Lucrecia’s rejection that was inevitably coming. But Hojo seemed to pause, growing thoughtful again.

“You think me arrogant, don’t you,” he said, looking away. “And yet you can’t conceive that anyone could have loved her the way you would have.”

“I let her go. I just wanted her to be happy.”

“But you don’t believe I could possibly have loved her, do you?” he said, looking Vincent dead in the eye. “You don’t believe what we had was real. What was it you said? ‘He doesn’t feel grief’? How dare you. How dare you presume you could even comprehend the workings of a mind like mine.”

Vincent tipped his head to the side. Was he serious?

Hojo loving her was the most unbelievable thing about all this.

Hojo’s face twisted. “I knew it. If it’s not rainbows and poetry it’s not love then, is it?”

“Answer me this,” Vincent shot back. “If you really loved her, why didn’t you do anything when she got sick? I told you she needed you. I told you so many times; I practically begged you to help her and you shot me for it!”

He expected the professor to snap back at him, but he didn’t. He went quiet, and still.

Hojo took off his glasses. His grey eyes bore into Vincent with an emotion he couldn’t pin down.

“Because,” he said. “She had you.”

Vincent drew back, confused.

“No matter what happened, I knew she’d have you to look after her,” he said. “And so did she. She knew full well you wouldn’t walk before the baby came. If you hadn’t stepped out of line you would have been right there while she convalesced. You and I both know that.”

“So it was fine to leave her alone…?”

“I left her alone because I respected her wishes,” he said simply. “You can talk all you want about ‘wanting her to be happy’ and ‘respecting her choices’ but you can’t pretend you didn’t disapprove of the JENOVA Project, start to finish. I respected her choice. I let her see it through to the end, consequences and all. We had work to do – we were both scientists. You were our security, useful to keep the house running, the fiends killed and the chores done. We all had our place.”

Vincent shook his head, fury building in his chest. Hadn’t he bent over backwards to respect her autonomy? To stand back while she married someone he hated, while she experimented on her own child? He hadn’t lectured her that he thought what she was doing was wrong after the Project started, but he guessed his silent refusal to embrace JENOVA as the perfect lifeform amounted to the same thing in Hojo’s eyes.

When he spoke again he could barely even hear himself. “All I wanted was for her to live. Are you going to tell me you did everything you could to save her, when you spent all that time in the labs experimenting on me?”

Hojo sighed. “You’re blaming me for saving your life again.”

“You experimented on me!” Vincent yelled, his voice echoing around the testing chamber as he clenched his fists down by his sides. “Don’t tell me that you just wanted to save my life; you never saw an opportunity you couldn’t exploit!”

“I’m always just one thing to you, aren’t I,” Hojo mused. “Do you think she would’ve forgiven me if I’d let you die - even when I acted in completely justifiable self-defence?”

Vincent stared, incredulous. “You… you’re blaming her?”

“No more than you would, if you had any sense.” Hojo put his glasses back on and turned his back. “Enough of this reminiscing. You want the truth about her? You know what you have to do.”

Vincent started to tell him to wait before he caught himself and stopped.

He had to stop. He was falling straight into Hojo’s trap.

He couldn’t trust the man would ever give him the truth about Lucrecia.

Could he?

The next recording was different. It wasn’t a camcorder tape: Hojo had evidently been speaking into his tape recorder as he had throughout the experiments, cataloguing some useless detail or other when he heard Lucrecia’s voice in the background.

Vincent swallowed, hard. How had she gotten down the stairs when she had been so far along? Surely this couldn’t be after Sephiroth’s birth - she would have been with him. She would have been too sick to move.

Why couldn’t he have woken up when she was there? Why didn’t he remember any of it?

Lucrecia’s voice continued - indistinct at first, though there was obvious panic in her tone.

“Calm yourself,” Hojo on the tape told her. “He’s not dead.”

A sound, like she was slamming her hands down on a table. “I don’t care-”

Hojo clicked the tape off.

Vincent flinched, looking up at the observation chamber.

“Nothing costs as much as something you get for free,” Hojo told him. “Any more and I’ll have to charge you.”

Vincent tried to bite down on his tongue as his eyes burned. He’d always assumed she wasn’t there at all. Hojo had told him she had died.

So when? When had it happened?

“Vincent,” Hojo said. “Decision time: are you going to open the Pandora’s box? Are you going to give me what I want?”

His throat constricted, tears threatening to overwhelm him. She’d been involved. In some way or another, she’d been involved in the torture Hojo had inflicted upon him.

He couldn’t breathe. He’d never left the labs; he was always going to be trapped here with Hojo and now he didn’t even know if Lucrecia had used him as an experiment, too. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold everything together.

He knew what he should say - ‘yes’. He opened his mouth, struggling to get a single sound out.

Then the presence rose up in his mind again, a strange comforting feeling washing over Vincent. He blinked, feeling his heartbeat slow and fists unclench. The confusion, the pain… all of it was still there, but it felt oddly insulated from him.

He blinked to clear his vision, noticing that everything looked red.

He didn’t even have to ask the presence not to take over before he heard words echoing in his head:

Do not take the deal. It is a trick.

Vincent tensed before a strange sense of relief flooded over him. Alone he couldn’t find a firm footing, but hearing someone else remind him…

Yes. He couldn’t trust Hojo. The tiredness was clouding his mind so much he hadn’t even asked himself a basic question: what then? If he gave Hojo what he wanted and transformed, what then? Further study would follow. Further imprisonment. And if members of the Board like Heidegger knew a WEAPON had fallen into the Professor’s hands…

He looked up again, the red tinge in his vision fading. Hojo was staring back, fascination in his eyes turning to panic.

“…Vincent,” he said again. His first name sounded off coming from the Professor - it never sounded right when he called him anything but ‘Valentine’ or ‘you’. “Vincent, what’s happening?”

He’s panicking. He’s scared.

Scared of him. How often had Vincent made Hojo genuinely fear him?

And he hadn’t even unleashed the WEAPON inside.

He remembered their first meeting. The day in the snow. It was always snowing in his worst memories - that foiled job, the first days exiled out in Nibelheim… the last days a year later.

“What do you want?” Vincent asked.

“I… you-” Hojo floundered. His face twisted. “You’re going to be difficult again, aren’t you. You’re always so difficult, for no damn reason!”

And he spun on his heel, stomping out of the room.

Vincent stood stunned for a moment before he turned to leave, too. Doubtless there’d be another trial to make up for annoying him so much. But the odd comforting feeling was still with him.

Accepting Lucrecia had really experimented on him - even considering it - was still more than he thought he could bear. But for now, something was holding the pain at bay, keeping it somewhere else so he could keep moving.

He came back into the main chamber of the Drum, checking around for any fiends Hojo might have released to ambush him.

But there was none. The Drum was quiet, empty.

He approached the railing and looked around the Drum, his gaze landing on the central island that he hadn’t really bothered with. The central pillar of pipes was surrounded by old fashioned PHS terminals, the kind he was more used to.

Suddenly one of the terminals lit up. It began to ring, alerting of an incoming call.

Vincent studied his immediate surroundings, finding a way across to the central island. He looked up at the security cameras with disdain before he wearily pressed the receiver button to connect the call.

He was met with a litany of swears and screams, so jarring he jerked the receiver away from his ear. Vincent pressed the speak button down and said, “I’m here - where are you?”

He released the speaker button but the person on the other end was still crying out in pain and begging for help.

Then he made out the word “Hojo” and his stomach turned as realisation struck him.

It was his voice.

He released the button immediately, reeling back in horror. The presence was immediately with him again, so distinct it felt like there were hands on his shoulders keeping him from falling to the floor.

Even with its help, he couldn’t help but press his eyes closed and try to suppress the flashbacks that played out in his mind. To make everything worse, he didn’t even remember when that recording was from. His treatment at Hojo’s hands had blurred together so much and if he tried earnestly to look back, large chunks of it were missing entirely.

He looked up, glaring at the security camera and expecting Hojo to speak.

But he didn’t.

If he didn’t go willingly, all the phones on the central island would ring and wouldn’t stop until he’d answered all of them. All of them picked up to the sound of his own voice in various states of pain, delirium, anger. Even if he hung up immediately he was still hit with at least a second of it.

If he went willingly, only one phone would be ringing once he’d done.

The voice on the other end in those instances would be hers. Only now it was Hojo who cut the recording after only a second or two, no matter how long Vincent was tempted to hold the button down and linger there.

How long had he been here now?

His muscles were starting to scream from the constant fights and transformations, what little energy he’d gotten from his broken streams of sleep completely drained away.

It was beginning to show in the trials, too. The Beast was moving more sluggishly, no longer the lightning bruiser it had been before. He was taking hits, hits that transferred onto his human form - cuts, scrapes, bruises. The bare forearm between his shirt and fingerless glove was a mess of scratches and oozing wounds. He had no materia to heal it. The few crates he found strewn around the place were empty of potions.

He wasn’t healing as fast as he should have been.

His chest wound hadn’t healed any further either, not with all his energy directed elsewhere. As a result, anytime he turned back it hurt more and more intensely and he was now reduced to kneeling on the floor, desperately trying to avoid blacking out. The presence was getting more persistent now - still not trying to impress its power over Vincent, but instead saying one thing repeatedly:

Hang on. Hang on. Hang on.

Vincent struggled back up to his feet. Even he couldn’t do this forever, could he? So when he collapsed… what would happen then?

This could only end up back at the place everything had begun.

On the operating table.

Another ward opened. Vincent glanced towards it, then the row of PHS in the central column.

He chose the ward.

One more trial, he told himself. Then he had to decide what to do, how to get out - if he even could.

To his surprise, Hojo was there again in the observation room.

“You know, I’ve really tried,” he said. He sounded almost put out. “I’ve really tried and you’ve been nothing but stubborn and illogical.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow. Like always, he could barely understand Hojo - why would he care?

The thought brought him up short. There was a good chance that this time only one of them was coming out of this alive.

So, why did Hojo care?

Vincent stared at him, forcing his exhausted brain to think. His memories of the experimentation were mostly of Hojo being cold and indifferent to his pain, but was that really true? Hojo cared about something enough to get furious over it – just not anything that made sense to him.

But he wanted Vincent’s co-operation for whatever in Planet’s name he was planning next. He wanted Vincent to look at him messing with his cells and planting demons in his body and mutating his arm permanently as “saving his life“. As making him more better, more powerful.

And no amount of telling him he didn’t want that would get through to him. In a way little had changed since that snowy day in Midgar - Hojo wanted power and couldn’t conceive of anyone who didn’t.

“Wh-why are you looking at me like that?” Hojo said.

Vincent didn’t answer, his mind starting to turn in a new way. Hojo had been inscrutable to him for so long - an unsettling, uncomfortable presence - because he kept trying to understand him through his own values. He thought him cruel, evil even, because he couldn’t grasp how Hojo’s reasoning could lead him to do what he did.

If Hojo really believed what he was doing was right, from his perspective Vincent was the one who made no sense. He’d said so often enough - that he was foolish, sentimental and stubborn - but Vincent had just blended all that in to the background noise of Hojo’s general demeaning nature.

When he thought about it like that, Hojo’s world to Vincent looked like a terribly forbidding, confusing place.

“Vincent?” Hojo pressed. “What’s going through that thick head of yours-”

“You’re lonely,” Vincent said.

Hojo’s eyes widened.

“You thought Lucrecia was like you and - and maybe she was, in some ways,” he continued. “But she’s gone now, because of your negligence. And since then no one’s really wanted to be your partner in crime, have they?”

Indignation flared across Hojo’s face. He tried to snap back, but no sound came out.

“Maybe we’re not so different. They used to say you were inhuman, cold, cruel… but so am I.” He chuckled dryly. “Even back when I was a Turk.”

Hojo’s expression shifted. He stayed silent.

“If I stayed with you - outlived you - might that be enough to stop you experimenting on others?” Vincent asked, approaching the glass room. His voice was barely audible as he said, “…Would you want that?”

Hojo looked at him and for a split-second Vincent saw it on his face: hope.

“Because you should know,” he said, golden hand curling down by his side, “That that’s never going to happen!”

And he raised his hand in a fury, letting the presence flood his mind strongly enough that when he slammed his fist into the wall a huge crack formed, snaking all the way up the stone and cracking the glass.

Hojo flinched back, grey eyes turning green with rage. “You-”

Vincent backed up and fought back the pain in his body as he made himself dart forwards, crouching low at the last second and launching himself forwards at the glass.

His claw caught the crack at the perfect angle, splintering the sheet inwards as Hojo dived backwards out of the way, his eyes locking with Vincent’s as the ex-Turk landed for just a split second before the scientist turned on his heel and took off running.

Despite their height difference, Vincent’s injuries were too much to keep up with him easily.

But that was fine; he had a different aim.

He’d ended up in this whole mess in the first place due to his bloody-mindedness and indecision - if he just did that again, he wouldn’t get any further forward. If he couldn’t use the new power within him, it was up to him to get himself out of this. This wasn’t the basement of Shinra manor - he wasn’t going to be left alone if he just tried to wait it out.

If he wasn’t going to take Hojo’s deal, then he had to escape. And if the elevator he assumed was the way out of this place wouldn’t work without the Professor’s permission, then maybe he could just break through the roof and climb his way up the elevator shaft to the top.

He’d have to fight his way out of Shinra HQ in a far from good condition, but at least he’d go down fighting.

All he had to do now was find the way out.

He kept going down the corridor, hoping Hojo hadn’t gotten far enough ahead to lock him out of the exit.

He came to a dark metal tube, stopping despite himself when he was struck by a bad feeling.

At that moment the intercom crackled again, Hojo’s laughter filling the air. “Nice try, Valentine. Did you really think that would hurt me?”

Vincent ignored him, taking a deep breath as he steeled his nerves. Hojo had gotten somewhere with an intercom, so either he was safely out of the way or bluffing.

He took a step inside the dark tube, trying not to flinch when the massive door immediately closed after him.

“But while we’re being honest with each other: what are you going to do once you break my neck?”

Vincent crept along quietly. He could only hope the professor didn’t really know where he was.

“The truth is I know you better than anyone,” he said, a desperate edge to his voice. Vincent pressed his claw to the side of the metal tube to support himself, claws scratching a little into the surface as he reminded himself not to listen. “I saw you through a painful wound. I kept you alive. Planet, I didn’t even hold it against you when you cursed me out because of the withdrawals you were going through.”

Vincent kept going, spotting light up ahead - an exit?

“Who else would accept you at your worst? Lucrecia certainly didn’t want you at your ‘best’, for the little you were worth then.”

He curled his fist.

Don’t listen.

Keep going.

Vincent reached the end of the tube, an exit just ahead.

“And now you’re a monster - a greater one than even I knew. And you want to kill the one person who wholeheartedly accepts that? That’s a level of masochism few could aspire to.”

He stopped still.

“There’s nothing for you out there,” Hojo told him. “It won’t matter how hard you try; not once everyone knows the ticking time bomb you’re carrying around. And that’s the real you: just a bomb waiting to go off.”

The presence made itself known in Vincent’s mind. He felt it urging him: move.

“I’ll tell you a secret, just between you and me,” he continued. “You want to know how many days it’s been?”

Vincent looked down. He couldn’t tell time passing, but he suspected it had been at least a day.

“It’s been three days,” Hojo said softly. “And your ‘friends’ haven’t come for you, have they? They came for the Ancient, beautiful creature that she is. But who would come for you?”

Vincent shut his eyes. He hadn’t expected them to come for him. He hadn’t. Especially since without Cloud, Barret was basically in charge now and Vincent would have had to have been blind to miss the way the AVALANCHE leader looked at him.

Move!

A noise caught his ear - a mechanical whirring that he hadn’t heard anywhere else in the Drum.

His heart skipped.

“The elevator?” he whispered.

It was at that moment the exit to the passageway swung shut before he could react, a red light clicking on.

“Got you,” Hojo said.

Vincent threw himself at the exit, pounding on the door with his fists but it was no use - the thing was a thick ring of metal he wasn’t even making a dent in. Worse, the space was so small that he wouldn’t have space to transform without risking collapsing it in on himself.

“I tried to reason with you,” Hojo said. “But the rest of the Board won’t wait forever, and neither will I.”

There was a click from somewhere.

And then a hissing sound began.

Vincent span around to see smoke pouring out of one corner in the red light, his stomach dropping.

Gas.

“No,” he said, starting to panic. He pressed himself up against the metal, as if he could melt into it and keep the threat away. He slid down to the floor, turning to press himself as close to the one source of clean air he still had - as near to the bottom of the door as possible. His fingers fumbled to undo his cloak, tugging the fabric up over his head to try and make a barrier between him and the gas.

Once again Hojo had deprived him of all dignity and hope. Once again he was stuck in Shinra’s bowels, alone, wondering if he’d ever be seen again.

The scent of the gas reached him - not sweet like anaesthesia but sharp and bitter.

Panic mounted.

It wasn’t a sleeping gas.

It was poison.

Vincent closed his cloak around his head tighter but couldn’t help the cough that escaped him, tried to breathe shallowly which only made the panic worse.

Hojo’s laughter echoed outside the tunnel, his voice penetrating through the barrier.

“You’re the most contradictory creature I’ve ever met, Valentine,” he said. “Can’t decide if you want to be a killer or kind. Get attention for your prowess and then act like you hate having power. Hide from life, can’t commit to dying.”

Vincent coughed harder, starting to choke. He pressed himself close to the floor.

The presence rose up again, outright begging him to cede control and Vincent tried to do so, but his strength was failing him.

“I was missing a trick thinking you wanted the truth about Lucy, wasn’t I?” he said. “I should have remembered this is what you really wanted. So let’s see how close to the edge you can get. Are you going to beg me to bail you out?”

Three days. He’d been fighting and barely sleeping for three days straight.

His chest wound ached, cuts and bruises everywhere over his body.

His head was starting to spin.

He wondered if this was it.

After all those close calls.

Finally.

“You forget your place,” Hojo said, words ringing in Vincent’s head. “You forgot I own you now. You won’t do that again.”

But even as Vincent shut his eyes, indignation burned in his skin.

Of all the ways to die, Hojo being the one to do it… he didn’t want this.

His vision darkened, his lungs burning and healing and burning and burning more.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t see.

He…

Another sound from outside, a familiar one.

An alarm.

Not that goddamned noise again…

He coughed, choked, hoping Hojo would turn that stupid alarm off.

The Professor didn’t say a word, though – the intercom abruptly hissed and went silent.

Somewhere there was a faint ding, the sound of metal doors sliding open.

Almost like an elevator.

An elevator…

“Vincent?” a voice called.

A new one voice.

One he didn’t recognise.

He raised his head the tiniest inch to call back and immediately succumbed to a hacking cough as he got a lungful of gas.

“In here!” the voice said.

Vincent collapsed back to the floor as there was another beeping noise - and the huge door went swinging open.

Air flooded in but the tunnel surrounding him was still full of the gas and Vincent couldn’t find the strength to push himself up and move.

But it didn’t matter - there were hands grabbing at him and pulling him out into the hallway, turning him onto his hands and knees and someone was rubbing his back as he gasped and choked.

“We got you, Vincent,” the unfamiliar voice said.

“Breathe, man,” another said - but this voice was familiar. “Looks like some pretty nice timing on our part, huh?”

Vincent was still wheezing in a way he’d never heard before, but he tried to look up through bleary eyes to see who his rescuers were.

He didn’t recognise the man knelt by his side - was he the younger Board member he’d seen earlier? - but he did know the three others looking down at him with curious expressions.

The Turks - the blonde, the red head and the tall one. The ones he’d helped escape from the Temple of the Ancients.

Vincent wheezed, struggling to get out a single word: “W-Why?”

The red one gave him a mock salute, the three exchanging glances until the tall one said simply, “Death doesn’t suit a Turk.”

Chapter Text

WRO : Operation QUIET

The responsible [principle architect]: Professor Hojo - director of R&D department of Shinra (deceased)

The victim: Vincent Valentine - formerly of Administrative Research department of Shinra AKA the Turks (generation 1, 13th member)

Tape details: Further tapes discovered in an unordered collection in the R&D offices after Meteorfall. Presented as evidence in the Shinra Trials

Classification: Highly sensitive, never to be released

Attached is the transcript used in the Shinra Trials [some details may be redacted at the request of Director of the WRO]

[Tape clicks on]

Prof. Hojo: Subject GAI012, Tape 25.

Prof. Hojo: The regenerative tests have been very successful! The only note I currently have is the prior wound is not healing as it should. I am unsure as to why this is happening - it is possible the severity of it is slowing down the healing factor - or perhaps because it occurred before the new cells were introduced, the body has not recognised it needs to fix it in the same way?

Prof. Hojo: But I can hypothesise further about that later.

Prof. Hojo: For right now, I intend to move on to a new stage of testing: implantation.

Prof. Hojo: My prior experiments were on fiends and while I produced a promising creature in terms of its ability to transform its own flesh, it was ultimately a failure due to its instability.

Prof. Hojo: But to have a self-healing machine as the one I’ve created here… his body might be able to withstand it.

Prof. Hojo: I have the essence of the first transformation I want to try. With any luck, the implantation will seal the wound at the same time!

[Sound: A door opening]

Prof. Hojo: Good morning, subject! How are we feeling today?

Prof. Hojo: I thought we would try something new. Are you up for that?

Prof. Hojo: No? How do you expect me to know if you don’t speak to me?

Prof. Hojo: You’re not a child. Don’t shake your head at me.

Vincent: …you don’t listen… you don’t… when I say… You don’t…

Prof. Hojo: Hmm.

[Sound: Rustling noise, something is moved - probably the wheeled tray from Exhibit C]

Prof. Hojo: I thought so. Tiny bit of a temperature you’ve got. Not to worry, it’s manageable.

Prof. Hojo: How are you feeling today? Any complications?

[Sound: Heavy pile of papers dropped loudly]

Prof. Hojo: I’m not in the mood for this today, Val- GAI012. You’re holding up my progress.

[Sound: 30 seconds of silence, not a mistake on the tape]

Vincent: …tired…

Prof. Hojo: Understandable. Don’t hold me up further and you can rest after the next procedure.

Prof. Hojo: Fair?

[Sound: equipment being shuffled around - likely tools and various bottles.]

Vincent: [Inaudible]

Prof. Hojo: What’s that?

Vincent: [inaudible]… happened yet? The date-

Prof. Hojo: Oh. No.

Vincent: How long -

[Sound: Something is switched on. The song ‘Midgar Blues’ is playing.]

Prof. Hojo: [Humming]

Vincent: What’re you… doing?

Prof. Hojo: [Humming]

[Sound: Volume of the radio is increased.]

Vincent: You said you’d tell me if I asked - Hojo - Professor - wait -

Vincent: [Voice is muffled, inaudible]

Prof. Hojo: Beginning implantation procedure #1. Subject vitals are stable, mild temperature, pulse elevated -

Vincent: [Voice is louder, muffled, inaudible]

Prof. Hojo: Introducing the material now -

Vincent: [Note from WRO director Reeve Tuesti: audio is redacted from this point. Refer to Shinra Trial transcript pertaining to defendant interrogation]

[Tape clicks on]

Prof. Hojo: Subject GAI012, Tape 26.

Prof. Hojo: Introduction of the material was a wild success, beyond even my expectations.

Prof. Hojo: The material took well to the new host and a full transformation is likely going to follow soon.

Prof. Hojo: As such, I intend to move the subject to the larger space underground for when the changes take.

Prof. Hojo: Vitals are stable, but the temperature has been exacerbated. It’s now up to around 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

Prof. Hojo: My hypothesis is that the transformation is likely to happen any moment now. Hopefully that will break the fever, but it’s not the worst thing in the world if not. It can be managed with medications and at the moment it renders the subject far less difficult to deal with, so…

[Sound: A door opening and the sound of a guerney being wheeled. Vincent is mumbling throughout but attempts to transcribe the dialogue have not been made as he is insensible]

[Sound: An elevator]

Prof. Hojo: Here we are. This is going to be your home away from home for the next couple of tests. Spacious, isn’t it?

Vincent: [inaudible]

Prof. Hojo: Hmm? What’s that, GAI012?

Vincent: …h-hhurts…

Prof. Hojo: Oh. Well, it’s going to hurt for awhile. Until you stop fighting it and the new form takes hold.

Prof. Hojo: You know what, you’re going to need space - let me just undo these.

Vincent: Hhuuurts…

Prof. Hojo: Open wide for a second - do I have to remind you not to bite? …OK, good.

Vincent: [mouth full] What’re you…doin?

Prof. Hojo: Temperature is now… 101 degrees.

Prof. Hojo: I need to back off for now. Try not to panic.

Vincent: Where’re you… don’t…

[Sound: footsteps walking away]

Prof. Hojo: This setup isn’t ideal. I could really use an overhead observation chamber. I’ll design one once I have the time.

Prof. Hojo: Right, the test.

Prof. Hojo: Subject is starting to convulse - damn, I should have brought the camcorder to capture this. Whatever happened to that thing…?

[Sound: agonised screaming, pitch drops after five seconds]

[Sound: the roaring of a fiend is so loud that the audio peaks]

Proj. Hojo: Incredible! What an incredible creature. So far the test is exceeding my expectations - let’s time how long he can retain this new form…

[Sound: banging sounds against the wall]

Prof. Hojo: The Beast appears disorientated. Is this a symptom of pain from the human body?

[Sound: banging sounds grow weaker and further apart]

Prof. Hojo: A red mist is appearing - the human form has reappeared.

Prof. Hojo: Excellent! GAI012 - if I can just ask -

[Sound: a thud]

Prof. Hojo: Ah. Well, that’s not entirely unexpected.

[Sound: footsteps, the recorder being set down]

Prof. Hojo: [quieter] Valentine? Vincent, come on now, wake up -

Prof. Hojo: Temperature is now… 100 degrees. Going the right direction, at least.

Vincent: [inaudible]

Prof. Hojo: There we are. How was it?

Vincent: [inaudible]

Prof. Hojo: What? No, you’re not in Hell. Don’t be superstitious.

Vincent: [inaudible] … Lucrecia?

Prof. Hojo: She’s upstairs, Valentine. How could you possibly have hurt her?

Vincent: …she’s OK…?

Prof. Hojo: She’s fine.

Vincent: …Oh. Oh, good.

Prof. Hojo: But you realise how dangerous it would be for you to try to leave the basement now, don’t you? You could hurt her, if you got near her. More than you already have, you know?

Vincent: …I know…

Prof. Hojo: You’ve done well with the tests, GAI012. Morphine?

Prof. Hojo: You look like you could use it.

Vincent: …When’re you going to kill me?

Vincent: I know you’re going to kill me…

[Sound: Recorder is picked back up]

Prof. Hojo: Subject has passed out. Pulse rate is incredibly elevated, condition is in need of stabilising.

Prof. Hojo: Initial impression of post-transformation effects: appears to induce exhaustion and stress on the body. Reminder to increase nutrients supplied by the IV line. Also, also - need to watch out for and combat the effects of dehydration, especially with the fever.

Prof. Hojo: Transformation appears to have left the subject’s clothes intact - it’s as though the two forms are just switching back and forth after the initial change. Remarkable…

Prof. Hojo: For now, let’s get the creature back to the labs. I could certainly use some staff, but until Shinra sees the great success of the JENOVA Project I’m likely to be afforded no further resources. Although…

Prof. Hojo: Anyway, the subject might not be completely useful as a soldier for Shinra. But he could certainly be a useful enforcer for myself and my wife, once our child is born.

Prof. Hojo: Oh, you’re back with us?

Prof. Hojo: I was just saying you could still have a place by Lucrecia’s side, if you co-operate with me.

Vincent: S-she… wouldn’t w-want…this.

Vincent: She won’t l-like what you’ve…done.

Prof. Hojo: She won’t care. Oh, of course she wouldn’t like this ending in your death; not when you did so much to enable the JENOVA Project. We owe you something for that at least.

Prof. Hojo: But she’s not going to care enough to tell anyone what I’ve done here.

Prof. Hojo: On her list of priorities, you’re nowhere near the top.

[Sound: believed to be Hojo helping/dragging Vincent back over to the guerney.]

[Sound: an impact - believed to be Vincent collapsing onto the guerney.]

Prof. Hojo: All right, let’s get secure for the trip back up to the labs.

Prof. Hojo: The sub basement is really something, don’t you think? Lots of room for you to, well, romp around in.

Vincent: What’d you do…

Prof. Hojo: We need to take your vitals, run some tests. Then you can rest up for the next one.

Vincent: …Next…?

Prof. Hojo: Here we are.

[Sound: the elevator call button]

Prof. Hojo: Oh, and to answer the question you asked earlier?

Prof. Hojo: That’s up to you.

Prof. Hojo: I keep telling you I don’t want to hurt you. Keep being useful and comply with the tests, and everything will be fine.

Vincent: …I want you to-

[Tape clicks off]

Chapter Text

They all regrouped on the bridge of the Highwind, essentially putting the ship into a holding pattern while they held an emergency meeting in the boardroom.

“So this is where we’re at,” Barret said. “We’re missing Cloud and don’t know where he is, and now we’re also missing Vincent and we don’t know where he is. We don’t have any more leads on the WEAPON that’s got Cloud -”

“Actually,” Cait cut in, “That’s… not quite true.”

They all looked over at him.

“You got a lead on Cloud?” Barret asked.

“What? No - I have a lead on Vincent,” he said.

“What is it?” Yuffie cried. “Is he still alive?”

“Aye, he is, but… he’s not in a good way. Hojo’s brought him to Shinra HQ and he’s still injured - and it looks like the Professor’s sedated him.”

“The real you figure that out?” Barret asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew Cait must be risking a lot to help them, but at times like this he couldn’t help but wonder just who could be piloting the machine. Especially since he couldn’t imagine Hojo would be sneaking in a WEAPON through the service entrance - surely he’d want to keep a power like that all to himself until he’d exhausted all his scientific curiosity?

“Aye,” Cait said, giving him a hard look. “Is that a problem?”

“Guys,” Tifa said, getting between them, “This isn’t the time.” She knelt down to Cait’s level. “Cait, do you know what they’re going to do with him?”

“What I saw was Hojo heading to his floor, where the labs are,” he said, adding darkly, “But I’m betting he’s going to imprison Vincent in the Drum to begin with.”

“The… what?” Yuffie asked blankly, as Red, Barret and Tifa exchanged concerned looks.

“The Drum,” Red bit out with a snarl that exposed his sharp teeth, “Is Hojo’s own private labotrary inside Shinra HQ. The four of us ended up trapped in there when we were trying to rescue Aerith.”

“Hold up, rewind a sec,” Yuffie said, turning to face Barret. “You’ve already busted in and out of Shinra HQ once? I mean I have too, y’know – not like it’s hard or anything – but that means that between all of us we’re practically experts-”

“Well yeah, but - it ain’t gonna be easy,” he told her. “They might’ve tightened up security since the last time.”

“Or they might be a bit distracted cause of all the stuff going down between them an’ Wutai,” Cid said, folding his arms.

“…We do have a contact on the inside,” Tifa said. “Mayor Domino is with AVALANCHE - I bet we could co-ordinate something smarter since we know he’s there this time.”

“Tifa,” Barret said, “Are you seriously suggesting we abandon Cloud to go after Vincent?”

His chest ached at the way she flinched and her face crumpled, the others all shooting him ‘too far’ looks.

“I’m not abandoning him,” she said, sounding stung. “But you’re right, we’re back to square one on leads for him. We have no idea where he could be! But we do know where Vincent is.” She sighed, her shoulders heaving as if she was carrying a great weight. “And I know that last time I said ‘wait and see’ I regretted it. A lot. What Hojo was planning to do to Aerith - it was sick. And she was his ‘precious last living Ancient’! I don’t even want to think what he might do to to someone who’s as… different as Vincent is.”

“What did Hojo want to do to Aerith…?” Yuffie asked, eyes flickering uncertainly between the three of them.

Barret remembered what Cloud and Tifa had told him they’d overheard from the vent. How it had even sickened the other Board members.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, kid,” he told her. “You don’t need to know that kind of stuff.”

She ignited, squaring up and punching him in the arm. “I’m not a kid!” she snapped. Then she turned to face the others. “So that’s the plan, right? Do what we did the first time and break him out of there?”

Tifa looked at Barret imploringly. The rest of them were looking at him the same way, too.

Barret groaned loudly and turned away, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.

“...You guys really want to do this, huh,” he said.

“Why don’t you?” Red asked, settling on his haunches.

“What, you actually wanna know?” he grumbled.

“You’re in charge without Cloud,” Cid said. “Way I see, the crew doesn’t do anything the captain ain’t comfortable with.”

Barret looked back at them, surprised. “You’d really do that? What I say goes?”

“Wouldn’t feel good ‘bout it,” Cid said. “But yeah. I’m a newbie here too, remember. Not my place to boss you round.”

“Ugh, we’re wasting time…” Yuffie kicked her leg. “OK, fine! Hurry up and out with it! What’s your problem?”

Barret gave her a look, sighing and trying to pin down the bad feeling he was having. Honestly, why didn’t he want to go? Normally he was all for sticking it to Shinra, but his instincts were telling him to go the other direction on this one.

“I dunno, I guess-” He sighed. “I guess it just looks like a case of ‘you break it you bought it’ to me. Getting yourself all screwed up by the Professor and then getting buyer’s remorse about it’s different than Shinra chasing Aerith her whole childhood cause they wanted to steal her birthright.” The others were silent. “And don’t even get me started on this thing about a WEAPON. How in the Planet’s name did he not know that he had that inside him? If you ask me-”

“Hang on one second there, Barret,” Cait said, an edge in his tone. “How’d you know he wanted to be this way?”

“Huh?”

“How’d you know he wanted to be this way?” Cait pressed. “You cannae think it’s a standardised procedure similar to what SOLDIERS get if he’s the only one you’ve ever met like this.”

“Well… I…” Barret stopped, unsure. In actuality he didn’t know - something about Vincent’s attitude had just led him to assume that.

“Hang on,” Tifa said. “You mentioned reading his file in the company database. Don’t you know for sure, Cait?”

“I cannae tell you what’s in it,” Cait said immediately, holding up his gloved hands in supplication. “Not my place. But I can tell you that whatever was done to Vincent was completely off the books. No one ever signed off on it or documented the procedures, not like they did for the SOLDIERS. There might be more info from the files I may have borrowed

from the R&D drive, but…” He turned from the group, moving to hop up on the boardroom table so he could get at eye level. “But I don’t want to spend hours digging around in old files to prove to myself Vincent deserves our help. I’ve seen him look out for us before and that’s good enough for me.”

Barret glanced around at the others, bristling uncomfortably. Since when had he become the bad guy here?

“…What ‘bout you?” he asked Cid. “Been meaning to ask you for awhile, since you hung out with him more than us.”

“Hang out is a strong word,” Cid said, running a hand tiredly through his hair. “I dunno what to tell ya; he’s the quiet sort. Barely says a word.”

“He sure didn’t tell you about the shapeshifting, did he? I clocked your face when it happened - you looked like you were gonna mess your britches.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. But if it were me, I wouldn’t go broadcastin’ it either.” Cid sighed, staring off into the distance. “If you want my opinion outside that… yeah, there’s obviously way more to this than he was lettin’ on. But I don’t think he was fakin’ it about not knowin’ about the WEAPON - that was more emotion than I’ve seen outta him in all the downtime we had together. An’ how he acted around Hojo, it was…”

He stopped, frowning.

“Hatred, obviously,” Barret scoffed. “He’s got sense enough for that.”

“No,” Cid said, still thoughtful. “It’s not just that. It’s somethin’… else. Somethin’… complicated. More than just this whole shapeshiftin’ thing.”

The others exchanged looks, uneasy. The only exception was Yuffie, who had taken to impatiently pacing up and down.

“Anyway,” the captain said. “You can’t trust him, fine. But you can’t ask him anything if we leave him for Hojo to cut up.” He shrugged, reaching for a cigarette. “If it were me, I’d look at this at an opportunity to bust open some Shinra secrets.”

“And to take care of Hojo once and for all,” Red growled.

Barret considered. He hated to think he was putting finding Cloud on the back burner, but he could see the logic of what they were all saying. And if Tifa was fine with it…

“All right,” he said slowly. “But this time we’re planning it top to tail. I’m not risking losing another person over this. And if it turns out Vincent’s been playing both sides somehow I’m throwing his goth butt over the bridge and no one’s gonna stop me. Clear?”

“Clear!” the group chorused.

The meeting turned immediately to strategy planning, the group more enthused than Barret had seen any of them in a while. It was heartening to see, but he still worried about whether

or not he was doing the right thing. The small seed of doubt was still sitting in his stomach.

If what Cait said was true, then Vincent was just one in another long line of Shinra’s victims. So then why was it so hard to think of him that way?

The plan the group had come up with was as good as any Barret had come up with AVALANCHE. With the loss of Aerith, Barret found himself reflecting more on the other people who weren’t there - not Cloud this time, but Jessie, Biggs and Wedge.

He just knew they’d have gotten along like a house on fire with the rest of the motley crew that had formed along this strange journey he’d been on. Biggs would have been a great calming presence, Wedge looking out for anyone who looked like they needed it, and Jessie… letting her loose with Aerith and Yuffie would have been a picture of perfect chaos.

What would they think of what he was doing now? Would they have struggled to take to Vincent the way he was?

Well, Jessie might not have…

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Sitting around thinking like this really wasn’t his style, but the distance between Costa Del Sol and Midgar meant they had to fly across the ocean, which gave him a lot of time to think. As a result he’d been running the plan over and over in an empty break room in his head just to keep from going mad.

Cross the ocean. Then join up with the Bronco to make their approach from the ground level. With war about to break out any second with Wutai, they couldn’t be careless about intruding into Shinra’s airspace - especially not with a hijacked airship.

From there, use an entrance onto the upper plate and approach Shinra HQ the exact same way they did the first time. They still had the keycard that they’d used the first time but only a limited number, so from their the plan was to split the approach - one team inside the building, the other an outside team to help with extraction.

Last time they hadn’t been able to take full advantage of the support from the old guard of AVALANCHE, but Cait had curiously been able to provide them with a direct line to Mayor Domino. Just like last time, the Mayor had been more than willing to help - and once he got a line to the others and Nayo heard Shinra might have gotten their hands on some kind of superweapon, she had far less misgivings about using her contacts in AVALANCHE HQ for help.

They obviously were suffering a clampdown under Rufus - coldly efficient unlike his father, who Barret suspected was keeping AVALANCHE around for propaganda purposes - so they could only offer a helicopter at the extraction point of the roof once the signal was given instead of a frontal battalion or diversion.

That was fine, as far as Barret was concerned. Once he would have been hungry to cause as much bloodshed for Shinra as possible, but right now his larger concern was keeping his head and keeping everyone alive. The operation had one rule: no more fatalities.

He didn’t have Cloud with him this time to remind him to stay on target every five seconds, after all.

Once they made it inside, the plan got foggier but it revolved around a simple set of steps: use the keycard to jump to Hojo’s labs, hiding out or regrouping in Domino’s office if they needed to. Find Vincent, hopefully still in his human form, get back out to the roof and the helicopter.

Break Hojo’s neck for extra frosting on a very messy cake.

From there, the helicopter would take them back to the Bronco where they could disappear out of sight and find the Highwind again. When considering a place to lay low, no one was sure where they could go that would secure both medical care for Vincent if they needed it and keep them out of Shinra’s way.

Until Cid had piped up with an odd look in his eyes and simply said, “Leave that to me.” So that was the plan.

At the moment the team composition was undetermined - Barret was tempted to bench two of them, one to stay with the Highwind and the other the Bronco, so he could guarantee the safety of at least two members (and so their getaway vehicles wouldn’t be compromised). Cid was the obvious choice for the Highwind, but as for the Bronco… someone who could drive it in a pinch would be best, so that ruled out Cait and Red, but then…

Barret sighed again. If he was honest with himself, Tifa was his first choice to bench right now. He knew she was capable and level headed, but after the one-two punch of losing Aerith then Cloud, he just couldn’t bear for anything to happen to her right now. He was fond of the

others, but it just wasn’t the same thing. Tifa was as dear to him as Marlene, just in a different way.

He cursed himself again. Why in the Planet’s name had he agreed to this…?

Barret was interrupted by the sound of padded paws approaching. He looked up to see Red - Nanaki, rather, though he’d never insisted on anyone using that name - coming towards him. The great creature settled down opposite him, preening his paw before meeting his eye and saying, “It’s been a long way. Still a ways to go.”

“Yeah?”

“This way is slower than just parachuting in,” Red mused. “I can only hope the delay doesn’t cause issues.”

“Yeah…”

“I came to ask you a favour,” Red said.

Barret sat up straighter, already suspecting what he was going to say.

“I’d like to be in the inside team,” he said, then dropped into his ‘older’ voice. “And if we have an opportunity to end Hojo, I want to take it.”

“Thought you might say that. I don’t got any problems with you coming with.”

“Really?” Red said, sounding young again. “That was easy! Did you already decide the teams?”

“Not quite…” Barret sighed. “I wanna ask Tifa to stay behind, but I don’t want to tick her off.”

“She’s risked her life for things before. Like rescuing Aerith, for example.” “I know, but…”

Red tipped his head to one side, a look coming into his eyes that he got sometimes. One that was older than his years.

“But it’s different, isn’t it? You’ve got a bad feeling and you can’t shake it.”

Barret rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “Red, do you - do you think I’m a bad person for this?”

“No,” Red said, so calmly and confidently Barret knew he wasn’t lying to make him feel better. “But I am surprised you don’t feel more common ground with him.”

And he nosed at Barret’s arm.

“That’s different, too,” Barret said, hoisting the weapon into his lap. “This is my will to fight, to get back up and do something. Planet knows how he got his, but he didn’t do anything with it except hide in a basement and… sleep in coffins. It’s not… normal.”

Red flipped his tail slowly back and forth. He said simply, “And Aerith is? I am?” “That’s different!” he said. “You guys are - y’know-”

He couldn’t find the words, gesturing at the air. His throat got tight again at the breadth of the difference: Aerith was a beam of sunshine in human form and Red was about the most calming presence anyone could hope for; someone no one would suspect of being a teenager on first meeting him.

“Barret,” Red asked. “When it comes right down to it, do you think of Vincent as being closer to a fiend than a person? Ultimately, no matter what he does, he’s over the line and not worth saving?”

Barret started to answer no, of course not, but the question… brought him up short.

Maybe for all his rationalising it really was that simple. They didn’t know Vincent, Barret didn’t trust him and he was… unnerving.

‘I know we oughta have mercy for all life,’ he’d said, ‘But you gotta draw the line somewhere.’

“If he’s really possessed by a WEAPON,” Barret mused out loud, “How do we know there’s even anything human left to rescue?”

Red looked down, his ears drooping. “We… don’t.” He turned his head away, tail curling close around his body. “But I have to believe there is. I just…” And he looked down again, Barret following his gaze and suddenly realising what he was looking at.

His thirteen brand. The one Hojo had forcibly scarred into him.

Barret shifted his position, feeling a different kind of guilt hitting him. He should’ve realised Red would have hangups of his own about seeing another person trapped in the Drum.

Trapped just like him. Just like Aerith.

Aerith, who hadn’t hesitated to save his daughter even when she had never even met her before. Vincent and Marlene were certainly nothing alike, but he knew the flower girl wouldn’t have cared.

She wouldn’t have hesitated to save someone else.

Without thinking he reached out and ruffled Red’s mane.

“Y’know what? You’ve talked me into it,” he said, plastering on a smile. “Long as you believe it, I’ll believe it.”

Red looked up, flashing him a grateful smile.

And he meant it, mostly. For now at least, Barret would hold out hope that they were right. When Shinra were involved, the line between foe and friend was never as clear as he’d have liked.

Suddenly Yuffie raced past the doorway, then skidded back when she spotted them there. “Guys, guys! Come on!”

Barret stood immediately. “Are we there-”

“Not yet,” she said, briefly bending double as the travel sickness hit her from the exertion. “Ugh, give me a sec-”

Red quickly raced over, casting a quick esuna to ease the worst of it. She muttered a thanks as she ran her hands over her mane to ground herself. Red allowed it, though he pouted a bit.

Yuffie took a deep breath. “It’s Cait. He’s got a bug into a Shinra board meeting.”

The group gathered back in the boardroom, Cait’s ear hooked up to a boardroom speaker so they could all listen in easily. Barret was only even more curious how he’d pulled this off - he’d have to be on some strata of upper level staff to get anywhere near that place.

And if he was, he had to have heard about Sector 7. Had he done anything to try and stop it? To warn people? On the ground it hadn’t felt that way - one minute they’d noticed a lot of suspicious Shinra activity around the pillar, the next they were in a fight for their lives and their home had been crushed flat into rubble, along with anyone who hadn’t made it out in time.

He reminded himself for about the fifth time to stay focused. Settling up could wait until later.

“Apologies for calling everyone at such short notice,” Rufus said as sounds of squeaking chairs and shuffling papers were heard around the room. “But I’ve gotten word that you’ve procured something unusual, Professor, and I’d like to know what manner of trouble you’re bringing into Shinra at such a volatile time.”

“President, I’m glad you called this meeting,” he said. “A most fortuitous opportunity fell into my lap after I was captured by AVALANCHE. Needless to say I took advantage of it and secured my escape at the same time, narrowly avoiding being killed by those rabble-rousers!”

“Yes,” Rufus said flatly, “We’re so glad to have you back in one piece. But the rumour is Sephiroth is going to use the Black Materia to call the end of the world any day now. It’s not really the time-”

“Au contraire, President,” Hojo interrupted, glee in his nasal voice. “If I may?” There was a clicking sound, like someone had turned off the lights. Barret wrinkled his nose. Was Hojo giving some sort of sick slideshow?

“The subject was formerly Vincent Valentine of the Department of Administrative Research,” Hojo said, “And-”

“A Turk?” Rufus interrupted. “Which generation?”

“The first,” Heidegger supplied. “He was Veld’s shadow.”

Cait fidgeted, glancing around at the others for reasons Barret was unclear why.

Over the call, Hojo cleared his throat. “Yes. Anyway. Decent specimen - good stamina and speed. Excellent pain tolerance! During the conception of the JENOVA Project, however, he turned into an immediate security risk. I neutralised it, of course, but I didn’t want to waste good material after it fell into my hands.”

“Mm-hmm?” Rufus said, sounding decidedly unimpressed. Barret curled his fist. The man obviously didn’t like Hojo and probably had to put up with this creepy behaviour all the time from him, so why not just fire him? What, because the scientist was senior under his father it meant he got a pass?

“My apologies, I do get overexcited with these things - the point is I trialled an experimental new procedure to make his cells stronger, to regenerate all kinds of damage! To this day he is my one successful foray into stable transformation - able to shapeshift into a beserker and back again, all without compromising the integrity of the base form!” He clapped his hands together. “Incredible, no?”

“Professor, what does this have to do with us?” a bored female voice asked. Barret and Yuffie locked eyes. It had to be Scarlet.

“My dear lady of weapons development, it should interest you to know he is perhaps the greatest human weapon ever created after Sephiroth. In addition to his more pedestrian forms, within him lies a fabled creature of legend: a WEAPON!”

Gasps went around the room.

“The subject is being… resistant now, but it’s only a matter of time before the transformation overtakes him. Especially since I extracted the mechanism that was holding the creature back!” There was a noise of something being set down on the boardroom table.

“Materia?” Scarlet asked. “...May I see it?”

Yuffie swore in Wutaiain under breath and the others shot her a look not to interrupt.

“By all means! This is not just any materia though - it is protomateria, acting as a living instruction set that would normally control the lifecycle of the WEAPON. With it gone-”

“You’re telling me you truly have a WEAPON potentially loose on Shinra property?” Rufus hissed. “Are you insane?”

“President, please,” he said. “The creature is safely imprisoned in the Drum. There is only one exit out of my lab, and I alone control it.”

“What’s stopping him just ripping the elevator door down and clawing his way out of there?” Rufus exclaimed. “What’s stopping him levelling the entire building in a fit of rage?”

“…I had thought you’d be a little more excited,” Hojo said. “But if you must know, the main thing stopping him right now is himself.”

“What?”

“He’s resisting using the new power, as I said.” Hojo sighed. “Frustrating as I thought it to be at first, it perhaps provides an opportunity. All I have to do is confront him with fiends and he has to use his other transformations to survive. Doing that depletes his energy. Once he becomes exhausted he’ll have to call on his new form if he wants to survive any longer.”

“So… what’s stopping him sleeping it off right now?” a new voice asked hesitantly. He sounded young, male. Tired.

Yuffie caught Barret’s eye, mouthed, ‘Who’s that?’ He shrugged, racking his brains for the other board members but nothing was coming to him. He remembered the space executive as an incompetent fool, but this didn’t sound like him.

Cait toyed with the hem of his gloves.

“Excellent question! I am,” Hojo said. “The Drum is under my complete control. When I’m not there, my systems have ways to detect if my subjects attempt to rest more than fifteen minutes at a time and… punish them accordingly.”

There was a booming laugh as the group exchanged looks. Barret swore under his breath. If he wasn’t even letting Vincent rest, their window of rescue had just gotten dramatically smaller.

“What say you to expediting the process?” Heidegger chimed in. “Last time I offered you my armouries and you declined. But I’d be happy to break in a disobedient Turk if he’s much less… fragile than the precious Ancient.”

Hojo sighed. “Much as I might want to indulge your whims just this once, I’m afraid I will have to decline.”

“What? But you said-”

“I know. But I think it best you leave him exclusively to me,” he said. “You’ve never faced obstinacy until you’ve tried to get a simple concept through that thick head. If I made it my life’s goal to save his life, he’d make it his to drink poison just to spite me. And I suspect he fears the WEAPON’s power, also. My approach will certainly include physical pain - but it cannot be the only method. Trust me on this: only I know the best route into that stubborn psyche.”

Rufus chuckled. “I ought to tell Tseng you’ve finally met a worthy opponent.”

“No!” Hojo said sharply. “Keep that pack of dogs out of this.”

“Worried they’ll come get their senior?” Rufus said, his tone level and cold.

“Tseng is loyal to you, President. Impress on him the importance of my mission. Or better yet: make sure word doesn’t get to him at all.”

The others exchanged looks, obviously all thinking the same thing. If pressed, would the Turks be willing to be men on the inside? Normally they were sworn enemies - and Barret still had to get them back for Sector 7 - but they all knew the Turks had a strange kind of pack loyalty. It was basically the only thing Barret could respect about them.

“Frankly, Professor, I still fail to see the value of this endeavour. The risks are incredibly high and by your own admission, the subject is hostile to you - and likely also Shinra. The time it would take to mentally break him into submission is unknown, same as the extent of the WEAPON’s power-”

“Oh,” Hojo said, sounding strange, “I forgot to mention one more thing. Something that will make him indescribably valuable in the event Sephiroth does utilise the Black Materia to threaten life as we know it.”

Heidegger abruptly chuckled as the group exchanged looks, Cait once again starting to fidget. Barret’s hands clamped together. Shit. He was right; there was something about Vincent that none of them knew-

“He’s immortal,” Hojo said simply.

There was a chorus of disbelief in the boardroom as everyone listening in exchanged glances, Cait avoiding their eyes.

Barret felt as though he was listening to the scene from very far away.

Immortal? That couldn’t be possible.

Could it?

Cid abruptly leant back and took a cigarette out of his pack. But he didn’t light it. He just kept flipping his lighter open and shut, his face more thoughtful than surprised.

“It’s true, President,” Heidegger said. “If memory serves he went MIA thirty years ago, and from what I saw he doesn’t look a day older than when I last saw him - if with a few of the Professor’s thumbprints on him…”

Barret rubbed his temples, trying to fend off the impending headache. Heidegger had no reason to lie to Rufus about this, did he? It just wouldn’t make any sense.

But then if he wasn’t lying…

“But that - that’s impossible,” Rufus sputtered, his detached tone gone. “Look at the rest of SOLDIER: statistically they have shortened lifespans, not extended ones!”

“Because they were all stemming from one source of power: JENOVA,” Hojo said, something dark in his tone. “I - didn’t want - I decided to do something else with… him. I had other avenues I wanted to pursue; side projects, if you like. His new cells were mako-implanted but not JENOVA-enhanced. If he sustained enough damage he could certainly be killed… but he will not age or die through natural means.”

“And you believe you can reverse engineer that?” Scarlet asked. “Give the rest of us a life everlasting?”

“With time and support, any phenomenon should be replicable,” he mused. “Picture it, President. A world in which Shinra never has to cease existing or face the turmoil of a lost Board member or President ever again. A world where no matter the chaos Sephiroth might create, we would have the best chance of outlasting it, of rebuilding. Where experts such as ourselves will be its eternal rulers.”

Barret felt himself go cold all over. Not only were they actively disregarding the potential casualties to hundreds of thousands of people if Sephiroth really summoned the Meteor, but they were actively plotting to rule over the remains forever?

Any remaining shred of doubt he felt died in that moment. Even if there was only a small chance Hojo was right that Vincent was actually truly immortal, the possibility of Shinra owning the Planet was one he could not allow.

And whatever else Vincent’s past with Hojo might be, he felt at least a little sure that the man himself wouldn’t want them harvesting his abilities to that end either.

When he looked around the table, he saw a similar horror and fury reflected in everyone else’s faces.

“Well?” Hojo said. “What say you all?”

There was a chorus of agreement, though one voice was noticeably absent. The President’s.

“I admit this is all – a lot to get my head around,” Rufus said. “So I want access to your files, Professor. And whatever happens, you’re not to repeat what happened with Ifalna. If your subject is indeed that valuable, do not push hard enough to kill. Only if the WEAPON looks set to pose a threat you can’t contain do you harm the asset permanently. And don’t let your morbid curiosity force you to wait until the last second either. Understood?”

“Absolutely, Mr President. I appreciate the vote of confidence.” He chuckled and there was the sound of a chair leaning back. “To think he would turn into such a happy accident. Still, that’s the value of prototypes - always room to polish their strengths to perfection.”

“So for phase one, attempting to draw out the WEAPON…” Rufus paused. “Do you think you can break him, Professor?”

“Easily. Leave me to it and I’ll have results for you in no time.”

“Certain you aren’t just acting out old grudges, Hojo?” Heidegger teased.

“I most certainly am not. If you were a scientist, you’d understand. Once you’ve taken someone apart you know them better than they know themselves. And I know nothing will speed Valentine’s deterioration faster than being reminded of that fact.”

There was the sound of a chair being pushed out. “Now, if there’s nothing else-”

“Just one more thing,” the unknown young male voice suddenly asked. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

A sigh. “Director Tuesti, I appreciate this is all rather big to get one’s head around-”

“No. Not that.” There was a harshness in his tone that interested Barret. He leant forward to hear what this Tuesti had to say for himself.

“Why didn’t you do something about this before now?” he asked. “I mean, you did know he had the WEAPON, right? You did know he was immortal, didn’t you? Since he was your test subject.”

“I… well, I-” Hojo stammered, stopping suddenly and clearing his throat. “I didn’t have the opportunity before now. It would’ve been dangerous-”

“And why do you need all this time? Don’t you have the notes on how to replicate what you did?”

“I already – told you, I – it was all improvised.”

“Really? How sloppy.”

Hojo grumbled, but Tuesti appeared to be just getting warmed up. “Say, Professor, do you fear him? Or the others?” Tuesti continued, his voice growing in confidence as he spoke. Barret silently cheered him on, noticing the same expressions around the group. “They might come, you know. Didn’t you lose Aerith that way? I heard it was pretty humiliating.”

There was a snort from Palmer. “It appears the Director’s tea was stronger than usual this morning,” he chuckled.

“Can it, Palmer,” Tuesti snapped, the rest of the boardroom sans Hojo all snickering at the space executive. “Well, Professor? How do you intend to stop them rescuing their comrade?”

“You…” Hojo’s voice was low, shaking. Barret bet he wasn’t used to being challenged, not like this - though he couldn’t deny he worried what would happen if Hojo grew angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I observed their little group when I was held hostage by them. Without the failure to lead them they lack group cohesion - and it’s blatantly obvious that Valentine has kept most of his history with the company to himself. The Ancient girl was their friend - a beautiful specimen just like her mother. Whereas Valentine is a monster the world didn’t miss for thirty years. I expect they’ll be thanking me for taking such a dangerous element off their hands.”

Shame curled low in Barret’s stomach.

A chair screeched backwards, harder this time. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have barriers to break. I’ve left the specimen alone quite long enough. You can thank me later.”

And the boardroom door creaked open, then shut.

There was a quiet pause on the call.

“…I said I’ll pull the files, and I meant it,” Rufus suddenly said. “But before then I’d like your assessment, Heidegger. You’re the only one in this room who seems to have known Valentine back when he worked at the company. If he goes nuclear, what are the odds he kills us all? Would you expect he has any residual loyalty to the company that made him?”

“Hmmph, well…” Heidegger said. “Discounting the damage Hojo has done? Right. Well, there’s always been a question mark over Valentine in that regard.”

“Specifically?”

“Take a look over his personnel file,” he said simply. “It should be staring you in the face.”

“Hmph,” Rufus said. “One last thing: ‘old grudges’?”

Heidegger laughed, awkwardly cleared his throat. “Nothing to worry about, Mr President. Let’s just say it’s an old case of professional rivalries.”

Rufus made a soft hmph again, but he said nothing further.

Suddenly a number of chairs scraped across the floor - the meeting had apparently come to an end. The last voice they heard before the board of directors faded out of earshot was Scarlet talking to someone else, her tone almost chatty.

“It’s really a shame to leave anyone still a tiny bit human in Hojo’s hands,” she said. “They’re never quite the same afterwards. And this one’s easier on the eye that most of the ghouls he cooks up in that lab, too…”

The boardroom door swung shut again, the room going silent before the gentle static from the bug came to a sudden stop.

Everyone gathered in the Highwind looked at one another, all of them shell-shocked. With one exception: Cait Sith. He’d once again gone stock still, not noticing when Yuffie poked him in the shoulder.

“Give him a minute,” Red said. “His handler’s probably getting somewhere safe.”

“Who’d have thought he’d be able to get us into a boardroom meeting?” Barret said pointedly. “Last time Tifa and Cloud had to crawl into a bathroom vent.”

“Ew, TMI,” Yuffie said, wrinkling her nose.

“But you get what I’m getting at-”

“We get what you’re getting at, sheesh,” Cid said, taking a turn to experimentally poke Cait himself. The little robot still didn’t react. “But you think now is a good time to accuse one of our allies of being part of the Shinra brass? Seems to me he’s been sticking his neck out for you by playing both sides this long.”

“No way Cait’s any of the board members, anyway,” Yuffie said. “None of them cast a shadow! Hearing that witch talk just makes me wanna skin her more, and you weren’t kidding about what a piece of work Hojo and Heidegger are!”

“That man - Tuesti,” Tifa said, thoughtful, “He was the only one of them to so much as challenge Hojo. What department was he again?”

Barret opened his mouth to respond - then drew a blank. The others looked at each other, none of them able to answer either.

“Still, I dunno,” Barret said. “It might not be a good thing.” “How’d you mean?” Red asked.

“Used to see it sometimes back in the slums,” he said. “If anyone challenged Public Security, they’d turn around, take it out on someone else. They mighta had other motives to do it but I bet some of that’s why they dropped the plate. They know the people ain’t gonna blame Shinra. They blame AVALANCHE. What if Hojo goes back in the Drum and hurts Vincent worse cause that Tuesti guy put his nose out of joint?”

“Oh,” Cait said suddenly, startling them all. “Oh, no. Do ye really think that might happen?”

“Hey, you’re back!” Red said. “You’re safe? No one noticed?”

“No,” Cait said, but his ears were slightly droopy. “They didn’t notice anything.”

Barret rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, don’t take it on the chin so much, man - Hojo hurts people on weekdays ending in ‘Y’. It’s not like it’s your fault, anyway.”

Cait nodded, but he couldn’t seem to summon up his usual cheer.

The whole thing still unsettled Barret, but he knew it wasn’t the priority right now. If Cloud were here he’d definitely say the same thing.

After that the conversation turned to how fast they could get to Midgar. Even with the fastest will in the world, trading the Highwind for the Bronco and getting through Midgar was going to add on a whole bunch of time - time Vincent wasn’t going to be able to afford.

But it was their best bet if they didn’t want to get themselves caught before they ever even got close.

Hearing the board members talk had somehow crystallised everything for Barret. He no longer had any doubts; his only thought was what was the best course of action and how fast could they do it.

With that in mind, he had everyone gather on the bridge for a final debriefing.

“All right,” he said. “We’re closing on the place where we left the Bronco. Soon as we’re at the landing spot, we’re leaving the Highwind here and offboarding. As for the ship itself-”

“Cait has volunteered to stay back,” Cid interrupted. He squared his shoulders before adding, “And I said he could.”

Barret looked at him, surprised. “You sure?”

“You’re gonna need all the muscle you can get,” he said, hefting a long spear over his shoulder. “I had some trainin’ before I became a pilot and I can handle myself in the field, don’t worry. Cait and I will keep in contact over PHS.”

Cait gave him the thumbs up and Barret took a deep breath. Nodded. He had to trust him from here. Cait could fight in the field, but it wasn’t his speciality. Still, once the staff knew Cait was Shinra, maybe they’d be willing to stay in line even when AVALANCHE wasn’t onboard.

“OK,” he said, turning to the others. “From there we sail the Bronco within safe touching distance of Midgar. Once we make land, I think it’d be wise to leave someone with the ship to ensure nothing happens to our getaway vehicle.”

He stopped, looking around the group for a volunteer. Not one of them did.

“I can’t drive a plane,” Red said, “So I’m out.”

“I don’t think any of us can, except the old man,” Yuffie muttered.

“I’m not stayin’ back,” Cid said. “I hate to leave ‘er, but we can stow her away out of sight.”

Barret looked at the faces of the gathered group, seeing none of them were willing to bend on this.

“OK, fine,” he said. “Once we get into Midgar, we’re splitting up into the Inside team and the Outside team. Inside is going to break into the Shinra HQ building with tech support from Mayor Domino to hide our approach; I’ll be leading that. Outside is going to rendezvous with the AVALANCHE old cell to ensure our extraction from Shinra HQ is ready to go; Tifa’s going to be leading that team.”

“That leaves me, Red and old man Cid,” Yuffie surmised.

“Actually, I’ve already booked my spot on the inside team,” Red said. “If there’s a chance to take Hojo out for good, I can’t miss it.” He gestured with his nose towards his thirteen mark. Yuffie’s eyes widened a bit, but she nodded and looked over at Cid.

“We could both just go on the inside team?” she offered. “I mean, how many people does it take to join up with a bunch of old fossils?”

“Show some respect for the old guard,” Barret warned her, though he didn’t have any heat in it. He’d certainly felt frustrated with his peers often enough, even if they could still find common ground as far as dismantling Shinra went. “Cid, whaddya think?”

“We might raise the alarm less with fewer of us,” Cid said. “But I got a feeling it’s gonna get ugly. And if the WEAPON makes an appearance, we might have to… y’know… get Vincent

back to his old self with some percussive therapy?”

Barret knew all too well. The Beast had been bad enough - despite his hulking frame so unlike Vincent’s rail-thin build, the creature had been goddamn fast on its feet and hit like a truck.

“…You both wanna come with,” he said, “Don’t you?”

The two of them nodded without hesitation. Barret again felt like the odd one out - reminders of the WEAPON just left him wondering what state Vincent’s humanity would even be in once they found him - but he pushed it down for now.

Sighing, he turned to Tifa. “Tif, you gonna be OK-”

“Absolutely,” she said. She fixed a level gaze on Barret and Yuffie in particular, some vitality back in her brown eyes for the first time in days. “But the two of you remember, you’re there to do a rescue operation. Don’t get sidetracked by vendettas - killing Hojo or Scarlet or whoever is a bonus, not a goal.”

“I’ll keep them on the straight’n’narrow for you, ma’am,” Cid said.

Barret rolled his eyes. He didn’t bother telling the rest of them that this time, he had his eyes on the prize.

Without Cloud around, he had to have.

They still had their top access keycard from last time which should make the whole process a lot faster, but Barret was more worried about Shinra seeing them coming this time around.

To that end, the group put some effort into civilian disguises this time. Nothing fancy, but enough to hide them at a glance. Barret found a loose jacket with sleeves long enough to hide his gunarm, and while it was uncomfortable he knew it was the best option. They weren’t taking risks this time. They had to get this right.

Soon they made it to the gate to the topside of Sector 5, ready to part ways.

“All right, Tif,” Barret said, bringing her in for a tight hug and trying not to knock the hat she was hiding the mass of her black hair under off her head. “You buzz me on the PHS the second you’ve joined up with the old boys at HQ. And tell them from me that they’d better mind their Ps and Qs wit you, alright?”

“I will. You set that thing to vibrate so I don’t draw any attention to you?”

“Got it.”

“You sure you can find your way-”

“Barret, you know we’ve navigated our way around most of Midgar by now. Trust me. I got this.” She reached over and squeezed his arm. “Thanks for doing this. I just wouldn’t have felt right if we left this alone.”

“I know,” he said, lowering his voice to add, “Thanks. Glad I’ve got you around to talk me into these things.”

“Guys, c’mon!” Yuffie called. She’d already started walking down the quiet residential street, looking decidedly un-Yuffie-like in a plain coat thrown over her ninja clothes with her headband stashed in her pocket. Since Cid was mostly unknown to Shinra as part of their group, they’d decided to spare him the indignity of a disguise.

There wasn’t much they could do about Red, except for wrap his tail in wet bandages just to hide the fire for now.

“All right, we’re off!” Barret called back. “And what’d I say about yelling?” “You’re yelling too…” Red said, but there was a smile on his face as he said it.

Barret and Tifa exchanged glances, and Barret felt a weird twinge that he hadn’t in ages: parental, almost. He nodded to Tifa one last time, watching her head off the opposite direction down the street with a silent prayer to the Planet - to Aerith - that she would come back to them in one piece.

“All right,” he said again, waiting just until she turned around the corner, “Let’s go.”

The four of them headed down the quiet streets towards the looming Shinra HQ building overhead. Barret had drilled them about not attracting too much attention by being too loud,

but the lack of noise was… unnerving. It was a weekend during the middle of the day - he didn’t exactly know what topsiders did for fun, but surely there should be someone around?

He turned to the others to say something, anything to break the silence, when Yuffie suddenly squatted down and grabbed at a bit of paper that had blown into her leg.

A newspaper.

She straightened, uncrumpling it with a wrinkle in her nose at the Shinra logo front and centre.

The headline screamed out at them:

SHINRA TO DECLARE MARTIAL LAW AHEAD OF WAR WITH WUTAI

“Well, fuck,” Cid said, grabbing at the corner to see over her shoulder. “That’s gonna make moving around difficult.”

“When?” Barret demanded. “When is it happening?”

“Gimme a minute, I’m looking!” Yuffie snapped, scanning the page even as the others tried to read it at the same time. “Ugh, the corporate BS in this paper is gonna make me hurl… wait, here we go: ‘The company expects the action to go into effect…” She stopped, paling.

Barret grabbed at the paper, already suspecting what he’d see: today. It was today’s date.

The paper was today’s date, too - typical Shinra: they were springing this on people with only the barest attempt at plausible deniability that they’d been warned about it beforehand.

But evidently they’d underestimated their people - everyone on the plate was obviously hiding ahead of time, terrified of being caught unawares.

Barret doubted the people in the slums would be so lucky. The whole thing was the perfect pretext to grab anyone who might be a dissident ahead of another senseless war.

The group all looked at each other. They all looked around, expecting to see battalions of Shinra troops closing on them at any moment.

Then they all scrambled for their PHS to warn Tifa.

When Tifa hadn’t picked up, Barret could only hope that she was in a position where answering calls wasn’t practical. So he sent her a simple warning in code, along with a revision to their fallback plan: if she couldn’t join up with AVALANCHE HQ, she was to get out of the city and get back to the Bronco no matter what.

He had half a mind to call off the plan entirely, but he knew the others were committed and the cost of failure if Hojo managed to succeed with even half of his insane plans was far too high.

That decision was sorely tested when he heard the sound of boots marching through the streets towards them.

Quickly the group split up, darting into the yards of nearby houses and ducking down behind the big stone fences all the uniform residences here had. The noise was overwhelming as a wall of troops marched through the main road, smaller contingents spreading out to occupy the side streets - like the one where the group was hiding.

Barret swore under his breath. They were going to have to fight their way out and hope they wouldn’t draw enough attention that they couldn’t get away -

He caught the eye of the others in their hiding spots, quickly signalling them to stay put as the smaller units headed further down the side streets. Barret ducked back behind cover, knowing they’d be on them in a second.

Shit. Why did it have to be today of all days? Had his own hesitation cost the group a successful operation?

He fumbled with his materia, debating the merits of calling a summon as a distraction. No, that was too flashy. Maybe he could make some sort of mist? No, his control of materia had never been that refined-

“Hey, what’s that?”

Barret froze, turning his head to try and see if they’d spotted one of the others.

And they definitely had, because Red was standing out in the middle of the street in plain view.

Barret mouthed, “What’re you doing?” at him but the great creature ignored him, flicking his tail hard so the wrap came off… and the fire began to burn once more.

“Hang on - isn’t that…?”

Red didn’t wait any longer - he turned and darted off down the street, away from the main road where the rest of the troops were. And the smaller unit immediately gave chase, abandoning their posts and leaving the street clear for the rest of them.

Barret peered out of his hiding spot, finding the others doing the same. He gestured quickly for them to join him but Yuffie waved him over to the other side of the street instead, pointing at the far side fence.

“We can duck into the next street,” she said. “All we have to do is do that a couple of times and we’ll be on the other side of the troops!”

Barret was about to respond she couldn’t say that for sure but Yuffie had already turned, hoisting herself over the back fence and over into the next street. He swore, hurrying to the other side where Cid had his back to the fence - and his hands braced ready to give him a boost.

“Tougher for you with that arm, right?” he said. “I gotcha - just try not to land too hard!”

“This is insane,” Barret grumbled, sticking his boot in Cid’s grasp nonetheless. The pilot grunted as he hoisted Barret up over the fence, the AVALANCHE leader ducking his head down and catching himself with one arm on the other side, rolling to try and offset the noise.

Cid joined him soon after, the three of them wedged down the side of the house behind the big stone fence.

There were troopers there, too - troopers who yelled in alarm as Red suddenly circled around them and headed back away from both the group and the main road.

“Clever dog,” Cid muttered softly.

“Is he a dog?” Yuffie asked.

“Focus,” Barret reminded them, determined not to waste the opportunity Red had provided. They quickly darted across the street to the other side, clambering over yet another fence to get to the next house.

If they could just get to the end of the road, the endless ranks of troops on the main street would be behind them - and they’d be on the right direction to get to Shinra HQ-

Barret landed too hard on the other side, accidentally catching himself with his gunarm rather than with his hand - and making a loud bang.

Voices on the other side of the fence immediately asked, “What was that?”

Red growled at them from the other side of the street, but Barret could see two of them had already broken away and were rushing towards the yard where the three of them were hiding, about to discover them any second.

A spear sailed through the air, hitting the troop dead in the chest and knocking him to the ground right before he could get to the gate of the house.

Cid jumped on him, yanking the weapon back out and declaring, “Whoops, my bad! Sorry, boys!”

He darted back towards the top of the street to keep the fracas out of the view of the tail end of the troops on the main street, both him and Red tag-teaming to draw the other men further and further away, picking a few of them off as they went.

Barret moved to flank and finish them off from the other side, but Yuffie grabbed his arm with a hiss of, “C’mon!” and pulled him not to another yard, but to a turn at the top of the street.

They’d made it to the end, the pair ducking down another small side street as they raced on towards Shinra HQ.

The sounds of fighting grew fainter behind them, Barret once again praying to the Planet that the bigger unit of troops wouldn’t hear any of it over the constant din of their marching ranks.

Yuffie kept pulling him, though, refusing to slow down as they walked. “Yuffie-” he said, trying to get his arm free. “Hey, we’re gonna lose them-” “No we’re not,” she said simply. “They’ll catch us up.” “But-”

“What’s gotten into you?” she said, whirling on him with her face scrunched up in frustration. “Have a little faith in us, Barret! You’ve got the dream team of experts in every field at your disposal here, and suddenly you’re going all jelly-belly?”

“I-” He sighed. “Right. C’mon. Let’s… keep moving.” She brightened again immediately. “You got it!”

They headed up, eventually coming close to the point where he, Cloud and Tifa had approached Shinra HQ from the first time. For yet another time over the last couple of days, the situation hardly felt real to Barret.

He’d been close to Tifa for a long time already but his attachment to Aerith and Cloud had really snuck up on him. He didn’t realise quite how much he’d relied on Aerith’s bottomless hope and drive or Cloud’s relentless pragmatism and skill until they were both gone.

“So you got in through the parking garage last time, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He followed her down the walkways over the highway. “Since it’s just you and me as the advance team, should be easy to do the same thing twice…”

Or so he thought.

This time around the traffic was much, much slower - and there were no Shinra trucks going back to HQ to hitch a ride on.

“Huh,” he said, looking back and forth up along the highway. “Where is everybody?”

“Over there, obviously,” Yuffie said, pointing at the opposite road. She was right, though - all the trucks were heading out rather than in.

“Looks like they’re going all out for this martial law thing,” she said darkly. “I don’t know how you stood to live in this place for all those years.”

“Heh. Neither do I.” He tapped her on the shoulder, pointing to some stairs lower down. “C’mon.”

They headed to the ground level, deciding to just walk on the road directly and follow it around to the parking lot. Yuffie had smoke bombs with her so if worst came to worst and a car approached they’d just have to throw one down and hope they didn’t get spotted.

But no one came. The road in to the parking garage was dead quiet.

And unlike last time, there was only one general infantryman standing guard.

He was out cold before he’d even had time to turn around and notice them.

“Y’know, I’m starting to think that for as bad as this is, it works out great for us,” Yuffie said. “HQ’s running on a skeleton crew! All their muscle’s over in the city.”

“It ain’t good for the people bout to get it in the neck from Shinra,” Barret muttered, dragging the unconscious body out of sight behind a pillar. “But we better take what we can get, huh?”

Yuffie pulled out her PHS, dialling the number for Mayor Domino’s burner PHS. “White Rose to Librarian, the laundry is in the hamper. Commence Operation: Smokescreen!” she said.

The Mayor tapped against his PHS three times rather than speak, as they’d agreed on. Three meant he was clear to carry out the operation, two meant he’d do it with some delays and one meant he was immediately compromised.

As Barret and Yuffie headed through the parking lot, it became increasingly obvious Shinra really was only running at reduced capacity. Barret couldn’t help but notice how much stronger he felt compared to the last time he was here, too - all their adventures together had left him with a much greater understanding of how to effectively make use of his gunarm and materia and alongside Yuffie, who was versatile and fast even if she lacked his staying power, the singular or pairs of guards they ran across were barely any threat at all.

“So far so good,” Yuffie said. “Hey, think this is what made Rufus so cranky in that board meeting?”

“What?”

“Well, if someone handed me a super rare materia and a WEAPON I’d be pretty happy about it,” she said. “But I might feel differently if I’d planned to have all my meat shields go

shutdown the city while the guy holding the reins on the super-WEAPON was three Da Chao beans short of a full salad, if you catch my drift.”

Barret could hardly understand half the phrases she used most of the time but he got the point. “Hm. Could be.” He chuckled as he opened a gate to another bit of the car park. “Maybe that can work to our advantage - if Shinra Jr. has enough brains to realise this is more trouble than it’s worth, he might hang Hojo out to dry.”

“Right? That’s what I’d do!” Yuffie enthused.

They came to the same little escalator up into the lobby that he’d used last time. Yuffie stopped before the lobby doors, pulling the PHS out once more.

“White Rose to Librarian,” Yuffie said breezily. “Good to proceed to big tacky chandelier room?”

There was a pause.

Then there was a single tap on the PHS.

Barret and Yuffie froze, locking eyes with each other.

The protocol they’d established on one tap was to immediately cut the call and change frequencies and right as Barret reached over to make Yuffie hang up, a voice said, “Don’t hang up that call if you know what’s good for you, man.”

Barret couldn’t tell if the speaker was talking to them or to Domino.

But he did know that obnoxious voice.

Reno.

Chapter Text

WRO : Operation QUIET

The responsible [principle architect]: Professor Hojo - director of R&D department of Shinra (deceased)

The victim: Vincent Valentine - formerly of Administrative Research department of Shinra AKA the Turks (generation 1, 13th member)

Tape details: Further tapes discovered in an unordered collection in the R&D offices after Meteorfall. Presented as evidence in the Shinra Trials

Classification: Sensitive, never to be released

Attached is the transcript used in the Shinra Trials [some details may be redacted at the request of Director of the WRO]

[Tape clicks on]

Prof. Hojo: Subject GAI012, Tape… 32, I think.

[Sound: a kettle boiling in the background]

Prof. Hojo: Subject has taken to the other forms well, but is collapsing after each new form change. This might be be shock or exhaustion, but it’s hard to tell since the original wound has still not healed.

Prof. Hojo: Either way, I want to test the combat capabilities of the new forms before the subject wears out entirely. Working off the assumption we have limited time left, I have a battery of tests in mind.

[Sound: pouring liquid]

Prof. Hojo: Luckily I had the foresight to install a combat simulator down in the basement. It will be adequate for some of my needs, but well… I shall see how things proceed.

Prof. Hojo: If I time this right, I can dispose of the subject just in time for my wife’s delivery.

[Sound: believed to be a spoon stirring]

Prof. Hojo: The sickness is taking an incredible toll on her, but she’s occasionally been lucid confused enough to have noticed the subject’s absence. It’s important I have things locked down by the time she’s more herself again.

Prof. Hojo: The manor certainly is quiet without the two of them and their chaos…

[Sound: taking a drink]

[Sound: thirty seconds of silence, not a mistake on the tape]

Prof. Hojo: My other concern is the Turks.

Prof. Hojo: Frankly I don’t remember Val- the subject having any close acquaintances. The only risk is his partner, Veld.

Prof. Hojo: I had the subject reassure him personally that all the reports will be handled, but the grace period on his patience for that is running out.

Prof. Hojo: Doing that kind of dogwork on his behalf is beneath me, so perhaps the subject himself can be made amenable to handling it for me.

Prof. Hojo: The other option, of course, is simply to get Veld here. Tell him it’s a disciplinary issue - which it is - and make him speak to the subject himself.

Prof. Hojo: I haven’t… tested extensively what forces the transformations to occur quite yet. I certainly have ideas of good stimulus, but - I’ve likely ignored the mental and emotional side of the equation.

Prof. Hojo: It will be an uphill battle to get the subject to tell me anything about how the fusion feels mentally, but I can at least make some intelligent inferences to take forward.

[Sound: believed to be setting a mug down on the counter]

Prof. Hojo: The thought of seeing Veld again in such a pathetic state… that might be enough to induce an involuntary transformation…

Prof. Hojo: Still, such a measure is dangerous - I need to make certain the beasts won’t strike me down where I stand before I attempt that.

Prof. Hojo: Other measures, first. Start smaller, perhaps-

[Sound: a knock on the door]

[Note: transcript split across two documents, please refer to 32.2. Internal office note - do not separate document pairs; refer to cataloguing system implemented by Mayor Domino post-Meteorfall]

Chapter Text

Barret’s throat went dry. “Reno,” he growled. “What’ve you done to Domino?”

There was a harsh laugh. “Nothin’! Yet.”

“The cat told us we could get a line to you through the Mayor,” Rude said.

Barret curled his fist. He was going to strangle Cait when he got his hands on him. What was he thinking, selling Domino out to the Turks?

“Why the hell’d he do that?”

There was a sigh from a female voice - bratty and young. The blonde one. “The one in red,” she said slowly. “He’s with you, isn’t he? Hojo brought him in and you’ve come to get him.”

Barret put the pieces together - it was hard for him to understand, but this had to be some sort of Turk loyalty thing.

“You wanna help us break him out,” he reasoned.

“Pfft, no,” the blonde one said. “We don’t want to have to do anything here, we just got dragged into it.”

Barret and Yuffie exchanged looks. “Then why are you here?”

“We just - don’t want you causing trouble in Shinra HQ right now. This isn’t the time to tussle.”

“You’re just worried how much we could wreck shop with half your lackeys off terrorising the city,” Yuffie said. “And why shouldn’t we?”

There was a tense silence on the other end.

“Kind of thought you’d care more about stopping us gutting the Mayor here,” Reno said casually.

“Do your worst!” Domino snapped.

Barret was about to retort when Yuffie suddenly got a curious look on her face and tapped him on the arm. “Where’s Tseng?” she mouthed.

She was right; they hadn’t heard the Turks’ leader talking over the call. And if he was there, shouldn’t he have been leading the conversation?

There were two possibilities. Either he’d succumbed to his injuries, or the others were here in secret and no else knew yet that they were here talking to AVALANCHE.

And that said something about their mindset towards all this.

“Uh, hello? You still there?” Reno said.

Barret held up a hand, indicating ‘let me handle this’.

“Yeah, we’re still here,” he said. “How about we put that to one side for now.”

“Oh, charming,” Domino said.

“And focus on helping Vincent out instead. Sound good?”

“Look, don’t get the wrong idea,” Elena said. “We already told you, we just want to keep your mess far away from Shinra. Sometimes they don’t know what’s good for them.”

Yuffie and Barret locked eyes. Got them.

“Oh really? Well, whatever works. I’m sure Domino can keep your secret.”

He could only hope the older man would pick up what he was getting at, especially since his life meant depend on it.

“To business, then,” Rude said. “We can get around the higher floors much more easily than you. You want to do this, you stay off the top floors-”

“What?” Yuffie interrupted, “That’s not going to happen-”

“Cool it, kid,” Elena said.

“Yuffie, let him finish,” Barret said, rubbing his temples.

“Plan’s simple,” Reno cut in. “There’s only a few ways to get the Professor out of the way so we can get in and out of the Drum quickly. And since none of us can just call him somewhere else without rousing suspicion, we’re goin’ with Plan F.”

“Which is…?”

“Pull the fire alarm,” Rude supplied.

Yuffie raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s it?”

“What? It’s a skyscraper; we have to take drills seriously. You’ll buy us twenty minutes easy if you get it done without getting spotted.”

Barret and Yuffie exchanged glances, and he could see his doubts reflected on her face.

“What if he just doesn’t leave?” Yuffie asked.

“Then we’ll get the Mayor here to call him out,” he said. “If not, we wait for them to call another board meeting.”

“That’s not good enough!” Barret snapped. “Hojo’s not letting him - I mean, he’ll torture him to death if you leave him in there!”

There was a sigh at the other end - a genuine, despairing one.

“Look, it ain’t our problem,” Reno said. “We wanna help but we’re not about to get disappeared for someone who’s not an active Turk… even if he is a veteran.”

“Take it or leave it,” Rude said.

Barret and Yuffie exchanged glances again. “…All right,” Barret said. “But you better be in position when the window opens!”

“Hpmh. Don’t underestimate us!” Elena said. “You got an extraction point?”

“The roof. Gonna need you to look the other direction for that, too.”

“You got it,” Rude said. “Good luck.”

Then the call ended.

Yuffie immediately erupted, racing up the escalator towards the reception and swearing with every step. “Shit, shit, shit,” she exclaimed. “That old man’s gonna get cleaned up if he doesn’t get out of there now.”

“Keep calm, kid,” he said. “The Turks know that’s a path of mutually assured destruction - or it will be if they actually rescue Vincent for us. Chances are they’re gonna watch Domino a lot more closely from now on, though.”

She span on her heel to face him right at the top of the escalator. “We’re not leaving this solely in their hands, are we? Even if they’ve got this Turk loyalty thing, he’s still on our team!”

“Damn straight we’re not,” he said. “Pulling the fire alarm’s what I’d call a ‘good start’. Whaddya say we set off every alarm we can find?”

“Now you’re talking! Let’s go!”

The two of them raced into reception, glad to see the place as deserted as it had been the first time.

“C’mon! Let’s take the elevator,” she said, slamming their fake ID down on the reader.

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have time to take the stairs,” Barret muttered.

Yuffie looked at him as the elevator doors slid shut and they began to ascend. “What, you took the stairs last time? For sixty-some floors?”

“Look, we were trying to - I don’t wanna talk about it.”

The elevator pinged, the doors sliding open and letting them out into the cafeteria. There were a few office workers here, but Barret was surprised at how different the atmosphere was. The first time he’d been here with Tifa and Cloud, the mood had been a mix of manic attempts at damage control and fear from employees whose family or friends lived on the top of the Sector 7 plate.

Barret locked eyes with Yuffie and she nodded, keeping to herself as they walked through the cafeteria to the stairs. He’d already drilled her about the importance of just appearing like a tourist (“You had to do a visitor’s guide tour last time you were here?” she said, disgust dripping from her voice), and he was kind of impressed to see she was managing to remember it so far.

Between the two of them, they probably had the least impulse control when it came to spiting Shinra.

They climbed the stairs together, noting the combat simulator on one side and the cafe on the other.

“Can’t believe they have a tree in the cafeteria,” she said, looking around the place with consternation. “Kinda ironic given what they’re doing to the Planet, right?”

“You’re sounding like me, kid,” he said. “All right. Let’s find the fire alarm and plot our next move.”

They found a side door leading to a small hall with a mounted fire alarm on the wall. Yuffie reached out to trip it, but Barret held up a hand.

“Hang on a sec,” he said. He pulled out his PHS and dialled a number, not giving the other end a chance to answer when the line connected. “Yo, Cait. You better pick up after what you pulled!”

There was a crackle of static before a nervous voice answered, “…Aye?”

“I’m bout to pull the fire alarm in HQ. You got access to any other, more serious alarms? The ‘stay out of the building if you value your life’ sort of alarms?”

“We do have one of those, actually. Internally it’s called the AVALANCHE Assault Alarm.”

Yuffie scowled, one hand still on the fire alarm. “By the time I’m done, they’re gonna have one of those for Wutai. Forget that - a White Rose alarm!”

There was a pause on the other end. “Just a second - need to uh, interface with my handler to find a way in…”

“Make sure Hojo hears it in the Drum,” Barret reminded him, anxiously checking around to make sure no one had noticed them.

“Got it. Just need to get in to the Drum protocols - the elevator’s tightly locked down, but if I can find the others-” Cait suddenly stopped dead. “Oh no…”

“What? What is it?” Yuffie asked.

“Hojo’s setting up to use a protocol I don’t recognise in the Drum… no, no, I don’t like this at all-”

Another pause, Yuffie and Barret exchanging tense looks. He knew Cait’s controller must be checking something, but the silence on the other end was unnerving.

And then he said four words that made Barret’s stomach turn over.

“I think it’s poison gas.”

A ringing alarm jumped Barret out of his skin - he turned to see Yuffie had yanked the fire alarm down.

“Screw the Turks,” she said, grabbing Barret’s arm, “We’re getting there ourselves-”

“No,” Cait said, his voice warping to a completely different one: an older man’s with an inner city accent. “I’m triggering the AA alarm now in the building - I’m going there with the Turks myself; we can override what he’s doing in the Drum. Get to the roof!”

“This is all wrong!” Yuffie cried, tugging Barret back towards the door. “He said he wouldn’t kill him, he-”

A different alarm began to sound - along with a red light pulsing on and off.

“I feared it’d come to this,” the different voice said, urgent footsteps sounding over the line, “Hojo never has any restraint when it comes to his test subjects - first Ifalna and now this…”

Barret and Yuffie darted back out into the cafeteria to find complete pandemonium - in a less urgent situation he’d have been proud how the AVALANCHE alarm appeared to be inspiring more fear than the fire. “We’ll meet you at the Drum-”

“Don’t,” the voice urged. “Get to the roof where they’re expecting you and look lively - if Tifa didn’t manage to arrange the exit, you’re going to have to improv something else.”

“Will you meet us there?” Yuffie asked.

As if suddenly realising how badly he’d let the mask slip, the line went dead.

“Fuck!” Barret exclaimed, trying to remember the way to the roof from where they were. He couldn’t, but he raced off towards the escalators in the hopes it would be around there anyway. Yuffie followed hot on his heels, ditching her disguise as she ran and taking out her shuriken. Barret followed suit.

Shinra workers racing to leave the building noticed them, screaming and scrambling in all directions.

Barret could have laughed at their disorganised terror. Shinra hadn’t prepared them one bit for this - they were just a bunch of clueless pen pushers not even able to evacuate efficiently.

But their panic was useful - as soon as he spotted the elevator they needed the people immediately cleared out of his way and if the other Shinra executives came through here, they weren’t going to be able to make immediate sense of the situation.

He got in the elevator and yanked Yuffie in after him, slamming the button to send them up to the roof.

The constant chaos and noise gave way to sudden silence and the soft humming of the elevator.

Barret ran a hand over his face, trying to catch his breath. He looked over at Yuffie, saw she was breathing hard and staring straight ahead. Reaching over, he squeezed her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, “You with me?”

She looked over, swallowing hard and nodding. Her face was pale, eyes a little too wide. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“They’ll get to him in time,” he said, though he wasn’t sure at all. “Cait’s with them - the real Cait.”

“Some of the attacks on Wutai,” she said. Then she stopped. Took a deep breath. “Some of the attacks on us were with gas. If it’s the same one-”

“Can’t be. Hojo’s - Hojo’s supposed to be keeping him alive, not…”

He trailed off. They both remembered what the real Cait had to say about that.

Yuffie looked at the floor number on the elevator display. “Come on, come on…”

“You’re really worried about him, huh,” Barret mused aloud.

She looked over at him, surprised. “Duh! He’s cool.”

“Cool?”

“You guys get all twitchy when he changes,” she said, unimpressed. “But I think it’s cool. If I could do that, I’d rip this stupid building apart with my bare hands.”

Barret chuckled. He forgot how young she was sometimes.

“And I like that he’s quiet,” she said, softer now. “He lets me talk without telling me to shut up, or go bother someone else. He listens.”

Barret blinked. “That’s all?”

“Do I need another reason? I don’t want Shinra killing anyone else I know. They’ve taken enough from me already.”

Barret paused, about to point out the sheer number of things they didn’t know about Vincent - and stopped. It was a ridiculously simplistic, naive answer - but somehow it hit all the harder for that.

Someone was in trouble because of Shinra, so they were going to get them out.

Everything else could wait until later.

He remembered all the others they’d lost. The disaster to his hometown. How sudden it had been with the rest of AVALANCHE. How it felt like he’d only had time to say, “Let’s go get our girl,” right before he was forced to witness Aerith slaughtered at the hands of Sephiroth five feet in front of him.

He’d been so distracted with trying to be a good leader that he’d forgotten something else, something valuable.

Fighting these people wasn’t enough, not if he treated some lives like they were expendable.

That was an awful way to think - a Shinra-approved way.

“Barret?” Yuffie asked, looking into his face and cautiously resting her small hand on his arm. “Are you OK?”

He started to say he was fine when he noticed the sting in his eyes. He put his sunglasses on. “I’m good. Thanks, ki- Yuffie.”

“Anytime! Y’know, I’m pretty wise. I can take over the whole leader gig if you’re getting tired.”

He was about to say ‘not a chance’ when the elevator chimed. They’d made it to the top floor.

Last time they’d headed out through the Presidential suite, but this time he and Yuffie took the fire exit outside, finding the rooftop deserted.

Barret grabbed his PHS while Yuffie kept an eye on the exits, trying again to dial up Tifa - and getting no response.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying again and getting the same result. “You better be OK, Teef-”

“What ways out do we have otherwise?” Yuffie said. “Going through the city’s going to be way too dangerous with martial law in place-”

She gasped suddenly and Barret span around, raising his weapon - then he stopped still.

Making their way out of one exit was Rude, his arm wrapped around Vincent to support him.

He looked terrible. He was skinnier than ever, face bloodless with deep shadows under his eyes and there were cuts and bruises all over his body, dirt and blood splattered everywhere Barret could see, long red cape tattered and torn.

Then there was the sight of gauze under the split in his shirt. That could only be the wound where Hojo had ripped the materia out.

Worst of all was his eyes. For as unnerving as they were, Vincent’s red eyes were a lot like Cloud’s - always with something of an unnatural glow and focus. But now they were dull and unfocused in a way that told Barret they might not have a lot of time.

If he had become a WEAPON at any point in the last three days, there was little sign of it.

Barret stood frozen to the spot as Rude helped him approach, but Yuffie raced right over with a cry of, “Vincent!”

He managed to raise his head, confusion written all over his face as she threw her arms around his neck. With how much he was stooped over they were practically the same height.

After a quiet second, he raised his hand to hug her back.

Rude looked over at Barret as the other Turks watched on from the doorway to the roof. “Gonna need you to take it from here,” he said. “Can’t hang around any longer.”

Barret startled into action, crossing the space and reaching out to help support Vincent’s weight once Yuffie pulled away. Vincent’s eyes met his when Barret took his arm, but up close he could see it was even worse than he’d first thought - there was a terrible absence in them.

Right when he had Vincent almost standing straight, Rude made to pull away - and Vincent grabbed his arm.

“Th - thanks…” he rasped. Rude nodded, pulling away without another word.

“We’re even, you got that?” Elena called, though she didn’t clarify for exactly what. The Turks waved, disappearing back through the door and leaving them alone as the alarm continued to blare indoors.

“Hey, Real Cait wasn’t with them,” Yuffie muttered, taking Vincent’s other side to take his other arm.

Vincent coughed, wobbling where he stood. He couldn’t seem to find the strength to speak again.

“Gonna try Tifa one last time,” Barret said, though the call once again failed to go through. He swore. Maybe it’d be worth trying Cid to see if he and Red could get them another way out-

“And where do you think you’re going?” a nasally voice asked.

All three of them froze.

Barret spun around to see Hojo standing at the entrance to the roof. Just like last time, he wore a pristine labcoat and stood with his arms folded behind his back.

“With my property, I mean,” he said, gesturing with one hand towards Vincent. “Misplaced ideas about helping the Ancient aside, I thought you people would know this is one creature you shouldn’t interfere with.”

Under his arm, Barret felt Vincent’s whole body tense.

“I don’t think so, old man,” Yuffie said, slipping away from supporting Vincent to brandish her weapon at the scientist. “Face it, you’re outmatched! Get out of our way if you don’t want me to take your block off here and now.”

Vincent flinched again, his body physically shaking in Barret’s grip as he stared at the scientist. Barret suddenly remembered Cid’s words from earlier: ‘It’s somethin’… else. Somethin’… complicated.’

But it wasn’t complicated at all. Barret didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before.

It was fear.

“Oh, really?” Hojo said. He walked out of the doorway, Barret supporting Vincent to inch backwards as his trembling worsened. The scientist took off his glasses, folding them neatly into his labcoat pocket. “Looks can be deceiving, little girl. You of all people should know that.”

“Run,” Vincent gasped suddenly, trying to squirm out of Barret’s grasp. “He’s-”

The scientist’s body suddenly seized up and began to shake violently, his eyes turning from grey to a very familiar bright green…

“Oh, fuck,” Barret said, trying to back up further with Vincent in tow - which wasn’t easy with how bad he’d frozen up. “He’s changing-”

“Fine by me!” Yuffie said, raising her shuriken. “We owe this guy a - beating…”

She trailed off as Hojo’s body turned itself inside out in a burst of green mako smoke and in place of his scrawny frame was a huge creature with an exposed ribcage over a beating orange orb, and fleshy red stumps where his limbs should have been.

The face only just resembled Hojo’s.

The gaping maw convulsed.

Hojo was laughing.

There was nothing for it but to fight: Barret pushed Vincent back against the railing out of the line of fire and began to spray Hojo with bullets as Yuffie fanned out and threw her shuriken at the scientist, attempting to drill in on some kind of elemental weakness.

Behind him he could hear Vincent struggling to stand, still yelling that they run.

“Tell me something useful or zip it back there!” Barret snapped, dodging a stabbing attack from the more sword-like of Hojo’s arms. He glanced back quickly, debating the merits of healing Vincent so he could fight - but saw no sign of Vincent’s usual weapon. Damn it, Shinra must have confiscated it.

Vincent appeared to catch on to what he was thinking, struggling to his feet by using the railing as a support. “Get back, I can - I can-”

“Don’t even think about it,” Yuffie cried. “You don’t have the strength for that!”

But Vincent was no fool; he could see the two of them were struggling just to survive Hojo’s assaults, let alone put a scratch on him.

Barret tried to think amongst the chaos, but there was barely any space for that - in this form the Professor had an increased reach and Barret knew he couldn’t afford to back up any further without Hojo having an easier route to Vincent.

“Go for the right shoulder!” Vincent yelled suddenly. Barret locked eyes with Yuffie, the two nodding to each other. Hojo growled, trying to adjust his stance and launching an attack right at Vincent -

Barret and Yuffie darted right in front of him, going back to back as they fell into one of the combinations they’d worked out after many, many hours fighting together. Yuffie called one of her seals while Barret shot a volley through it, redirecting their ire to Hojo’s right shoulder in particular.

Hojo tried to put himself in the position to guard that spot, but his stance up until now left him struggling to adjust in time and the strike hit dead on, making him reel back. Barret realised then that it was the natural weak spot for someone with his dominant hand; for all he’d become a gigantic fiend he was still a person, with every weakness that came with that.

“Good call!” he said to Vincent, no idea if the ex-Turk could even hear him over the din.

To finish the move, Yuffie jumped onto Barret’s arm and he launched her at high speed straight towards Hojo in the hopes she could carry on the momentum and knock Hojo down - but he suddenly recovered, catching her mid air with in his clawed arm.

“Shit-” Barret cried, just having time to spot a flash of red a second before his brain caught up and he seized Vincent around his middle to stop him trying to approach. Vincent tried to twist free but he lacked the strength or weight to throw him off. “Use your head, man, you can’t-”

“Don’t you want your friend back?” Hojo hissed, laughing again as Yuffie tried to contort her body to kick him and get free.

“Let me go, you creep-!”

He raised his other claw to gut her, Barret raising his gunarm in turn for one last desperate shot-

From the other side a spear impaled Hojo straight through the arm, Cid jumping after it to yank it right back out. Hojo howled in pain and dropped Yuffie, Red darting below at just the right moment to help her land safely, the four of them regrouping around Vincent.

“You all right, Vince?” Cid asked. “Y’ain’t lookin’ so good.”

Barret scoffed, letting go before Vincent could formulate a response. “Where you two been? Coulda used you earlier!”

“Just fetchin’ something we thought you might need,” Cid said, sliding something off his shoulder - an old fashioned rifle with a bayonet attached. Not Vincent’s usual custom job, but better than nothing in a crisis.

A bit of light crept back into Vincent’s eyes. He gratefully took the weapon, checking the ammo count before adjusting the hold in his hands. Barret clamped a hand on his shoulder.

“If you’re up for it, you’re in the back rank,” he told him. “Tap out instead of doing anything stupid if you’re gonna collapse.”

Vincent nodded, turning his focus back to Hojo. The rest of the party followed suit, Hojo having managed to recover himself even as his arm wept blood from Cid’s spear wound.

“What’s the plan, Barret?”

“Watch your distance with his limbs,” Barret said. “Aim for both arms - let’s finish off the wounded one first!”

“On it!”

They divided up to two groups, Barret and Yuffie sticking together and Cid and Red forming a support while guarding Vincent, who was firing persistently on the Professor from the back

rank.

With their increased numbers the group could balance their assault better with keeping their strength up and eventually Hojo’s arm buckled under, causing him to collapse completely onto his side.

Yuffie cheered. “Now we got you, you mother-”

“Wait!” Vincent cried, stopping the rest of the group from rushing him. “L-Look.”

Hojo’s one remaining arm wrapped around his body, pulling him back upright as that gaping maw heaved, teeth gnashing in indignant rage. “That thinggg is the one you should be afraid of…” Hojo laughed, head tipping forward as his body began to ripple again. “He won’t even… use the WEAPON to save himself, so you’ll all die here!”

“What?” Cid said, looking over at Vincent. “Why didn’t you try an’ use it to break out?”

Vincent’s face twisted, one hand pressing to his chest. A red light surrounded him, gold creeping into his eyes - but he flinched, wincing and shaking his head. “No,” he gasped. “It’s too-”

Abruptly Hojo’s body collapsed, mutating once again - the red fleshy creature completely fell away, a far smaller form inside with a white body and long green tail, like some sort of monster nesting doll.

He raised his gun to start another volley of shots but the creature flew forward at lightning speed, its body turning into a torpedo as it rammed straight into their front line, knocking them all down - and seizing hold of Vincent, one hand managing to twist his weapon out of his grip.

Barret spun around, gun raised but the two were so close together he couldn’t get a clear shot. Hojo’s tentacle-like tail managed to slice through the buckles of Vincent’s cloak, and Vincent’s attempts to back out of range failed when it snapped forward and wrapped straight around his neck.

Vincent choked, clawing at the tentacle with his gauntlet and drawing blood without managing to dislodge it. The party darted forwards but Hojo’s arms seized Vincent’s wrists, puppeteering him around to act as a human shield as he throttled the ex-Turk.

“That fucking coward-” Cid hissed, trying and failing to get a clear shot with his spear. Red tried to flank him but Hojo kept yanking Vincent back, chastising them with a distorted, “Ah ah ah! I don’t think so!” and tightening his grip.

Strangely Hojo didn’t try to make any demands or even negotiate and Barret realised with a cold chill that the scientist was so far gone that he didn’t even care about making it out alive: he wanted to kill Vincent just for his own satisfaction.

Vincent’s attempts to loosen Hojo’s grip were faltering, body starting to go limp. Barret tried to think of a way he could hurt Hojo while keeping the damage to Vincent minimal, but at

this point he didn’t think the ex-Turk could stand a lot more.

A crazy idea occurred to him. Crazy, but maybe the only option they had left.

“Vincent!” he cried, glad when those dimming red eyes shifted to him. “Use the WEAPON!”

The party looked at him, alarmed. “Barret-”

“It’s your only shot!” Barret called. “Trust me!”

But Vincent didn’t. He weakly shook his head, almost gagging as Hojo laughed behind him.

“He’ll kill you, Vince!” Cid cried. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be-”

“Fine?” Hojo asked. “Oh, sure. But he won’t be. He’ll be an even greater monster than me.” The Professor leant down, white teeth bared next to Vincent’s ear. “And that’s something you can’t bear, isn’t it?”

Vincent shook his head again, though whether it was an answer Barret couldn’t tell.

He cursed under his breath. Hojo really wasn’t kidding; Vincent was picking the worst time to be a stubborn ass about this.

“We won’t let that happen,” Cid called. “You can’t find your way back, we’ll kick some sense into you.”

“Right!” Barret agreed. “Do you really want to go out like this?”

Vincent considered them both, still hesitating. He was starting to fade, his eyes dropping shut.

Then there was a sniffle.

The party looked towards Yuffie, the girl trying to keep down her tears as another party member was being murdered right in front of her.

Vincent’s eyes squeezed shut.

Barret’s stomach dropped, expecting his limbs to fall limp any second and just praying to the Planet that Hojo would let go, would have only knocked him out-

But then Vincent’s eyes opened again.

And they weren’t red any longer.

They were turning yellow.

“Get down!” Red cried, throwing himself over Yuffie right as red energy exploded into the air.

Barret only had time to back up a couple of paces and raise an arm to protect his eyes, the energy so harsh it shoved him right into the railing of the roof and kept him pinned there

while he struggled to see through the red light. A fiend-like silhouette was thrown back from the point of impact - Hojo, it must have been Hojo - before other shapes began to form.

Red bat-like wings bloomed out of Vincent’s back replacing his cloak. The ends of his hair floated with strands of red light flowing up from the tips. Both his gloved and gauntleted hand had become black claws with dark ink-like veins spreading up his arms, gold armour broken off and orbiting him like tiny planets.

And his eyes were a bright, terrible gold. They glowed brighter than they ever had, sweeping once over the party - Barret involuntarily shuddered, hairs on his arms standing up - before the WEAPON turned to regard Hojo’s sprawled body with cold, contemptuous eyes.

“He’s… not like the other one we saw,” Barret finally managed to get out. “No kidding,” Red said. “I was kind of expecting a giant whale.” “Who cares?” Yuffie said. “This is way cooler!” “Guys,” Cid cut in, picking up his jaw first. “Focus.”

Even in his fiend state the shock on Hojo’s face was obvious. He pushed himself up with his skinny white arms, laughing. “Chaos,” he growled. “A pity your stubborn host didn’t give me the chance to pull you apart.”

“Chaos?” Red repeated. “Oh, Planet…”

“The puppet of the Calamity from the skies,” Chaos replied, his voice distorted and echoing. “You still haven’t learnt your lesson about JENOVA.”

Hojo was back up in a flash, screeching, “JENOVA is beyond even you! JENOVA is beyond comprehension, and so am I.”

Chaos chuckled, his laugh dry as dust. “JENOVA is an unnatural scourge on this Planet,” he said. “And so are you!”

He raised a clawed hand, red energy building in his fist before he blasted across the roof towards Hojo, the scientist’s faster form allowing him to dodge out of the way just in time. “Yes, yes!” he hissed. “Show me your power! Consume the Turk from the inside out!”

Chaos growled, wings tucking in as he dove towards Hojo, another ray of destructive light following.

The party gasped, grabbing hold of the railings as the roof shook.

“Now what’re we gonna do?” Yuffie cried.

Chaos had flown up high, leaving them with an opening against Hojo - but that lasted only for a second before the WEAPON dived back in, swooping to attack Hojo and just barely missing as the scientist dodged again.

As the deadly dance continued Barret heard faint exclamations and shocked gasps. He looked over the railing to see the evacuated staff all gathered by the front of the Shinra building. They’d noticed the WEAPON swooping in the skies up above, the flashes of gunfire - which meant they had limited time to get this all sewn up.

He span back around as Chaos flew in once more, the WEAPON having to let loose another burst of energy to get free as Hojo tried to ground the creature by winding the tentacle-tail around his wrist and dragging him down. Then he was off and free - but there was no sign of the impasse being broken quickly.

“Pin Hojo down!” he called to his comrades. “Vincent needs a clear shot at him!”

The group fanned out, careful to leave space for Vincent to be able to swoop past without knocking any of them down. Hojo noticed immediately and span around to try and hit them with his arms but the group kept their distance, Red taking extra care not to get in close as the closest range attacker amongst them.

Barret called out to Yuffie and she nodded, going back to back once more as she helped him spray the area with high pressure bullets, aiming not to hit him but to pin him to one spot.

While that was happening Red charged up a blast of shooting stars, also not aiming to hit Hojo but just to disorient him, forcing his fiend form to shield his eyes and leaving him defenceless on the same spot.

Then the sound came.

Something was descending from the sky at high speed and Barret held his ground even as his instincts screamed at him to run.

The WEAPON fell from the sky in a blaze of fire, its whole body surrounded by red energy and Chaos slammed straight into Hojo, red tendrils bursting from the ground and impaling the scientist straight through the limbs and torso.

Hojo howled and snapped his tentacle-like tail straight up at Chaos’ body, stabbing him straight through the side. He winced, using his wings to propel himself backwards and out of range. Cid quickly closed in, plunging his spear through Hojo’s shoulder and into the roof to pin him down.

The others closed in but Hojo’s body began to shake once more and everyone braced to see what new form he would take as the latest form sluiced off his skin to reveal… his old self underneath.

Hojo groaned in pain, trying and failing to yank the spear back out before he collapsed to the floor.

“Make sure he ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Barret directed and Red sprang forward, seizing Hojo’s neck in his jaws.

“Got him,” he growled, the scientist going very still beneath him. “He tries anything, he dies.”

Barret turned to face Chaos, saw the WEAPON was hovering just above the ground, wings flapping languidly to keep him afloat, one hand clamped loosely on his wounded side.

Particles of red dust began to rise off his wings, the tell-tale sign of the transformation crumbling.

Then it happened all at once - the red wings flowed back into Vincent’s cape, the other changes reverting in the blink of an eye as Vincent drifted back down to the ground and touched down without a sound.

The gold eyes opened, the colour fading back to red.

He landed gracefully, taking another step to steady himself – and then he began to fall. Cape trailing after him, Vincent’s legs crumbled and Barret managed to dart forwards just in time to steady his shoulders as his knees hit the ground.

“You all right, man? Hell of a light show you just put on.”

Vincent looked up at him, his eyes unfocused for a few moments. He looked at Barret, then down to his hands. He turned them over - one gauntleted, one in a fingerless glove - in silence. He looked up at Barret again, looking even more exhausted than before.

“Is…” He stopped, swallowed. “Is he…?”

Hojo barked a harsh laugh before Red gave him a warning squeeze.

Something in Vincent’s eyes shifted and he tried to stand, wobbling immediately before Barret reached out to steady him.

“Sure you wanna do this?” he asked. “Red’ll happily take it from here.” “No,” he said, his tone ice cold. “I need to.”

He freed himself from Barret’s grasp, wobbling momentarily before he stooped down to pick up his discarded rifle from the floor.

He separated the bayonet from the weapon, approaching the prone body of the Professor with a weapon in either hand.

Hojo watched his approach in silence. Flecks of green still danced in his grey eyes, his glasses sitting mangled in his lab coat pocket.

Vincent passed the bayonet to his other hand, taking hold of the spear lodged in the Professor’s shoulder with his gauntlet.

Neither of them spoke as Vincent twisted the spear, then yanked it back out.

Hojo groaned against the pain. “You-”

Vincent sank to his knees in one fluid motion, plunging the bayonet into Hojo’s chest.

The Professor cried out, grey eyes squeezing shut and whole body writhing in agony even as Red kept a grip on his neck so only limited sound could escape.

“Y-You…” Hojo choked and Vincent nodded to Red, who growled only momentarily before easing off just enough to let him speak. The Professor coughed blood as he laughed wheezily, his body seizing up with pain. “You think you’ve got me back, Valentine…?”

Vincent slid the bayonet slowly out of Hojo’s body. He raised his arm to attack again, but froze in the air as Hojo simply watched him.

“What’s… wrong?” Hojo asked. “You’ve come this far. Gonna do nothing again?”

“You’re going to die either way,” Vincent mused softly, looking over at Hojo’s bleeding out wound.

“You’re not looking too good either,” Hojo said. He looked pointedly at the wound in Vincent’s chest and side. “We could have avoided all of this, you know. If you hadn’t been - too short-sighted to see how magnificent… Sephiroth would become.”

The others exchanged glances but Vincent simply shook his head, an air of almost sadness about him. “You’ve left him no place in this world. Either he destroys the Planet out of blind spite, or he becomes the world’s enemy and is destroyed.”

“So what?” Hojo said, almost raising himself up on his elbows. Red growled in warning but Vincent raised a hand, warning him off. “You never understood this and it baffles me. What’s so wonderful about this world? Why shouldn’t I have tried to change it, make it better?” He sneered. “You of all people should agree with me – don’t think I didn’t see how you made yourself as invisible, as small as possible just to survive! The fact is without me you’d have died a mediocrity - and the worst part is you’d have thanked me for it rather than accept the power you have now.”

Vincent looked away, exhaustion making it harder than ever to tell what he was thinking.

“She was always far more like me than you, and you know it,” Hojo continued, smiling. He raised himself up further, hand darting under Vincent’s collar to grasp him by the neck. “Why do you think she put the WEAPON in you?”

Vincent said nothing.

“Finally stopped denying it,” Hojo said, almost crowing. “Good. No matter what you got up to in those last few months, I always knew her better than you. No one in a world like ours would blame me for what I did to you after that.”

Vincent frowned, tipping his head to one side. The rest of the party exchanged looks, having no idea what they were even talking about at this point.

“Oh don’t deny it now,” Hojo hissed. “I’m not a fool.”

“What? We never-” Vincent said - then stopped, almost flushing.

Hojo coughed, choking on a bloody laugh. “Oh. Ohhh, this is precious. All this time… all this time…” And he dissolved into a fit of giggles, cackling, “All of that… and you didn’t even f-”

Vincent seized him back by the neck so hard Hojo immediately choked, his words cutting off. His eyes burned dark, yanking the Professor in close and saying in the darkest tone Barret had ever heard him use, “You - you -”

“Vincent,” Cid said, resting a hand on his arm. “It ain’t worth it.”

Vincent released him, leaving Hojo to collapse back onto his side and continue to breathlessly cackle to himself.

“Even now,” Hojo gasped, “You can’t manage the words. You can’t even manage to finish me by your own hand. You’re empty, you’re nothing without me – you’ll have nothing without me to hate! You’re a mon-”

Red got him by the throat again, cutting off the words.

He met Vincent’s gaze, asking a silent question.

The adrenaline was fading from Vincent’s eyes, one hand clamping down on his bleeding side.

He nodded once.

Red wrenched his jaw, snapping Hojo’s neck with a clean CRACK.

And Vincent physically winced. He turned his head away, shuddering and wrapping his arms around himself.

For a second Hojo’s body writhed.

Mako dust rose off his lab coat.

Blood drained out onto the roof.

Everything was quiet. Then Barret heard a change in the noise of the crowd below. He looked over the railing, seeing they were racing back into the building.

“Shit,” he said, spinning around. “We gotta find a way outta here quick-”

Vincent’s legs crumbled and he collapsed to the ground. He caught himself on his hands and knees right by Hojo’s body, getting the Professor’s blood on him.

Barret knelt down, seizing him by the shoulder. “Vincent. Vincent, we have to go. C’mon.”

He tried to pull Vincent back, but he only got him onto his knees before he sagged in Barret’s arms, eyes blank. Barret moved to shake him when Vincent abruptly looked up, scanning the skies.

“Vince,” Cid said, taking his other arm, “C’mon, let us help you-”

Suddenly there was a new sound: a distinct whirring sound that could only be-

“Look!” Yuffie cried, pointing.

Barret turned to see a helicopter bearing down on their position. And not just any helicopter:

an all-black helicopter without a Shinra logo in sight.

“Is that-”

“It is!” Barret said. He raised his arm to wave, though Yuffie had him beat by jumping up and down and flapping her arms. “Hey! Over here!”

The helicopter steered straight towards the roof, a door sliding open before it had even touched down.

Tifa was standing there. “Hey guys, sorry for the wa- oh.” She paled as she caught sight of Hojo’s dead body, her brown eyes zeroing in immediately on Vincent after that. Tifa turned to the HQ members in their usual full military gear, pointing straight to Vincent. “There! He needs help.”

The AVALANCHE HQ members piled off the helicopter, Barret waving the others onto it as he seized Vincent’s arm and supported his weight with his own, forcing him to his feet.

One of the leaders closed in, nodding to Barret. Vincent didn’t acknowledge him - his head was dropping forwards again and he could barely keep his eyes open. “Pardon me, Mr Valentine,” he said, getting in close to take Vincent’s weight from his other side.

Together they walked him to the helicopter as quickly as possible, Vincent’s exhaustion meaning his head kept falling back and they were basically dragging him by the end of it. Behind them AVALANCHE HQ closed in on Hojo, and then-

Vincent stopped dead as the old guard emptied several rounds into Hojo. He shook in their grip, breathing hard.

Barret tried to squeeze reassuringly without aggravating his wounds.

He really didn’t like how skeletal he felt.

“C’mon,” he said, pressing Vincent to start walking again. When he stumbled, Barret just took more of his weight and kept going.

Distant voices were growing louder - what little security remained in Shinra HQ burst onto the roof, trying to give fire. But against the greater force of AVALANCHE HQ’s return fire, they were pinned into the entryway.

Barret knew they’d long since worn out their welcome, though, but right before they were about to board, Vincent suddenly grabbed Barret’s arm, trying to keep his head up long enough to say something.

“You find… did you find…?”

“Ready to withdraw!” the AVALANCHE member holding his other side yelled. He nodded to Barret and the two of them forcibly lifted Vincent onto the helicopter, the others right there to steady and manhandle him into a chair. He tried unexpectedly to push himself up, looking at something outside the helicopter before slumping back into his seat.

He probably would have slid right out of it if Cid hadn’t helped an AVALANCHE HQ member buckle him in place.

The helicopter took off, leaving behind the dead body of Hojo on the roof and a group of confused infantrymen making a futile effort to shoot them down before they got out of range.

For once Barret was glad of the old guard’s over-organisation, because they got away from Shinra HQ with no problems at all, the ease speaking to both practice and planning.

Soon they were flying over Midgar, heading straight for the edges of the city.

“So glad you’re all right, Vincent,” Tifa said, squeezing his arm from the seat next to him. But her voice had a telltale waver in it. For his part he managed to open his eyes and look at her, a tiny movement of his head that might have been a nod.

“Sure you want to stick to the original plan?” an AVALANCHE HQ member asked as one of their medics moved to the seat opposite Vincent, moving his arm to check on his bleeding side and opening his cloak to examine the wound in his chest.

“He’s got a point. Valentine is going to start fading fast without intervention.”

The group looked to Barret, but he shook his head. “We stay in the air, they might scramble airships. We land in Midgar, the military’s probably already got the city locked down. If they don’t have Hojo to keep the experiments going they’ll just kill Vincent - and us too.”

“Agreed,” Cid said. “We get to the Bronco then we patch his wounds til we get to the landing spot, take care of it properly.”

“We’re real grateful for all your help, boys,” Yuffie chimed in.

The members of the AVALANCHE old guard exchanged looks. Then one of them pulled down his mask and raised his goggles so his face could be seen.

He was far too young to be here.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “It’s been an honour for us.”

Yuffie blinked, surprised, before a glowing smile spread across her face.

The quiet moment was interrupted when Vincent slumped forwards against his seat buckles. The medic got in close, pulling his head up and patting his face in an attempt to keep him awake.

Knowing that probably wouldn’t be enough and regretting what he was going to have to do, Barret leant down and put pressure against Vincent’s wound himself, pressing down as hard as he could to staunch the flow of blood.

Vincent’s head shot back up, red eyes opening but unseeing.

He would have jolted right out of the chair if he hadn’t been buckled into it.

As planned, the group touched down close to the Bronco, exchanging one vehicle for another as quick as they could. The rest on the flight appeared to have given Vincent a short second wind since he managed to unbuckle and push himself upright, replacing Barret’s hand with his own weak grip on the wound.

As they were about to get off he looked back at the members of AVALANCHE HQ. “Thanks,” he rasped. “And s-sorry.”

No one had time to question what he was apologising for as he attempted to step off the helicopter under his own power and nearly fell face first into the dirt.

While the rest of them scrambled to disembark after him, Barret and Tifa lingered a second longer to thank their one time comrades.

“Appreciate it,” he said, the AVALANCHE member warmly shaking his and Tifa’s hands. “You don’t know what it would have meant if we’d had to lose another one.”

The man pulled his mask back into position, studying their group silently. Aerith and Cloud weren’t exactly official members of AVALANCHE but they were likely well known by now, especially with the wanted posters. He nodded sadly.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Tell you the truth, my units really needed a win. Kinda thought you might be blowing smoke with all this talk of engineered superweapons, but we’ve seen stranger out of Shinra at this point. Not to mention any normal man would have blacked out long ago, the state he’s in.”

“Speaking of,” Tifa said. “We’d better move. If we’re ever back in Midgar, we’ll raise as much hell as we can for you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said wryly. The helicopter engines started up again as Barret and Tifa climbed off and scrambled back out of the blowback distance. The AVALANCHE member kept the door open a moment longer, the unit giving one last salute before they were gone.

While they’d been talking the others had been cajoling Vincent onto the Bronco, Barret and Tifa climbing onboard just in time to see Yuffie weirdly hesitating about where to put him. Barret was about to snap at her to just let the man sit when he saw what she was looking at.

The empty chair up front, the one no one had been using.

Aerith’s old spot.

“You know what, here,” she said, pulling him over to another one of the seats in front. “You can have my usual seat!”

Vincent slumped into it without complaint, one hand barely pressing down on the wound in his side as he looked out of the window with empty eyes.

“Yeah, prob’ly best to keep him up front,” Cid said, firing up the engines as quickly as he could. “Better for the Captain to keep an eye.”

“You got any supplies on this thing?” Barret asked, yanking the door shut.

“Should be some around somewhere. Least you can do is pack the wound with something and keep pressure on it while we get somewhere for actual help.”

“Where are we going?” Yuffie asked.

“Somewhere Shinra won’t think to look,” Cid said. “My place - Rocket Town.”

The drive was a tense one. They had healing materia but only Aerith probably would have had a decent shot of mending the chest and side wound Vincent had using magic alone. On top of that, all the battles just to get here meant everyone was running dangerously low on energy.

The party took it in turns to help Vincent keep pressure on the wound. They used the few supplies they could to stem the blood flow, simultaneously trying to keep him awake. He was getting more exhausted by the moment, though and Barret was starting to realise it was probably doing more harm than good at this point. But they couldn’t risk letting him rest until the wounds were properly in hand.

They called Cait up on the communicator - he was still aboard the Highwind, the ship momentarily touched down to avoid attracting attention through constant circling.

“Barret!” he exclaimed. “Ye managed to rescue Vincent?”

“Sure did, thanks in part to you,” Barret said, glancing over at Vincent. One look told him the gunslinger didn’t have the energy to exchange polite pleasantries with the cat. “Though we’re gonna have to have serious words about the danger you put Mayor Domino in, selling him out to the Turks like that.”

“I didnae!” Cait exclaimed. “All I told them was that I’d arranged to use Domino as a go-between so we could conspire to get Vincent out.”

“They might have realised he’s a man on the inside anyway, Cait,” Yuffie grumbled.

“Aye, but I had a bigger plan in mind.”

Then he paused on the line as if suddenly bashful.

“Well, go on. Share it with the class.”

“Truth is there isn’t much work for Domino to do with AVALANCHE HQ nowadays,” Cait said sadly. “Shinra’s really squeezing them tight. With war coming they won’t allow any dissidents and when you all skipped town, the biggest thorn in their side was gone.”

Barret grunted, caught between feeling bad they’d left HQ out on their own and frustrated because the old cell evidently refused to change the methods they’d so stubbornly clung to even as they proved increasingly ineffective.

“So I came up with an alternative - Domino can be the intermediary between you and the Turks instead.”

“What?” Barret snapped, making Cait yowl on the other end of the communicator. Vincent startled out of a stupor at the noise, Tifa murmuring a quick apology on his behalf. Barret cleared his throat, lowered his voice. “What makes you think we wanna work with them?”

“…For one thing, you already have,” Cait said cautiously. “And for another, they might have loyalties to Shinra but that could change. Suppose they realise the company’s wasting resources on something foolish but they can’t act directly? They can co-ordinate with you to subvert them.”

“They can,” Barret said. “But they should just leave and join us.”

“Turks…” Vincent said suddenly, wheezing. He coughed, trying and failing to push himself to sit upright. “Turks don’t leave. Only… three ways. Get killed… get disappeared… become a fugitive.”

“He’s right, Barret,” Tifa said softly. “Two of them are directly responsible for the fall of the Sector 7 plate and one of them probably gave that order. All four of them know about Aerith and the Promised Land. They can’t just walk with information that sensitive.”

“They do it on purpose, don’t they,” Yuffie said darkly. “Tell you something you can never tell anyone else to make sure you know… there’s no leaving.”

Vincent sank back into his seat, looked away.

Barret remembered then Hojo and Heidegger’s claim that Vincent hadn’t aged in decades. In all the chaos, he’d somehow managed to put it to the back of his mind. It had felt so fantastical, but if it were true… had all that happened because Vincent had known something Shinra couldn’t allow him to speak of again?

It felt off to him. If Barret had known something Shinra had been willing to try and kill him over, he’d have been shouting it from the rooftops every chance he got.

Yet all these weeks with the group later, Barret still had only a vague idea of what had happened. And none of it had come from Vincent himself.

But he was starting to think he’d been looking at this from the wrong angle. If Vincent was going to turn on them, he’d have done it by now. Hojo must have given him no end of opportunities to just give Shinra what they wanted and he’d obviously rejected them all.

He was still an oddball. Too quiet for his own good.

But no one could be that stubborn about pissing off Shinra and fail to belong in their group.

Barret raised his head to try and say something reassuring and leaderlike along those lines - right when Vincent’s head slumped forward onto his chest and his body went totally limp.

This had happened a few times during the journey to Rocket Town, but Vincent usually flinched back awake after a second or two.

He didn’t.

“Vince,” Yuffie said, shaking his arm. “Vince?”

Barret got up and got in front of him, taking him by the shoulders. “Vincent,” he said, not able to rouse him. He tried to find a pulse on his neck - and it was going far too fast. “Fuck.” He turned. “Yo, Cid - we need to get to land now-”

Cid looked around, swearing himself. He span the wheel, pushing them up against the shallows with a bump. “All right, hold on to yer britches. We can make it from here.”

But Barret knew Vincent wouldn’t be able to walk. He knelt down in front of him, telling the others, “Help me lift him.”

Yuffie was still panicking so it fell to Tifa to gently put her hands around Vincent’s shoulders and eased him upright, his body collapsing against Barret’s back. Barret made sure he had a good grip to secure Vincent’s skinny legs, which was difficult with his gun arm, before carefully standing up. Cid had already got the door as Barret carried Vincent by piggyback to the exit, stepping down carefully into the cool evening air.

Vincent mumbled something as Barret adjusted his grip. “S’okay, you’re good,” Barret told him. “Cid, where are we-”

“Head for the giant leaning rocket,” Cid told him, racing ahead, “You can’t miss it. There’s a doctor in the village - I’m gonna go on ahead and call on him, then I’ll meet you at my house!”

Barret grunted an agreement, too focused on making sure Vincent didn’t slide off his back as he walked. He felt a warm wave pass over him and looked over to see Yuffie casting a healing spell over Vincent, catching him by proxy. He knew it wasn’t primarily for his benefit but he flashed her a grateful smile anyway. The fight had really worn on him and though Vincent wasn’t remotely heavy, he was tall and slightly awkward to carry.

Anything that would help Barret move faster, he’d welcome.

They came to a small village gate, Rocket Town just barely earning its name with the scant number of houses there were.

It being night time made it easy to spot where Cid had gone - only one house had the door wide open with lights coming from inside. At first Barret thought that must be the doctor’s house, because a woman in a lab coat was standing just inside. She spotted them approaching, turning and calling behind her.

Cid looked out, waving them over emphatically.

“Guest room’s the best place,” Barret heard him saying to someone inside as he got close. “But I gotta warn you, this… might be a bit of a shock.”

“Captain, there’s not much that can shock me these days,” an older voice answered. Barret made it to the door, awkwardly nodding to the woman standing there. Up close she looked to be about Cid’s age: brown hair in a messy ponytail, freckles spattered all over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Though clearly shocked and confused she nodded back, moving to let them inside.

“In here, Barret,” Cid said, gesturing him into a side room. An older man with thick glasses and patient eyes watched him closely, looking with concern at Vincent and following them with a heavy doctor’s bag in hand. The rest of the party crowded into Cid’s front room, Cait materialising from somewhere and climbing up on the small table to see better.

Barret minded bumping the walls or door for Vincent as he ducked into the little room, turning his back to the bed to sit Vincent on it. Cid immediately reached out to steady him and just then Vincent’s head lolled back, his hair falling away from his face. His eyes opened a little, the light in them dull.

The doctor gasped, physically recoiling with a hand to his mouth as he exclaimed, “Oh, dear Planet -”

Barret looked to Cid, sensing that reaction was far over the top even for how bad Vincent looked right now.

He expected Cid to share his surprise, his confusion.

But he didn’t.

He was looking from the doctor to Vincent, waiting to see how the ex-Turk would react.

Vincent’s vision focused for a moment, his eyes locking onto the doctor before him.

His red eyes squinted, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

But then they widened, the expression clear.

Recognition.

Chapter Text

WRO : Operation QUIET

The responsible [principle architect]: Professor Hojo - director of R&D department of Shinra (deceased)

The victim: Vincent Valentine - formerly of Administrative Research department of Shinra AKA the Turks (generation 1, 13th member)

Tape details: Further tapes discovered in an unordered collection in the R&D offices after Meteorfall. Presented as evidence in the Shinra Trials.

Second half of Tape 32

Classification: Sensitive, never to be released

Attached is the transcript used in the Shinra Trials [some details may be redacted at the request of Director of the WRO]

Prof. Hojo: What…

[Sound: a knock on the door, more insistent]

[Sound: footsteps retreating, then getting louder again]

Prof. Hojo: These people…

[Sound: recorder is picked up, muffled noises. It is believed Hojo potentially forgot to turn the recorder off before putting it in his pocket, which accounts for the muffling to the voices]

Prof. Hojo: What is it? Oh. You.

[indistinct voice answers, later identified to be Doctor Cardy]

Prof. Hojo: No, we’re fine right now-

[Sound: an impact of something on wood. Theorised to be Hojo attempting to shut the door on the Doctor and the Doctor stopping him]

Dr. Cardy: You can spare two minutes, Professor.

Dr. Cardy: I could set my watch by Vincent’s routine as far as picking up supplies and patrolling for fiends goes. It’s been two weeks and no one’s seen any sign of him.

Dr. Cardy: Given what happened a couple of months ago, you can understand why we’d be worried.

Prof. Hojo: Frankly, no. If Vincent’s not following the usual routine then he’s obviously occupied with something else important to the running of Shinra Manor, isn’t he? This isn’t your concern - it’s Shinra business.

Prof. Hojo: Didn’t Valentine impress that on you well enough?

Dr. Cardy: Of course he did. I wouldn’t have crossed those gates if I wasn’t concerned enough to be sure.

Dr. Cardy: May I come in?

[Sound: another impact against the door]

Prof. Hojo: No you may not. There’s sensitive information in the manor and no civilian can pass that threshold.

Prof. Hojo: This is complete insubordination and I’ve half a mind to pull Shinra funding from this manor entirely once the lease is up-

Dr. Cardy: Do as you please! Just tell me that Vincent is all right.

Dr. Cardy: The young woman, too, Dr Crescent - no one’s seen her in weeks.

Dr. Cardy: I know she must be due almost any day now, Professor. Are you actually planning to deliver the child by yourself?

Dr. Cardy: …There’s a midwife right in the village who’s ready and willing to help. Your wife surely needs-

Prof. Hojo: He told you, didn’t he? That rat.

Dr. Cardy: It’s not exactly hard to figure out, Professor-

Prof. Hojo: Get out. Get out and don’t come back.

Prof. Hojo: Vincent’s not here, he’s gone back to Shinra HQ!

Prof. Hojo: It’s not my fault you missed him and jumped to - to a bunch of wild conclusions.

Prof. Hojo: Compose yourself. You’re an adult.

Dr. Cardy: How can you-

Prof. Hojo: Get out!

[Sound: The door slams shut]

[Sound: Hojo muttering angrily to himself, pacing]

[Sound: Rustling as he pulls out the tape recorder] Prof. Hojo: Why can’t these people just keep quiet! [Tape clicks off]

[Tape 33 is entirely redacted. Transcript is available only on request and with the express permission of Director Tuesti]

Chapter Text

The Doctor was the first to recover. The shock in his expression cleared away for a resolute professionalism.

“Mr Valentine, it’s Dr Cardy,” he said. “Captain Highwind brought you here for medical attention, so I’m going to be seeing to your care personally.”

Vincent said nothing. Just kept staring at the man in silence.

Barret tried to catch Cid’s eye - he was sure none of them had said Vincent’s name in front of the doctor - but he got the feeling the pilot was purposefully avoiding his gaze.

“Let’s get this off so we can get a better look, all right?” he said, then bent down and reached for the buckles on Vincent’s cloak.

But Vincent’s clawed hand suddenly shot up and seized his wrist before he could make contact. He shook his head, hair falling forward to cover his face. The doctor tried to pull away and couldn’t, a look of shock coming over his face at the strength of Vincent’s grip.

“Mr Valentine, you’re bleeding out,” he said. “We need to take care of this before it gets worse. I promise you, you’re in safe hands.”

“Vince, you don’t have time for this-” Cid said, breaking off and catching Barret’s eye. Barret gave him a hard look, hoping Cid understood what he meant: if it came to it he was prepared to use force to ensure Vincent got help. Vincent might be stronger than he looked but he was still slight and now dangerously skinny; without the strength to shapechange it shouldn’t take too much to hold him down between them.

Against all odds the operation had gone successfully and he felt an indignation rising in his gut at the thought of failing now.

Just like Yuffie had said, they weren’t going to lose anyone else if he could help it.

Vincent looked up, one dark red eye peering out under the veil of his hair - and flickered from the woman in the lab coat then out the doorway to the stairs where the rest of the group were lingering.

Cid caught on first.

“Shera, would you mind-”

“I’m on it,” she said, turning and slipping out of the guest room with an appeal to the others to follow her back downstairs to the living room. There was an indignant protest from Yuffie, but then the noise faded away and it was just Barret, Cid and Cait left behind.

But Vincent still wouldn’t let go of the Doctor’s wrist. His focus had turned to Barret and Cid now, a strange panic in his eyes that Barret wouldn’t have expected to see.

“You want us to go, too,” he realised. Then he sighed. “…All right, man. If that’s what you need.”

“Is it all right if your animatronic friend stays?” the Doctor asked, nodding at Cait. “I might need an assistant.”

“I have magic power left that the others don’t,” Cait said. “I’ll get ye back in fighting shape in no time!”

Vincent regarded him tiredly. His hand slipped from the Doctor’s wrist and he nodded.

“Guess that’s us,” Barret said, noticing Cid still hovering. “C’mon. He’ll call us if he needs us.”

“Don’t go doing anything stupid like dying on us,” Cid said, finally turning away. “Y’hear?”

But it didn’t look as though Vincent heard him at all. Now he’d stopped fighting the doctor, all his strength had been redirected into holding himself up.

Barret turned to go as the Doctor was very gently undoing the buckles of Vincent’s cloak. The ex-Turk turned his gaze away, ducking his head.

The last thing he heard was Doctor Cardy saying, “I thought I’d seen it all from Shinra at this point. I really did.” His voice softened as he eased the cloak from Vincent’s shoulders and considered his wounds, his face kept carefully neutral. “But I - I’m certainly glad to see they got you out alive.”

Vincent’s head raised at that, just an inch. Another strange expression broke through the exhaustion.

It was a look of disbelief.

While not as badly off as Vincent, the others had their own cuts and scrapes to patch up so they set to doing that while they waited for any news. They were all running low on magic so Cid corralled the remaining resources they had not currently being used on Vincent so everyone could patch themselves and each other up.

His front room was small, just four seats around a little table with a kitchen unit and a shelf covered with numerous boxes of tea. And yet there was room for all of them, the absence of Aerith and Cloud even more deeply felt than ever. Red stretched out on the rug as everyone else took up space around the table, leaving the woman in the labcoat bustling around to make everyone tea.

Despite being a stranger her presence was oddly reassuring. At first glance she appeared quiet, mousy even, but she had an admirable pair of steady helping hands and took to the presence of several bloodied up strangers in her house incredibly well.

She also had an impressive collection of mismatched teacups and teas to go with them, her enthusiasm for showing them off to the group only dimming when Cid chastised her for taking too long to serve everyone a drink.

The glare Tifa fixed Cid with made Barret’s heart unexpectedly ache. He could practically sense the image of the flower girl glaring at Cid right alongside her.

Maybe Cid could, too, because he got uncharacteristically sheepish when he mumbled something conciliatory to the surprised woman.

Not wanting to be rude, Barret cleared his throat to get her attention. “Sorry bout the chaos,” he said. “I didn’t get your name…?”

“Mm? Oh, guess you didn’t,” she said in a broad accent not unlike Cid’s. “It’s Shera. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’m Barret - this is Tifa, Yuffie and Red. That’s Vincent and Cait upstairs.” He noticed now that there was no ring on the hand that held the kettle and fumbled for a way to ask who she was without making things awkward. “So, you and Cid… go way back or…?”

Tifa restrained a laugh at his expense, but Cid didn’t. He actually chuckled.

“Ha! We ain’t married, if that’s what you’re driving at.”

Shera’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “We worked together,” she supplied, “On Shinra’s space program.”

Another surprise. Maybe Cid’s work with Shinra had gone deeper than he’d let on. But Barret saw from the way Cid’s smile had turned stiff that the subject was not a welcome one right now. In truth he couldn’t remember a single thing the space department had been working on lately - having a joke like Palmer as the director probably hadn’t done them any favours…

“Anyway,” Cid said. “How’s everyone doin’? Enough tea? Wounds patched up?”

The group looked amongst themselves before nodding, but the mood in the room was subdued. Yuffie had a few bruises from Hojo’s rough treatment no one had the energy to fix with materia, but she wasn’t complaining like she probably would’ve been normally.

Her gaze kept wandering towards the guest room, then to the clock on the wall.

It had been nearly an hour since the doctor had closed himself in in the upstairs room with Cait and Vincent.

Since then they hadn’t seen the doctor - only Cait would appear on the stairs occasionally when he needed something the doctor didn’t immediately have to hand, like more gauze or fresh water or a clean pair of gloves. It painted an anxious picture of what might be happening up there, but one thing Barret was certain of was that they’d either medicated Vincent or the doctor was being exceedingly careful, because there wasn’t a single sound of pain from the ex-Turk coming from above.

Every single time Cait appeared Yuffie would offer to help. Every time he’d turn her down, reassure her that the best thing to do was just sit tight while they handled it.

Finally Shera tried to distract her with a hot chocolate loaded up with every sugary substance they had in the house.

It only half worked - the drink distracted her, but the sugar just gave her anxiety more fuel.

“Well, now what?” Yuffie said for the fifth time that night. “Shouldn’t we do something? Are we even safe here?”

“Trust me, kid,” Cid said, “Rocket Town’s the sleepiest town you’re ever gonna find. No one’s gonna think to look for us here.”

Yuffie scowled and swung her leg, accidentally kicking Barret under the table. She gave him a sheepish look in apology but he couldn’t find the energy or the will to grouse at her that much.

Shera was perching on a barrel of something Cid kept inexplicably in the living room as she sipped her tea. She cleared her throat.

“You must have had a hell of a time,” Shera mused. “Maybe you can tell me about it before you go disappearing again?”

Cid glanced over at her and Shera suddenly tensed. “Sorry, you don’t have to! I just meant with all the craziness going on lately - it’s a miracle you haven’t lost anyone yet-”

They had, but something else concerned Barret more in the cautious way she was looking at them.

She knew.

She’d seen photos of them or the news, but somehow she knew exactly who Cid had fallen in with.

She knew they were AVALANCHE.

He was about to open his mouth to press her on it when Cait abruptly reappeared at the foot of the stairs.

His little shoulders raised and lowered and he looked over at the group with an exhausted look on his face.

“Cid,” he said, brushing at the specks of blood in his white fur and on his gloves, “Do ye have some PJs that might fit…?”

“Oh. Oh!” He stood, stopped. “Uh, I don’t-”

“Your friend looked taller than you,” Shera said, hopping down from the barrel and setting her tea down on the counter. “I remember you had that pair gifted that was too big for you - I’ll go find it…”

And she wandered off upstairs herself, leaving Cait standing there fiddling with his stained white gloves as everyone stared at him.

Yuffie was the first to crack. “Well?” she demanded.

“Eh?”

“How’s Vincent?” she said, turning in her seat to face him.

The cat exhaled a shaky breath. But he smiled. “Stable, for now.” The group relaxed, but Cait held his hands up in warning. “But the lad’s… not in the best state after what Shinra put him through. The doctor doesnae think we can do much more than keep an eye on the wounds and let him rest for now, though.”

Yuffie opened her mouth to press him further but Cid laid a hand on her shoulder.

“All right,” he said. “You get Vince settled, then come back an’ give us the 411. I know he’s in good hands.”

“You better take care of him,” Yuffie warned. “Please.”

At that moment Shera returned with a pair of plain, slightly crumpled PJs to give to the cat. “They might be a bit big around the waist,” she warned.

But Cait just smiled gratefully at her before retreating back upstairs, closing the door gently behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment before Barret decided to broach the subject that had been bothering him for the past hour, knowing his window of opportunity was closing.

“All right,” he said to Cid. “Out with it.”

“What?”

“You know what. The others might not have seen, but I did. That doctor knew Vincent. He went paler than Valentine is when he clapped eyes on him.”

Shera turned to sCid, the pilot avoiding her gaze - and everyone else’s.

“And you knew that. Why else you wanna come to Rocket Town of all places when there’s nearer stops we coulda got Vince some help?”

Cid sucked on his teeth, sighed. Shera’s frown deepened.

“…Captain?”

He looked over at her first, shaking his head. “S’OK, Sher. Realise this is a lot to drop on your doorstep all at once.”

“Our doorstep,” she corrected. “And it’s fine.”

Barret raised his eyebrows. If it had just been them living together he’d have thought nothing of it; there were any number of mixed families like his and Tifa’s back in Midgar. But there was obviously something complex going on with these two.

“But if they’re saying the doctor knows your friend,” she mused, “Then… doesn’t that mean…”

She fell silent, a grave look coming over her face. Barret wrinkled his nose. He was right that she was sharper than she let on. But for now he turned back to the pilot.

“Cid?” he pressed.

Cid sighed again. He patted his pockets for a cigarette, found an empty packet, sighed again. “Oh, for - yes,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, all right?”

He leant back against the wall, taking off his goggles and running a hand through his hair. “Dr Cardy’s lived her a long while, longer’n me, but he - he did mention living in Nibelheim before. And he mentioned leaving cause somethin’ bad happened.”

“Kinda vague, old man,” Yuffie said without any real heat in it.

“You wanted to get Vince here just to confirm that?”

“Well, yeah, but… I did mean it when I said Shinra’s not gonna look here,” he said. “This town ain’t mattered to them in a long time. If we’re gonna hide anywhere…”

“Cid,” Tifa said, a pleading note in her voice. “Please. We almost lost Vincent because of all the things we don’t know. If you think you know something-”

“I think the doctor knows something. I’m bein’ vague ‘cause he’s been vague. Whenever Nibelheim came up, he just… never wanted to talk about it.”

“And how long ago,” Red asked, “Did he live there?”

Cid hesitated. “Thirty years ago.”

Yuffie snorted with laughter, then sobered up. “Wait. You’re serious?”

They all thought back to what they’d claimed back in Shinra HQ, about Vincent’s immortality. How both Heidegger and Hojo seemed to recognise him, but the younger Turks hadn’t. If that was true, then who knew how old was he?

“So you put two and two together and figured they knew each other?” Barret guessed.

“Uh, actually…” Cid rubbed the back of his head. “Had a feelin’ somethin’ was up with Vince even before we heard about… all this.”

Barret raised his eyebrows in a yeah, duh type of look. Cid gave him a hard look right back.

“I meant his age! I mean, what normal twenty-something doesn’t know how to work a PHS but can handle my old radio and remembered Dio curated the defunct exhibition down in the Saucer? Not to mention - I know he sure ain’t a talker but I dunno, he just feels closer to my parents’ age than mine or Tifa’s.” He sighed again, shrugging his shoulders. “I dunno. Nothin’ about him added up.”

Barret thought back. Vincent had mentioned off-hand that he’d been a bodyguard to Hojo, but until the group ended up stuck with the mad professor Barret had never thought twice about the logistics of that story.

Hojo probably worked out of Shinra HQ and the Drum in Midgar most of the time. So why would Vincent be guarding Shinra manor all the way out in Nibelheim of all places? Hojo had left that AI there, but the computer program hadn’t seemed interested in the place at all except that one experimental specimen they’d been forced to kill. And not to mention Tifa and Cloud probably should’ve recognised Vincent if they’d seen him working out of the manor before, so that ruled out the entire time they’d lived there…

“He could be older than any of us,” Tifa mused. “And he never said a thing.”

Barret felt a curious itch rising up in his skin. It was no longer dread, but curiosity.

Hunger, even.

Whatever it was, whatever learning about it would mean.

He wouldn’t look away, not anymore. It was his duty.

There was a creak on the stairs and Cait’s voice softly saying, “Careful. Watch your step.”

The group looked up in time to see the Doctor being guided into the room by Cait.

The older man had blood on his cuffs and a look in his eyes Barret had never seen before.

Shell shock, disbelief. Horror.

Without a word, Cait encouraged him over to the table where Cid gave up his seat and Shera took out another mug and poured him a large cup of tea. The doctor picked up the mug, looked into it. Took a deep drink.

His hands were trembling as he did so.

Barret took a deep breath. He wasn’t exactly known for his tact, but he didn’t want to just blunder into it with someone who had spent the last hour and a half helping their comrade.

Tifa cleared her throat. “How… is he?”

The doctor was still drinking, not answering. Cait clambered up on the table next to him.

“Well, the good news is we got the bleeding under control! Wounds are patched up and he isnae gonna bleed out, long as he doesn’t pull the stitches. Rest is cuts, scrapes and exhaustion - looks like Hojo’s been making him fight almost nonstop for all this time…” His perpetual cat grin faded. “And he’s obviously barely eaten and slept in practically three days, so…”

“He’s sleeping now?” Yuffie asked, glancing anxiously up the stairs.

The doctor nodded, face grim. But he still didn’t speak.

“Certainly is,” Cait said. “We gave him some meds from the good doctor’s supplies, but we might be needing some more if you can supply…?”

Cid and Shera exchanged a look, and Shera nodded.

“I made sure to get something in,” she said, “Since you’re usually - um, a bit messy when you stop in.”

Cid gave her a look but said nothing.

“Ah, good,” Cait said. “Well, we might need to wake him to make sure the lad gets some food in him - he’s gotten skinnier than ever. More meds then, maybe.”

The doctor was still drinking and staring at his mug like there was something fascinating in it. Cait cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh, but the poor thing’s a bit cold from all the blood loss. I was gonna take a blanket up if you could furnish one…?”

“Tifa,” Red said suddenly, having stood and come to her side. “Are my paws dirty?”

“Huh? Uh, I don’t think so…?” she said, checking his pads anyway.

“Read the room, Red,” Yuffie grumbled. “We’re in the middle of something here!”

“I know,” he said calmly, rounding the table to stand before the doctor and look into his eyes. “I will lie down next to him and keep him warm. If his condition should worsen or change, you will have someone to inform you.”

“Oh,” Yuffie said. “Good thinking. I could come with…?”

But she’d barely started to stand before Cait had raised his gloved hand. “Aye, best stay put and get some food and rest yourself, lassie. I’ll go back with him.”

And he hopped down from the table onto Red’s back, the two of them stopping only to let Shera tie a wet washcloth around Red’s tail to stop him lighting the furniture on fire before they headed quietly back up the stairs.

Yuffie slid back into her seat, looking expectantly over at Barret. He tried to give her a reassuring nod as if to say ‘Soon’ but she only looked away.

Doctor Cardy set down his mug with a thud.

“If it was anyone else,” he said. Swallowed hard. “Looking at what must have happened to him… if it was anyone else, we might be having a very different conversation right now.”

“Hey, man,” Barret said, swivelling in his seat more to face the older man and ignoring the sharp look he got from Cid. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done here.”

“Barret-” Cid started.

“But I gotta ask you somethin’,” he said. “And I think you know what it is.”

“Mr Barret,” Shera said. “I don’t think-”

“You know him, don’t you?” he said. “You’ve met Vincent before.”

The blood drained from the doctor’s face. He set down his empty mug.

“Don’t even try and deny it,” Barret said. “You’ve been acting odd since you saw him here. I know you know him. Right?”

The doctor opened his mouth, shut it again.

With an unsteady hand he reached up and took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I was just a little surprised to see that he - that he’s-”

His voice wavered and Barret’s gaze hardened, determined he would get to the bottom of this one way or another.

“Cid says you lived in Nibelheim once. A long time ago?”

The doctor swallowed, tried again. “I - he’s not -”

His voice cracked.

And then Dr Cardy broke down in tears.

It took the older man a bit of time to calm down. He claimed he just hadn’t needed to attend to a serious medical crisis, but there was a defeated air around him as Shera served him some biscuits for the shock.

Barret eased off on the questions for now, waiting for the man to manage another cup of tea.

“I’m sorry,” he said at length. “I’m not normally - I’m sorry.”

“I shoulda given you some space,” Barret admitted. “It’s just - there’s so much bout Vincent we don’t know. Hojo nearly got him killed over it.”

The Doctor’s face immediately darkened. “That bastard. He’s still alive?”

The group exchanged looks. “Uh, no,” Yuffie said. “…Not since this evening.”

The Doctor blinked and it took him a second before he caught up to what they were implying. But then he merely nodded. “Good… I’m glad to hear that. That man’s death is a blessing to the world.”

“You’ve got history with him, too?” Tifa asked gently.

He took a deep breath as if steeling himself to speak. “No,” he said finally. “Not directly. But I - I did meet him, thirty years ago. In Nibelheim.”

The group exchanged looks again, not sure what to ask first. The Doctor noticed.

“And I met your friend as well, if that’s what you want to know. Vincent. But he was a Turk then.”

“You’re sure?” Barret said, still struggling to wrap his head around it. “You’re sure it was him?”

He nodded. “His hair was shorter and he looked… healthier, for lack of a better word.” He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes like he couldn’t believe it either. “But it’s most definitely him. And he looks practically the same age as when I last saw him.”

“Everything comes back to Nibelheim, doesn’t it,” Tifa said pensively. “Sephiroth going rogue. Shinra manor. What exactly happened in that place?”

The Doctor was just as thoughtful as the others until he noticed the others staring at him. “…Oh. You’re asking me?”

“Well, you were there,” Yuffie said impatiently and Barret could practically hear her restraining herself from adding an ‘old man’ onto the end of that. “You must’ve seen something!”

The Doctor sat in contemplative silence for a long, painful moment. Yuffie gave Barret a beseechingly look and he shrugged his shoulders slightly in response. He wanted to know as much as anyone, but pushing the man had only made him break down the first time.

Still, whatever it was he knew…

“You seem like you don’t wanna talk about it,” Barret mused aloud.

The Doctor almost flinched. Then he looked down into his mug, shame overcoming his features. “I guess I don’t, do I? I just… haven’t spoken to anyone about this in over three decades. After everything - happened - I… left Nibelheim. I never looked back.”

“I think the older residents mentioned we’d had a doctor once. And a midwife, too. It left a hole in the community when you both left - when I was hurt once they had to transport me all the way to Midgar. They can’t have known you were in the next town over.”

“I’m sorry for that, miss, truly.”

“No, I don’t say that to make you feel bad! Whatever it was, you must have been scared enough to go to ground over it.”

“Embarrassing as it is to admit, yes. The village wasn’t always so tied up with Shinra, you know - in the early days we weren’t sure about them or the new fangled reactor technology. But there came a point when something - turned. People… started to disappear. So if you wanted to stay alive…”

He ran a finger outside the edge of his mug, the others sitting in anticipatory silence.

“All right,” he said finally. “I’ll tell you - what I can. But be warned, I can’t tell you much. We weren’t given access inside the manor or the reactor; it was a very strict security rule.”

“Security,” Yuffie mulled, “Didn’t Vince say he was security?”

“He was their bodyguard when I knew him,” the Doctor confirmed. “The scientists at the manor, Hojo and two others. But the senior left midway through. In hindsight, that was probably a bad sign about where the project was going.”

“You’re sayin’ the lead scientist got cold feet?” Cid said. He and Shera locked eyes. “That is a bad sign.”

“Maybe. I never spoke to him enough to be sure since the scientists were less inclined to leave the manor. I did know Vincent, though - he handled the security and running of the manor in a practical sense, so he needed to come into the village occasionally. Kept the population of fiends on the mountain under control for their expeditions to the reactor and into the mountains, too, so the villagers were glad of his presence then.”

“But that changed?”

“Oh, no, we always got along with Vincent just fine. Once you got used to how quiet he was, of course.” He stared off into the distance again. “But he started to change. He seemed… stressed all the time. He was working nonstop. And then one day he was just - gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Barret asked.

“I mean gone. Missing. No sign of him. Just like there was no sign of the young lady, either. We at least saw the lead scientist leave through the village, but with those two? No one saw or heard a thing. The only one left was him. And he stayed in the manor a few weeks more.” He shut his eyes and took a long, shuddering breath.

When he opened them again the look on his face was grim. “I thought he’d - killed him, killed both of them. Disappeared them somewhere in the bowels of that place.”

He gripped the mug tightly between his hands. “I went to the manor, once. Got told to stay out of it by Hojo himself. And shortly after that Shinra withdrew from Nibelheim entirely.“

“But what about the manor?”

“It was still their property, off limits to us.” His lip curled bitterly. “They paid rent on it, money the village sorely needed. I said it was blood money and we shouldn’t take it. I was outvoted. No one wanted to consider what it would mean if I was right, that Shinra was willing to cover up the deaths of two young people for whatever the project was, that our little village was the genesis of all the horror that followed. So I - I just left.”

The pieces clicked together for Barret in an ugly fashion. Vincent had been in Nibelheim thirty years ago, guarding the scientists while they did who knew what.

Then something had happened to change him, make him able to shapeshift.

And Vincent had just never left.

He’d stayed down there in the basement for all that time, alone.

“That makes sense,” Tifa said. “They were still paying upkeep for the manor when I lived there. The village really needed that money. But if they were paying to keep their secrets hidden all this time…”

The Doctor hung his head and Tifa was quick to put her hand on his arm. “I’m really not blaming you! It just makes a lot more sense now.”

“Exactly, man,” Barret said, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “Shinra always use their money and power to make people fall in line. And you didn’t know for sure, right?”

He shook his head. “No, but I knew in my gut something wasn’t right. It’s good he’s alive, but what he must have been through… what that man must have done to him…” His face twisted in anger. “Thank the Planet you killed him. I’ve never hated a human being more than that - that creature.”

The group was quiet for a moment - then Shera suddenly cleared her throat.

“…The young woman - you’re saying she was a scientist, too?”

The Doctor nodded, his expression dimming even further. “I wonder if there’s a chance she’s still alive, too. The manor would be the first place to check, I suppose. But I could never bring myself to risk trespassing in that house…”

The others exchanged looks. Vincent might not like it, but it felt only fair to tell him.

“She ain’t there,” Barret said. “We were all around the manor’s lower floors and Vincent said himself that she’s ”long gone“. I don’t know where’s she’s at, but the manor probably isn’t it.”

The doctor’s eyebrows raised momentarily before he nodded with a sad smile. “Oh… at least she’s not trapped in that place. That’s good. That’s good…”

“But she worked on this super secret project, too?” Shera pressed. “She never tried to escape like the lead did?”

“Escape? That would be tricky since - never mind.” And the Doctor stopped talking suddenly. “I mean, there’s one obvious reason why she might not have left.”

“What’s that?” Barret asked, suddenly wary. He remembered how prickly Vincent had gotten when he’d made the assumption the woman who worked at the manor was no different than Hojo. If they were going to learn something bad before Vincent did-

“Look, if it’s about her work maybe you ought to tell Vincent this first-”

“Not at all,” the Doctor said, looking surprised. “I was just going to say, she was Hojo’s wife.”

The room fell silent, everyone trying to get their heads around the idea Hojo had had a wife once.

“Speak for yourself,” Yuffie said, the first to break the silence. “If I was married to that creep, I’d stowaway on a Shinra cruise liner if it meant getting away from him.”

The group decided to have a very late dinner with the thought that they could keep the leftovers for Vincent whenever he came around.

If he came around.

Shera had barely grasped all the names of the strange group Cid had inexplicably acquired in his work ferrying people around as far from Rocket Town as he could get - and not to mention she was certain she’d seen at least a couple of them on the AVALANCHE wanted posters; the original ones before Shinra had weirdly issued a ‘corrected’ version that looked… bizarrely low resolution and fake.

But she’d managed to gather this Vincent Valentine was one of the many, many people Hojo was rumoured to have experimented on, at least. That might make him strong enough to survive, but still… looking at the state they’d brought him in she had half a mind to tell Cid that maybe they should prepare themselves for the worst. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Instead she and the Captain awkwardly danced around each other like usual while they were trying to find something to feed their sudden huge number of guests. Eventually it was settled on that soup or hotpot with whatever odds and ends they could scrounge up would probably be the best option. And she tried to tell herself she ought to trust the Captain knew what he was getting into, joining up with this bizarre crew of fugitives. She certainly had no illusions about what Shinra were truly like, especially not after the space program debacle.

So she tried her best to be supportive and unobtrusive, but her presence was only making things more awkward. Cid would grump at her for some reason or other and then the brunette girl - Tifa, she thought it was - would upbraid him for it. Or she’d catch the young ninja glancing impatiently and worriedly at the stairs and try to reassure her, only to be brushed off.

The man she assumed was the de facto leader - Barret - had a curious reaction to her, too. He kept sizing her up like he’d realised she’d been doing the same to them.

She supposed it made sense - they kept talking about someone called Cloud who was apparently MIA, and now another of their number was injured. Still, it struck her as a bit backward that the people who had gatecrashed her quiet evening were the ones who were on edge.

But for as awkward as it made everything feel, in truth her mind was elsewhere. Ever since they had mentioned the female scientist - Hojo’s wife - she couldn’t get it out of her head.

Conversations in her very early days interning for Shinra came back to her.

“You need to keep your head down, especially if it’s the sciences you’re interested in. The last woman who got anywhere in the Science department before you was one of - well, you’ve probably heard about it, right?”

She had. And if what she was hearing the group talking about was accurate, then she suspected she knew exactly who it was they were talking about.

Once dinner was in hand she wandered upstairs to check how their other house guests were doing, locating an extra blanket on her way as a pretext to enter the guest room.

She clicked the door open very, very slowly, peering around the corner just in case their comrade was awake.

He wasn’t.

Vincent lay in the guest bed, deeply asleep but with a slight strained wheeze when he breathed. He was turned on his side, probably partially to aid with that and partially so Red could slot onto the covers by his side, the animal’s body pressed close to the length of his back for warmth.

The gauze of bandages was just visible above the place his pajama shirt came together, one sleeve slit open to make room for a golden gauntleted arm resting on the pillow near his face.

And he was deathly pale, deep shadows under the eyes and a distinctly gaunt quality to the way the pajamas sat on his slight frame. Plasters covered over parts of that pale skin along with dirt and specks of blood, apparently acquired over days of fighting off Hojo’s home cooked lab experiments back in Midgar. Even under the covers, the shape of his body was painfully, painfully thin.

Dr Cardy was right. Were he anyone else, she would have expected them to have taken a turn for the worse already.

Red was mostly napping but she spotted Cait sitting on the dresser. A bowl with bloody water and spare medical supplies sat next to him - she’d have to clean that up once all this was over. Cait looked to be asleep at first, too - hard to tell when the robot’s eyes were always shut - but then his head perked up and he gave her a friendly wave.

She pointed to the blanket in her hands and then to their sleeping guest.

He gave a thumbs up, hopping down and climbing carefully up next to Vincent’s side to help her unfold the blanket.

They were both careful not to disturb him, but either from sensing Cait’s little boots shifting the covers or someone standing over him Vincent’s eyes opened the slightest bit.

Red eyes - one with a strange golden tinge, like a dead sun - looked up at her without focus.

A slow frown came over his face as his eyes tried to focus on her, travelling from her face to linger on her labcoat.

He swallowed, lips parting as he tried to say something. But she couldn’t quite make it out.

“What’s that, lad?” Cait asked, clambering a bit closer. But Vincent wouldn’t look away. He kept staring, almost unblinking, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Feeling uneasy under the intensity of his gaze, she leant down a little to hear better as he tried to find the energy to try again.

“Lu… crec…?”

Shera tensed.

She knew it. She was right.

Cait waved his hands nervously. “Oh, lad, I think you might be getting a bit mixed up-”

“Lucrec…ia…?”

Cait turned to Shera with a sheepish look. “Sorry, lass, I-I’m not sure what-”

She leant over and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, pushing the bandanna up just enough to feel his skin. He felt a little clammy, but it wasn’t indicative of an incoming fever as far as she could tell. His eyes closed and opened again slowly.

“No,” she said softly, dropping her hand, covering him with the blanket and standing back. “I’m sorry. It’s Shera.”

But she didn’t know how much of that he had caught, because he’d fallen immediately back to sleep.

She made sure to spread the blanket out evenly, double checked his temperature one more time, then turned to retreat from the room. On the way out she spotted his old clothes neatly folded and piled on the top of the dresser - the Doctor’s doing, definitely, Cid couldn’t fold clothes that neatly - with that striking red mantle sitting on top.

Shera gently unfolded them, checking on the damage. His shirt and trousers could use a cleaning to get the dirt out, but the cape was going to need some fixing by hand. It was clearly a sturdy, decent material, too - the exact sort of thing she could imagine coming from somewhere in Shinra manor. With a bit of love she was sure she could get it to be good as new.

She looked up to find Cait sitting by Vincent’s side on the bed, watching her. She gestured to the clothes in her arms, indicating she was going to take them with her. He flashed a thumbs up.

Her eyes strayed to the items on the floor - a strange pile of armour and boots like a knight might wear. The colour and material resembled the strange golden arm he had, but she’d never seen the like before in all the rockets and engineering work she’d done - it must have been a custom job.

She frowned, shaking herself from her stupor. There were some things she didn’t want to know about what Hojo had done in that manor.

The rest of the night was spent finding somewhere for everyone to sleep. It was decided Cait and Red would remain with Vincent in the guest room, Shera would share her room with Yuffie and Cid gave up his room to Tifa while he and Barret bunked downstairs.

Dr Cardy also decided to sleep over, taking a chair up to the guest room.

Before the night was over, he decided to give his patient the medication he had remaining to make sure he slept without pain during the night.

When he had the shot prepared and the syringe hovering over Vincent’s arm, though, he felt eyes on him.

Vincent was looking at him, eyes half open and visibly drowsy.

“…Professor…?” he asked.

Dr Cardy frowned. “No,” he said flatly. “That man is dead.”

But Vincent didn’t look reassured. He looked confused. “…Are y-you…going to…?”

“He’s dead, Vincent.” He maintained steady eye contact but he couldn’t see any recognition in those eyes. But he didn’t see panic, either, even with the needle inches from his skin. “He’s not going to hurt you, or anyone else, ever again. It’s me, Dr Cardy.”

Vincent said nothing, his head sinking into his pillow as he watched the doctor passively. The doctor had been expecting more resistance, yet Vincent appeared so indifferent to the shot he was about to be given that it was a little unnerving.

Dr Cardy swallowed. He hadn’t asked the young friends Cid had made what they’d found in the manor.

He hadn’t had the courage to.

But looking at how Vincent was now, he had the uncomfortable sensation he could fill in the blanks well enough. He could only hope this muted response was the result of the exhaustion and disorientation, and nothing else.

Though he suspected he had a much bigger problem on his hands.

“It’s Dr Cardy, Vincent,” he repeated. “I’m giving you something for the pain to make sure you can sleep without issue. All right?” He eased the shot into his arm, pressing the syringe down. Vincent’s eyes shifted slowly to watch the whole process in silence, his expression far away. “Rest for now. We’ll check on your wounds in the morning.”

Vincent’s gaze stayed stuck on the needle in his arm, visibly struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Rest,” the Doctor repeated, easing the empty syringe out of his skin and reaching to find a cotton ball to catch any blood he’d drawn.

But when he turned back, the needle mark had vanished before his eyes.

The Doctor frowned, smoothing over the spot with his thumb to check he was seeing what he was seeing. But no matter how hard he looked, there was nothing there.

He looked over at Vincent, but his eyes had already drifted shut again as he fell back into an exhausted sleep.

The great cat the group had brought along with them stirred, raising his head to rest on Vincent’s side. He saw what the doctor was looking at, his ears raising curiously.

“Maybe that’s a good sign?” Red whispered, indicating Vincent’s wounds with his nose.

The Doctor stood back, putting his medical equipment back into his back before taking up his spot in the chair they’d brought him. He didn’t answer Red, too preoccupied with his own thoughts.

It was hard to settle down to sleep even as the house fell quiet. All of this was deeply unsettling, phantoms from his past that he’d thought to be long lost suddenly reappeared three decades later. He was grateful to see Vincent alive, deeply grateful, but…

…But now he could begin to get answers on what had actually happened in that manor. And looking at the old needle mark scars he could see in Vincent’s neck and arms that hadn’t healed, he could see things weren’t as bad in Shinra manor as he’d thought.

They were worse.

Chapter Text

Interlude 5 (1)

WRO : Operation QUIET

The responsible [principle architect]: Professor Hojo - director of R&D department of Shinra (deceased)

The victim: Vincent Valentine - formerly of Administrative Research department of Shinra AKA the Turks (generation 1, 13th member)

Tape details: Further tapes discovered in an unordered collection in the R&D offices after Meteorfall. Presented as evidence in the Shinra Trials.

Tape is notable due to corruption, possibly caused by deliberate sabotage - culprit unknown.

Restoration process is complete but some parts of the tape remain indecipherable.

Tape number ???

Classification: Sensitive, never to be released

Attached is the transcript used in the Shinra Trials [some details may be redacted at the request of Director of the WRO]

[First two minutes are indecipherable]

[Soft sound in the background - the Midgar Blues, likely played on the radio]

Prof. Hojo: - responding well. If only I’d thought to use tranquilisers earlier…

Prof. Hojo: Anyone home, Valentine?

Prof. Hojo: [Chuckles] Well, good. Maybe I can have my tea in peace today after we check your vitals, hmm?

[Sound: Background sounds, a scratching sound - possibly the Professor writing something down?]

Prof. Hojo: All right. All done. About what I expected, if you’re interested.

Prof. Hojo: One last shot - just a stabliser -

[Sound: A sharp creaking noise]

Prof. Hojo: [chuckles] You flinch every time I get near your neck. What is it, a reflex?

Prof. Hojo: Don’t you think I would’ve done it by now if I wanted to kill you?

Vincent: [slurred, slow] …in the lab…?

Prof. Hojo: Yes. Like you’ve been for the past few days.

Prof. Hojo: …Or weeks, now.

Vincent: [slurred, slow] Thought I was…

[Sound: Thirty seconds of silence on the tape]

Prof. Hojo: Vincent. How many fingers am I holding up?

Vincent: …what? [slurred] I don’t…

Prof. Hojo: …Never mind. It’s fine.

[Sound: A chair being dragged over]

Prof. Hojo: I just… need a minute.

Prof. Hojo: [sighs] It’s a lot of work caring for the three of you, you know? The manor’s messier now. Without someone to do the menial work, it certainly piles up faster.

Prof. Hojo: But I had to dismiss the other staff once the real work began.

Prof. Hojo: You wouldn’t understand what it’s like in academic circles.

Prof. Hojo: You have to protect your work more jealousy than you’d guard your own child.

Prof. Hojo: Heh. I suppose this project is both of those things, isn’t it, Valentine? You wouldn’t have gotten so sentimental if it had been just another Shinra operative or something, I suppose.

Vincent: [corruption on the tape, unintelligible]

Prof. Hojo: [quieter, almost inaudible] Sure. Sure you are.

Prof. Hojo: …I don’t know how you do it.

Prof. Hojo: I know you’ve shot people before, I saw it in your file. I never told you this, but I’m the one who picked you out to guard us. I bet you never knew that, did you.

Prof. Hojo: “Detached and distant temperament. Quiet, doesn’t speak unless spoken to.” That’s what your file said. I wanted someone reliable like that. Someone who would follow orders, stay out of the way.

Prof. Hojo: They also said you were the most competent killer, next to your colleague of course.

Prof. Hojo: Bandits, anti-Shinra types and just ordinary civilians.

Prof. Hojo: I know you’ve killed your fair share of all three.

Prof. Hojo: I was so curious to know what it would be like, meeting a killer.

Prof. Hojo: What shocked me was how mundane you were. How plain. Then I realised that was probably the point. Shinra would love a whole army of people like you. Or at least more Turks that aren’t drunk embarrassments.

[Sound: a minute of silence. Hojo sipping at his tea]

Prof. Hojo: I did wonder about the reading, though. Did you want to pretend you aren’t what you are? Or you wanted to be something ‘better’?

[Sound: another minute of silence]

Prof. Hojo: Frustrated me, to be honest. Hm; how foolish.

Prof. Hojo: In the back of my mind, I think I always wanted to ask you… what’s it like, to take a life? That kind of power - I’ve never really had it.

Prof. Hojo: How would it feel, to just point a pistol and change the world that way? It’s so blunt and crude, but it does get a job done.

Prof. Hojo: You taught me that.

Prof. Hojo: My mind was always my power. My brains, of course, but when Gast came along, I… realised something.

Prof. Hojo: There’s another kind of power. One Shinra respects far more. One that will work to my benefit, and the benefit of my child when he’s born.

Prof. Hojo: He’s going to be incredible, Vincent. He’s going to be everything they ever wanted, and then some. I’ll be on the Board of Shinra for the rest of my life off the back of this success. And you helped secure that. You helped get me the space to work.

Prof. Hojo: Heh. The only praise I may ever give you.

Prof. Hojo: And I doubt you’ll remember it in the morning. Will you?

[Sound: Five minutes of silence. This is not a mistake on the tape]

Prof. Hojo: I wasn’t… interested in hurting you, you know. Until you got in my way.

Prof. Hojo: I’m not actually used to killing just for the sake of it, either. Not like you are.

Prof. Hojo: Those first experiments? I might have panicked a little. How else was I going to fix the damage? I’m no medical doctor.

Prof. Hojo: But you didn’t care. You weren’t grateful at all.

Prof. Hojo: It’s some nerve you’ve got, to act like you’re better than me. More moral than me.

[Sound: Another minute of silence. A sound like Hojo is setting down the mug]

Prof. Hojo: And I think we’re out of time.

Prof. Hojo: The wound’s… not healing like the others have, and I don’t know why.

Prof. Hojo: I could figure it out if I had the time.

Prof. Hojo: But I don’t have time.

Prof. Hojo: She’s going to give birth any day now.

[Sound: Thirty seconds of silence]

Prof. Hojo: She asks… about you. Sometimes.

[Sound: Thirty seconds of silence]

Prof. Hojo: I’m looking into arranging a place for you, in the basement. More of a glorified storage room, in fact.

Prof. Hojo: But it’s quiet. Probably the only place suitable for you now, given your instabilities.

Prof. Hojo: If I had the resources, an induced coma might buy me some time.

Prof. Hojo: A waste of a life becomes a waste of a promising specimen. Hmph! It’s not so surprising, even if it is disappointing for a scientist of my calibre.

Vincent: …what’d you say…?

Prof. Hojo: Hm?

Prof. Hojo: Oh, nothing. I just wanted to let you know we’re… taking a break from the testing today.

Prof. Hojo: You’re welcome.

Vincent: [unintelligible, corrupted]

Prof. Hojo: Say, Valentine. I was thinking…

Prof. Hojo: [unintelligible phrase, believed to be in Wutaian]

[Corruption on the tape]

Prof. Hojo: [Corruption] - I knew - [Corruption]

[The rest of the tape is unrecoverable]

Chapter Text

Barret had been so crashed that the minute Cid presented the ratty old couch in the TV room for him to use he passed out almost on the spot. He woke to a terrible screaming coming through the ceiling. Barret sprang onto his feet, wide awake on reflex from his years being on high alert in Midgar. When he got into the front room Cid had been startled awake, too, his eyes wide and disoriented.

“What’s- what’s happening-?” he asked blearily.

Cait appeared at the top of the stairs. “Help!” he yelled at them. “Vincent’s - Vincent’s-”

Barret raced up the stairs just as the women came to their doors, all of them equally alarmed and confused. Like him, Yuffie looked wide awake already - and likely to attempt to follow him into the guest room.

“Stay put!” Barret called to Yuffie.

“Like hell I am!” She scowled and ignored him as he cracked open the door to find a scene of complete chaos.

Vincent was writhing in the guest bed, the covers tangled around his long legs and his body thrashing as the Doctor desperately tried to hold him down and Red was trying to do the same but having to keep at a distance to avoid the flailing clawed hand.

“Quick!” he called over the din of Vincent making a distressed noise Barret didn’t think the gunslinger capable of, “He’s going to pull his stitches - I can’t - hang on much longer!”

Barret rounded one side of the bed and Cid the other, both sharing only a single glance before moving in without much of a plan. Out of self preservation more than anything else Barret raised his heavy gun arm into the range of Vincent’s clawed hand, then dropped it, effectively pinning his arm and part of his torso to the bed.

Cid meanwhile got the other side, moving the doctor aside to take Vincent’s other shoulder in one hand and grabbing his arm in the other.

Just as Barret had suspected the day before, when it was the two of them instead of the older Dr Cardy Vincent wasn’t that hard to restrain. But it was a phyrric victory at best - Vincent was still tossing his head and crying out in terror, his eyes screwed shut, and being restrained only worsened his distress.

“Hell’s happenin’ to him?” Barret snapped at the doctor.

“I - I think the medication wore off and he - a nightmare -”

Barret swore, reaching down and shaking the skinny shoulder. He knew it was dangerous to be rough, but the sounds Vincent was making were getting under his skin.

“Vincent! Wake up!”

Both men protested and Barret could hear Yuffie yelling at him from beyond the doorway, too - with Shera trying unsuccessfully to calm her down - when Vincent’s eyes suddenly snapped open.

They were empty and unseeing but it was at least progress.

But then Vincent winced, one hand going to his head as a red glow surrounded him.

“Shit,” Barret cried, flinching back.

“Wh-what’s happening?” Doctor Cardy cried, but Tifa had already shoved past the doorway and was trying to pull him out of the room just in case. The old man was being dangerously stubborn as Cid made a desperate attempt to get through to Vincent, planting his feet and refusing to be dragged from the room. “Tell me what’s happening!”

“He can shapeshift,” Barret said sharply, “Turn into something the size of the entire top floor of this house. You don’t wanna be here if that happens.”

“What?” The Doctor planted his feet, refusing to move further. “Will that help? Will it heal him?”

Barret’s mind suddenly flashed back to the plains, Yuffie casually remarking, He’s always tired. Hey, you think doing the monster mash makes it worse?

And before then, in the manor when they’d first met.

Yuffie had pushed her way into the room now too, trying to grab Vincent’s hand, get it away from his head so she could talk to him. Her eyes met Barret’s as Vincent didn’t acknowledge her presence at all, the look on her face reflecting Barret’s thoughts.

If they let Vincent transform, he probably wouldn’t just tear the house apart.

He’d tear himself apart as well.

She grabbed hold of his hand, prising it away from his head.

“Vincent?” she cried. “Vince, can you hear me?”

Vincent didn’t appear to notice her.

But he didn’t throw her off, either.

“You!” Barret snapped, rounding on Cait. The cat flinched, tail drawn in close and ears drooping. “You know any way we can stop this? You saw some of the files, right?”

“Aye, I did, but not - not much-”

The red light grew more intense and Vincent cried out again, this time in obvious agony.

“I’ve got a tranquiliser!” the Doctor cried, trying to shake Tifa off to get to his bag. “You just have to buy me enough time to administer it!”

Vincent convulsed, yelling again. Only this time it sounded like words.

It sounded like ‘please’.

And then it sounded like, ‘stop’.

“Cait!” Barret tried again.

The cat pressed his gloved hands to his head. “Uh, the - they’re probably panicking! The nightmare’s making them think Vincent’s in danger - so if you can -”

“Hold on a second,” Barret said. “You saying that fiend’s got a mind of its own?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yes - on Hojo’s directory he categorises it all under ‘implantation’. It’s the essence of a fiend but it reacts to the host’s emotions… I think.”

His own derisive words came back to him, too. Right. Monsters got feelings.

Barret turned back to Vincent, saying to Yuffie, “Keep holding his hand.”

Then he took Vincent by the shoulders and dragged his painfully skinny frame upright, keeping a firm grip as he said, “All right. I can see you want out.”

Vincent winced then, head bowed and breathing beginning to hyperventilate.

“I’m talking to you, whatever your name is,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and level as there was panicked mess of the Doctor fumbling in his medicine bag behind him. “Creature that lives inside of Vincent.”

Vincent’s eyes were wide and bright. They looked up from under his curtain of hair, focused directly on Barret with an unnatural intensity that made even the AVALANCHE leader want to look away.

But he wouldn’t look away.

He squeezed Vincent’s shoulders, keeping his voice steady even as a red, wispy mako trail emitted from his body and the ex-Turk’s breathing stayed shallow.

“Whatever it was, it was a nightmare,” he said, holding that too-bright gaze. “It’s not real.”

“Vincent is safe with us, so you can stay benched,” he continued.

Vincent blinked. Up until then Barret hadn’t realised he hadn’t been.

“He’s safe. You’re safe. You don’t need to change. Everythin’s fine.”

Another blink. Something shifted and Vincent’s expression went from bordering on beastly to… human. A whole cocktail of fear and relief and exhaustion, all on that previously forever cold canvas.

Barret gazed back steadily, suddenly seeing him for the first time.

He hadn’t been wrong that Vincent was kind of like Cloud.

It was just that the damage done by Shinra was much, much older so the cold that had frozen over it was much, much deeper.

Vincent’s breathing slowed. He shut his eyes and the red glow gradually faded.

Then his head fell forwards, landing hard against Barret’s shoulder.

“Um,” he said, taken aback. “Ow.”

Vincent didn’t move, didn’t respond - just rested heavily against Barret’s shoulder, suddenly no longer fighting, limbs loose and limp. Barret reached out to shake him again when Cid tapped his shoulder, gesturing to the needle the doctor had managed to sneak into Vincent’s arm.

“Oh,” Barret said.

“Help me prop him up,” the Doctor said, easing the needle out and setting it to one side.

Together Cid and Barret eased Vincent against the headboard, managing to catch his head before it dropped back and hit the wall.

Vincent stared passively at the gathering, the pain and panic replaced with a faraway detachment.

“Vince, lad, you all right?” Cait asked. Vincent looked down at him, blinking slowly without appearing to comprehend the question. His long hair had fallen back away from his face, the usual unnatural fire in his odd eye now dimmed and dull.

His eyes were the only place Barret could believe he really was much older than he looked. Even with all his injuries to take into account, there was a weariness there that felt out of place for someone who looked like he should be younger than Barret himself.

The doctor sighed a tired sigh as he set his equipment back in his bag, discarding the used needle. “I’d like to check his stitches haven’t come undone and do a general check up, if everyone could excuse us? Maybe once you’ve all had breakfast you could bring the leftovers from that stew yesterday; it’s important he eats something before we hit the danger zone.”

No kidding. Barret had become uncomfortably aware when he helped move him that Vincent was dangerously skinny; without the shroud of his cloak to hide behind it was painfully obvious on a single touch how his ribs and spine were far more prominent through the pajamas than they ought to be.

“Sure,” Barret said, meeting Vincent’s eyes and finding the gunman’s sharp focus was completely missing. “But, uh, do you think that’s gonna work right now?”

“I think it’s necessary. So if you could all just vacate the room for a moment…?”

The others turned to go but Yuffie lingered behind. Barret turned to reassure her that everything was in hand, but she abruptly stepped up to Vincent’s bedside - then leant down and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

The group froze, unsure how Vincent - usually so reserved - would react. But they needn’t have worried - with the tranquiliser it took him a long moment before he even appeared to understand what was happening.

And then he simply raised his non-clawed hand to rest on her back, a slow confusion dawning on his face as she squeezed him tight.

“Don’t do that again,” she said, her words partially muffled against his hair.

Yuffie drew back just as suddenly and marched out of the room, leaving Vincent mussed up and sitting staring confusedly after her.

Then a small sound, one Barret realised he hadn’t heard in weeks.

Tifa let out a tiny chuckle before trying to stifle her laughter behind her hand. Vincent’s eyes turned her direction, his confusion only growing.

And that just made her laugh harder, despite everything.

Cid startled to chuckle next and then it was too late - the whole room had gotten a fit of the giggles, with the exception of a bewildered Vincent looking slowly around and the doctor, who had a slight smile but was trying to usher everyone out of the room so he could attend to his patient.

Once everyone had gotten themselves together again enough they complied, Barret hanging back at the rear of the group.

His throat had turned tight, vision blurring a little. Tifa looked back at him to say something, her smile turning to concern.

Barret pulled out his sunglasses, slipping them on and waving away her concern.

It was just the dust in Cid’s house bothering his eyes.

Cait stuck with the Doctor like before while Red came down for breakfast with the rest of them. Shera automatically took the lead in making breakfast for the group without anyone having said a word, so Barret and Tifa silently agreed to step up to help her.

Once again Barret was unsure the arrangement Cid and Shera had, but it definitely struck him as odd that she was acting like a traditional Nibelheim housewife for someone who hadn’t even been home or mentioned her once in the weeks they’d known Cid.

But he kept that thought to himself for now. He was much more interested in figuring out how Shera had obviously clocked they were AVALANCHE and what experiences she’d had working for Shinra.

It was difficult, though. As they prepared breakfast for everyone else and worked together to stop Yuffie sabotaging it by trying to “help” them, Barret found Shera to be even more quiet and withdrawn than the day before.

He didn’t know how to find the words to tell her that they’d leave if she didn’t want them here. This was her house too; it was only fair.

But with Vincent not fit to travel and Barret having the sneaking suspicion Cid would override any conciliatory gestures, he found himself mirroring her - just being as polite and unobtrusive as possible.

Lucky he had Tifa with him, who had brightened up after her fit of the giggles and like usual was doing a much better job of putting Shera immediately at ease. Lucky too that Shera actually seemed a little pleased to have company, even if they were such a strange group.

With the three of them conspiring to prevent Yuffie finding out about the old box of chocolate chips and dumping the whole thing in their pancake mix, Barret felt a strange sense of normalcy. More than he had in weeks, maybe even months.

On some level he knew it was a false one - the truth was his life hadn’t been normal in a long time. It had been a slow trickle at first - Cloud’s arrival and the two biggest missions they’d ever attempted to destroy the reactors were certainly tense enough, but ever since they’d found out the plate was falling it had been more or less nonstop since then.

Vincent wasn’t the only one in dire need of rest. They all were.

Everything had just been so do or die lately that he didn’t notice it until they stopped.

Barret glanced at Tifa, catching her eye and smiling reassuringly. Though she smiled back, he could see in her eyes that she was doing what she always did at a time like this - worry.

They’d take a brief pit stop to get Vincent out of critical condition, then it was right back to looking for Cloud. It was probably too much to hope for another miracle, but he’d do it anyway. For both their sakes.

But he hoped the enforced rest stop would do the whole group some good mentally, too. It said something for how crazy things had been lately that their first plan to find Cloud was ‘chase after the massive WEAPON’ and no one had blinked an eye at it.

With those thoughts in mind, Barret went a little overboard and between the three of them they soon made a pile of pancakes that would probably feed all of AVALANCHE HQ.

They served up for the people seated at the table first, Barret offering his chair to Shera before pulling one of Cid’s storage crates over to sit on.

Cid noticed the exchange, pausing a little mid bite. But he said nothing, resuming eating quickly after.

“…He sleep all right til then, Red?” Cid asked around a mouthful of pancakes.

Red looked up from his plate of food on the floor. “Yeah. Once we got him warm again he was out like a light the whole night. The nightmare came on so suddenly, I wasn’t expecting it at all…”

Yuffie petted his fur reassuringly and for once Red gave in and allowed it. Barret suspected it was as much for her benefit as it was for his.

“S’not your fault, Red. You were tired, too.”

They were quiet as they continued eating.

Barret swallowed a mouthful. “Say, Shera. Didn’t get a chance to ask you yesterday, but - you seemed like you’d heard of the other staffer the doctor mentioned? The female one?”

She paused mid-sip, glancing around the table. “Kinda. Thing is, there isn’t that many of us, you know? She was the generation before mine but I certainly heard of her.”

“Cause of… whatever work they were doing?” Barret asked hesitantly. He felt bad about having this conversation without Vincent here, but it was hard to keep his mind from turning when they had all this downtime on their hands.

But she shook her head immediately. “No. It’s cause she was - was kinda a cautionary tale. We heard it get passed around Shinra a lot.”

She had the same look on her face that the Doctor did - an unwillingness to talk, probably reflective of years spent knowing it was best not to.

But Cid apparently had no such qualms. “The Missing Three, right? I heard bout that too.”

The group looked at him, waiting for him to go on but Cid just shrugged and finished cleaning his plate. “I never bothered with company politics much. If it wasn’t about the skies, it didn’t interest me.”

“But you did, Shera?” Tifa pressed.

“Well, I know she was definitely one of them,” she said. “A biochemist prodigy called Lucrecia Crescent. She and two other people all went missing within months, I think, of each other.”

“You didn’t hear what it was they were working on?”

Shera shook her head again. “All top secret. But there was no hiding the one factor all the missing people had in common: Professor Hojo.”

“So everyone knows to stay out of his way if they don’t wanna meet the same end,” Barret surmised. It impressed him how he could keep finding new things to hate about the man even after his death.

“Well, yes, but… the management actually liked people to know about the story, even if they spread it through the whisper network rather than board meeting presentations.”

“Huh?” Yuffie said, mouth full. “Why?”

Shera smiled sadly. “Think about it. A lead scientist who used to be their golden goose, a promising female biochemist and a terrifying Turk,” she ticked them off on her fingers as she talked, “who all go missing because they let the company down in some way, or asked the wrong questions. Even if Hojo’s the common factor here, the company rewarded him. That man was on the board til you came along and - well.” She suddenly noticed her voice rising, taking a deep sip of tea. “Point is, if all three of them can go missing it’s a pretty clear message that no one can escape Shinra if they do the wrong thing. You can be smart, you can give everything, you can be part of their godforsaken black ops unit - none of it matters, soon as they want you gone.“

Cid paused mid bite, his fork hovering in the air. “Yeah, but… it’s not like that affected us all that much over in the space department. Right?”

Shera looked down, picking up her mug without answering.

“Shera,” Cid said, turning fully to face her with a tone in his voice Barret had never heard before. “Did someone threaten you?”

“Cid,” she said mildly, not looking up from her mug. “We have guests.”

She stood from the table, ignoring that Cid’s eyes were still on her. The Captain swallowed hard, expression charged as Shera fetched the soup container from the fridge.

“They’ll probably be getting done soon,” she said. “Ought to heat this up.”

“D’you guys think Vince is gonna be able to manage anything?” Yuffie asked. “He seemed a touch, um, loopy.”

“He’ll have to,” Cait said, suddenly appearing at the top of the stairs with a grim air. “He’s not eaten in three days and Hojo’s put ‘im through Hell.”

“Cait! How’s-”

“All good,” he said, smiling wanly. “Quick thinking meant he didnae rip any of the stitches.”

“You could look happier about it, y’know,” Yuffie observed.

“No, no, of course it’s good news!” Cait swallowed. “It’s just - the wounds are already starting to heal.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “Rate they’re going, with some good food and rest he might be in shape enough to be up and about by tomorrow.”

“Holy shit,” muttered Yuffie.

For once, no one pulled her up for swearing.

With a tray of yesterday’s soup, orange juice and bread the group followed Shera to the guest room, with Tifa and Cait agreeing to hang back to avoid crowding the little room.

Vincent was still leaning back against the headboard, knees slightly pulled up under the covers and staring off into the distance. He didn’t respond at all until Yuffie ducked deliberately into his line of view with a wave.

“Hiya, Vince,” she said. “How are you doing?”

He regarded her for a long moment. “…Good,” he said at length, watching without reaction as Shera set the tray down before him.

“Here,” she said. “Do you think you can manage something?”

He stared placidly at it, not responding until Yuffie nudged the spoon towards his hand. Then he blinked suddenly, looking from the bowl to Shera with a silent question in his eyes.

She nodded encouragingly.

Vincent picked up the spoon, but instead of turning to the soup he looked around the rest of the room suddenly, eyes wandering languidly from person to person.

A look of discomfort abruptly came over him and his clawed hand rose up to his neck, yanking at the pajama collar to pull it closer around his skin.

Barret thought it was just some nervous, drugged tick until he caught sight of the sign of scars that were now ill-hidden by the shirt’s much lower collar.

He remembered back to their times on the road, the few instances they’d gotten to be staying in an inn instead of roughing it. How Aerith often made a point of being the last to use the bathroom and turn in for the night.

How he hadn’t thought anything of it until one day she’d been wringing out her red jacket and the unexpected sight of scars had met his eyes.

“Pretty gnarly, huh?” she’d said, with that flippant ‘it doesn’t bother me tone’ he’d increasingly noticed her using over their travels. “They’re… from my time in the lab. My mom had it a lot worse than me.”

He didn’t remember what he’d said in return; probably something about killing Hojo again. He found himself missing Aerith for only the 500th time since they’d lost her. On top of everything else she was missing, she’d deserved her pound of flesh from Hojo just as much as the others had.

“Vincent?” Yuffie asked when he continued to tug at his collar and shirt. “You gotta eat.”

“Hang on,” Cid said, approaching the bed, “I got this.”

He undid the white scarf he was always wearing and pried Vincent’s hand away from his neck, sliding the fabric around it and looping it in a loose knot. “There. Better?”

“Here,” Shera said, having produced an old, oversized dressing gown from somewhere. “How about this too?”

Once they’d helped Vincent into that he looked slightly more like his usual overdressed self, even if it was odd being able to see all of his face at once. Vincent started to relax, too - his shoulders stopped rising up to his ears and he looked dazedly around at them all.

“Thanks…” he mumbled in his deep voice.

“Food, Mr Valentine,” the Doctor said sternly. “Eat something, then we can take another dose of medicine.”

Vincent looked down at the soup, blinking again like he’d just remembered it was there.

Whether Vincent really processed what anyone was saying Barret wasn’t sure, but he picked up the spoon once it was nudged his direction a second time. His pace was languid, but he didn’t show any signs of not being able to manage it. Once he got the first dose of soup he seemed to remember how little he’d eaten and set to it while the others conversed around him - or rather, while Yuffie filled him in on their daring journey across Midgar.

“And I totally led the way,” she was saying when he’d turned from the food to the orange juice. “You’d have been really impressed by how well I kept it together.”

“You really did,” Barret said, surprising her. “I might’ve balked at being back in the Shinra building without you.”

Vincent had finished the orange juice in what looked like a single gulp. He set the glass down and looked between them, slightly more clarity creeping into his eyes.

He tried to talk, coughed. Then he cleared his throat and tried again.

“…Did you find… a lead…?” he asked, voice raspy and even more gravelly than usual.

The group exchanged looks. “A- a lead, Vincent?” Cait asked. “A lead on what?”

“Cloud,” he said simply.

The others exchanged even more alarmed looks. “You found something on Cloud while you were there?” Barret exclaimed, thinking this was just too good to be true.

But Vincent only frowned, confused. “No,” he said, “I thought you had.”

“Found Cloud? …Why would you think that?”

Vincent was only looking more and more confused. “You - didn’t you-” He was almost stammering, which was another rarity for him. He seemed to shrink back, still struggling to get words out until he finally settled on, “Wasn’t that why you… were there?”

Yuffie’s face crumpled. Cid let out a disbelieving laugh. Everyone else was silent.

Vincent looked around the room, his reactions still slowed with the drugs but clearly coherent enough to notice the downturned mood.

Cait’s ears drooped. “Vincent, lad, did you hit your head-”

“Are you being serious right now?” Yuffie exclaimed. “We were there for you!“

Vincent only drew into himself more. He looked around the room once more, finally lingering on Barret, Cid and Yuffie, and asked in a barely audible voice, “…Why?”

Now it was Yuffie’s turn to stammer, but she gave up far quicker - and stood and retreated from the room, Shera following her with a soft call of, “Yuffie?”

Vincent watched her go, starting to say something and then stopping. He unconsciously cradled his gauntlet in the other hand, rubbing at the metal with his thumb.

“Vince,” Cid said, obvious hurt in his voice. “Did you really think-”

“Hey,” Barret said, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Another round of medicine’s in order. Right, Doc?”

“That - that’d be wise,” Doctor Cardy said. He moved his bag to rest on the bed in front of Vincent. “Just something mild this time; we don’t want to mix medications. It will ease the pain enough for you to rest - uneventfully, this time.”

Vincent was looking like he was starting to drift off again anyway, but he tried to shake his head anyway. “You don’t need to go to… all this trouble. I’m not…”

Cait hopped up next to the medical bag and sat down. “I’ll stay with him this time, Red. You can take a break! You’re not still cold, right, Vince?”

But Vincent didn’t respond. The doctor had gotten the medicine into his arm already and he was already dozing off, his head starting to droop forwards like he was going to keel over any second.

Cid was the first to react, taking his scarf back and getting Vincent to lie down.

Barret was certain he heard Vincent mumble a soft, “Sorry,” before he was out like a light again.

The room fell silent again, Cait climbing up the bed and pulling up the covers for him.

Without a word, the rest of them headed downstairs.

Yuffie had apparently gone to blow off steam marching up and down in the yard, muttering to herself about how could he be so cold and isn’t he grateful at all. Barret decided to give her some space - for one thing, he didn’t know exactly what he should say to her. That was up to Vincent, once he came down off the drugs and got his head back on straight.

She wasn’t the only one who had needed some air - Cid and Shera had had some sort of heated conversation out of earshot of everyone else, after which Cid went to have a smoke and Shera carried on with housework as though nothing had happened.

The doctor needed some decent rest, too, so he decided to head home until they needed him again.

“You really think he’s going to be recovered so fast?” he couldn’t resist asking him at the door.

“I do. The rate he’s already healing, considering he’s been injured and Cait told me he’d been fighting nonstop, awake for three days and not eaten for as long… it’s not…” He sighed, struggling to find the word. “It’s not something an average person can do. I haven’t even seen this among the few SOLDIERs I’ve seen.”

“Huh.”

Doctor Cardy laid a gentle hand on his arm, just above the place where flesh disappeared into weapon. “If any of you need any further help, just call. The Captain knows where to find me.”

Barret nodded, shutting the door behind him. He turned to find the group looking deflated at the table - even Red and Tifa. Doubtless Yuffie had ranted straight to the two of them as soon as they got downstairs.

He ran a hand over his hair, drawing in a deep breath. Time for a pep talk. “Listen-”

“So how’s that work?” Cid said grumpily. “He can heal damage but turned up looking a mess when the Turks got him out of HQ?”

Everyone was silent again. Then Tifa looked up and said pensively, “He hadn’t slept.”

“Huh?”

“Not sleeping does damage. And it does it quick,” she said soberly, her tone leaving Barret wondering if she’d had more than a few sleepless nights herself when she’d been struggling with debt back when she’d first landed in Midgar. “If he had a healing factor, it must have been working overtime just dealing with that. There’s probably a limit to it.”

“Did he… know that?” Yuffie chimed in. “Hojo, I mean. Did he purpose build those tests knowing that’s how Vincent’s… ‘powers’ work?”

“I think,” Red said, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth, “He just wanted to torture him.”

Vincent’s sleep was a strange one where he kept falling in and out of consciousness. Each time he fell asleep, he’d find himself thinking he was back in his home

in his coffin

in his old quarters in Shinra Manor

then he’d wake to find he was still in this strange unfamiliar bed with its plain pattern and a scent in the air he was unused to – like detergent mixed with home cooked food. All things from the civilian world he’d long since left behind

then he’d drift off again, the whole cycle starting over.

The presence was still there in the back of his mind, just… watchful for now. Yet he felt no ill will coming from it.

Were you actually implemented by Lucrecia, he tried to ask. He didn’t know if it worked, if it could hear the mess of thoughts he couldn’t seem to pull himself out of.

Images of the others flashed inexplicably through his mind.

The disappointment on Yuffie’s face, the hurt. The confusion.

Why? They were better people than him, they had to know that…

they wouldn’t survive this war if they kept wasting their time on people who weren’t worth saving.

How could they have given up all that time to find Cloud on rescuing him?

He was in the room again, a guest room in Cid’s house.

He didn’t realise he’d been mumbling to himself in his sleep until he felt Cait patting his shoulder, asking if he was all right.

“M’sorry,” Vincent muttered, “M’sorry…”

“You can just say thanks, lad,” Cait said. “It’s nae trouble.”

“...’s all my fault…” He wasn’t even sure what he was referring to anymore. Nothing. Everything. “’s all my fault…”

Cait shushed him, saying nothing.

Vincent drifted off again.

“Dr Crescent,” Vincent said, steeling himself to deliver the speech he’d been working on in his mind all morning. It wasn’t long but he hoped it would do the trick. “I’m sorry about-”

“You always apologize,” she said, sounding oddly put out. She looked over, noticing how taken aback he was, and scoffed. “It would just be nice to hear ‘thank you’ for once instead.”

Vincent tried to make his mouth say the words, but the tide of the medication was rising again. This time when he fell asleep, he didn’t rouse again.

The group passed the day as productively as possible, which was mostly brainstorming to come up with ways they were going to track down Cloud. It had been so long now since stopping to bust Vincent out that they were all unsure if just tracking down WEAPONs would lead them to Cloud anymore.

No one wanted to say it, but the possibility that Cloud was dead loomed over the entire conversation. Tifa in particular was subdued, her good mood evaporated now that Vincent’s loopy medicated behaviour wasn’t available to distract her and Yuffie wasn’t keeping everyone’s spirits up like she normally would be.

It was getting on for dinner and it was starting to feel like they had no plan at all other than just look everywhere with exposed reactors that a WEAPON might pop back up when there was a sudden creak on the stairs.

“Careful,” Cait said softly. “It willnae do any good if you go tripping down the stairs.”

The little robot appeared at the bottom of the stairs with Vincent in tow, the gunslinger still wrapped up in the oversized dressing gown with his hair slightly messier than it was normally.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking awkwardly over at the rest of the group.

“Meds worn off?” Cid asked.

Vincent nodded.

Tifa moved to give up her seat at the table for him, but Vincent raised a hand. “Please. I’d - I’d rather stand.”

She froze, sinking slowly back down into her seat.

“I imagine you must have questions. Especially since the extent of my – differences goes farther than you must have expected.”

The gathering was silent, the others looking amongst themselves.

Vincent looked down. “Even with that, I owe you my life. I… wouldn’t have been able to get away from Shinra on my own.”

The table was still silent. Yuffie sat back in her seat, folding her arms.

Vincent looked over at them, squaring his shoulders. “And… I thank you for that. I still don’t know what possessed you to do that, but even if it’s just for sentiment’s sake… thank you.”

There was a longer silence, no one sure if they should speak first. Finally Yuffie sat forwards in her seat.

“Well,” she said, “That’s a start. Next time don’t act so surprised.”

He nodded, though the uncertainty was clear in his downcast eyes.

This time Barret rose from the table. “Here, take mine - you look like a spare part. I’m gonna help Shera see about some dinner, then we can hear whatever else you’re willing to tell us.”

Vincent looked up, surprise in his sunken eyes. “Whatever I’m ‘willing’?”

“Yeah.” Barret shrugged. “I wanna know as much as anyone else, but I - I’d put good money that Shinra took a lot from you already. You wanna keep some things to yourself, I can understand that.” He glanced around the table, checking everyone else was on the same page as him. “But we would like to know about anything that could put the group at risk. Deal?”

Vincent nodded. He traded places with Barret at the table, a little unsteady.

For a moment everyone was silent again, really processing for the first time that this time they’d done it. They’d managed to keep one of their group alive.

And then Yuffie reached into her back pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “So, Vince. Cloud told me you were a decent QB player. Care to try your luck?”

Vincent chuckled, then his slight smile faded. “Oh - I think my cards were with my clothes…”

“Ah, right, I knew there was something I’d been forgetting!” Shera said, appearing suddenly by the table. She reached into her own pocket and set a deck down in front of him. “I meant to return this to you.” She turned to her other pocket and pulled out what looked like an old fashioned photo locket, though the chain was missing. “This, too. I - I took your clothes to give them a wash. I hope that’s all right.”

Vincent gently cradled the locket, hiding it in his clawed gauntlet. He looked up at Shera and she nervously ran a hand through her hair.

“The, uh, the cloak needed fixing by hand though, so I’m working on that now. It should be good for tomorrow.”

Vincent’s expression softened. He smiled at her - a gentler smile than Barret had seen him give almost anyone. “Thank you,” he said. “Really. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just wanted to be useful while the doctor was handling everything else,” she said, smiling back. “Your cloak is really something, by the way! The material is so heavy and sturdy, and the colour is coming up something great now I’ve gotten some of the dust and blood out.”

Vincent smiled gently up at her and Shera only brightened further.

“Once you’re all done catching up,” she said, “I’d love to hear about what you’ve all been up to on the road. Rocket Town’s so quiet, nothing exciting ever happens here.”

“Depends,” Cid said, drawing out a cigarette and putting it between his teeth. “If we have time or not.”

“Oh,” Shera said, deflating. “Right, of course. Pardon me.”

She started to turn to go but Vincent caught her arm. “I’d happily tell you anything you want to know,” he told her. “Though you should probably include Tifa and the others. I stayed with the Bronco for some of it.”

Shera smiled again, but it no longer reached her eyes. “I’m glad the Captain had some company, in that case.”

Cid snorted. “Some company. Getting Vince to talk is like pulling teeth.”

Vincent dropped his hand as the others turned to look at Cid. It took him a moment before he noticed Tifa was giving him a hard look. “What?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to speak and Barret could tell she was about to deliver it when Yuffie cut in first.

“OK, enough chatter!” she said. “You and me, Vince! Winner stays on in the QB tournament to shake the heavens!”

With his tiredness and wounds still lingering, Vincent was less of a challenger than Cloud had implied, but he had a certainty in his play that told Barret he was a practised hand at the game.

The group played a simple rotation of winner stays on around preparing dinner, Shera and Barret trading in and out of the game once everything was in hand. Once they had their fill of that, Yuffie insisted they play Fort Condor next, which she claimed to be superior at - and then complained some more once it turned out Cid only had a dusty old set without the latest pieces.

She did do better at that game, to her credit, though Barret suspected the rest of the group were either getting tired or letting her win.

Finally it was time to eat so the group helped clear off the table and find enough seats, eventually just giving up and carrying the couch from the TV room into the front room to make enough spots.

Faced with a full meal, Vincent’s appetite slowed somewhat. Shera noticed, passing him the water with a gentle, “It’s all right if you can’t manage all of it. I won’t be offended.”

He smiled faintly at her.

Cid glared.

Barret cleared his throat, bumping Vincent’s arm with his elbow. “Never took you for a card shark.”

Vincent shrugged. “It was a good way of making money, back when it first got popular.”

His fork froze in the air and he glanced around, Barret seeing so clearly in his eyes that he wondered if anyone had caught the slip.

The entire table had.

Vincent leant back in his chair, suddenly unsure.

“Vincent,” Tifa said. “When we were, um, trying to find you… Cait helped us listen in to a boardroom meeting of the Shinra brass.”

Vincent paled.

“Heidegger and Hojo were saying - they said - they said that you don’t age. That you haven’t aged in… decades.”

Vincent opened his mouth, closed it again.

“I-” he said. “That’s-”

“Vincent,” Barret said, tone leaving no room for escape, “Just how long were you in that basement?”

Vincent tensed, his head hung low before red eyes looked out from under a veil of black hair just the slightest bit and he near whispered, “About thirty.”

“Thirty years?”

Vincent ducked his head again and didn’t answer, which Barret took as a yes.

“Whatever it was Hojo and the other scientist were working on, you just didn’t leave the manor after that?”

“You know what I am, what I can do.” Vincent didn’t look up as he spoke. “There is no better place for me than the manor basement.”

That was insanity as far as Barret was concerned, but he could tell already there would be no persuading Vincent of that. So instead he asked. “All right, whatever. So after the first experiments, you didn’t know about the WEAPON?”

Vincent squeezed his hands together, looked up. “You don’t have to believe me; I wouldn’t in your position. But it’s the truth. I didn’t know about - that part.”

“Hojo was acting like he didn’t know either,” Red mused.

Vincent’s face twisted.

“You think he’s lying?”

“He…” Vincent frowned. “I think he… was telling the truth.”

“What? But if he’s the one who - experimented on you-” Vincent said nothing, which Barret took as another silent confirmation. “Then how’s-”

“The ‘other scientist’,” Vincent said softly. “Hojo said she did it.”

“Oh,” Barret said. “The doctor told us she was his wife, so that makes sense, right?”

But Vincent only retreated further into himself, posture closing up and his expression getting colder and colder. “I suppose so.”

“Hojo tried to kill you both, didn’t he. For interfering with the project.”

There was a pause, long enough Barret thought he wouldn’t answer.

“He tried to kill me,” Vincent said at length, “Because the project made her sick and I - I demanded that he help her. Far too late, but he shut me up anyway.” Vincent shook his head. “If I had just acted sooner…”

But he seemed to remember himself then, shaking his head and looking away.

Barret thought back to the frosty reaction Vincent had had when he implied the other scientist - Lucrecia - was as bad as Hojo. How she too had gone missing. Much like Vincent himself, maybe she’d had as many terrible things done to her as she’d done to others.

He couldn’t exactly imagine a marriage to Hojo ending any other way.

Barret looked over Vincent. At his defeated, slumped posture. The pain that was so much more apparent now he didn’t have that high cloak hiding half his face. He didn’t imagine they’d ever get the details out of him without pressing it much harder, but it didn’t really matter to him any more.

Vincent cared about something, someone, once. Enough to end up forfeiting his life and humanity for them.

Whatever Vincent was or wasn’t, whatever he’d done or hadn’t, whatever he’d suffered or not. Part of him was still human, had been human before he’d been subjected to whatever Hojo had done. Discounting any life wasn’t the AVALANCHE way; it was Shinra’s poison. Maybe it even existed with the Republic and that was how Shinra had gotten a foot in the door.

Whenever any life was deemed disposable for the sake of progress, Shinra and all who supported them were inevitable.

“Anyway. I apologise for all the trouble. All the time you’ve…” Vincent sighed. “If you need to get back on the road tonight, you should. Now that we’re parting ways-”

“You’re not coming with us?” Yuffie exclaimed.

Vincent blinked, looking around the rest of the table. “You - you’ve seen the WEAPON. The real risks of bringing me along. If we’re both pursuing Sephiroth we’ll inevitably run into each other, but I’ll stay out of your way when that-”

“Vincent,” Barret cut in. “You’re one of us now. You actually wanna go, go. But none of us have a problem with you tagging along.” He turned to the others. “Right?”

The others chimed in their agreement and Vincent looked around, confused and bewildered. He leant back in his seat, absently flexing his gold gauntlet.

“This kind of sentimentality will get you killed…” he mused. But there was a wry smile on his face.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Tifa told him, “But we want to set out tomorrow.”

He looked up, red eyes regaining some of their old focus. “You have a plan?”

“Not yet. We figure we’re just going to have to do on the ground work to find Cloud.”

Vincent was thoughtful. “I can help with that; recon used to be one of my talents. And… if I can get a handle on this new form, I may be able to sense when other WEAPONs are near.”

“See?” Barret clapped him on the back. “You’re invaluable already.”

Vincent still looked uncertain, but he didn’t protest further. Barret suspected it was all small steps with him – yet another thing that reminded him of Cloud – so he didn’t push it.

“Here’s the plan then, team!” Yuffie announced, standing up. “Now we’ve all eaten and eaten good, we clean up and get a good night’s rest! We get the house in ship shape for Shera here then we’re back on the road to find Cloud! And old man Vince here can nap in the plane as much as he wants. Sound good?”

Vincent sighed but said nothing, probably already realising nonstop jokes about his age were inevitable now the cat was out of the bag.

The group took their time tidying up for the night, everyone still a bit tired from the nonstop chaos of the past few days. Vincent alternated between helping and being told to sit down and stay out of everyone else’s way, until finally the group concocted a plan to have him help Red clean and groom his fur.

This involved sitting in one place and methodically picking dirt and debris out of his fur, then combing and cleaning it, so it kept Vincent off his feet and focused on something relatively simple and repetitive.

Barret couldn’t help but notice he seemed to really take to the task, even outside his tiredness. The AVALANCHE leader would find something that granular and repetitive tedious, but Vincent had a careful, meditative air that worked for it, even if he was slowed down by how cautious he was being about his clawed hand.

It relaxed Red, too. By the end of it he was practically purring, his head laid in Vincent’s lap as the ex-Turk stroked through his fur.

Once the rest of the group were working out the logistics of who got to use the bathroom first, Barret plopped down next to Vincent on the couch.

The gunslinger looked his direction but said nothing; the tiredness was creeping back into his eyes.

“Hell of a couple of days, huh?” he said. Vincent nodded.

They sat in silence for a long few minutes, but Barret caught Vincent kept glancing at him like he wanted to say something – or he expected Barret to.

“All right?” he asked.

Vincent considered the question. Barret could see what Cid meant about Vincent just feeling older than his age; Yuffie rarely stopped to think before talking. Vincent however was content to sit with something for awhile. He rarely seemed to say anything without weighing it up extensively first.

Then again, Barret knew plenty of people his parent’s age whose mouths got ahead of their brains. Most likely this sense he was always watching everything he said was just a Vincent thing.

When he spoke, his voice was raspy. “Yuffie…” He stopped, swallowed. “Yuffie was annoyed.”

“She won’t admit it if you ask, but she was real worried about you.”

Vincent fell silent again, processing this. “I thought you’d want to deck me,” he said levelly. “Now you know.”

Barret resisted the urge to point out there was still a lot they didn’t know about Vincent, but he held his tongue. “You already told us you bodyguarded him. And you didn’t ask for what Hojo and - well, you know. You didn’t ask for what they did to you.”

“But I was there,” Vincent said, his tone emphatic like Barret just wasn’t getting it. “I didn’t stop Shinra getting more power when I had the chance.”

“You mean the WEAPON?”

There was an indignant cry from up above; Yuffie complaining about all the hot water being used up. Vincent glanced at the stairs, waiting to see if anyone was coming before he shook his head.

“No.” He carded his fingers through Red’s fur, the purring starting up before he settled down again. Vincent looked down. “Sephiroth.”

Barret raised an eyebrow. This was a conversation Cloud should definitely have been here for, but he remembered Vincent alluding to this before: that he’d had the chance to stop him and didn’t take it.

But if he was talking about thirty years ago, Sephiroth must’ve have been a child. An infant, maybe.

“How… would you have stopped them?”

“I told you I wasn’t made privy to the details of their research. And that’s the truth. But I did know they were giving her injections - JENOVA cells.”

‘Her’ could only be the other scientist, Lucrecia, the one Vincent was so strangely protective of.

Barret was starting to feel the picture form in his head, but he felt helpless against the urge to speak the terrible truth into the open. “You could have talked her out of it,” he said slowly. “But what’s that got to do with Sephiroth?”

Vincent looked over at him, the wretched look in his eye confirming Barret’s worst fears. “Lucrecia Crescent was Sephiroth’s mother,” he said hopelessly. “And Hojo was his father.”

Barret’s throat went dry. Having two scientists for parents, one missing, the other Hojo - he could almost pity Sephiroth.

At the very least it was suddenly no surprise why he’d turned out the way he had.

“But - but everything Cloud told us once, that he found his mother JENOVA in the reactor in Nibelheim…”

“JENOVA is the third part,” Vincent said grimly. “The dominant part. Carrying him made Lucrecia sick, and it eventually…” He shut his eyes, fingers tightening in Red’s fur. When he opened them again he didn’t look at Barret. He just stared.

“I couldn’t stop her. I couldn’t save her. The damage that did to her, to the world… that’s a sin that should never be forgiven.”

Barret shifted his weight – and Vincent flinched like he really thought he was going to strike him.

But the AVALANCHE leader didn’t. “If you’re telling me your biggest screw up is letting down someone you cared about, you and me ain’t that different.”

Vincent looked over at him as Barret pointedly lifted his gun arm into his lap. “You weren’t around for it, but we took a not too fun trip through my hometown. Place is a wreck because I talked them into replacing our coal with a reactor.”

But Vincent looked unmoved. He stared Barret right in the eye as he said, “I did recon at Corel once, years before they built a reactor there.”

Barret raised an eyebrow.

“I did recon at a lot of places to see if they could be talked into building reactors. After they got the first one in at Nibelheim, the plan was always to expand to as many places as possible.” The intensity of his red eyes bored into Barret’s, watching his reactions very closely. “I’m the one who assessed whether or not Corel could be bought off. Who could be bribed. Who might need to be taken care of.”

His tone was cold and flat – a little bit too pointedly so.

The two of them stared at one another.

Then Barret leant back against the couch, letting his head fall against the cushions.

Vincent frowned.

“You really want me to hit you, huh.” He rubbed his eyes as Vincent’s frown only grew. “Man. Some group of misfits Cloud’s assembled here.”

He looked Vincent’s way without turning his head, prodding him in the shoulder. “You want to make up for the mess you caused? Then do it the same way as everyone else. Live out here and find the answer.”

Vincent studied him a second longer, then shut his eyes and sighed.

He leant his back against the couch alongside Barret, hand resuming idly petting Red.

Barret thought he might just doze off again, but after a long moment he opened his eyes, looking over. The mismatched eye looked brighter than it had when they’d found him on the roof of Shinra HQ, more its usual colour.

Chaos’ colour, maybe. An incredible thing, not a frightening one.

“Fine,” Vincent said. “I’ll play it your way, for now. I certainly owe you help to locate Cloud.”

Barret wrinkled his nose. He was too tired to keep reminding Vincent he didn’t have to think of everything in terms of debt all of the time.

Instead he just sat, happy to take a moment of companionable silence. If anyone had asked him a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought it possible.

A couple of minutes later, Yuffie and Tifa appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed down and drying their hair with towels.

“Hey,” Yuffie said. “Cid’s taking a turn and then it’s all-”

She stopped, blinked.

Barret looked over at Vincent. And this time, he had dozed off.

“More meds?” Tifa whispered. Barret shook his head. “…Huh.”

Yuffie pulled her phone out of her shorts pocket, snapped a picture.

“Yuffie!” Tifa scolded.

“What? I’m not gonna use it for blackmail, I swear!” she whispered back indignantly. When Barret and Tifa gave her a look, she pressed the phone to her body. “If he takes off, I just want proof so I can say I knew him back when.”

Tifa chuckled wryly, combing out her hair with her fingers. “You think he’s gonna be famous someday?”

“We all are, duh!” Yuffie said, raising her voice enough to Vincent stirred a little. They all went silent until he and Red settled again. “But you know what people are like. They find out one of us can fly or something cool like that, that’s all they’re gonna talk about.”

Barret had a real feeling she was talking about herself.

What disturbed him more was the way that the thought of parting with any of them was becoming a strangely painful one. They felt like a unit now – the only thing missing for him was Marlene.

And Aerith.

The sobering thought hit him that the longer this battle with Shinra went on, the greater the chance of losing more than just Cloud, Aerith and the rest of AVALANCHE. Everyone in this house, everyone he wanted to make it through more than himself – he could lose them all tomorrow.

“Barret?” Tifa asked softly.

Barret cleared his throat, his hand automatically reaching to draw out his sunglasses. But then he stopped, clearing his throat again and pinching his nose instead.

He lowered his hand, smiling a watery smile.

“You were right, Yuffie,” he said. “We didn’t lose anyone else to Shinra. And we’re never going to again.”

Chapter Text

WRO : Operation QUIET

The responsible [principle architect]: Professor Hojo - director of R&D department of Shinra (deceased)

The victim: Vincent Valentine - formerly of Administrative Research department of Shinra AKA the Turks (generation 1, 13th member)

Tape details: Further tapes discovered in an unordered collection in the R&D offices after Meteorfall. Presented as evidence in the Shinra Trials.

Tape was found apart from the rest of the set, unlabelled.

Restoration process is complete but some parts of the tape remain indecipherable.

Tape number ???

Classification: Sensitive, never to be released

Attached is the transcript used in the Shinra Trials [some details may be redacted at the request of Director of the WRO]

[Sound: footsteps - Hojo is believed to be walking and talking]

Prof. Hojo: I’ll keep this one short, since I have little time to waste.

Prof. Hojo: The plan to halt testing on the subject has been confirmed.

Prof. Hojo: The subject has been on watch for longer than a week.

Prof. Hojo: Damage to the arm was sustained from refusal to co-operate in the combat simulator.

Prof. Hojo: …Co-operation has completely broken down.

Prof. Hojo: Subject is now a danger to himself.

Prof. Hojo: At this point, only three possibilities remain.

Prof. Hojo: First: the existing wound never properly healed and will likely turn necrotic if the treatment still doesn’t take. I… I don’t know why it still hasn’t. The best I can think is that the regenerative qualities are frozen to the moment the new cells took root.

Prof. Hojo: Any new wounds are reset to before they occurred. But wounds and scars that already existed in the body remain.

Prof. Hojo: Valen – the subject’s body will always be 27. But it will never be younger than that, either.

Prof. Hojo: Anyway, the first possibility is that he’ll die.

Prof. Hojo: It’s the most likely outcome.

Prof. Hojo: Second, he self-terminates.

Prof. Hojo: So far it’s proven a hard task, but it’s surely not impossible.

Prof. Hojo: Third, he manages to kill me.

Prof. Hojo: I’m not taking that chance.

Prof. Hojo: There is a fourth possibility, but it’s a long shot.

Prof. Hojo: His vital signs have showed an odd slowing – not death but rather… a hibernation, perhaps.

Prof. Hojo: A side effect of the new essences implanted, perhaps.

Prof. Hojo: I’ve decided to bet on it.

Prof. Hojo: It’s foolish, perhaps. But I’ve never been able to dispose of a subject that still had some potential, even if they’ve turned out a disappointment so far.

Prof. Hojo: …Foolish. Already I have so many papers, tapes, reports. And no one to sort through them.

Prof. Hojo: Once I’ve got my prestige with Project S, I need to ask for space. A place to put all my unfinished things.

[Sound: A door opening]

Prof. Hojo: I guess you’ll be the first of those.

[Sound: Faint rasping breathing and the noise of what is believed to be life support machines]

Prof. Hojo: I know you hate me. I don’t have any doubt that my wife and I have been the defining feature of your sad, little life. You’ll hate me just as much as you loved her for as long as you’ve got left.

Prof. Hojo: But I don’t hate you. I feel nothing towards you.

Prof. Hojo: And the truth is, your view is as myopic as it always is.

Prof. Hojo: I’m not the one who deemed your life worthless.

Prof. Hojo: Shinra will.

Prof. Hojo: Or rather, they already did.

Prof. Hojo: They did when they didn’t even bother looking into your disappearance. When they take all my reports talking about the success of the project and never even ask about you.

Prof. Hojo: When your partner didn’t even bother checking up on you when you couldn’t even fake your way through a phone call.

Prof. Hojo: Thing is… to them, my life isn’t worth much more.

Prof. Hojo: They haven’t asked about her, either. Not once.

Prof. Hojo: I guess you had some sense to be worried about that.

Prof. Hojo: I’m not going to be you, Valentine.

Prof. Hojo: Shinra wants war. You and I both know that.

Prof. Hojo: [Speaks in Wutaian, but too faintly for the transcriber to make out without a translator]

Prof. Hojo: Wars are disruptive, costly wastes but in this case… my son is going to win it for them. I just have to get him ready in time.

Prof. Hojo: Wutai are going to lose.

Prof. Hojo: …You of all people have no right to look at me like that.

Prof. Hojo: Still. What with our materia - your area of expertise, as I recall - and technology, chances are it’s going our way anyway.

Prof. Hojo: But I’m going to make sure he’s on the frontlines, getting the glory he deserves.

Prof. Hojo: Then my place is secure. I’ll build my own kingdom in their citadel and I’ll never allow them to discard me like garbage.

Prof. Hojo: So I guess I ought to thank you, Valentine.

Prof. Hojo: You’re the best cautionary tale anyone could have asked for. You couldn’t have isolated and destroyed yourself more effectively - all anyone has to do to be a complete fuck up is follow your example.

[Sound: something scrapes against the table]

Prof. Hojo: What? Everything that’s passed in here, but that’s where you draw the line?

Prof. Hojo: You know I’m right.

Prof. Hojo: You couldn’t even do adultery right.

Prof. Hojo: She didn’t leave me. She doesn’t want you.

[Sound: something scrapes against the table, more violently]

[Sound: a sharp impact, believed to be Hojo slapping Vincent]

Prof. Hojo: [out of breath] Once I put you away, that’s it. No one’s ever going to come looking.

Prof. Hojo: But maybe it’s for the best.

Prof. Hojo: You were always running from this world, anyway.

Vincent: …Hojo…

Prof. Hojo: You can cry for my wife all you want, in the dark.

Prof. Hojo: At least I won’t have to see it anymore.

Vincent: I… I want…

Prof. Hojo: Good night, Vincent. Or rather, goodbye.

[Tape clicks off]

END OF ACT ONE