9-26-09: Since no one seems to bother checking my profile for my fanfics' progress, I decided to announce it here. I've decided to quit this fanfic for many reasons. For more details, just read the note on my profile. I guess readers can still leave reviews whether it's praise or harsh critism, but I doubt I'll ever bother repairing much because I pretty much gave up on it. Basically, I've matured and moved on this fanfic. Sorry to any readers that followed it. I just hope this fanfic helps other fellow writers learn how NOT to write.
If you're looking for a decently written fanfic, please hit the back button. You can try one of my more current ones or someone else's.
Disclaimer: I don't own Vincent (I really wish I did) or Grimoire.
A/N: For people that already read this chapter, it's been repaired. Enjoy!
"Father, may I play tag with Victoria and the others?" six-year-old Vincent asked politely.
"Alright, but stay inside" Grimoire (Vincent's dad) replied. "It's dark out, and we're about to have dinner."
Vincent grinned, and ran off the room with his cousin. Grimoire sighed and smiled. It was a lovely night. The weather was warm, the full moon glimmered with beauty, the entire Valentine family was together, and everyone was having the time of their lives. Grimoire adjusted his tie and his posture. He also admired the room.
It was a huge room with Renaissance paintings on the ceiling, the architecture was filled with beauty, and the floor was filled with gorgeous tiles that looked completely new because of the light that reflected off them and their lack of scratches.
This family reunion was going quite well. Grimoire gazed across the great room. Men, including himself, were dressed up in nice, fancy dress suits, women were wearing flowing dresses, and boys and girls wore something similar, except their clothes got a bit messy or were a little less formal.
"If only Lacarra was here," Grimoire thought sorrowfully about his wife. "She would have enjoyed this party."
Grimoire looked around the room to check on Vincent. He was playing tag with a few of his cousins. Grimoire headed out to the balcony to get some fresh air. The great sphere of the night, the moon, looked gorgeous and radiant. The sphere's light shone upon the garden. All the plants, fountains, statues, and other garden objects had the image of beauty in the night as well. Grimoire wished this night could go on forever.
"Vincent will inherit the family's business when he grows up to be a fine, young adult." Grimoire rested the palm of his hand on the balcony's railing. "The boy won't be alone, though. His cousins will be there." Now Grimoire was trying to assure himself. "Don't be so paranoid, Grimoire."
He stared straight ahead; a pleasant view for him. He began to get lost in the garden and the sky's beauty. He kept admiring the night. He kept wishing it was like this everyday, but little did he know of the surprises that were hiding around the corner.
BAM!
This sound made Grimoire jump. It sounded like the sound of a gunshot.
BAM!
The sound came again.
"VINCENT!" Grimoire hollered as he rushed back inside.
Once he pushed the balcony's doors open, he saw that everyone had already picked up in a run. He quickly made his way through the sea of screams, agony, and terror.
"Sorry. Excuse me." Grimoire started having enough of everyone's shoving. He had to find his son. "MOVE!" Grimoire started pushing people aside. The smell of blood made him dash through the crowd faster. After all the shoving, he finally found his son cowering behind a column. He picked up Vincent, and began to run. Grimoire started to join in with the running crowd.
"Father! What's going on!?" Vincent's voice was shaky.
"No time, my son! We have to go!" Just as the sentence escaped his mouth, another gunshot was heard. A woman right next to him collapsed. She had been shot! Grimoire looked over his shoulder and saw masked, armored soldiers chasing everyone with guns. They were heading in his and Vincent's direction. He finally managed to escape from the room.
The man began to head down the hall, which now seemed endless. He struggled to keep a hold on Vincent. Even though he was already halfway down the hall, the screams of his loved ones and gunshots could still be heard.
He made a turn down another hall. The sound of his footsteps echoed throughout the halls. The halls were almost completely silent. Dead silent. The entire building turned quickly from a castle of heaven into a tower of hell in mere minutes.
He spotted a double wooden door at the right side of the hall. He managed to balance his son in one arm, and pulled one of the doors open with the other. Right when the doors were pulled open, he wasted no time: he ran inside, and quickly set his son down.
His eyes darted around the room. They were in the library. He was trying to find something to hold the doors shut. He pulled off one of the shelves that was filled with books. The wood split apart, and books landed on the carpet. Grimoire slid a shelf through the handles. He started to pull the towers of shelves towards the door. Pain shot through his muscles as he kept pulling, but he didn't care. He was too busy worrying about those men finding them.
"Father, what are ya doin'? What's going on?" His son was confused. He was also scared, but he was only a young child. He didn't know much better, so his confusion kept him from sharing the same amount of fear as his dad.
Grimoire didn't answer. He was still too busy blocking the door. After he had finished blocking the door, he grabbed his son's hand and dragged him towards a corner. As he headed towards the corner, he flicked off the light switch above them. Nothing, but a few lit candles that were just for decoration, brightened the room. Grimoire kept a hold on his son's hand as he got on his knees.
"Father?"
"Hush." Grimoire whispered calmly, as he motioned for him to be silent. He pulled on Vincent's arm to get him to also get on his knees.
"I saw them run in here!" A harsh, gruff voice could be heard outside the doors.
"Are you sure?" Another voice could be heard.
"Positive. It's just a man and a kid. We can take them out easy."
"Fine, but we better hurry. The cops are probably on their way."
The men started bashing the doors open. They had trouble breaking in because of the piles of books and shelves Grimoire had already placed in front of the door. The shelf that was placed in the handles began to split in half. Objects in front of the door began to slide away from the door as the men kept banging on the door. Vincent began to sob and cry on his dad's chest.
"Vincent, you must have faith." Grimoire closed his eyes and began to pray.
This didn't convince Vincent. He kept crying. He wished he were anywhere but here. He kept hearing yells outside the door. The soldiers now started shooting at the solid wood door. Gunshots started to pierce the door. Vincent clung on to Grimoire. Grimoire held his son close. Grimoire could feel death waiting for him. Vincent could almost felt the same thing, but it wasn't death exactly. He was too young to understand death. He just felt great fear. More and more holes were pierced through the door.
"Halt!" commanded another voice outside the door. It was the voice of another man.
One of the men cursed loudly. Vincent and Grimoire heard the sounds of blasting guns and footsteps pounding the ground, like someone was running away. Next thing they knew, the doors were forced open. This made both Vincent and Grimoire jump. To their relief, it was only one of Midgar's soldiers. He aimed the gun in case there were more enemies in the room. He lowered his weapon once he spotted only Vincent and Grimoire in the room. This immediately brought relief to Vincent and Grimoire. The two other men must have fled when they saw the soldier. More soldiers stood near the door.
"We got a couple survivors!" the soldier announced in a walky-talky. "There's a man, probably in his early or mid-twenties, and a boy about five to seven years old."
"Survivors!? Couple!?" Grimoire didn't think he heard correctly. This thought made his stomach turn. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it.
"Excellent!" someone on the walky-talky exclaimed. "Get them out of there now! Check for more survivors!"
"On it sir." The Midgar soldier switched off the walky-talky, and looked at the two. "Elmer will lead you outside. Are you injured? If you are, are you still able to walk?"
"We're fine. What about the rest of the family?" Grimoire was awaiting the news that may affect him and Vincent for the rest of their lives.
"I'm sorry. They... Elmer, lead them out. NOW!"
"Wait! Please tell me if my family is safe." He couldn't take this. He had to know now.
"You'll be informed once you reach safety outside, but not now! They'll be back soon and you two will just get in the way." The soldier motioned for one of the soldiers to step forward.
A soldier just about his size walked out of the group.
"Elmer, lead them out!"
Elmer nodded. Grimoire picked up Vincent and followed him. Elmer kept his gun pointed ahead as he walked. Four more soldiers followed to guard the father and the son. The soldier that had found them headed in the opposite direction, along with some other soldiers. Two soldiers helped Elmer guard the front while the three other soldiers guarded the back.
This walk felt like hours. The once gorgeous building was nothing but ruins. It was dark. No lights were on except the light coming from the soldiers' flashlights that were attached to the end of their guns. The group passed through many halls, corridors, and rooms. Chills went down Grimoire's spine as he saw the corpses of his family. This nearly brought tears in his eyes, but he shaped up so he wouldn't worry Vincent.
"Why are they laying on the floor, Father?" Vincent whispered. He clung on to his father's chest.
"It's called death," Grimoire replied.
"Quiet!" one of the soldiers whispered a sharp command. "Do you want the enemy to spot us?"
Grimoire put his finger to his lips and shushed Vincent. Vincent obeyed and didn't say a word. The entire building was completely silent except for the sound of their own footsteps. Grimoire hated the silence. It reminded him of a graveyard.
Finally, they reached the front door. Red and blue lights from ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars flashed upon them. They nearly blinded Grimoire and Vincent. More soldiers rushed into the building with guns, as Grimoire kept carrying Vincent and walked down the steps. The soldiers that had helped them get outside rushed back into the house. News reporters and cameramen dashed in their direction. They began to crowd around them. Grimoire pushed his way through everyone with Vincent still in his arms.
One hour later, Grimoire was still outside the mansion, talking to a cop. He thanked the officer and walked towards Vincent, who was sitting under a cherry blossom tree.
"I want Grandma and Grandpa!" Vincent cried.
Grimoire sighed and bent over him. Once their eyes connected, he was ready to tell Vincent the bad news. "You can't talk to them now." Grimoire was close to crying himself.
"Then I want to talk to Aunt Lucy!" Tears ran down Vincent's cheeks.
Grimoire shook his head. "You can't talk to her either."
"Why not!?" Vincent sobbed.
"They're gone, Vincent. They died."
"Died?" Vincent didn't understand. "Tell them to come back!"
"It doesn't work that way. You will understand when you're older."
It's been almost nine years since that tragic event took place.
He lay on his back on his bed. His eyes faced the ceiling. This memory often haunted him. The only ones in the entire family who survived were himself, his father, his father's older brother, Jonathon, and his older sister Veronica. Unfortunately Jonathon's wife and son weren't so fortunate. Neither was Veronica's husband. They were shot before they made it to the basement. It turned out the two siblings hid in the basement during the elimination, so they were safe. No man, woman, or even child was spared.
He still remembered the corpses of his family on the floor and the smell of blood. He could never forget that smell. Vincent snapped out of his memories and stared out the window next to him. It was morning. He sighed and dreaded what awaited him next. He rolled on his left side and pointed his stare towards the door. He was hoping his father was there, but he had to take care of some of the family's businesses and his lab. The man had to balance these careers in his schedule.
"How long has he been gone?" Vincent wondered. "Almost a month? Two, maybe?"
Grimoire was often gone for many weeks or even months. Even when he was home, he didn't stay for too long. Normally he'd be gone within a day or two. It had been years since he was even home for his birthday. He left presents. He left gift cards, but none of this meant anything to Vincent. He just wanted his dad there. He would even give up all his presents just to have him stay for the day. Vincent hoped his father would be home for his birthday this year.
Vincent glanced at his calendar. It read August 18. School was starting for most teens, but for Vincent, it meant school continued. He was home schooled. He had school almost everyday, even on weekends. To top it off, he also has other classes that he thought were completely useless. Vincent lifted himself off his bed, and changed out of his pajamas. Once he finished getting dressed, he started to gaze at his reflection in his bedroom mirror.
"You're pathetic!" a voice in head insulted.
Vincent ignored the voice. He sat at the end of his huge bed and got out a notebook from his dresser. He reached for his pencil off his dresser and started writing.
Lessons I Take Everyday (besides home schooling)
1: Violin lessons
2: Piano lessons
3: Painting lessons
4: Cooking classes
5...
Vincent didn't finish writing 5.
"What's the point?" Vincent thought. "I have like thirty different teachers, and it will take forever to write them."
Vincent turned to a new page. And started to write:
Reasons Why My Life Sucks
1: Father is hardly ever home.
2: I don't have a mom.
3: I put up with tutors 24/7.
4: I don't have any friends.
5: My aunt and uncle slap me if I mess up.
6: My aunt and uncle expect me to be perfect because "I'm a Valentine."
7: My aunt and uncle insult me on a dalily basis.
8: I have to inherit all my family's businesses when I'm adult or the rest of my family die out, so I don't have much of a choice on my life in the future.
9: I have to stay hidden in the mansion. I have hardly been outside the mansion since I was 6.
10: I have to wear these stupid dress clothes
Vincent stopped writing and sighed. He turned to another clean page, even though he could have gone on with the previous list.
Reasons Why I Hate Being Rich
1: Normally a rich teen or kid doesn't see their parent/parents hardly at all because rich parents usually work for ages, since most rich people usually own a bunch of businesses.
2: I can't go to a public or even a private school like everyone else.
3: Other rich adults, teens, and kids are often snobs. They're pretty much the only acquaintances I can have in this screwed up life. I don't want to hang out with snobs!
4: Rich kids (at least I) have to take a bunch of useless classes.
5: Being rich can be dangerous because if the entire city knew who you were, crazy psychos might try to kidnap you for ransom to make your parent/parents cough up the dough!
6: It's hard to feel normal, especially when you can't be around other teenagers often.
Vincent was going to keep adding on to his list, but the voice in his head wouldn't shut up.
"Get a real hobby. How about you make yourself more useful?"
"Shut up! You know I'll have my classes soon, and I don't have time for anything else."
"You're such a sissy! Piano lessons, violin lessons, SEWING! I feel sorry for you! Hey miss, can you sew me a new table cloth? Pathetic!"
"I said shut up! Stop being retarded. It's not like I chose to have these classes. I can handle it."
"Suuurrrre. If you can stand it, then why are you feeling so sorry for yourself and making these lists?" The voice in his head kept mocking him.
"Because I can!"
"You're having a conversation with a voice in your head. Man, you must be really lonely. I hope you're not goin' crazy! You might find yourself wearing a straight jacket real soon. Give me your padded room number later, and I'll drop by for a visit every now and then. Send me a post card."
"WHY YOU..."
"VINCENT! GET DOWN HERE!" Aunt Veronica's voice interrupted the argument. Her voice filled Vincent with dread. Her voice didn't own one percent of kindness towards him.
Vincent rolled his eyes. That meant it was time for stupid classes. Vincent placed his notebook and pencil back on the dresser and headed out the door. As he walked, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, and starting having thoughts.
"What does he know?" Vincent thought. "I'm not going crazy. Am I?"