The stormy clouds had been wearing an enraged color, ready to strike fear at the planet now... Many of the people ran for cover, not wanting to be a victim to the ensuing storm. Pairs of eyes, in almost every humanly color available (green, blue, brown, and other unmentioned), occasionally smashed against the tufts of almost metallic silver, the hue resembling much like the One Winged Angel's Remnant's or even him himself. Either way, children moved off the streets, shifting their eyes around uncomfortably. The buildings that had towered over the residents of the now panicking city had been almost shrouded. A unique gaze, tainted red, had gazed at the skies though, quite simply observing what was happening. Perhaps these humans had a phobia? A childhood trauma of some sorts? Perhaps they did. A red-caped man, tinted with elegance and a touch of pain, had moved his way through the crowd, heading in an unknown direction. Deep crimson eyes wandered through, hoping to find one of his friends that he was teamed up with several years ago and still going. The ninja – the shinobi – originating from Wutai and holding the respective title as 'The White Rose of Wutai', and holding it with honor. Wielding a weapon she knew how to use. Then came the chocobo-haired, blonde warrior that had many expressions tinted upon his face... So much of them that one would not be able to list them all. After him had followed his childhood friend, the kind barmaid who was highly trained in the martial arts, with a punch that seemed to be made of steel. Afterwards, a pilot who had taken a liking to cigarettes and machinery, having developed quite the tongue along his years of life. A large, muscle guy who had a gun-arm instead of the normal, human arm. An odd, red lion that had most of the time carried a cat that was odd-looking. The cat itself being a character of its own, having some sort of Scottish accent. Yuffie, Cloud, Tifa, Cid, Barret, Nanaki or Red XII and finally... Cait Sith.
His eyes expressed hurt, as if mourning over sins committed in the past, ones that unleashed the world's biggest fury onto the planet. He made almost a frown under the red collar of his equally colored cloak. He seemed to be wearing the same almost everyday, not minding it at the very least. His raven-hued hair almost flowing behind him, hardly being able to reach his face by the headband that he had tied around his forehead. Lips were standing as they would usually, holding no emotion to his features. His steps were calm, silent, no words coming out of his mouth. Occasionally his crimson eyes would look around, as he stopped every few seconds, trying to take in the sight of rushing people, and locating the people who had dared to call him friend. No, in his own eyes, he was a demon... Shrouded in deep mystery and sins he had committed tons of times in the past, a dark man who barely spoke without reason, unless stating a plan or such... The man's name was Vincent. Vincent Valentine. A name he didn't introduce all that much, hiding behind the ebony and burgundy that shadows his pale, porcelain like skin. He barely smiled behind it, so he didn't know why he was actually wearing it. He had wanted to flip out a cell phone and just phone his friends, but coming to the realization he didn't exactly have one. The demons whispered into his head, leaving him groaning silently, giving him a headache. His cape, almost ripped and flailing in the wind, had barely managed to follow behind his fast moving figure, pivoting around to the sound of his name, called by an unknown voice, which he quickly recognized, however.
„Vincent!", it shouted, standing out from the rest, and having sort of rumble to it. The red cloaked male turned around, to find his friends in some sort of group, 'huddled' together as if they were looking for warmth.
With a slow pace, he set each pointy boot forward and strode casually to the group. He had no intentions on asking what was happening, where were they going and what exactly were they doing. Simply put; he didn't care. If it were his opinion to be put to importance, long ago they would've gone to the Forgotten City. But he just didn't seem to matter at the moment, now did he? The ex-Turk shook his head in frustration, as Cloud had spoken to him in the same voice as before.
„Vincent, the storm is gathering, and we need shelter. What do you suggest?", a question was thrown at him, which made the man holding demons within tilt his head at it, as if he were asked to smile...
„I don't know. We could return to the bar, or perhaps rent a hotel room...", his deep, pained voice sung through the crisp air that was rushed in a gust of wind as the people moved by.
Soon the streets had cleared out, leaving only the seven to the mercy of the clouds above. Vincent's trusted gun, his Cerberus, had been strapped to his hip, in case he'd need it, soft hands occasionally running over it to check its presence, since he had feared someone might snatch it. And since his gun was his choice of weapon, he had tried not to lose it. Cloud looked around himself, finally realizing the emptiness of the streets that they were in.
„The bar is too far away, now...", Tifa's voice could be heard as she thought of the conditions that they would be surviving as they passed through nature's very fury.
„Our best guess is to stay in a hotel then...", Vincent responded with a rusty, barely used voice that would make anyone shiver.
„That's the only guess.", Cloud decided to speak up again. Tifa and the others nodded, afterwards gathering in small groups and charging off into several directions, looking for directions towards the nearest hotel.
These were the times Vincent Valentine wished he had a phone... He had little to no idea where he was and how to get out. His clawed hand had twitched from time to time, his other laying on the butt of his gun if danger were to occur. One could never be sure in such towns. He had heard screams from the streets, thinking it was either his friends or someone else... As his troubled, dark crimson eyes travelled over the land, Vincent had suddenly spotted three men beleaguering a young lady. She looked about his age, physically, 25 or 27 years old, though Vincent himself was much older than that. Aging at 60 years almost... Speaking of which, Vincent had begun wondering to himself when was his birthday... Not that he needed one, really, it was just a simple matter of curiosity tugging at his brain, making it impossible to focus. His cloaked figure, accompanied by a porcelain white and a raven black, had moved towards the group harassing the young female. He wasn't that big of a fan of ganging up on ladies in any possible way, especially after what happened with Lucrecia Crescent... Vincent never forgave himself. Vincent's hand was on Cerberus, quietly lifting it out of it's place with his gloved hand.
„I wouldn't recommend another step closer.", the 'leader' of this gang had spoken up to the dark haired sinner.
„What are you doing?", the Valentine's stern voice rung in a harsh whisper.
„What does it look like we're doing? Leave!", the leader hissed angrily, and Vincent had pondered about it. His eyes came across the female in question, and he was forced to take a good look at her features...
Her eyes seemed deep blue, beautiful in the sunlight, not a freckle on her face... She had lengthy black hair, just like him. She wore short shorts, that looked as if they belonged to a ten year old, and not herself. They hugged her thighs, expressing her already thin legs. Her skin was just a little bit pale, but probably because of the fear she was living out right now. She had a T-shirt that covered just enough of her stomach. On sight, she seemed like Yuffie, yet nothing like the Wutai princess... They probably had something completely different to beating for her. Similar, but leaving a bigger effect on her. Vincent had raised his gloved hand at the leader, making his eyes widen like saucers. He and the other two had pulled back, leaving the female to slump down against the wall. They began to back down the street, but Vincent was consistent. He followed after them at a steady pace, making sure that they were completely out of sight before he lowered himself to the female's level of sight.
„Are you okay?", he asked, though he didn't really seem like he cared. He just wasn't that interested, but asking purely for being polite.
„Yeah, I'm alright... Thanks for saving me.", she managed to speak out. The young lady wanted to introduce herself, but Vincent already continued on making his way towards where Tifa and the others were... Well, where he was thinking they'd be...
Vincent had hoped to find them in the nearest bar he could find. He hadn't bothered to look at the name of it, he just lunged in, as if someone had pissed him off for no certain reason.
„Hey, you!", a young, childlike, and quite shrill voice called from behind him, and he turned to see the girl from before stumble into him, making him only wince since his strength was a bit more than ordinary.
What a headache..., he thought to himself, looking down to the girl.
„What's your name?", she called from the floor, rubbing her head with her pale-like hand.
He didn't exactly feel like scaring anyone, especially since the voices in his head whispered, forcing him to capture the bridge of his nose with his index finger and his thumb.
The tortured Valentine had spun around and was about to leave, but was yanked backwards by his cape. To no success though, he had just kept dragging the lady along the floor.
A voice, once more, called out to the man beholding demons. He had planned on making himself at home in this bar, simply staying away from the ones who called him friend. He was dangerous, to himself, even... But people just didn't seem to realize it. The scent of smoke and beer filled the air, cheerful laughs almost making the Valentine exit the building altogether... He didn't flinch at the noise, simply kept walking on. He didn't turn to the sound of his name, simply trying to keep away the best he could. His raven black hair flowed around him in a natural manner, making him seem deep in thought. And oh, he was... His claw-hand had rested at his side, simply being ignored by him, his other gloved hand flinching every now and then to his Cerberus. He hadn't really thought anyone would have the guts to steal it, but this was a bar. Vincent wouldn't have the slightest bit surprise if someone had approached him and punched him in the face. But that would be a huge mistake, since he didn't have much time, and barely any interest, to even face the assaulter with mercy.
„Vincent!", a more mature, but still high pitched voice called from behind him, and he had turned around to find the familiar, stormy gray eyes of Yuffie gazing at him.
Why can't they just leave me alone?, the Valentine thought to himself, triggering a laugh from the demons in his head, speaking something that contained much of the truth; They're attached to you.