FN (Firecat Note) Hi everybody, my name is James Fireact. If you don't know me I'm a big fan of FFVII, in addition to the stories I've posted on my own account anything posted by thegr8sephiroth I wrote and he edited.
This story has a certain amount of deep significance for me because it was the first piece of fanfiction I'd written that I managed to finished. Having finished it I'm not quite sure if its worthy of posting here (heck at the moment I'm not even sure if I have all of the story on my new computer) but I decided that I might as well find out since if nothing else it is doubtlessly unique. So leave reviews if you like it and I'll get around to posting/writing the rest of the story.
Oh and enjoy.
The Immortal Gunman Chapter one: The happiest day of my life is the day that I died.
It had been forty years since that day which no one could forget, the day that all of humanity had been faced with extinction. The day when people looked up into the sky and saw destruction and then salvation arrive. It was the day when 8 people went into the depths of hell on earth to confront the devil, to save the world.
Ironically in the those forty years none of those 8 had died, of course Cid Highwind's survival may have been heavily contributed to by the fact that Shera made him give up smoking when she became pregnant and made sure he didn't take it up again. Fate moved in mysterious ways however in its choice of who would be the first of those eight heroes to die, because he was the one who many had thought immortal.
Vincent Valentine was close to a hundred years old, and yet he still looked no older than he had on the day when he'd first joined AVALANCHE. He had collapsed in the center of the now-thriving town of Nibelheim, his body twisting in pain.
Cloud Strife, whose own ageing had been retarded by his mako treatments (not nearly as much as Vincent's though, at sixty one Cloud might have passed for around 45) had been the one who rushed him to the hospital. Unfortunately doctors where unable to find anything physically wrong with Vincent, but forcing them to strap him down before his continuing muscle spasm lead him to harm someone by accident.
With no diagnosis of an ailment there was no hope of a treatment, so Cloud was left to watch as companion tried to tear himself apart, even those times when Vincent had called for one of his four inner monsters (a feat he hadn't preformed in two around two decades now) had never looked this horrific, or lasted this long.
Over Vincent's pain filled screams Cloud could easily have missed the quiet sounds of a man's boots on the hospital floor. They came slowly, each step a carefully planed movement, making it even harder to hear them over Vincent's screams. It was even possible to not have heard the solemn voice of the Doctor outside the door speaking up in a hushed tone. "Sir you can't just walk in on. . . ."
What Cloud could not miss now matter how much he would have wanted to, was the voice that reply to the doctor's words. It was the same emotionless confident voice that he had made appeared in any nightmare he had for the last four decades of his life. It was a voice that seemed to have been designed to sends shivers up the human spine. "Human if there was anything you could do for that man I wouldn't be here."
The emphasis on "human" as if the speaker was referring to a particularly resilient breed of cockroach made it even more certain. Even Vincent's occasional shrieks didn't have a chance of drowning out of the "thud" as the Doctor's body was slumped to the ground, though at least no sound of metal piercing flesh proceeded it. Then the door slowly opened, and a man out of what had become both famous and infamous all across the planet stepped in.
His silver hair flowed unrestricted over his back, and it could not have been a more sharp contrast of color of his midnight black outfit. An outfit clearly cut along military lines even if it also bore no particular military medals of any kind. Instead of metals, it bore silver markings of indistinguishable meaning in apparently random places.
The man's eyes where a bright neon green, the color of the Lifestream itself and their pupils were little more than vertical slits. The moment after he'd entered they where focused directly on Cloud with a look that suggested what those eyes beheld was not even worthy of hatred or contempt, only pity. "Strife, you always where the kind to be at the right place at the right time doing the wrong thing. Get out."
It was not a comforting thought for Cloud to look up at former general Sephiroth, the man who had wanted to become a god and in his efforts almost destroyed the entire planet, and realize that while Cloud had aged, Sephiroth hadn't. The one saving grace was that his wife Tifa and their daughter Aeris were off with Nanaki at Cosmos Canyon. It also didn't hurt that Nanaki had aged for the better, he had grown several more inches and supposedly was finally full grown at eighty nines years old.
The fact that whatever happened, the women he loved and their daughter were safe (or at least wouldn't be hurt if Sephiroth decided to incinerate Niblehime a second time) gave Cloud strength of spirit. "You'll have to go through me to get to him." Sephiroth smiled, there were people who would rather have fought dragons than stayed in the same room with that leer. "You don't have any idea what I am Strife, so let me teach you a lesson."
Sephiroth calmly removed the black glove he wore over his right hand. Underneath it his hand was strangely insubstantial allowing Cloud to see right through it. "You killed me a very long time ago time ago Strife. Sadly as you may have noticed, my name will never vanish from people's lips I will never be forgotten, people will forever speak my name in reverence to my skills with a blade. So today I am here to serve as what so many others already considered me, the angel of death."
Cloud glared at Sephiroth and wished he had his sword with him. "Get out of here, I'm perfectly willing to believe that you're the cause of this." Sephiroth replaced the glove over his ghostly hand. "You know Strife you have a bad habit of assuming every single unpleasant little truth that comes from my lips is a lie. You really should consider seeing a psychologist about that, it wouldn't do for people to think your crazy, after all I'm sure you told everyone I was crazy after you'd made it impossible for me to have any say in the issue.
Vincent Valentine is doing this to himself. He's been doing it to himself ever since you woke him up in fact, because he found himself forced to put a bullet in the head of his son. A son that he'd abandoned to the culches of a true madman who did horrible things to him that you couldn't even comprehend, and then, well why waste time rehashing old history? I trust I don't need to actually mention the son's name? Because Vincent can not release his memories of me, there is only one other way that this can end, I will embrace him."
Cloud scowled, even if the physical similarities where there to see (particularly as they both seemed to be the same age) however Cloud was not in the mood to think of Sephiroth as Vincent's son. More to the point, it was far more fitting to think of Sephiroth as the hellish son of a hellish man, Dr. Simon Hojo had been demented enough to have a son like Sephiroth.
Yes you could see it (the fact that both were tall and whipcord lean for example) but that didn't mean Cloud had to like thinking of Sephiroth as Vincent's son. Sephiroth didn't disserve to be thought of as someone who was conceived between two people who loved each other. He was like some kind of horrific monster, he didn't come from somewhere, he was nothing but a science project that had wrapped itself up in a human shell along the way to completion.
"You know Strife it shows some rather blatant narcissism that you insist on believe that just because I burned down your home town, which by the way happened to be my home town as well not that you'll here me complaining about it, killed your mother, impaled you, and a few years down effectively violated your mind so badly that you were left in a catatonic state that there exists some kind of emotional bond between us.
I was a solider, you were my enemy, I strove to defeat you by any means available to you, attacking your body and your mind. You humans were all so quick to look up to me and shower me with praise when I was tearing apart the other humans you didn't like, but the moment I started practicing what I'd been taught on my teachers all of a sudden I became a monster.
But you know what's really funny? Vincent Valentine was a Turk, did you ever ask him about what kind of things he'd done for Shinra? Considering what men of his profession where known for they were doubtlessly worse than anything I ever did for them, he was a monster in human flesh. Yet when he turned those skills on Shirna he became a human draped in the flesh of a monster!
Isn't life amusing like that? A father becomes a hero his son becomes a monster for doing the exact same thing, but then like they say, and believe me I know, history is written by the winners. Now then, if you would kindly stand aside, I'm going to do something for him that you couldn't even dream of, reunite him with the woman he loves."
Cloud felt like spitting in Sephiroth's smug face. "Lucrecia is dead." Sephiroth shrugged magnificently. "Yes she is, and so am I. But maybe if you think about that for a few moments you'll realize what it means. You do remember the way the Lifestream works don't you? Death is just the start of another life. Nothing ever ends, but starts over again. Vincent Valentine disserves another start and I am here to give it to him.
So I think you need to take a look at yourself and ask, what is more important? A grudge you should have buried the same day you did my body, or freeing someone you claim to be your friend from unimaginable pain?" Cloud paused and looked at Vincent. "You walk out of this room and I swear I'll cut you down where you stand." Sephiroth calmly wrapped a hand against the door he had entered through. "I'm not going to be walking out of this room, now leave me in peace so I can get to work."
Cloud slowly and with much hesitation, and almost against his will got up and walked out of the room. Sephiroth slowly approached his father's twitching body and placed a black gloved hand to his father's head." It's time to go to the Promise Land." Sephiroth's entire body and his clothing slowly became as ethereal as fog and settled over Vincent's.
A few moments later when Cloud opened the door to see what had happened, Vincent Valentine lay still, Sephiroth's had not been the only spirit to depart from that Niblehime Hospital that day.
--
Vincent awoke with a very odd feeling indeed running through his body, it was odd feeling for him at least, though to anyone else it would be perfectly natural. For the first time in 70 years of flawless memory, his body felt symmetrical. He no longer felt an incredible weight where his left arm should have been, a weight he had grown accustom to. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down at his surroundings, he was lying in a bed, dressed his normal black suitcoat, cape and bandanna. It only took only a single quick look to confirm what he though he was feeling, he once again had a left arm. A left arm that he'd lost over half a century ago.
He still remembered how he had lost it to, and how he had earned the claw that had replaced it. That bastard Simon Hojo had blown Vincent's left arm off with an extremely powerful hold out pistol, that hadn't been his fault.
What had been Vincent's fault was that he'd let himself be subdued without killing Hojo first. It shouldn't have mattered how many attendants the doctor had called, how many people tried to stop him, even with only one arm Vincent should have been able to fight them off. After all killing people had been the only thing he was really good at in life, that was why he'd become a Turk in the first place.
He had managed to take a few of them out of the fight even as blood loss had made him dizzy, but he hadn't been strong enough to land the blow that mattered most. He hadn't been able to give one swift kick to Hojo's throat, a blow that would have shattered his windpipe. It wouldn't have mattered what came after that, Vincent would have had the enjoyment of knowing that the man he hated most had got what he disserved. Though Vincent couldn't be sure, he could only guess from everything he had seen, drowning in air, unable to breath through a broken windpipe, was a very slow and painful death. It would have been the most important assassination of his life, and Vincent had failed.
Hojo deserved it, there was no two ways about it Vincent had spent much of his 70 years of life going over memories, looking for where the blame lay. Some of it was his, some of it was Sephiroth's, some of it was Lucrecia's, but most of it fell squarely on the shoulders of Hojo and Jenova. Though Vincent had come to this conclusion posthumously (or at least for Lucrecia, Sephiroth, Hojo, and Jenova) but it did him some good to be able to bury a portion of his past and some of his nightmares.
Leaving behind thoughts of the arm and claw he'd lost (and the arm he'd somehow now regained) he looked around the room that he was in. There was nothing in particular that spoke out about it, or at least nothing that Vincent could recognize at first. He still just waking up though, his mind was comprehending objects and objects alone at first, but as those objects slowly came together to form patterns he realized there was a person sitting on a chair in front of his bed looking at him. It was Sephiroth and yet at the same time it was not Sephiroth.
The man's most arresting feature, or at least Sephiroth's most arresting feature, his emerald green glowing eyes were missing. In their place where a pair of equally green lenses; the man before him wore glasses. Also, though he had Sephiroth's silver hair, it was not long, at least not worn as long, it only hung down a bit passed his shoulders.
The man wore all black except for a few silver symbols, but those symbols had changed. The first and most obvious one to see where the ones on his arms. On each arm a silver cross gleamed against the black of the man's outfit. Also his clothes where no longer open near the neck in a "V" shaped pattern. The black outfit didn't look all that military either, in fact it almost looked like some kind of robe...
In the end it was the mans height that allowed Vincent to make his decision, even though the man was sitting down, Vincent could tell that the silver haired man was taller then himself. Few people where taller then Vincent, this man had to be Sephiroth.
However the quite calm with which he watched Vincent was completely different from what he had beheld every other time Vincent had met Sephiroth. The sheer quite and intense of the gaze, compounded by his eyes behind hidden behind those lenses left Vincent feeling rather like an animal in a zoo. "Sephiroth?"
It was not a statement, it was not referring to someone by name, it was a simple question. The man nodded slowly "Yes, though few are those who would recognize me here, even fewer are those would bother to call me by my name."
Vincent's mind was now operating at around seventy five percent efficiency and he strove to work out the improbabilities of looking at a dead man while having his left arm back. Was this heaven, that would explain why he once again had his hand, but then what was Sephiroth doing here? It could just as easily been Hell considering some of the things Vincent had done as a Turk, but it seemed much to tame for that, and if it was Hell, Vincent doubted he would have his arm back.
He looked Sephiroth straight in the eye (or as much as was possible when the man was wearing glasses) and spoke with careful pronouncement "Where is here?" Sephiroth shrugged his shoulders. "You are in the Promised Land, or what is left of it. To be more exact you are in the house where me, Mother, and Half Cetra live, we're several miles from any other life, an agreement we, and the rest of the world mutually agree on."
Vincent took his time thinking about that answer as well, when Sephiroth was involved the word "Mother" could have two very distinct and incredibly different meanings. Vincent didn't dare to hope that the word had the connotation that he would have favored to a considerable degree at that moment. However at the same time, it had to have that connotation didn't it?
The phrase "Half Cetra" could only have one connotation, Aeris, she much like Sephiroth and both of his mothers was dead, that gave him three reasons to hope. The first was that if apparently he was living in a house filled with dead people, then it was just possible that it could be Lucrecia. The second reason was that the logical part of his brain told him that Aeris wouldn't chose to live with Jenova under any circumstances. Finally Sephiroth's voice lacked the homicidal malice that it had possessed four decades ago.
However, Vincent had learned a long time ago that hope was a very different thing than fact, he had been hurt too many times hoping that he would again see Sephiroth's birth mother in the flesh. So after mentally preparing himself for the worst, he asked. "When you say your mother, who are you talking about?"
Sephiroth didn't look at all surprised by the question. "I am talking about the woman you loved. Jenova and I parted ways when we met in this world and I realized how different our goals truly are." Vincent's years of physical and mental training meant nothing at that moment, his heart leaped into his throat, he didn't even bother contemplating on Sephiroth's tone of voice. "Lucrecia?" Sephiroth nodded and looked away, as if some part of him still wasn't completely sure that the woman he spoke of was his mother.
Vincent couldn't particularly blame him under the circumstances, Lucrecia had used up every ounce of strength she had just giving birth to Sephiroth, and then Vincent more or less thrown his own life away trying to save him from Hojo's culches.
Having gotten over that one breif burst of joy Vincent's mind finally once again functioned correctly and he played back Sephiroth's previous statement. He had spat out the word "Jenova" like it was a curse, that was new. "So I take it your intentions have changed?" It was not a tactful question, but sometimes the straightest path is through the mud.
In response Sephiroth shook his head firmly. "My intentions remain unchanged. I intend to live in a perfect world free from humans. But then this world unlike the one I where I died was not made for humans, humans aren't allowed in here, this is a world for those who exist outside the Lifestream. A world for Cetra."
Vincent now spoke with a fierceness which hadn't accompanied any of his other questions or statements. "You're not a Cetra, you're human." Sephiroth shrugged as if it was a minor detail instead of the major revelation it should have been the last time the two had met if Sephiroth had believed it. "Not all of us are lucky enough to be born as Cetra, but then what is a Cetra?
A being who doesn't age with the passage of time? A being can naturally call upon magic which surpasses anything humans can do with materia? A being who can hear the planet's voice? For I am all of those things. For example right now I know that this world is in pain and I desire to ease its suffering, and those who seek to destroy or pervert this world like Jenova will suffer the full force of my wrath.."
Vincent saw some of the old madness once again in Sephiroth's face, but it was different this time, the goal may have been the same but the planning was clearly being done by a general who was thinking with his head instead of with his heart. Vincent relented slightly knowing better then to try and corner Sephiroth like an animal, he cared more for information then moral victories. "What exactly has Jenova done to this world?"
Sephiroth looked down at the floor in disgust. "She is far more insidious then I had thought, though I suppose I should have known that from the way she strung me along back during my first life. I underestimated her twice, there will be no third time. The Promised Land is severely affected by the wishes and desires of those living in it, look out the window."
Sephiroth pointed and Vincent's eyes followed to a plain looking window. Apparently they where on the second story of this house, and he could clearly see a garden growing outside the house. Garden was not really the correct the right word for it, it was more like a small forest in fact, the only thing lacking was animal life.
Vincent was about to ask what Sephiroth meant when his head continuing to clear allowed his vision to focus to the level of a hawk searching for it's prey. Beyond the forest, there was nothing. Sand, sand, sand, nothing but sand, the house was in the center of an oasis, but aside from that oasis all that existed was desert.
He looked back at Sephiroth his mind slowly coming to a conclusion "Those who wish to bring destruction, if they wish for it strongly enough, the destruction is created without requiring action of any kind"
Sephiroth nodded firmly. "We are lucky, in a way, Half-Cet... Aeris, still manages find it in her heart to care for the plants which sustain us even after all she has suffered. She still loves them knowing their lifespan is but a flicker of her own, less then that in this life. She still loves them, knowing they will die no mater what she does, and she will have to watch them die."
Sephiroth didn't need to say that he found it hard to understand Aeris' conviction in this area, and Vincent didn't need to ask why, those who went about the business of dealing death didn't spend much time thinking about life.
"What happened to her?" Sephiroth's eyebrows lowered and Vincent knew he was closing his eyes to think of how to correctly answer the question. Finally it came out one word at a time. "They... the Cetra, they hate her as much as they hate me and my mother, as much as they hate Jenova. The Cetra, most of them anyway, are like sheep. They don't understand how this world that has supported them for thousands of years can be failing them now.
Those who are in charge, who have the stronger magic powers, they are looking for any excuse they can find. Any one who isn't a Cetra, they blame them for what is happening to this world. In truth they aren't far off, the main way Jenova has been corrupting this world is by somehow connecting the Lifestream to this world.
Some humans have who died are being reincarnated here, reborn with their minds and bodies fully intact, and for the most part not just any humans, the worst ones. Murders, thieves, bandits, one after another they've trickled in. But then like animals even your average domesticated human will commit horrible acts if they world is not kind to them, and this world is no longer kind to anyone. That connection is how we were able to call you to us...
Sadly enough it wasn't those humans who proved to be the greatest danger to Aeris, it was her own people, some Cetra where practically ready to kill her when my mother found her. Lucrecia saved her life, and put the fear of god into those Cetra showing of her own particular style of "magic" which I'm sure you're familiar with if you knew her at all. She is quite brilliant when it comes to technical matters but then they said I was the best strategist ever born.
Aeris hasn't been the same since then for reasons even I can understand. How do you live, when everything you've ever been told turns out to be a lie, and the only people you can trust, are strangers to you, or worse?"
Vincent looked up at Sephiroth as if he hadn't heard him correctly. Vincent remembered Sephiroth's mother as a shy little thing, her sprit practically crushed into dust from years being married to Simon Hojo. Subsequently the image of her standing up against a murderous crowd hardly fit in with that particular idea. It didn't help that Vincent needed to struggle to avoid voicing his thoughts about Sephiroth seamed to be doing just fine at adapting to the circumstances he had spoken of.
Instead he drew the conversation towards a less dangerous topic. "My left arm, Hojo blew it clean off s how did I get it back?" Sephiroth much to Vincent relaxation and amazement smiled. "You can't tell? Well allow me to reiterate my point for a second time, she's a genius and spent much of the last seven decades building that arm for you."
Vincent opened and closed his fist in amazement. "You're saying this thing, it's mechanical?" Sephiroth responded with a quick and curt nod. "The nerve structure is completely non-biological, even its designed to interface with whatever nerves you have left, she said that the human body is basically a machine, thus with work any part of it can be replaced with an equally effective mechanical counterpart."
Vincent slowly rolled back his suitcoat's sleeve and touched his arm with his right hand "It's warm..." Sephiroth nodded again. "Do you think it would be truly that difficult to design prosthetics that contained internal heating? Lucrecia Crescent's true talents were wasted in Shinra's science department, she should have been in weapons development, in addition to your arm she also made my cross."
Vincent looked behind Sephiroth, and for the first time his eyes bothered to inform his brain of something that was blatantly obvious. Sephiroth no longer had Masamune or a sword sheath on his back. In its place was a cross that was just about as long as Masamune and its arms where at least 3 feet long. It had no sheath, instead it was simply held to Sephiroth's back by several leather straps. It was incredibly odd to see Sephiroth without his sword, as if he had lost a limb (or gained one) Vincent looked up at the cross as his brain tried to piece together something that was completely rational, and insane at the same time "You're a priest now?"
Sephiroth pointed to the smaller crosses on the arms of his outfit. "I have not given up my trade, simply changed my allegiances. I am now a SOLDIER in god's army, a messenger of redemption, saving those who have strayed from his light, and protecting the faithful." Vincent couldn't help it, his eyes rolled in his head, sarcasm dripping from his every word. "Having given up on becoming a god you've decided except simply being in the service of one?"
Sephiroth shook his head forcefully. "The mortal body is flawed, I have already proven how it is possible for one to become more then one was born, or created as. I may yet become a god in time, but for now I will simply pay my respect to my betters. Whatever God is, he, she, it, is a being who has managed to outdo me in that one particular felid. To deny one who is better than me in a field to which I put so much attention would be a grievous tactical error. I will learn the ways of God and pass them on to others, for the time to come when I will become equal with him."
Like many things Sephiroth had said it was logical if one used a loose enough definition of common sense or sanity. If you wanted learn how to do something, it often required you to study under someone who had already done it. Thus clearly to Sephiroth who wished to ultimately become a god, being a priest was a rational enough choice even if the mind that came up with it might not be so.
Vincent knew better then to pursue what could easily prove to be another sensitive area. Instead he carefully placed his legs on the floor and pushed himself off from sitting to standing. "You say she's been working on it for seven decades, but I didn't see her spirit till three decades after she died..." Sephiroth's eyes drifted over towards a flight of steps leading downwards.
"She's been watching you since she died, you may have only seen her then, but she's been watching over the entire time. Praying that you could leave her behind because she knew you would never naturally die, and that the pain would never dull so long as you carried her in your heart. She wanted you to forget her, even though she never even for an instant thought about forgetting you."
Vincent suddenly felt an extreme burst of energy race through his body as the two very different parts of his mind came alive. The first was simple joy that his love hadn't forgotten him, and that she was waiting for him, that it hadn't been in vain. The second part Vincent was considerably less proud of.
Either way he resisted an urge to practically leap at Sephiroth and ask him his next question from less then a few centimetres away. "She's downstairs?" Sephiroth nodded again, and Vincent didn't think. He didn't realize just how far he could jump now that he no longer had a metallic claw holding him down. He almost reached the stairway behind Sephiroth in one jump!
Vincent could have descended those stairs more haphazardly, but it would have taken an incredible skill or lack there of. Either way, the racket he created didn't seam to bother him, he had only one goal, to see her. Ironically all he ended up seeing was a blur of white as he came down the stairs.
One moment he was taking the last step off the stairs, the next he was on his back being passionately embraced. It only took Vincent long enough to grasp the very base situation he was in before his own two hands (no longer having to worry about inadvertently crushing someone with an embrace from his left claw) went around his embracer's chest and his own mouth stoped trying to grasp for breath and started kissing back. It seamed like forever but even Vincent eventually needed to break that wondrous embrace long enough to catch his breath and get his bearings.
He recognised the green eyes (even if they now glowed with mako enhancements) and in what he would consider an act of amazing of idiocy in the current situation, chose to speak rather then to continue "You didn't use to have silver hair." Lucrecia Crescent apparently had been extending her lungs to their very limit much like Vincent and needed to catch breath her breath before responding. "You didn't use to have red eyes."
It was hardly kind of exchange that would have been truly needed in this situation, but neither one cared. The situation was probably exacerbated by the very nature of the relation Vincent and Lucrecia had been engaged in when they had last been together, the two only had so much time together where they could say or do things without fear the wrong ears (which was any ears but especially her husband's) overhearing. Thus they had discovered that words sometimes simply should take a back seat to actions.
It didn't help that Vincent, whose vocabulary was at one time known for consisting mostly of colorful military phrases, there was no words which came close to saying what he wanted to say and Lucrecia for part had lost the ability to say those words and trust that they truly meant anything given that she'd already said them to Hojo. Thus both of them decided to work out their own language of actions, which was simple and impossible to not understand.
Given how long the two had been apart, there was no real way to know how far it might have gone if they hadn't been interrupted. "If you two would kindly act more like rational people, and less like cats in heat we have some business to discuss." It could not have been an easy thing for Sephiroth to say, especially considering who was involved in what. Vincent and Lucrecia let go of each other (with more then a little mutual regret) and stood up.
Vincent managed to finally have time that was measured in something larger than fractions of a second to examine Lucrecia again. Her hair was no longer a lively brown but was now a shimmering silver, just like Sephiroth's. All things considered it was not such an unbelievable change, Jenova cells had changed Vincent's eye color from a rather dark brown to a blood red.
Besides the way her face had changed was much more noticeable than the way her hair had. It wasn't just her eyes that were glowing, it was that she was smiling. It was a sight Vincent had rarely seen, and even then it had always been a smile which the owner knew would only be a temporary one. It was odd for Vincent though, to see a face so often drenched in tears now adorned with a wide smile. But then it took him a moment to realize he himself had been smiling only a few seconds ago, not that anyone would be able to see his face.
Sephiroth slowly crossed to the other side of the room that most likely was a kitchen and pulled out a case, before handing it to Lucrecia "You made them for him..." Lucrecia nodded and carefully handed the case to Vincent before taking a seat at a table in the center of the room as Sephiroth had done after giving her the case. Vincent could tell that if his body hadn't been enhanced by Jenova cells and mako the case would have felt quite heavy.
He then joined them at the table, and as he opened the case Lucrecia spoke. "This is another present, I'm sure Sephiroth told you about your arm, band while these aren't quite as versatile but I think you'll enjoy them all the same." Inside the case Vincent found two very impressive looking pistols. They were the same size, the only difference Vincent's expert eyes could detect was that one was a shinning silver and the other completely black. As he looked down at those pistols a strange thought occurred to him "I'm not holding any weapons..."
Vincent must have somehow left Death Penalty behind when he died, and that thought saddened him for a moment. That gun had become part of him over the years, not just a firearm but also practically a friend. But then he had kept it close at all times because it was the last thing he had to remind him of Lucrecia, and who needed reminders of someone when you had the genuine article?
He carefully took the silver one in his right hand, then as an afterthought he grabbed the black one in his left. They felt perfectly balanced, at least the silver one did, the black one did not so much feel unbalanced, but it'd been a long time since he'd held a gun with his left hand. He looked down the sights and then looked at the two guns and nodded slowly "Do they have names?" Lucrecia shook her head/ "I felt it would be more appropriate to let you name them."
Vincent nodded slowly as he glanced at the black one. "Very well, this one will be death..." his gaze wandered to the silver gun "and that one is Redemption." Both Sephiroth and Lucrecia nodded, evidently pleased with his choices, and as Vincent examined them closer their creator gave him a quick run down of their capabilities. "They're both made to exactly the same specifications. Their ammunition is 13MM bullets, I would have used mako tips but mako isn't as easy to come by out here as it was back home so you'll have to settle for lead bullets. That said, they'll still let you accurately blow huge gaping holes in anything you shoot at, and what more could you honestly ask of a gun?"
There really wasn't much else you could ask. Along with the two guns there were also two clips in the case, one was black and one was silver. Vincent carefully loaded the silver clip into Redemption and the black one into Death. He smiled as he looked at his new guns. "Well I suppose that just leaves of the question of what people am I going to be using my new toys on?" Sephiroth looked towards one of the doors leading into the room they currently occupied. "Aeris, you can come in, it is time for us to make plans."
A few moments after Sephiroth spoke Aeris entered and Vincent felt an odd sense of Deja Vu. For every bit that Lucrecia was better, Aeris was worse, her eyes were locked at the floor, and she wordlessly pulled up a seat. She looked up at Vincent for a breif moment and gave a weak smile. "Hello Vincent, it's good to see you again." It was an uncomfortable reminder of something Vincent had imagined from the very moment he met this girl.
Brown hair and green eyes, she had made him think of Lucrecia, and he had felt that unless someone was there to protect her, she would die. But Vincent hadn't told that to any of the members of AVALANCHE, he had trusted that Cloud could look after her, and he had failed. Now that he had his Lucrecia back, he couldn't help but feel a certain duty to look after Aeris.
Sephiroth's gaze carefully drifted around the three table. "Well now we're all here. Now that the four of us have finally gathered, its time to get to work. It's said that there are four chocobo riders who will herald the complete destruction of the planet, Jenova still spreads horror wherever she goes and I can promise you she has Doctor pestilence with her." Vincent couldn't help but smile, there was something (if not simply the flat out the entire concept) about getting to kill Hojo again which appealed to him. "Well then, let it begin. We will show Fear and Plague just how horribly overmatched they are against Death and War. Here is to you, War."
Vincent raised up his gun, his black gun, and Sephiroth calmly wrapped his bare palm against it. "And to you Death, and to Redemption in general." All four of them where quite for a moment until Vincent broke it. "Wherever you're keeping Masamune you should blow the cobwebs from it, we'll probably need every weapon we can get our hands on." Sephiroth shook his head and placed his left hand upon the center of his new accessory. "I have all the protection I need right here in this cross."
Vincent cast a questioning glance at Lucrecia but she just smiled and nodded, apparently having every confidence in Sephiroth's words. Vincent didn't press it any farther, instead he simply shrugged. "This is an odd sight, seeing a pack of wolves run to the defence of a herd of sheep."
Sephiroth shot a quick glare at Vincent. "I would rather think of us as a group hunting dogs." Vincent's smile was sardonic in the extreme. "A group of hunting dogs isn't related to each other by blood. More to the point, hunting dogs don't frequently breed among each other of their own volition."
Lucrecia laughed at that statement, it was a musical laugh that made Vincent want to laugh as well... and he hadn't laughed for almost a decade if not more. She managed to make out two words though before se gave into complete hysterics "Much breeding." For the nature of the joke and the way it actually managed to reduce Vincent to tears, Sephiroth didn't seem humiliated or embarrassed.