Beneath the Red

Chapter One
Damnable Secret

"This place… brings back memories…" Cloud said quietly, wiping some dust off of a broken stasis tube with his finger. There were words just barely visible traced along the fog that had once covered
the inside, but they had become illegible over time. The sharp chemical smell of Mako was rank in this old basement. Old and stale Mako.

"Don't be a wuss," Cid told him with a smirk. "But then again, you could be like ol' stone-face." He glanced around. "Hey… where is he anyway?"

Vincent's shadow was nowhere to be found. The corners he usually clung to were empty and only spiders scuttled about in response. Cid wasn't sure if he was relieved or uncomfortable. He had grown
accustomed to the figure that was silent and barely there but terrifyingly real when trouble sprang. Either way it was unnerving.

"Vince?" Cid called. "Goddammit—it's too fuckin' creepy in this mansion to be splitting up! Come on Cloud, let's go rescue the bastard… though knowing him he's probably chatting with the bats…"

"You go," Cloud replied contemplatively, deep within his thoughts. "I'll be here if you need me."

"Suit yourself," Cid told him with a shrug. Cloud had changed drastically since he had come out of his coma. More thoughtful, less stubborn and all the more resolved to defeat Sephiroth. Not like it mattered to Cid—where the Highwind went, so did her weathered pilot. That was his main concern.

Through the cobwebs, rats, spiders and rotting decrepit books Cid thought he heard voices. Creeping up to the study, he realized that the voices were a recording. A recording of what could have been something strait from Hellraiser.

Cid caught a glimpse of Vincent's face, illuminated by the staticy glow of the monitor playing the gruesome images. His skin was luminescent with it and his eyes… Cid had never seen so much hurt in a set of eyes—least of all from Vincent. For the most part his expression was concrete and lacking, but the eerie red irises was an intense swirl of pain, hatred and even fear.

"Stop it! Why do you…? Oh GOD!" a strangled sob cried from the audio. With a shock Cid realized that it was Vincent's recorded voice he was hearing. His stomach flip-flopped. This was incredibly personal territory he had stumbled upon. Vincent didn't even seem human on a normal basis. He seemed above humanity with a grace of the body and expression that was disciplined far beyond what could possibly be human.

This made Vincent tangible. Real. Human.

Vincent stopped the recording and ejected the hard copy—a disc labeled "Specimen 9." He stored it deep within the layers of his cloak and a deep and disturbing silence followed. Cid wasn't sure if he was seething or thinking or crying, but he did know that he was getting a cramp in his thigh from his hiding spot.

Vincent let out a sound—a grunt, a small shout or cry maybe? Whatever it was it was full of emotion, mostly anger. He put his metal fist right through the monitor. Cid jumped and nearly pissed himself with the sudden action zapping his system with adrenalin. There was a small explosion and the monitor flew off the desk and shattered on the floor into thousands of pieces—glass, tubing and wiring; sparking, sputtering and smoking.

Cid began to breathe again. This was a little too much to know about his comrade. It was disturbing… but for some reason exhilarating. It left him with a fierce curiosity as to what was on that disc.

Vincent wiped some glass off of his metal appendage in disdain and swept out of the study—cool and back in control, as if he had witnessed nothing but the dust that was now settling back into place. Just when Cid was getting ready to rise out of his corner of books, Vincent stopped his graceful gate. Cid froze.

"Cid."

The words were icy. What he said next sounded dead serious and made Cid's blood run cold.

"If you tell anyone… I will kill you."

**** **** **** ****

Cid lay awake, a burning ember and a puff of smoke his only company. Ways to extract the information—that damnable secret—from the dark man formed, changed and were ultimately dismissed in his head. He rarely nosed around in someone else's business. He was an engineer—give him a junk car and a garage and a highly custom hot rod was born. Tools and the places you could explore with them interested Cid, not people. People were even more complex than the rocket science that fueled the Highwind, and Cid just didn't have the patience to delve and dissect something that was not only beyond all math, but constantly changing.

But Vincent…

Vincent was an enigma to all, and the man sparked a maddening itch in Cid, one that had to be scratched or forever drive insane. He was perfectly fine with letting the guy be as mysterious as he damn well pleased, but that pain… Agony that intense had a deep meaning, especially coming from someone as estranged as Vincent. Cid wanted to pick it apart and see what made him tick—what drove him to be the shadow of a man that he was, beyond touch or talk.

Vincent didn't strike Cid as the drinking type, so anything to do with his buddy Mr. Daniels was out. Just asking would probably provoke something violent, or worse, something awkward. No, he would probably have to rifle through the guy's hard drive or steal the disc if he could find it.

Cid considered recruiting help. Yuffie was the brat from hell, but very useful for filching and pilfering. However, in exchange for her sticky fingers she would probably want to see the footage for herself. That didn't ride well with Cid. An invasion of privacy yes, but a secret one. Yuffie would broadcast with her big fat mouth anything and everything, damn kid. Cid couldn't think of anyone else selfish or bold enough besides her to assist.

No, he would do this alone.

He lost track of time in his loose planning. Cid didn't remember falling asleep but a knock on the door woke him at some blurred morning hour. "Cid? Hey, you alive in there?"

Cid jerked awake and stumbled towards the door. "Uhm… yeah. Yeah, what?" he asked, opening the threshold. Cloud was there, and in his shadow none other than Vincent. "We're heading out near Corel—heard there was some good Materia out that direction. You coming?"

Cid eyed Vincent and pretended to think about it. Cloud had been keeping him close lately, and it was almost suspicious. Cid usually went Materia hunting with the two of them, acting as the items manager. With FullCure Vincent was the unofficial healer and while Cloud swung around that stupid-huge sword of his he was the undisputed meat-shield. He didn't want to throw the balance off, but this was a prime opportunity to snoop without having to worry about being caught—by Vincent anyway.

Cid made up some lame excuse he half mumbled and didn't even really justify. He felt Vincent's eyes on him. Did he suspect? It was almost enough to dissuade him.

Almost.

Vincent's door was locked. It made Cid sort of snort. He had all the keys, what was the point? Did it mean that he didn't trust anyone and didn't think that Cid had access or just a simple gesture towards privacy and secrecy?

Vincent's room was plain and clean. There was no decoration—only a few simple toiletries sitting on the tin dresser and a personal firearms arsenal peaking out from under the bed. The book on music theory lying on the pillow threw Cid for a loop. He wasn't sure if that brought him closer to humanity or pushed him farther away from it. Other than that there was no indication that anything strange went on behind this door.

There, the pull out laptop. The disc was nowhere to be found, but the monitor had been recently used and right on the desktop was a folder labeled "Specimen 9." Cid glanced out into the hallway to make sure that he could do this in privacy. If Vincent even caught wind that he was butting in on his business like this Cid was sure that he would make good on his threat.

Too easy? He wished. A window popped up as he tried to open the file. "User VV has placed a password on C/: Specimen 9," it read with a space to type. Smart bastard. Cid thought. He used to be really good at this. What would Vincent use for a password?

He tried a couple of firearms names, none of which yielded access. This was now a game of getting into Vincent's head without the help of whatever was on this disc. Tough one. Something was crumpled behind the screen, half-wedged behind the desk and the wall. Cid wrenched it out and inspected it. A brunette in a white lab coat. Cute—she reminded him of Shera.

Oh Jesus, who was that chic that Vincent muttered about wistfully whenever her actually talked? Lisa? Laura?

Lucretia!

Access Granted.

So it seemed Vincent was a little more of a romantic than he guessed. Well, with a face like his and pain like that, he was sure that the woman in the picture had only lead to more misery for the poor guy. It would have been in a frame otherwise, not wadded and forgotten in a corner.

The folder held a series of video files with names like "S9Test03," and "S9MakoReac67." Cid held his breath as he opened the first. This was going to be a delve into the unknown.

End Chapter One
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