Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy or any of the characters from it. Square-Enix does. I also do not make any money from the writing of this story. Enjoy.

This chapter has taken forever to finish. I know it's rough, but It need to get out. Please leave reviews if you enjoy it at all. I won't write without encouragement.

With the Best Intentions

Chapter Two

The Turk couldn't be absolutely sure what it was about Nibelhiem that he didn't like, but never once enjoyed coming to this complex. It could've been the cold, as it was the topic of many of his complaints. It could've been that it was still under construction, It could also be the city it's self. But, The Turk did not enjoy coming to Nibelhiem ever. It seemed that Shinra would always send him in the winter months, making it feel even worse.

He gave a heavy sigh and pushed open a heavy door to the outside courtyard. A sudden rush of air into the building knocked him back, but only a little. He pushed the door closed, as fast as it would let him, trying to be considerate to the other people inside the bar. A high pitched melody broke the aerie silence. It was his phone. Checking the small screen on the front, he decided that he didn't need to speak to the contact labeled "Mercer". He silenced his phone, and continued into the breezy courtyard.

Where the bar had been warm and inviting, the courtyard was not. It comprised of small, evenly spaced cobblestones to give an old world village illusion, with multiple mismatched buildings squashed against one another, which lined the courtyard in a circular fashion. Although anyone who came to visit this place would know that it was all fabrication. Shinra was all about fabrication it seemed.

Nibelhiem wasn't a town or village, just another cleverly designed Shinra complex hidden from the world. The name, Nibelhiem meaning 'Mountain Home' in the old continent's language, was actually the name for the Presidential Mansion tucked away to the northwest of the central complex. Albert Shinra, the President often liked to visit the mountains of the Nibel area, citing that it had often inspired him to do better. With that idea in mind, he decided to open an auxiliary research facility in an environment that he hoped could inspire great works.

The Turk, however, couldn't be sure that it would do that. It seemed just another pointless endeavor. But, he could be wrong. It seemed that he was wrong about things like that more often than he liked.

There wasn't much wind in the air, as he took a seat on a bench in front of the glowing windows of the tavern. The man dug around in pockets of his coat, trying to find something, which seemed to be quite important. His breathing quickened a little when he couldn't immediately find what he was looking for.

'Shit.' He cursed inwardly to him self.

He produced a heavy sigh, and ran a hand trough his unruly black hair. He stood up, checking the pockets of his blue blazer and then his slacks. He had found them at last. His prize was a small, slightly crushed and less than half empty pack of cigarettes. He congratulated himself silently and rewarded himself with a badly needed cigarette. The Turk had to chuckle at himself a little. His cigarettes were bent, and yet he still smoked them. There were other, more posh Turks that would've given him hell for it. But, he figured that nicotine was nicotine and he needed some desperately.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, sat down again and shoved his free hand into his pocket, in one last ditch effort to keep himself warm. It was still cold. He subconsciously figured that he could get used to the cold if he spent enough time in it. But, it seemed to him that it got only colder as time passed.

The Turk wondered just how long this transport would take. He had been waiting since seven in the evening for this particular transport. His charge was on board, and he wanted only to get her situated as soon as possible, if only to get him to bed sooner. He had two days off after this, and he planed to use them.

It was quiet. Just the way he liked it. Most of the newly transferred officials were asleep, preparing themselves for two days of Shinra orientation. Since this was a new facility, everyone had to be trained in emergency preparedness and building layouts. He was lucky enough to have scored those two days off. The Boss owed him anyway he figured.

The Turk quietly finished his cigarette, and he dropped it to the ground, smashing the remainder of the tobacco and filter into the grout of cobblestone walkway. He could hear someone approaching him, and he instantly reached under his jacket for his gun, exposing his chest to the cold.

"A little edgy?" a voice asked The Turk, adding just a tiny bit of a chuckle to the end of his sentence. "Valentine, you're the last person I'd suspect of drawin' a gun on me. Am I such a horrible person to work with?"

The Turk identified as Valentine cracked a broad, thin smile and released his grip on the gun, snapping the holster and buttoning up his jacket. "Oh, you know I wouldn't dream of it, Adel."

Valentine moved up to meet him, in the center of the cobblestone courtyard. "Adel", was carrying two fairly good sized boxes, both labeled with a large white sticker which from his distance away was unreadable. Adel's full name was Adelheid Brusner. Adelheid was a native to the Nibelhiem area and a fairly average Turk, he had an average height and build, with think brown, wry hair which had a slight poof to it, and usually hung in his face most of the time.

"Here ya go, Valentine." Morris said, hoisting the bottom box to where Valentine could grab it. "You got the only hot chick here. I'm jealous."

Valentine chuckled. "Don't be too jealous. I'm betting she's going to be a pain in the ass." He set the cardboard box labeled, "HL09148439" on the ground. "Thanks again for covering me the last couple hours."

"Well, with all the runnin' around that Percale had got you doin' today, I figured you more than deserved a drink. Hadn't he had you goin' at around four thirty?"

Valentine chuckled. "Yeah. I guess I'm the only one that didn't put in for a day off. So, It was Dickinson and I doing all the lower level orientations." Feeling the need for another cigarette, he reached into his coat pockets for his pack of cigarettes and lighter.

"Man, that sure sucks." Replied Adelheid. "How was your break? Percale didn't seem too pleased that I took over for you."

"Oh, the break was fine. Took a nap, got some dinner, and a beer. I sure owe you. Would've been better if Jennae had stopped calling me." On that note, Valentine took a long drag from his cigarette.

"She still hasn't given up? " Valentine shook his head. "Boy, what a fuckin' nut job."

"I know…" Valentines phone emitted the same, high pitched melody. He looked at the screen once again. This contact was labeled "Percale". Is body instantly straightened.

"Valentine here."

"Yes, Valentine. ETA Is three minutes. I trust you're ready?"

"Yes sir. Morris is with me."

"I've sent Hooper, Dickinson, Teggert and Russell down also to intercept the lower level orientations. I'll be down there also, with Ghast. See you in two." With that, the line went dead.

"ETA is three minutes." Valentine said into the air. "You ready, Adel?"

"I'm ready for this shit to be over!"

The two of them shared a very euphoric laugh. The Turks picked up their respective cardboard boxes and wandered their way towards the center of the courtyard. There was a small stage set the previous week, which basically consisted of a stack of three shipping palates. Other Turks were beginning to file in, most of them in pairs, into courtyard and surround the stage. And, as if on cue, the bright Hi beams of the Shinra transport shined brightly in their eyes.

Valentine hoisted himself up onto the pile of palates and stuck his hands into his pockets as the transport came to stop in front of them. It's doors opened and a load of about three dozen sleepy scientist and researches climbed out into the cold courtyard with luggage in tow. Vincent scanned the scene, one scene particularly caught his eye. A thin, black haired man was helping a very pretty brunette out onto the pavement in a most gentle way. The woman seemed to be half asleep, and not cognizant of her surroundings. Vincent chuckled a bit, when she stumbled, dropping her purse, and falling straight into the arms of the black haired man.

When the transport was completely emptied of peoples and belongings, the doors closed and the transport drove away into the night.

"Hello," said Vincent, not so enthusiastically "I know everyone's tired, so if we could just get though this, that would be great."

A few half hearted grumbles came from the audience.

"Okay! Now, if you take out the letters you all got in North Corel, it should have your Employee ID number and Turk of record, as well as your clearance levels." Sounds of shuffling papers, feet and luggage greeted the turks, as the researchers pulled out their envelopes.

"So, we're doing most everything by clearance levels. If you have a C.L. of one or three, you're turks of record is Hapsburge and Procne." Hapsburge raised his hand. He was a very tall, lanky Turk with bright blond hair. Procne was just slightly shorter than Hapsburge, but was very muscular and lacking hair completely. Vincent Continued.

"If your CL is two or four your turks are Teggert and Dickinson. Now they're going to have a packet for each of you, which contain your housing assignments, work schedules, and the like."

The audience did not respond.

"Alright. So, I assume that you're all falling down tired, and don't have any questions, so... have a good weekend. Operations begin on Thursday."

With that, the group of scientists began to break apart, going towards their respective Turks, just wanting nothing more than to sleep in a real bed for the first time in days.