Well, I will say I was certainly nervous about the reviews I'd get for the prologue. Two's not bad, but I wouldn't mind more. Regardless, I finished this chapter sometime last night (or was that at 4:00 this morning...?) Either way, I think it's pretty good, but hey, I'm the writer here. My opinion only matters so much, right?

This is normally where I'd drivel on and on about how I don't own any of the characters in this story, sans one, but that should be readily apparent already. So, without much further ado, here's Chapter 1. Hope you enjoy this. -Spiritslayer


It's been five months...

Vincent glanced about the ruined Midgar, eyes taking in the disastrous scene. His eyes rested on the Shinra building, and he felt a small pang of satisfaction to see that it had been destroyed. His eyes left the building to trace the edge of the Sister Ray, and his eyes inadvertantly moved to the spot where he had fought and defeated Hojo.

He's finally burning in hell, I hope. Then again, his body did go missing shortly after the fight ended. Maybe he survived somehow? He shook his head violently. No, he can't have. I can't bear to think of it that way. He's dead now.

He heard a chuckling noise from within, a beastly laugh that would have unnerved any other person.

The great Hojo, dead? Isn't that your greatest wish right now...

I didn't ask you for your input, he replied coolly to the beast. I prefer it when you're silent, when you've shut up.

Heh. The beast resumed chuckling.

Vincent tore his eyes from the control panels of the Sister Ray and turned away from the sight, starting to walk away.

And where's the supposed great Valentine going off to? You have no home, no friends. Your isolation seems to have become the end of you.

A home, I don't have. Friends, though, I do have. Surely I can find something from there.

And if they all turn you away, if they all shun you?

Then it only means it's time for me to find new friends, to find a new place to live.

How about you just let me take over for good instead? Your so-called friends won't care if you go missing.

He found himself wondering about that. What if he had gone missing? Would Cloud look for him? Or Barret? Cid had usually been a bit of a drinking buddy if anything, and he was bound to have found new people to drink with. The man behind Cait Sith, Reeve, was busy trying to get the world back in order, much as it had been before Meteor.

You're running out of options.

Shut up. I didn't ask for your input. He sighed, eyes straight ahead as he walked for the gates leading to the wastelands outside Midgar. Yuffie'd probably be glad to see him again, but he always found his friendship with her more of a neccessity while they were fighting together, not genuine. He wondered about Nanaki, and shook his head. He has enough on his mind.

Out of options.

Am I? He wondered about Tifa. Granted, we never really got along to start, but we do seem to understand one another now. I wonder how she'd handle me appearing out of nowhere, wondering how she's been? He paused a moment. No. She'd think something was wrong with me. Best if I leave her alone too.

Heh heh heh... No one would be willing to take a loner, a monster such as yourself in.

Vincent bristled slightly to hear one of his four monstrous counterparts refer to him as a 'monster', but ignored it largely. He resumed walking, intent on leaving Midgar's ruins and proceeding straight to the newer town of Edge. He had passed it on his way to Midgar, and could tell that it was obviously under heavy construction. It appeared to be a small village right now, but he had a feeling it'd grow quickly, become a bustling place like Midgar once was, minus the Mako reactors, he hoped. He passed a small church in Sector 5, and glanced inside for a moment, not particularly keen on walking inside, for fear of deviating from his original destination.

I didn't know there was such a place in the slums of Midgar. And yet... I feel like I've seen it before, when I was training with Shinra to become a Turk. I can't recall... Did I ever go down to the slums? To Sector 5? He furrowed his brow slightly, trying to recall some of his past. As he did, however, the more prevalent memories came back to haunt him, especially the nightmarish memories of Hojo's experimentation. He clutched his head with his right hand, trying to force the memories from his mind.

You're weak. One simple memory, and your whole basis of control is thrown off balance. It'd probably be so easy to take you over right now, but there's no point if you can't resist me for a while. The Galian Beast roared with laughter in his mind.

Vincent continued on his way, trying -- and failing -- to ignore what his unruly demonic counterpart had said. He knew it was true, that when he recalled his past, his very soul wavered, if only for an instant. This was his most common reason for never sharing his past with anyone he had ever met. The only exceptions were when he first met Cloud, Barret and Cait Sith, when he had to recall Lucrecia. That alone had almost set the Galian Beast free. There was one other exception...

His gold-plated right foot kicked into something as he walked, and he glanced down to see what it was. He looked in slight surprise as he realized it was a human skull, likely placed there by the sheer force of Meteor five months ago. He scanned the ground around him and noticed that the ground was littered with bones of all sorts. In his lifetime, he had seen enough deathly scenes for him to be rendered immune to what would have made someone else squeamish, or even sick. He simply dismissed it as a tragedy and focused on the gate leading to the wastes outside.

He had barely exited the gate when he felt a stirring in his chest. He clutched his chest with his right hand, cursing silently and hoping he was mistaken. He thought he heard the Galian Beast chuckle, and he began resisting the transformation as best he could, quelling the demon within a matter of moments. He released his chest slowly and looked skyward. Very funny.

Had to make sure my top quarry was on the top of his game, or it'd be no fun taking you over for good. A struggle's always nice, especially when I win. He was sure that if he was standing face to face with the Galian Beast, he'd have to look away at this point to avoid its horrid grin, to avoid... He wasn't sure what else he'd have to avoid, but he was certainly grateful that the demon only emerged when he let it. He tried setting this small incident aside and progressed through the wastes, headed in the general direction of Edge.

It wasn't until he reached Edge that a thought dawned on him. He wasn't entirely sure where everyone was staying. He was fairly sure Nanaki had gone back to Cosmo Canyon and Yuffie went home to Wutai, but from there, it was certainly questionable. He would have pegged Cid settled in Rocket Town if Cid weren't a pilot, and wondered if Barret had returned to Corel or found a home elsewhere. His thoughts drifted once again to his old comrades, and he absentmindedly wondered where they all were right now, what they were all doing. Why he had chosen Edge to settle down at -- for a short while, anyway -- was beyond him; he couldn't see any of his comrades moving here to such a small village. When it had become a town, possibly, but not as it was now.

As he found himself stopping in the square, his eyes on the monument of Meteor as people were putting the finishing touches on it, he wondered if he had done the right thing, leaving as soon as they had finished Sephiroth off and confirmed the planet's safety from the magic that had hung in the sky like a time bomb for so long. He certainly hadn't planned on sticking around with any of them at the time, and he had thought it was the right thing to do. Now, though, he wasn't so sure. A small smirk played at his mouth. It wasn't like they were entirely accepting of him from the start; leaving them wasn't that big a deal in his eyes.

His right hand moved slowly to his chest as he felt a slight disturbance inside, and he made a mental note to fend off the demon if it tried anything while he was reminiscing, his soul slightly weakened by such memories. He shrugged it off -- much to the dismay of the Galian Beast inside him -- and walked past the crowd around the monument, intent on reaching the inn and getting a place to stay for a while. He knew the demon seemed to thrive on his pain and suffering, and by ignoring it entirely, he deprived the Galian of that pleasure. It usually brought a victorious smirk to his face when he knew he had beaten the demon for the moment, and in his own way, he thrived on the Galian's pain and suffering.

He was almost at the inn when he saw a sign hanging outside the entrance to a rather busy place. He probably wouldn't have bothered with it at all if it hadn't read 'Tifa's 7th Heaven'. Tifa... He hesitated, then turned for it. If nothing else, it'd be a change of pace to see a familiar face.

He immediately regretted his decision; people were practically packed inside, and he shifted uncomfortably. He had never done well in crowds for a reason... His eyes scanned the bar and he found a vacant table in a corner away from the commotion. He set off for it promptly, a look on his face seemingly daring anyone to take it on him. No one seemed to answer the dare, however, as he sat down and tried relaxing. This proved difficult over the noise, however, and he found himself rubbing his head with his right hand, his golden left arm crossing his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to drown out the noise, to focus and regain his composure.

Gaia... you'd think these bastards would quiet down... he thought bitterly, lowering his right arm and crossing it with his left. He opened his eyes slowly, half hoping to see the crowd had vanished. He knew better, though, and instead focused his eyes on the woman approaching him slowly.

Her expression was one of genuine surprise, and he amused himself by counting the number of times she blinked in what he assumed to be disbelief. Twelve, he mused to himself, a smirk creeping to his face.

"Is... is that really you, Vincent?" she asked slowly, apparently still disbelieving.

He gave a small nod. "Tifa. You're doing well, I see."

She nodded in return, apparently in shock to see him. "I..." She sat down opposite him. "I always thought you were never one for crowds, so I thought I'd never see you here of all places..."

He remained silent, examining her slowly. His hair hid his eyes from view, so she couldn't see him looking at her. "I wasn't ready to retire for the night. Not yet," he finally said, realizing she was going to try and force him to talk to her. It was best to give in, he had found, when she did this; in the past, it led to rather surprising amounts of discomfort around her.

"So..." She gave a smile, propping her elbows on the table and resting her head in her hands. "What's up?"

He shook his head lightly. "Nothing." He felt obligated to return the question. "And you?"

"It's been nothing but busy since I moved here. I opened this bar a few weeks after I moved, and look at it. It's bustling." She turned her attention away from him long enough to look at the various patrons. "I rarely got this much business when my bar was in Sector 7."

"Hm..." He didn't want to ask any questions about it, lest those questions be turned back to his own past. Lest he give the Galian an opening...

She giggled. "Still as moody as ever, I see."

Silence met her ears.

"So, Vincent. We were all planning a get-together next month, to see where we had all--"

"No thanks," he said flatly.

Her smile faltered. "At least let me finish!" she said, crossing her arms. "Sheesh..."

"I'm not one for crowds, remember?" He smirked at her, curious to see how she'd respond.

"I'd hope that just the eight of us wouldn't count as a crowd!" she shot back hotly, eyes frowning at him.

"I count eight as a crowd. Only reason I didn't mind five months ago was because it was more something of neccessity."

She almost felt stung by his words, and wasn't entirely sure why. "Why neccessity? Aren't we your friends?" she asked quietly.

"Comrades. There's a difference."

"Oh." Her face was crestfallen. "I see..." She stood slowly, trying to get back into the mood a businesswoman should have. "Well, could I get you anything?"

He shook his head. "With that crowd, I'm worried they'll knock whatever I order out of your hands."

She looked at him, almost touched, but felt whatever bubble was generating around her pop when he added "It'd be a waste of drink and time."

A demonic laugh erupted inside him, causing him to frown. Chaos never gives me this much trouble. You're the only one that I wish didn't exist, Galian.

Chaos is a pansy. I'm something more. I'm something much, much more.

He ignored the last comment. His eyes focused on Tifa again as she walked back to her original position behind the counter. I wonder... am I too rough on her? She's the only one that really bothers to try and understand me. For that, I should at least be grateful, but the way I treat her...

Fitting for a monster. She'd never accept you entirely for it, you know. You've done horrific things in your past that no one could ever forgive.

Do you ever shut up? he wondered to the demon. What's my past got to do with anything?

Well... Vincent suddenly knew what was coming, and he prepared to ignore every word of it. There's your track record as a Turk...

I often wonder how it is you know all these things about me when you were put into my body by that madman after all the events, he thought bitterly, simply choosing to ignore the beast from there on out. However, he eventually came to regret the decision.

All at once, his chest seemed to sear, as though on fire. He shot both hand and claw to it, clutching his chest and gritting his teeth, trying to resist the demon's attempt at a forced transformation. He slowly turned the golden claw and sank the five digits into his chest, the fire seeming to die down as he did, though it still burned.

Not good enough, the demon taunted him, cackling.

He stood abruptly and walked outside, digging his claws deeper into his chest as though he could dig the Galian out and discard its core on the street. He gave a small shudder and wondered if the demon had somehow managed to wrest control from Vincent. He felt his body respond to the demon's actions, and his mind darted about, trying to think of the best way to counter the forced transformation. He pondered for a moment transforming into Chaos, Death Gigas or even Hellmasker, but decided against it; it'd make him all the more vulnerable to the Galian's efforts and he'd lose control entirely at that point. He gritted his teeth, his claws sinking deeper into his chest. He could almost swear blood was starting to spray from the self-inflicted wound on his chest, and was mildly grateful the claws were blocking the majority of the spray.

Give in, Valentine! The demon's attempt seemed to grow weaker with each passing second, and Vincent knew it was all just a matter of outlasting the beast until it was too exhausted to keep trying. He wondered how long he could outlast the Galian, though; his own grip on his chest was weakening, and he was still giving it his all to fight off the unwanted transformation. Vincent found himself staggering away from the entrance of the bar and off to the side, to the small space between it and the building to its left. Once he was in the space, he leaned his back against the building opposite the bar, chest throbbing.

Curse you. The demon ceased its efforts to take over, and Vincent was left with the throbbing in his chest, originating at his claw. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for what he knew was to come. He removed his claw from his chest slowly.

He was certainly relieved to find that the blood wasn't spraying, but it did flow rather freely from his chest, running down his front. He shot his right hand to his chest to halt the bleeding as best he could, knowing it could only work for so long. His eyes examined the bloodied tips of his claw, and he slowly slid down the side of the building until he was sitting down. He continued pressing his hand against his chest; he hadn't dug in that much ever before, so he wasn't positive he'd make it through. He heaved a small sigh, unsure of whether he was proud of his victory over the Galian this time, or if he'd regret it. You...

Mm? What about me?

You're more trouble than you think you're worth. If I could dig your core out myself... He flexed his claw into a fist as best he could.

Hah. You don't seem to realize what that means, so I'll tell you. Do you know what my core is?

Vincent paused to think about this. He had never really thought about it, and conveyed this silently with a small shake of his head. He peeled his right hand from his chest and examined the wound carefully. It was still bleeding, but it had started to slow down. He let a relieved sigh escape his lips and pressed his hand against his chest again. All I know is that it's somewhere in my chest.

Heh heh heh. Digging my core out is the same as killing yourself. Think carefully.

Vincent's eyes widened quickly as he realized the Galian's core. You... your core is... my heart...?

Quite right. You only thought Hojo experimented on your arm and legs? That he had injected the three of us into you? Nothing so simple. He did a thorough job in... reconstructing you. I think the only thing he didn't touch was your mind, and I must say that he was quite right in leaving that alone.

Vincent slowly pieced together what the Galian was essentially telling him. He killed me, then brought me back to life as I am. What you're saying... is that my mind is the only thing he left alone? That he replaced everything else...?

That and your right arm. I'll never quite understand why your right arm as well, but it's none of my concern. I just enjoy seeing those haunting memories that flash through your mind from time to time. Especially when you sleep. Oh, the nightmares make me feel so alive...

The demon's cackling went unheard by Vincent as the realization of Hojo's madness sank into him. Hojo hadn't just brought Vincent back to life, he had turned him into an abomination beforehand. His eyelids closed as this fact continued to sink into him.

"Vincent? Are you alright? I saw you leave, clutching your chest..." he heard a familiar voice ask.

"...Tifa." He didn't have to open his eyes, didn't have to look at her, to know it was her.

He heard her gasp. "Your left arm... it's all bloodied..." He felt her move past him to his left side, and remained silent. "Your chest! Vincent..."

He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to face her. "This is nothing," he said.

"But..." She looked from his chest to his eyes, then his chest, then his claw, then his eyes again. "You did this to yourself...?"

He gave a small nod. "I had no choice," he said, resting his head against the wall behind him.

"Vincent..." She bit her lip slowly, as though she wasn't sure she wanted to say what was on her mind. "...We need to get you inside, to tend that wound."

"I'll be fine." He closed his eyes again.

She scoffed. "No you won't. Come on, I'm not taking 'no' for an answer." He suspected she stood up, and had his notion more or less confirmed when he felt her hands trying to pull him to his feet.

He brushed her hands away, standing moments after. He removed his hand from his chest and looked at the wound.

"There's no way, Vincent. I'm not letting you go with a wound that bad." She shook her head. "I've got a spare room inside. You're welcome to stay there as long as you need, but I won't let you leave until you've healed."

He knew at this point that it was pointless to argue. He had found that once her mind was set, to oppress her was a foolish mistake. He simply walked forward slowly, replacing his hand on the wound. He paused and turned enough to face her.

"What?" she asked, a quizzical look on her face.

"...Lead. I don't know where this spare room is."

She nodded, slipping past him and leading the way. She glanced behind her to make sure he was still following; she wouldn't put it past him to leave while she wasn't looking.

A small smirk found its way to his face, his cloak masking it from her view. He knew she was wary, and he knew that if he had a chance of getting out of it before, he didn't anymore. "I'm not going anywhere," he finally said, if only to reassure her.

She slowly turned to face forward, as though doubting him, but eventually believed him and continued forward, helping him inside.

His eyes scanned the bar, and he resisted the urge to chuckle. There were still people in the bar, and all of them were looking at him as though he were a monster. She glared at them as though daring them to say so, continuing to lead him inside.

"...Tifa."

"I don't want to hear it, Vincent."

"Fine." He smirked, wondering if she really knew what it was he wanted to say.

This woman...

What about Tifa?

... For once, the Galian was rather quiet. As Vincent reflected on it, he realized that the demon usually fell quiet when Tifa was around. He wondered about this, trying to figure out the connection. His concentration was cut short when she turned to face him, a smile on her face.

"Here it is. Go on," she coaxed, gently pushing him inside.

He looked around with an air of disinterest. "...Tifa."

"Cloud should be back shortly. He's been busy as well."

"Tifa."

"What?" she finally said, resigning herself to whatever he had to say.

"...Thank you." He turned to face her.

Her face was slightly flushed, as though she wasn't expecting that. "Oh, um... no problem. I do what I can for friends." She smiled at him. "Never thought I'd hear the day you'd thank someone, though..."

He smirked again. "Don't get used to it."


And, that's Chapter 1. Reviews are welcome, though not forced. Although, that ninja's likely found a picture of you and has taken to practicing his shuriken technique on it. Ignore him, he's not too dangerous.

I've already begun Chapter 2, and I'm almost done with it. Amazing what a downed Internet will do to me, isn't it? But, just for the sake of keeping you all in suspense, I won't put that up until I know this chapter's been read. No sense putting up a new chapter if I can't readily tell how interested people are in this one. Another reason to review, I guess. I will warn you, Chapter 2's a little shorter, but bear with me. I'm stuck using WordPad and my amazing spelling ability, coupled with OCD, to write these.

Yes, I have OCD. We'll manage; it works wonders for my grammar too.

One other thing. My chapters come rather quickly to mind because I have a lot of spare time on my hands. I walk about an hour a day, if not two. Enough time to brainstorm what happens next.

Well, I'm just stalling now. Back to Chapter 2 (or 3, for those of you who actually bother counting the prologue as Chapter 1). -Spiritslayer