Veld had never been afraid of the dark. But then, he'd always had a choice about it before. If he wanted light, he had only to switch one on. Now he found that his eyes played tricks on him; he saw movements, small sparks, weird colors, that couldn't be there. The darkness clung like heavy fabric, and made him want to scratch it out of his eyes. He'd lost track of the days; there was no way to tell time in the dark.
Despite the total darkness, he'd examined every inch of his cell that could be reached, running his fingers, both the metal and the flesh, over every brick, every corner, every crack. The walls and the door were solid and immovable. There was a small air vent near the floor, but no window; a thin pallet on the floor, a toilet in one corner. Nothing that could be used as a weapon. If there was a light switch on any wall, he hadn't found it.
The only time he saw anything was when the portal in the wall slid open to allow his guard to push his food inside. It wasn't much, but he wasn't going to starve. The guards were probably on the same slim rations, not that he had much sympathy for them.
He waited for the sliding door to move, and when it did, he leaned over, stopping it from coming back down with his prosthetic hand.
"Hey," he said to the faceless guard on the other side of the wall. "Tell your boss I want to speak to him."
"Forget it," the guard said. He tried to shut the door again. Veld held it up with both hands.
"Please, just tell him, will you? He's keeping me here for a reason. He must want something. I'm willing to talk to him. I can be useful. All you have to do is tell him. It's his decision, isn't it?"
The guard muttered something and shoved Veld's hands out of the way, slamming the portal closed. Veld sat on the floor, once more in total darkness, to pick at his meal.
"Well," the shadow man stated, "if you don't know where my brother's being held, what do you know?"
The creature wasn't seated on a throne, but it was obvious who was in control- not just of the situation, but the troops, old Midgar, everything. This thing was in charge in every possible way, and he knew it. Veld- having been dragged without warning from his cell- squinted up at the figure. After so much time in absolute darkness, even the weak fluorescent light felt like someone had squeezed the entire sun into the...where the hell was he? He chanced a glance around with his eyes alone. Veld blinked, recognizing one of the many staff cafeterias. The darkness hanging thick in every corner made it difficult to discern which one, exactly, it was.
"I know that we'd like to have peace," he said. "I'd think you'd like the same. Evidently family is as important to you as it is to us. I know how the WRO operates, I know how its founder, Reeve Tuesti, thinks. Release us both, and he and I will do our best to find your brother. After that, perhaps both sides will sit down to talk."
The creature scowled, a look made all the more fearsome as it was communicated by his eyes alone.
"I don't think so," he said. "You return my brother and we'll withdraw. I'll even release you and your leader. Believe it or not, I don't actually like killing things, but you and your kind are making it hard to avoid. I'm not interested in a treaty. You leave us alone, we'll leave you alone. I just want my brother back, but if you think I'll surrender a tactical advantage, you can think again."
"Let me remind you who was the aggressor here. We're minding our own business, and suddenly the ground erupts with soldiers and….other things." Veld gave the mage a pointed look. "You can't blame us if we defend ourselves. Seriously, what did you expect? To be welcomed with open arms?"
"I wasn't sure how high up it went," the shadow shrugged. "I had to make sure we'd be free. It wasn't my idea to launch the initial probes. You can blame your own kind on that."
Veld bristled. "In what way? I'm not aware of any aggression toward Deepground, and I'm not exactly the new kid on the block. What did we ever do to you?"
"The Restrictors did plenty," the shadow thing growled. "They were the ones who ordered the original attacks on the surface for fresh meat."
"Your internal problems can hardly be laid at our door." Veld crossed his arms. "Look. This is getting us nowhere. You can throw me back in the cell to rot, but that doesn't get your brother back. I'm offering my services to you, as a go-between. The alternative is to search every structure and every bolt-hole in Midgar and beyond. He might be hurt. How much time do you think he has left? Let me see what I can find out."
This was a calculated risk. The brother had to be damned dangerous in his own right; if he hadn't turned up on his own by now, odds were that he was in some kind of trouble. If Shadow, here, thought time was running out, would he opt for Veld's offer, or just go full Behemoth on them and hope to shake his brother loose in the process?
Things were bad enough now. Gods help them if the brother was dead.
"Okay," the shadow said after a moment's consideration. Veld blinked, having not truly expected his gambit to work. "I'll let you relay a message to your people. You can tell them you and your commander are safe and unharmed. You ask them where Weiss is, and if he's okay. If I like what I hear, we can negotiate a prisoner exchange."
It was both more and less than Veld had hoped for. He'd half expected to be locked up again, or killed on the spot; this creature seemed to have a hair-trigger temper, despite its apparent calm. Relaying a message while in their company, however...he'd have to be extremely careful in what he said. With so little control over this situation, he was steering blind...almost literally.
"No offense meant, but we're at war," he said. "How can I trust you, Mister...Have you got a name?"
"Nero," the shadow supplied. "Tsviet color Sable. Commander General Third Division. You already met Rosso, Tsviet color Crimson. Commander General Second Division." He nodded at the red-haired woman who seemed to be continually at his elbow.
"Set up the transmitter. I'll tone the fog down a little so we can get a coherent message through."
Rosso, Tsviet color Crimson, tossed him a casual salute and wandered off. That left Veld alone in the room with Nero.
"Any idea who came to visit the other day?" he asked, deceptively conversational. "Six men and two pets were slaughtered, and a seventh is in the infirmary. Whoever they were, they didn't stick around. Was it one of your SOLDIERs?"
Veld had a pretty good idea who it might have been, but he suppressed the small surge of hope, keeping his face bland. If it wasn't Valentine, he didn't know who else might have done it.
"How would I know? I've been locked up in the dark for...however long it's been. And, not to put too fine a point on it, that's the second time you refused to answer a question. I obviously can't hurt you, so why the reticence?"
He was pushing, but this time he knew where to push, to get this bastard focused on him again.
"All ll I want to know is, what assurance do I have that you'll hold to your side of the bargain, assuming I agree to a bargain in the first place."
"First," Nero began, "I don't take orders from fucking Shinra anymore." The words were calm, but cold enough to burn. Veld got the distinct impression that if the kid hadn't been wearing a mask, he would have spat. "Second, you'll take it because it's better than sitting in a dark cell until I feel like letting you see daylight again. I'm not in the habit of giving people opportunities to make trouble. I ask the questions here, not you, and you're lucky I'm so forgiving. We were never given that kind of leeway."
"Um, Nero?" Rosso had returned, hesitantly edging into his space and his tirade. "Transmitter's ready whenever you want it. You wanna kill the fog?"
"Take him first," Nero instructed.
Stepping around him, Rosso stooped and grabbed Veld by the upper arm in an iron grip. He'd known some powerful women in his time, but this girl was far beyond any of them. Her fingers squeezing his bicep were going to leave a bruise. Maybe that was her intention. He watched, unable to help staring, as Nero uncrossed his arms and held up one hand. He seemed to be calling the darkness back into himself. An endless plume of black spiraled into his open palm. After a few minutes, he closed his fist, and Veld swore the room was brighter.
"There, I've taken it down a couple dozen feet. That should get you a decent signal."
"Alright, let's go," Rosso ordered, shoving Veld ahead of her without actually letting go.
"Nero," Veld said over his shoulder, "I don't take orders from Shinra either. No one does. They aren't in charge anymore. If that was your primary objective, it's over."
Veld tried to mark where they were taking him, but it was impossible. Any distinguishing details the corridors might have had were lost in shadow. Finally, Rosso shoved him through a door and onto a chair. She produced a zip-tie and secured his hands behind his back.
"Just in case you were thinking of being clever," she explained with a sweetly menacing smile.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Veld muttered, although he couldn't help flexing his arms a little, trying to work a bit of give into the binding.
A sharp slap to the top of his head made him stop.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Rosso scolded and leaned over him to fiddle with the buttons and dials. "I think that's as good as it's gonna get."
"It's fine," Nero assured her in a strangely pleasant tone. Veld chalked it up to hearing things for when Nero stepped up to the microphone, he was all cold, calculating business.
"Attention Shinra operatives. Attention. This is Deepground. We have one of your men in custody. He wishes to make a statement." Stepping back, Nero used one of the claws on his metal wings to bend the microphone towards Veld.
Veld took a few seconds to clear his throat, and his thoughts. He needed to be precise, succinct, and very, very careful.
"This is Veld of the WRO," he began. "First, I want to assure you that I am at this moment unharmed. I'm told that Director Tuesti is likewise unharmed." Here, he paused, one eyebrow raised, to glance at Nero, who hadn't actually produced Reeve or let Veld speak to him. Nero said nothing, giving him no more than the usual icy stare.
Veld went on. "The mage...sorry, the man who spoke first is the commander of Deepground's forces, called Nero. You can thank him personally for the unusual atmospheric conditions of late.
"It's believed that his brother Weiss is in WRO custody. This is Nero's demand: In exchange for Weiss, he will release Director Tuesti and myself, and consider withdrawing from Edge.
"To any WRO forces who may be listening, I urge you to take no rash actions. Repeat: WRO, take no rash actions. If anyone knows where the man called Weiss is held, please send a message to…"
He looked at Nero. "Where, exactly?"
"Reply on this frequency," Nero said. "At least one of you knows where we are, although I wouldn't advise coming for a visit."
Veld sighed. "You heard the man. Repeat: If anyone knows the whereabouts of the man called Weiss, please….drop us a line. Ah, without hostilities, please."
He looked up at Nero. "Happy now? If someone did come poking around, they'll know you're expecting them, so I doubt you'll get any takers that way. Assuming your own men didn't just have a disagreement that ended badly."
"They didn't," Nero told him calmly, as if the very idea was absurd. "They'd have no reason to kill each other, and especially not their pets."
Nero turned to eye the console, as if the incoming transmission light would begin flashing at any moment, but none did.
"Put someone on a detail to stand by for a return transmission," he instructed. "Take Gramps back to his cell."
"Young man," said Veld, "a little respect goes a long way. If you want cooperation, it doesn't hurt. As for that message, you'll have to give them time to think about it, and to search for your brother."
"I didn't become general just because I'm the tallest," Nero replied calmly, and nodded to Rosso, who grabbed him by one arm and yanked him to his feet. "I know how this works."
"Yes, I'm sure you're a prodigy," said Veld. "Let me know if you actually want to have a civil conversation sometime."
He glanced at Rosso. "Lead on, madame."
"Such a gentleman," she smirked, but she dragged him along with slightly less jerking this time. She somehow managed to slice his bonds and shove him indifferently into his cell, the door slamming shut echoing a long time in the profound darkness.