Apple and the Core: Chapter Ten

Dark Gods

Veld never liked these meetings. In fact, he down right hated them. The only one who he felt like he could trust was Lazzard, and even that was farfetched times. He glanced at his watch, and realized he was early. Good. That would mean that he would get the first cup of coffee, his only solace in these horrible meetings. He put his hands on the large wooden doors, and leaned in closer to listen if anyone was in the room. He expected both scientists to give him a thorough verbal lashing for his "failure" to protect the President, and Lazzard to join them. He felt his teeth grind as he went over several nasty retorts to the scientists. Lazzard he could deal with later. This was just as much Lazzard's fault as it was his.

After not hearing movement in the room, Veld pushed open the wooden doors was surprised to find Lazzard sitting at the head of the table with a cup of coffee mixed with something else, he suspected. His head was cradled deeply in his hands, and Veld suspected he didn't even know that he'd entered. He sighed loudly lamenting his lost first cup of coffee. It also seemed to startle Lazzard out of his mood. He quickly scrambled for his glasses, attempting to hide his previous feelings, but his awkward attempts just sent them skittering further down the table.

"You know better than to hide that crap from me." Veld grabbed Lazzard's glasses and handed them to him by the ear piece. "We've been drinking together for too many years together." Lazzard only snorted as Veld walked over and poured them both another cup of coffee. "Just don't let the scientists see you. They'll never let you live it down."

"I don't intend to." Lazzard awkwardly pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and accepted the cup of coffee. "In fact, I wasn't expecting anyone for the next fifteen minutes." He muttered over his cup.

"I'm not finished with that yet." He smiled tightly as he pulled the steel flask out of his jacket pocket and poured a small amount into both of their coffees.

"You do know me too well." Lazzard muttered.

This time it was Veld's turn to snort. "You couldn't have controlled what happened out there. As Tseng mentioned to me before the entire assassination attempt took place, it was a security nightmare." Veld took a seat beside Lazzard. "There were too many variables to control."

"But I should have urged the President more strongly do the press release in a more controlled environment." Lazzard pinched the bridge of his nose. Veld smiled empathetically, knowing that after every battle, he sat behind his desk at night, wondering what could have gone better. Being the leader of their respective departments was lonely at best, crippling isolation at its worst. It was why they had begun to drink together every Friday night. No one could bear the burden alone.

"You know as well as I do that the President does what he wants to, when he wants to do." He paused to bring the cup to his lips. "All of the arguing on the planet would not have changed his mind from doing that overgrown publicity stunt. And in the end, "Veld swallowed his coffee. "I think he was pleased with how everything turned out."

Lazzard's eyes widened as he looked at him in disbelief. "How can you say that he was pleased? He was almost killed!"

"It gave the press conference even more attention than it would have previously gotten." Veld shrugged. "It made Wutai look even more sinister because they tried they such an underhanded attempt, and the President, Tseng, Angeal, and Genesis all came out shining like stars."

"I never would have thought Tseng would save the President's life." Lazzard shrugged. "I thought you were insane for letting him guard him."

Veld shrugged. "He is my second in command, and I trust him with my own life, Lazzard." Veld tried to keep the expression on his face neutral, but in reality, he was just as shocked as Lazzard was that Tseng had saved the President's life. It would have been an easy way to stop, or at least, postpone the war. Of course, his second in command would have been executed as a traitor too. What good was a dead man in changing the world?

Veld realized that Lazzard was looking at him questioningly. "Ah…" Veld paused thoughtfully. "I was just thinking."

"When you think, it is always a dangerous thing." Lazzard gave Veld a half smirk as he cupped him on the shoulder. "Someone usually ends up dead, and this time, I hope it is one of our two scientist friends."

Veld couldn't help but laugh. Lazzard wouldn't dare say such a thing in front of anyone else but him. "Now, now…Where would you be without their experiments?"

Lazzard shrugged, and Veld decided to let the conversation drop. Both of them knew the answer, but it left a bad taste in both of their mouthes. "Anyway, I have been thinking about the war."

"Who hasn't?" Lazzard rolled his eyes at his own sarcasm as leaned back in his chair.

Veld rolled his own eyes and leaned onto the table with his elbows. "Assassinations and subterfuge are the work of someone with more experience in ruling. In fact, they are the style and rule of Wutai's current emperor, Akane Kisaragi. He knows that these things take time, and is willing to wait for prime opportunities to strike. He also knows that Wutai does not stand a chance in open combat."

Veld watched as Lazzard leaned onto the table now, clearly interested. "Go on."

Veld smirked slightly. "However, his only son, Godo, is brash and impulsive. If you took the Emperor out of the picture, it would not only momentarily disrupt their plans, but possibly force the younger son out onto the battlefield." Veld watched as Lazzard nodded thoughtfully. "Let's face it: We are not equipped to deal with a full espionage and subterfuge war. We only have a handful of Turks. We do, however, have thousands of armed SOLDIERS chomping at the bit to fight."

Lazzard nodded again thoughtfully. "Since Tseng has proved his loyalty to Shin-Ra, he would be an excellent candidate for the assassination. He knows the lay of the land and could blend in eas—"

"No." Veld cut him off sharply. "I have other uses for Tseng here." He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. "Besides, if he were to be captured, he knows too much." Tseng, you owe me. Big time.

Lazzard studied Veld for several moments. He knew better than to argue with him. "If you say so." Lazzard looked back into his cup of coffee.

"I do." He said as he glanced at his watch. "Apparently, Hojo and Hollander have decided to stand us up tonight."

"It is just as well. "Veld shrugged. "I have a few errands to run." And someone very important to visit, he thought to himself.

Lazzard nodded as he stood. "Get me that Turk's name, and we'll start making plans immediately.

Veld nodded as he put his hand on the door.

"Oh, and Veld?" He glanced up at the leader of the Turks. "Thank you."

Veld nodded his head and smiled as he pulled the door open the left in the direction of the Turks' living quarters. "Anytime."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The room was just about as dark as his thoughts. The only light that poured through the bay windows on the side of his room was from the neon lights of the city below. The only noise he could hear was his own labored breathing and the slow, methodical clicking of the ceiling fan spinning above him. His legs were stretched out before him as he leaned against the wooden headboard in his bedroom, a bottle of liquor and an untouched glass beside him on the nightstand. He seemed to stare at everything, and yet nothing at all, focused on the picture of his family should have sat. Tseng couldn't look at them, not after what he had done.

Images from the day ran through his memory. He wasn't even sure what it had been that had alerted him of the attacker's presence. Everything after that was a blur. He had done what he was trained to do. What THEY had trained him to do. He felt his eyes burn with a moment of rage. The death of the President would have changed everything. It might have even stopped the war. His family. What did THEY mean to the President of the Shin-Ra Company?! Nothing, absolutely nothing, he growled in the bottom of his throat. What if something were to happen to his son?! His hand tightened around his gun. He knew it shouldn't be in his holster at a time like this, but there was just something about a gun that made a man feel more powerful, that he was more than just a single lonely man wanting to stop a war. He pulled the gun out of his holster and stared at it for several moments.

"I hope you're not thinking of killing yourself with that…" Tseng leapt off the bed and pointed it at the silhouette in his bedroom door.

"You really wouldn't want to shoot me, Tseng. "Veld smiled slightly. "I'd come back to haunt you like the bastard that I am."

"Veld." Tseng sighed with relief as he lowered his gun. "How did you get in here?!" His eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Relax." Veld shrugged himself off of the doorframe. "I came to check on you, and your door was unlocked. I thought that was highly unusual, but I knew you weren't the proud, happy hero the media is making you out to be."

Tseng sighed as he threw his pistol on the bed, watching it bounce as he sat himself on the corner. Veld walked over to the nightstand and gestured to the liquor. "Do you mind?"

Tseng shook his head in a slow, miserable no. Veld poured a glass for himself and one for Tseng, which he took graciously. Veld took one sip of his, and looked toward the open window. "I know what you're thinking." Tseng looked up, surprised, causing Veld to snort. "I know what you're thinking because you're not the first one who's thought of it." He rolled his eyes, but they still held a gentle expression. "You're thinking that if you had let President be killed, it might have stopped the war, right?" Tseng's hand began to inch behind him back toward his gun. "Stop it, Tseng. You're not thinking straight."

"You've come to arrest me, is that it?" Tseng snarled.

"No." He looked at Tseng sharply. "I came here because I thought the exact same thing." Veld took another sip of his glass as Tseng's eyes became comically wide. "I thought you might like some company." Veld watched as Tseng's hand retreated back to his lap. "And I think you also need a drink." He gestured to with his head toward the glass.

Tseng slowly as he took a small bitter sip. It reminded him of how bitter he felt inside.

"Let me ask you something." Veld looked seriously at him, and Tseng knew this conversation was to never leave this room. "Do you know what Shin-Ra means?" Tseng slowly shook his head. He had to admit: He had never given it much thought. "It means 'dark god', Tseng." He paused. "War is not an act of man, but of the gods. Once the fire has started, Veld reached into his pocket for his lighter and sparked it for emphasis. "…no man can put out the flames."

"That's not true." Tseng muttered as he stared at the flickering flame atop the lighter. The flames made him thoughtful and the alcohol made him a little bit more rebellious than normal. "What if it had been your daughter, Veld?" He asked quietly, tearing his attention from the flame.

Veld's expression became cold and hard. "Don't go there, Tseng. Don't go there."

"But if there had been any way that you could have saved them from that reactor explosion, you would have." Tseng argued quietly.

Veld took a long, hard drink. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Tseng's eyes got comically wide. He couldn't know about his meeting with Sephiroth. How could he? "I—No! ..How did you?!" Tseng managed to sputter.

Veld began to laugh. As he began to walk toward the door, he threw a letter on Tseng's bed. "I got this before anyone could stick their noses into it. It's from your father, it looks like." Tseng continued to watch him, dumbfounded. Veld finally turned back around at the door to look at him with a smile. "Every Turk has their own agenda, Tseng. Don't ever forget that."

Tseng nodded dumbly. He didn't know what to say to that. "If you truly want to stop this war, Tseng, don't think SOLDIER. Think like a Turk. More things are accomplished in the shadows than they are in the light of day." Tseng looked up at him as he picked up the envelope, now seeing his boss in a totally new light. "And Tseng, you're doing the right thing." He paused. "Sephiroth needs to be told."

Tseng watched Veld as he spun on his heel and began to walk toward the front door. "Lock your door when I leave." He laid his hand on the knob. "Things are going to get wild from here on out."

Tseng numbly followed him and clicked the deadbolt into place. He had a lot to think about.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tseng walked slowly back into his bedroom, the thoughts of his leader weighing heavily on his mind. He reached over to his dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of holey jeans and an old hoodie, and as he sat down to put them on, his hand brushed against his father's letter. He ran his fingers across the impressions of his father's handwriting on the envelope before he carefully sliced the flap open with his finger. His father's perfect penmanship was sprawled across an old piece of rice paper, paper that he usually did not use unless he thought reason was important enough. Tseng's eyes watered as he read the introduction to the letter: "Dear Honored Son,". He reached up to wipe the tear that slipped out of his eye before he continued.

Dear Honored Son,

I hope this letter finds you well. Your last letter stated there was unrest among the Shin-Ra, and now I can finally see the results of such stirrings. I hear there is a war to be fought. I know that this puts you in a very precarious position, as you work for the Turks. Decisions will be harder for you now, harder than they have ever been in your entire life. You may find yourself thinking that this has been a curse upon you, but remember that perhaps the gods have put you where you are so that you may make a difference in someone's life. Remember the ancient Wutai wisdom that things happen for reasons that man may not see. It is man's responsibility to do what is right by himself and by the gods. Answer to none other. Men who create war either do not understand nor do they care that war affects everyone, even themselves. Remember, my son, that every person you meet is someone's father, son, daughter, wife, or loved one. Your brother, Koiji, does not understand this. He has a young boy's fervor that a war will be filled with heroes and excitement. He also does not understand why you will not return home and fight for Wutai. I have tried to explain to him that the gods have put you in Midgar for reasons that only they know. He will understand some day, Tseng. I do not underestimate his capacity for compassion and heart, just like I do not underestimate yours. I am not naïve in that I know that you may have to use violence to reach some of your goals, but never let that destroy who you are inside. Many men have shattered lives, but only whole men can pick up the pieces. Use your "talents" to accomplish what is right, so that you may justify your means for years to come. I know that you will make the right decisions, and no matter what happens, believe that your mother and I will always be proud of you.

Love,

Father

Tseng took a sharp intake of breath as he sat the letter down beside him and closed his eyes momentarily. After several moments, he stood and picked up the picture of his family that he left lying downward. He sat it upright next to the miniature statue of the pagoda that sat in the main village, and bowed an obeisance to both his family and the statue that represented his faith.

"I will not let you down."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was ten o'clock by the time that Veld finally made it back to his desk. He closed the door behind quietly, and almost literally fell backwards into his desk chair. After a few moments of staring at the ceiling with a swimming head, he finally conceded that maybe he did have too much to drink tonight. He didn't remember having that much, but that was the problem with alcohol, wasn't it? Or maybe he was just getting too old. He scowled at the thought as he finally sat up straighter, taking a moment to survey his mostly empty desk. He never left any sort of paperwork on his desk. There were too many secrets and even more spies that found their way into lock doors at night. However, it was yet another reminder of how empty his life truly was. He shook his head, and winced as an aching throb began to form behind his eyes. He laid his head down against the cool wood, glad for the momentarily relief, however, he began to feel pairs of eyes staring at his top of his head. He turned and smiled slightly as he was greeted by the pictures of three of the people he had been the closest to in life.

"You never did like me to drink, did you?" He looked at his wife's picture. "You said it set a bad example for Felicia." His wife looked back at him pleasantly; it was almost as if she was telling him, "I told you so."

He looked at his daughter's picture. She looked a lot like her mother than he remembered. Maybe that's what memories did to you: They blurred some things and made other things more starkly, and painfully, clear. The night that he had been told that they had been killed in the reaction explosion seemed like it was only yesterday. He remembered how everything had seemed to stop; people became shadows that seemed to move around him without him ever noticing. He didn't even realize he had lost his arm until one day they fitted it with a material based prototype. Lazzard and his fellow Turks had been instrumental in his recovery. They were like family to him and still are. Every Turk he has ever lost in the line battle has been a deeper scar than the one that lined his cheek deeply. His eyes fell on the last picture.

"Valentine." Veld whispered. He was his old partner and even older friend. "I won't let you down. I told you that I would look after Sephiroth. There was nothing... I could do for Lucrecia, Vincent. She died." His throat was dry and his words were harsh. "You were right, Vincent. You should have run off with her when you had the chance. You could have raised Sephiroth yourself…away from all of this." Veld felt his eyes becoming heavy. "He is…someone to be proud of, Vincent. I…" He knew he could be shot on the spot for saying this, but the liquor seemed to make the words fall from his lips like water. "I don't think he is Hojo's, Vincent." He whispered quietly. "He acts and looks like you." He shook his head trying to shake away from some of the cobwebs His words were barely audible. "…that makes him one of us." He paused. "He will know the truth someday, Vincent…" His eyes began to close. "I promise."

The last words that uttered from Veld's lips before he finally fell asleep were, "One day, the puppet will become the master."