I will tell you the details in person.

The Crisis memorial at midday. Wear red.

Come alone, and without any weapons.

State your day.

Vincent pondered over this for a while, Turk training trying to pull anything at all from the wording, grammar, anything to classify this guy. But nothing made any difference. The guy obviously wanted to be sure of who he was, and was also very precautious.

Vincent clicked a button and started typing, briefly reaching over to scoop some whipped cream.

∞EVERLAST

Chapter Eleven.

"I've heard a lot about you. After all, you're the one we want."---Samuel Deigo

"I'm going out."

Yuffie and Tifa looked up from their dishwashing, both surprised at Vincent's statement. "But you're getting worse! I mean, just after that nosebleed yesterday," Tifa protested as Yuffie winced, the statement bringing back awkward and confusing memories, "and now your cough! What if you collapsed on the side of a road somewhere, and---and, well who knows what could happen!"

Yuffie nodded, "Besides it's almost lunch time. FOOD." She said, contributing her thinking. "Where you going that you don't want food?"

Vincent didn't answer, instead opting for a stern glance at Tifa, and then opening the front door and leaving in a swish of cloak.

"Urgh, he's so impossible." Tifa said bitterly, though Yuffie could tell she was still worried. And for a valid reason: Vincent was getting worse. Turned out that the nosebleed had only been the start of it. He'd started having coughing fits, making his body shake, and the white napkin stained red. If possible, he'd started to look even paler than usual, and she could also hear him stumbling about in the middle of the night, probably insomnia and dizziness. Things didn't seem to be looking up.

Yuffie was a bout to return to drying the wet glasses when Cloud walked in, busily chatting at the phone propped up with his shoulder next to his ear.

"Yes, he's been getting pretty bad---worse and worse. Has a bad cough, been coughing up blood. No… and I think he's a little unsteady sometimes but, you can probably guess…you never can tell with him. Never let's us in…" Cloud walked over to give Tifa a kiss (Yuffie making a face in the background), then walking over to the coffee pots, grabbing a mug and pouring a cup. "Yeah… oh, that's good. They'll be ready by…great---I can get someone to pick them up soon. Alright, bye."

"That was the doctor," Cloud said, clicking the phone off and setting it down as he sat on one of the bar stools. "I was talking to him about Vincent---"

"And?" Tifa asked impatiently.

"He said he had some medicine to help with the cough and dizziness." He took a sip of his coffee, deliberately pausing, "And they're ready to be picked up as soon as possible."

"Oh, that's great!" Tifa said, squealing a bit. Yuffie looked at her like she was an alien. "Who'll go?"

"Well I'm busy, I have to take Denzel to a friend's, and do a quick delivery. Should be back by… four?" Cloud answered, "And I think Barret and Cid disappeared off some where, so that leaves…Yuffie."

Said ninja rolled her eyes, used to this type of thing by now. "Alright, Alright, I'll go…but can I take your motorcycle?" She asked quickly, eyes hopefully.

Cloud snorted, "No… and not the car, either." He added as he saw Yuffie's mouth open again.

"Well then how am I supposed to get there? It's across town!" she whined. "I am so not walking."

Cloud rolled his eyes as Tifa looked at the pair, amused. "Just catch the bus at the square." She said to Yuffie, "Oh, and would you pick up some milk on your way home? We're on our last bag."

Grumbling under her breath, Yuffie sluggidly drifted out the door, making sure to grab a bulging wallet from somebody's coat on her way. She sure as hell wasn't paying for milk with her money.

∞

Meanwhile, Vincent had exited Seventh Heaven and entered the outside world, the weather suddenly hot yet humid, making a fine sheen of sweat start on his forehead. He'd quickly strode down a few streets, being sure to walk in the shade, as well as keeping his gun hidden from view.

The square was bustling, as always, when he arrived. People carelessly walked in front of the cars that were stupid enough to entire into the mass, while others shopped and shouted at the boutiques set up along the way. The informant had chosen a good place---the square was always at it's busiest this time of day, and red among the drab colours of the people's clothes stood out drastically. People generally gave him only small glances of wonder at the sight of him, though they were used to seeing some of the oddest things. Vincent himself was marginally glad for this; it didn't help any for people to start making a scene.

After reaching the monument and standing for a while, he soon chose to sit down in the little shade cast by the large sculpture. The sun was getting to even him. He quietly observed the people that walked briskly by, avoiding their curious eyes, and yet at the same time effectively scrutinizing them. He had always wondered whether anyone besides AVALANCHE knew the entire story. He wasn't even sure if he himself knew it all. For it was quite a long tale to tell.

But nonetheless, those that did have a faint idea of their trials had praised them repeatedly, especially after Kadaj and his gang came and went. The Crisis monument that had been built prior and then torn down by the rogue Bahamut had been quickly repaired, the fountain surrounding created for well-wishing. The gunslinger himself had never really seen the point in wishing for something while throwing a gil coin in, or even wishing on a fallen star. Nothing happened nor would happen. It didn't make any difference; things are as the way they were.

A usually quite quiet part of his mind spoke to him now, telling him to think of what Aeris would say, and what he really thought of it. It was to give people some hope, that things would change simply by giving out unwanted change, or simply closing one's eyes and whispering into the cold night's air. Vincent looked down behind him in his seat, glancing at the hundreds of shiny gil that rested at the bottom, slowly growing more rusted and greener with time. The bottom was shiny and metallic with them scattered thickly over it, making him wonder how many wished and dreams had been tied to them and cast away. It would have been quite a lot.

"Are you here for information?" a gritty voice brought him back from his thoughts, the gunslinger's eyes narrowing at the thought that this stranger had been able to get so close without him noticing. He really must be sick.

Vincent nodded, but did not speak; instead busy marking every single detail the man had into his mind. The man was tall, though not as tall as Vincent, with a lanky frame, though muscles were clear. He wore boots that crunched the gravel beneath his feet, loose camo-cargos and a dirty wife-beater covered by an equally dirty vest with fur round the hood, a necklace with a cross attached, and aviator sunglasses perched on his nose. The man looked like he could be I the army, or a position of equal firearms numbers. And indeed, upon noticing what Vincent was doing, the man smirked cockily and pulled a side of the open vest to reveal a gun holstered to his side.

Vincent shoed no outer reaction, though he had already simply assumed that the messenger would be carrying firearms. "Who are you?"

The man sniffed mockingly, " 'Who am I?' Why, shouldn't I be asking the same of you? Oh, wait; I already know who you are. Vincent Valentine, I presume?"

Vincent only narrowed his eyes, rather uncomfortable with the man already knowing who he was. Not to say a fair many people didn't, after being involved with AVALANCHE, but few spoke to him with such familiarity.

"I've heard a lot about you. After all, you're the one we want."

Now they were at a standstill, Vincent presumed. A fight was imminent, for neither were willing to let the other go, nor were they about to go quietly with the other. Of course, Vincent didn't really want to break out into a brawl in the middle of the square, at the busiest time of day. And so it was up to either to make the first move.

Enter in Yuffie.

Yuffie Kisaragi had just been about to scream in frustration at not being able to find the appropriate bus for her travels, and the lack of patience everyone she asked for directions had had, when she had caught sight of that familiar red cloak.

After all, it really did stand out.

And so up she came, prancing up to Vincent and the (rather attractive in a scruffy kind of way) stranger, intent on being introduced and convincing Vincent to take her to the doctor's himself. He might as well come himself to get his own damn medicine.

"Heya, Vinnie! Whatcha doin? Who's this?" She let out happily, unaware of the charged atmosphere and tension in the gunslinger, and the odd, relaxed stance of the other's.

"Yuffie, get behind me," He immediately said, shoving he behind him as he did so. Yuffie's elatedness poofed and died. If Vincent was this cautious of the stranger, he obviously wasn't a good one.

This, however, was one of the first mistakes Vincent was to make. The stranger, upon seeing how the emotionless gunslinger had acted once the girl had come up, now knew Yuffie's safety was of importance to him. Which, as all things people care for, makes good leverage.

Indeed, in under a second the strange man had whipped out his gun, setting things into motion. First, Vincent pulled Death Penalty from his holster equally as quick, if not quicker, immediately pointing it directly at the man's forehead. However, at the same time, two men from the moving crowd sudden appeared to point another pistol at Vincent's head, but not before shooting it into the air, and the other to immediately restrain Yuffie, knife held to suddenly white neck.

It was not necessarily the sight of the guns that sent the people running, but the crack of the gunshot's noise. The reaction was instantaneous, people screaming and running as fast as they could to get away from the sudden danger. People tripped over one another, packages and bags dropped in the hurry, frightened white faces flashing past as they ran to the nearest exit out of the square.

The man holding Yuffie captive started dragging her towards the nearest alleyway, joining the crowd. Vincent growled quietly under his high collar, as Yuffie was soon lost from his peripheral vision. He knew they didn't want her, but they would take her if they didn't get him.

"So now will you come with us?" The man standing in front of him said, voice haughtily amused. Both knew they were at another standstill, this one to be decided by a decision.

And so Vincent lowered his gun.

∞

Yuffie, for her part, was in a tight situation. The man still had her pressed against him, a most certainly sharp knife poised at exactly the right angle to slit her throat if she moved too much. These guys knew what they were doing, unlike the last ones. Yuffie took half a second to reminisce over the other bounty hunters. Yes, she was certain these ones were quite different. Probably professionals---and they knew how to do their job.

Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't just as good at hers. Her hands weren't tied, though she was sure he'd get around to it as soon as possible, so she had access to her range of weapons that were stuffed in her shorts.

They were almost at the narrow gap in between the buildings, though people jostled them harshly, making her strain to keep her neck from touching the knife at all, desperately hoping that someone didn't knock his arm and accidentally slit her open. But she used this to her advantage, slipping a hand into her side pocket to pull out a small ring of wood, and slipping it onto her two middle fingers, thankful for not dropping it.

Soon they had reached the dark and stinky alleyway, the man wrestling her down a good portion of its length until the sounds from the square seemed only echoes of their true selves. The man threw her down on the ground, and for a moment the painful though came to mind of whether or not he had something else in mind. But that disappeared as soon as she saw him reach inside his jacket, only to pull out a syringe. Pulling off the cap with the gun-holding hand (his left, she noted), he squirted a bit of the liquid out, testing. Satisfied, he neared her, the ninja herself staying still to the bone if not shaking at least a little, apparently petrified.

But he was wrong. As soon as he had come close enough, she sung her left hand with the ring on it up quick as lightning to press the sharp tip of the ring into one of his pressure points below the neck, effectively paralyzing his gun-arm. She hurriedly rolled to the side to avoid his other waving arm, hurriedly reaching for another aim at the rest of his pressure points.

She hadn't counted on him being ambidextrous, though. Just as fast as she was in escaping to hit again, he was as quick in snatching up the gun with his right hand, and swinging it around to shoot.

The noise came first, and then the blinding pain. She fell over in a heap, which only made her leg hurt worse, if that made any difference. She guessed her pain centers had pretty much hit their max level, and so any more wouldn't make any real difference. That being said, she was literally in a world of pain. Her vision swam before her, her eyes instantly tearing up in response to the searing pain. The pain itself was so immense; she could not relate it to anything else she had ever experienced before. It was simply pain, no poking pins or needles, no burning. The pain took her in and held her there, trapped her for what seemed like such a long time, that she doubted she would ever feel anything else again. All that her mind registered was the pain, pain, and more pain.

She dimly heard the man say something in a gruff voice before her sight went black before he eyes could even close, and another distant gunshot sound.

∞

Bang.

Bang-bang-bang.

Bang.

Bang-bang.

The two traded shots, the other using considerably more bullets than Vincent, though neither seemed to ever hit their mark. Both had developed the habit of twisting out of the way just in time, jumping and flipping in smooth graceful movements, seeming to match each other in strength and ability.

"You're good!" The man shouted, grinning flippantly, diving off another roof to avoid a shot from Vincent as he flipped in midair, feet landing on a scratched and beaten window, before leaping off, the glass barely cracking. "Very good!" He amended, leaping up and above Vincent as he sprung at him.

The pale man soon joined him in the air, taking the other by surprise as the taller of the two grabbed hold of his collar and flung him up wards, higher than ever before, shooting straight up. The other man however saw this coming, and brought his gun's side to block the bullet, a cling ringing out.

And then both were falling, deflecting each other's bullets with their guns, or just plain twisting away. Vincent's feet barely had time to touch the ground before he was up again, dueling with the man, using both his gun and his claw at close range. And yet the man survived even through this, grabbing Vincent's wide shoulders and flipping himself straight over his head, back arching as his strong grip threatened to hurl Vincent towards the side of a brick building. Vincent, however, threw a shot over his shoulder, while twisting his body to the side, again grabbing the other man's jacket as he rounded his front, carrying the momentum through to throw the other to the ground.

The fall was fast and hard, the stranger's back hitting the pavement with a sickening crunch, the cobblestones cracking and lifting up with the sudden force, a cloud of dust blowing up. Vincent landed softly in the shadows a few feet away, taking the time to switch his Death Penalty for Cerberus, leveling it quickly.

There happened a pause, where neither moved, the dust slowly settling, Vincent fighting to keep his vision clear. He could feel the toll of the sickness, his stamina greatly decreased so that he was left panting, his sides aching with the strain. No ordinary man could have survived that, Vincent reasoned with himself. Though the man had proven to be more than ordinary. Vincent's thoughts were suddenly flung to think of Yuffie, hoping he could trust her skills to get out of there alive. Vincent made a second mistake by letting his thoughts go, suddenly flowing fast with images of what could, might of, happened to Yuffie, and so missed what happened next.

There was stir of movement, and then the cracking and popping of joints falling back into place, and then the other man was rising, raising a hand to wipe away a trickle of blood from his mouth.

Vincent's eyes widened, but quickly narrowed as he saw the man's next actions. The pair of reflective sunglasses the man had been wearing had cracked, throwing taunting glints of sharp sunlight in his direction, until the man reached up, slowly taking them off to reveal glowing green eyes.

Mako-induced, Vincent quickly deducted, but he'd never seen anything like these before. They were lit up like Christmas lights, so bright they were. Even Cloud's, maybe even Sephiroth's, had been dimmer in comparison.

The Valentine had barely any time before the man was darting, even quicker than before, straight at him, dodging when Vincent shot a full round at him, darting too fast for Vincent to track, let alone the human eye.

And then all of a sudden the man was in front of him, leveling the gun straight at his heart, and shooting.

Strike three.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Cue ultimate SQUEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Woah, chapter ELEVEN. Wow. Course, I think after the original five, the surprise has sort of worn off. Only three more to go!!!

Well, hoped everyone enjoyed this chapter, which was bringing back the oldies! I.e. my original action-packed storyline. Yay! So much fun to write, even though it took four days.

I also hope that everyone clued into the fact that the previous chapter's nosebleed was caused by Vincent's disease. XD Whooops, meant to mention that one.

Thank you thank you thank you guys for the 50+ reviews! Much appreciated! Cookies ta everyone one of ya!

Toodeloo!

Cheesynoodle

PS Sorry to leave you hanging 3