Veld was not a man given to tantrums. Tantrums were a child's reaction, a burst of uncontrolled emotional outlashing to either bully or emotionally manipulate others, and while he'd done both it wasn't his preferred choice.
That said, if Vincent didn't put him down, he was going to pitch a grand royal fit, and make him sincerely regret putting a hand on him. "So help me, Valentine -"
"I am helping you," Vincent retorted. "Hold still."
"I can walk," Veld hissed.
"You have been shot."
His tone managed to calm Veld's temper slightly, and he sighed. "Vin, it was my prosthetic. I'm fine."
"It hurt you." Vincent wasn't sure how, but the moment was clear in his head.
They'd been talking to Elfé, and it was clear she was having some sort of reaction to her name, and seeing Veld. There wasn't instant recognition, which made him suspect some form of amnesia, but having him there seemed to strike a chord. And strike was a good word, because the process had brought her to her knees.
Someone had objected to that, clearly, because shots had been fired. And Veld, bless the bastard, had shielded him, taking a bullet to the arm. And while no, he wasn't bleeding, he'd jerked with a bitten-off sound of pain that suggested something had happened.
Vincent hadn't waited to see what else they had in their arsenal. He'd scooped Veld up and fled.
They were back to the Junon base before he relented and stopped, setting Veld down. He knew better than to compromise him in front of his Turks; the man had a reputation to keep, and he would respect that.
It didn't mean he liked it, but he'd do it.
Veld walked in under his own power, to all appearances fully composed despite the tiny lines of pain around his eyes and the stress in his shoulders. And of course he didn't go to medical, he went right to the Turk's base of operations to check in on the teams that were still out and about.
"The problem is you can't track all of them with the Sense," Anya said. She hadn't batted an eye at Vincent's appearance, and it had the distinct feel of a cat ignoring you after you'd been away. Which, he supposed, was not inaccurate. "Elfé is one thing, with her summon. The rest…"
"The Ravens are enhanced, aren't they?" Veld said. "Enhanced can usually sense each other if they're close enough."
"Perhaps, but that would take time to spread out and search," she said. "Time they can and will use to move in."
"I'm not sure it's necessary," Vincent said. When they both looked to him, he shrugged. "She recognized Veld, even if she seemed a bit confused. I would think she would come to him."
Veld hesitated, thinking about it. She had recognized him, at the end before she'd collapsed. It hadn't been an immediate thing, she'd clearly struggled with it, but she'd gotten there. For a moment, Felicia had shined through. Would that be enough for Elfé to seek him out for answers? He didn't know. He liked to think so, but… "I guess we'll see. Without an inside contact, though, they're going to run into more resistance trying to infiltrate than before."
"Just as well. We need time before you can confront them," Anya said. She arched a brow at his look. "Did you think I didn't notice?"
Veld rolled his eyes. "It's still functional."
"It's one wrong shift away from scorching you, and you will see a technician if I have to fly Reeve in myself," Anya said shortly, narrowing her eyes at him.
"We don't have time to wait for Reeve," Veld said. "AVALANCHE will move quickly."
"Then you're dealing with David or Cassidy, take your pick," Anya said.
Veld sighed, not pleased with the outcome. But it would have to do. David was his preferred doctor of choice in Junon, and he could handle the technical aspects with Reeve's guidance. "Fine, I'll see David. Don't take Cassidy off her assignment."
Anya nodded, getting her phone out to quickly text him. "Go down to medical, then, and I'll oversee this. I'll call you if anything comes up."
Veld smiled faintly, grateful. "Thanks, Anya."
"Turks take care of their own," she said softly. "Go, get yourself ready. With any luck you'll be done before they can organize and get here."
Veld nodded, and headed back out for the elevators. Vincent followed him, and he gave him a look. "You do realize I'm heading to medical."
He couldn't see the lower half of Vincent's face, but if he had to bet he'd say his jaw was tight enough to tic. "I know."
"…I didn't expect you to come with me," Veld said softly.
"I know." Vincent took in a slow, steadying breath. "But you're hurt."
"I'm not so hurt I can't defend myself," Veld promised. He realized belatedly after a long moment of awkward silence that he'd put Vincent in the bind of either having to dispute that or disagree with his own hard decision, and shook his head. "I appreciate it, I do. But you don't have to put yourself through this."
"Yes, I'm aware," Vincent said tensely. "Let it go."
Veld nodded and dropped it. If Vincent was willing to, he'd respect the effort he was making. Even if it was to fuss at him.
Dr. David Bass was not actually originally from the Science Department, as most the medical staff were; he'd come over from Junon General Hospital and viewed things primarily from a medical standpoint. Which was probably a good part of why Veld liked him. That, and he was completely unfazed by the ranks and reputations of his patients, handling Turks and SOLDIERs alike should he be asked to. Anya certainly preferred to send her forces to him, a sentiment Veld shared even if he wasn't usually in the area.
He greeted them at the entry with a small, knowing smile, once again completely unbothered by yet another enhanced that should have by all rights been immediately and immensely intimidating. "So, Director. Fill me in."
"I've apparently got a bullet lodged into the prosthetic," Veld said, following him to one of the exam rooms.
"Mm. Not good. Any effects?" He asked.
"Brief shock initially before the failsafe kicked in, but nothing since," Veld said, not looking at Vincent. He had to have noticed something, to be so fussy about it all.
"Mmm… well, strip down and let me have a look at it," David said. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Any upgrades?"
"Minor things. It should still be the same, functionally," Veld said. "You could contact Reeve for the blueprints if you need them."
"Let's see if they're attached to your file, first. I called in to Midgar for it," David said, reaching for a tablet to check. He read a moment, scrolling through with a thoughtful hum. "I imagine these are up to date, it looks like you had a few tweaks last year?"
"Sounds about right," Veld said, taking a moment to get himself stripped down to the waist. A task that was, admittedly, easier without the weapons to fool with. Not that he felt dressed without them these days. It would also have been easier without the weight of his prosthetic not wanting to cooperate, but Vincent stepped in to help get it off, taking his things and stepping back.
He had to admit, it was comforting having him there, even if it was obvious from his stony silence and too-perfect posture that he was deeply uncomfortable himself. Especially once David started examining the arm itself.
"Yeah, that's in deep. I can try to handle that myself, but ideally Reeve would do it," David said, sighing. "If it was in the other arm, I'd be good to go, put me in scrubs and we'd extract it just fine. But you know the delicate mechanics here really aren't my thing."
Veld sighed. "I know." Damn, but he didn't have time for this. Not when he was fully expecting action from AVALANCHE within the time it would take for Reeve to fly in - assuming they could get him away from Midgar, what with his appointment to President. And that would still shine a spotlight on his operation, one he wasn't comfortable risking.
"What about the other one Anya mentioned?" Vincent said.
"Technical possibility, but she's never gotten deep into the inner workings of it," Veld said, thinking carefully. "There may be a way… call Anya, see if she knows where Cait Sith has gotten to."
David arched a brow. "I don't know that Cait Sith has that kind of fine motor control…"
"You'd be surprised," Veld said, dry tone promising a story. "And he's got a direct line to Reeve. Might be our best bet. I can't wait for Reeve to get here, even if he could."
"I mean, if you're comfortable with that, I'm not going to argue it," David said. "I'd just advise -"
A sudden low beeping distracted Veld and he turned. "Give me my jacket, Vincent. That's my phone."
Vincent located the device quickly, handing it over at once.
Veld flipped it open to check the messages. "Speak of the devil. Cait says AVALANCHE is regrouping and he thinks some of them might be here -"
The second distraction was far more dramatic as alarms sounded in the hallway. Distantly, he could hear doors go on lockdown.
"You don't say," Vincent drawled. "I'll go meet them. Stay here."
"Like hell I'm staying here," Veld snapped.
"You're all but literally disarmed," Vincent said. "Coordinate with Anya, but you shouldn't be on the front lines and you know it."
Veld snarled, furious - and all the more so because he was right. "But -"
Vincent rested a hand on his shoulder. "If I can safely retrieve her, I will. If nothing else, I'll make sure nothing happens to her. But you have to make sure nothing happens to you, or I can't promise anyone else's safety."
For a moment, Veld wondered if that was a threat. But there was something very somber in those bright red eyes. A warning. He wasn't sure he wanted to test that, even as much as it grated on him to stay behind, so he nodded tightly. "Go, and take my phone. I'll head for the monitors and keep an eye on things."
Vincent pocketed the device, and was gone.
Veld prayed he'd made the right decision.