Five years previously…

A tall man dressed in a long black trench coat strode purposefully across the Junon University courtyard. He wore a fashionable pair of sunglasses that completely obscured his eyes, and the open coat revealed a smart grey suit underneath. His shoes were polished, and his brown hair was cropped reasonably short, with hints of grey at the temple. He walked with confidence, towards a group of graduates standing by a side building.

He could see the object of his attention leaning against the wall. The young man stood out from the others, even at this range. Although part of the cluster, he seemed to distance himself slightly from the others. Evidently listening to the discussion, he also seemed to be taking in everything else around him, including the stranger even now approaching him.

"Which one of you is Vincent Valentine?"

He asked the question, even though he already knew the answer. He'd been keeping a close eye on the boy for a year or so now, ever since he had first drawn his attention during a shooting tournament. He had taken a strangely personal interest in this one, and dug out all the background information possible. With his arsenal of knowledge, he would have recognised the youth regardless.

All attention in the group turned as one. The man in question pushed himself off the wall and drew himself up to his full height. The stranger was tall, but Vincent was easily able to look him straight in the eye.

"I am."

The stranger smiled casually. "Ah, good. Your tutor has asked me to speak with you, would you come with me for a moment? I won't take up too much of your time." He moved slightly away, beckoning.

Vincent shrugged, and the rest of the group watched as he walked towards the man before resuming their conversation. The two moved away from them and out of the courtyard before the stranger started talking once more.

"So… I understand you've just graduated."

"Yes."

"With honours too."

"Yes."

The man chuckled at the monosyllabic responses. "Not very forthcoming, are you? Given any thought to what you want to do with yourself now?"

Vincent gave a half-hearted shrug. "Some" he admitted. "But I'm not sure yet." He stared at the man walking beside him. "Why?"

"Like I said, your tutors asked me to speak with you. I represent a large company who are looking for new recruits, and think you might fit our requirements."

The youth nodded slowly. "What company?"

"All in good time" replied the suited man. His face broke into another smile as they reached one of the out buildings of the campus. "Ah, here we are."

Vincent looked around. "This is the firing range" he observed.

"Indeed it is" answered his companion. "I'm reliably informed that you are the rising star of the University Shooting Team, and I want you to show me your stuff."

The two went inside, Vincent leading the way in the familiar haunt. The man was right; he was by far the best member that the club possessed. On his arrival at University, he'd scouted around the various societies the campus had on offer, and this one had immediately caught his interest. His father, a weapons manufacturer from Icicle Village, had shown his son the rudimentary basics of the art, and allowed him to handle the guns he produced. He'd shown a certain natural flair and accuracy, and joining the Shooting Club had been a natural progression.

Since then his skill had been allowed to flourish. After three months, he'd made it onto the official team. After a year, he'd been made captain.

They stepped into one of the practice rooms and Vincent had begun to set up the equipment when the other man halted him. I'll do this bit" he said firmly. "No real test in letting you know what you're in for, is there?" He politely ushered Vincent out of the way, and his fingers flitted over the keypad.

The shooting training facilities were the height of new technology. Specially manufactured laser guns and computer generated targets. The targets would fly around the room, and disappear each time they were hit. The computer was able to register the accuracy of the gun fire, the shooters speed and reflexes and adjust the difficulty level accordingly.

Satisfied that the settings were to the correct standard, he picked up one of the laser guns. Looking at Vincent, he tossed it into the air. "Catch."

The young man reached out and snatched the weapon out of the air. The stranger noted the ease with which he executed the movement and the hand with which he caught it. "Right handed" he said aloud. "So shoot with your left please, if you will."

Vincent gave a questioning look, but remained silent, flipping the laser gun over to his other hand.

"And… begin."

The program initiated, and the room lit up with flying targets. The new arrival stood back as Vincent reacted to the sudden mayhem. He moved fast - impossibly fast - and it seemed to the watcher as if Vincent's attention was always just slightly ahead of his shot. He'd be firing at one target whilst acquiring and lining up the next. He stood at watched in approval as the dark haired student twisted and turned, eliminating the targets. A computerised beep sounded every time a shot connected.

After about thirty seconds, the room went silent. No more targets remained and Vincent stood in the middle of the room. The man had to admit to grudging admiration, the youngster was barely breathing heavily.

"Not bad."

Vincent looked taken aback. "Not bad?" he repeated. "That was the highest level, wasn't it?"

The man inclined his head in assent. "Actually" he confessed, "that was over the highest setting. I overrode the system and increased the difficulty." Wandering back over to the computer, he studied the readouts. One hundred percent accuracy. Not a single shot wasted, and with the left hand. Quietly impressed, he fixed his gaze on something at the far end of the building. "That light over there" he said, pointing it out. "Hit that for me. Right hand. And with this…"

Vincent's eyebrow shot up in alarm, as the man reached inside his coat and removed a small revolver, which he again tossed over.

"You sure?" asked the youth, eyeing the weapon with uncertainty. He stared up at the man in front of him. "If I break anything then…"

"Then I will pay for the damage" the stranger assured him. "Hit that light."

Vincent shrugged again nonchalantly, and without even looking, without bothering to aim, lifted his arm and pulled the trigger. A split second later, the light bulb exploded in a shower of glass.

"Are you going to tell me who you really are?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the stranger.

The man laughed softly, unfazed. "What makes you think I'm not what I say?"

Vincent frowned. "You wear a suit, but there's not many businessmen I know that wear shades indoors" he started. "You claimed my tutor sent you, but I'm pretty sure he would have told me if I was to expect someone. You ask me to shoot instead of asking about my studies. You carry a loaded gun on you. And you knew who I was." The man looked gave a querying look, as if to ask for further explanation. "When you asked which one of us was Vincent Valentine, you were looking straight at me. You already knew." Finished, he turned the gun towards the stranger. "Who are you?"

The man seemed unmoved by the fact that he now had a gun pointed at his chest, and instead wore a broad grin. "Well observed, young man" he said. "I'll level with you." He perched himself on the computer desk. "I was not sent by your University. But I do represent a large company who are interested in acquiring your talents." The man leaned forward. "The truth is I've been watching you for a long time, Vincent, and I think you have what it takes. What I'm offering you is dangerous, I won't lie about it. It's not a nice job, like most of your friends will be getting. It's not a safe job. But it's a job like no other in the world."

Vincent's frown deepened, as he started to put two and two together. "Shinra" he surmised. "You're from Shinra."

"To be more precise, I am from the Turks."

"The Turks?" Vincent couldn't hide his shock.

"Now" said the man calmly, "I don't want to pressure you, but I will need an answer soon."

"How soon?"

"About the next minute."

"What if I say no?"

Another grin crossed the stranger's face, but this time it was not nearly so casual. He somehow managed to couple the gesture with an air of menace. "Then I'll have to kill you." Vincent's grip on the gun in his hand tightened dramatically. "And I wouldn't try to threaten me with that, either" he said, indicating the gun trained on him. "I only put one bullet in that. This one however…" he removed a second revolver from his coat "…is fully loaded. Do we have a decision?"

Vincent threw his gun away in disgust. "Do I have a choice?" he retorted.

The man laughed again. "There is always a choice" he replied. "But sometimes the options aren't as nice as we'd like them to be."

"Then I accept."

"Good, good." The stranger returned his gun to his pocket and retrieved the weapon Vincent had discarded. "I knew you would anyway."

"How?"

"I told you, I've had my eye on you for a while. I know you better than you do." He held the gun out to Vincent and opened the chamber to show him. Inside were five more bullets, loaded and ready to fire. The younger man looked outraged.

"You lied to me!"

"Lesson number one" warned the stranger. "Never trust a Turk." He pocketed that gun as well, and gestured for Vincent to leave.

"Now will you tell me who you are?"

The man smiled. "Grisham" he replied. "Forlan Grisham. But you can just call me Sir."