The rest of the operation went, if not like clockwork, then at least as well as could be expected. There was an old Turk saying along the lines of 'chop off the head and the body soon dies' which certainly proved true in this instance. Once Grisham, the man giving the orders, had been disposed of then sure enough, the other terrorists swiftly capitulated under renewed pressure from the men in blue.

Preston and Linden had freed the first group of hostages, sending them off down the maintenance tunnels where members of the Shinra armed forces were waiting to usher them to safety. The second set had proved slightly more difficult, due to the sheer number of terrorists and the proximity of vital Mako pipes. Not even the attackers really wanted to burst those, since they would have inflicted a severe dose of Mako poisoning on everyone in the vicinity. The mercenaries loyalty did not appear to extend as far as making themselves martyrs to the cause.

The remaining Turks hadn't had an easy time of it, considering the intruders to Turk ratio and their closeness to the captured employees - one of the hostages had received a nasty wound in the arm whilst running round like a headless chicken -but thankfully they had been saved by the timely arrival of their leader. Vincent had had a fairly clear run after his encounter with Grisham and had burst in on the battle just as Preston and Linden were being slowly but inevitably backed into a corner. His entrance tipped the scales back in favour of the Turks. Indeed, he had neatly taken out three of the men before the terrorists even realised that they had another problem to contend with.

A few of the attackers found themselves in the unenviable position of being detained and taken back to the Shinra Headquarters for interrogation. Again, these unfortunate few were turned over to the soldiers for escort, to be dealt with later.

The Turks themselves left the scene once the hostages had been recovered safely. They had fulfilled their tasks admirably, so the armed forces could take care of the clean up operation. None of them particularly felt like immediately returning to the HQ after the afternoon's events, so Linden made the executive decision to descend on Vincent's apartment.

Upon arriving, Linden's first act was to kick off his shoes and plant himself firmly in front of the TV. Placing his feet up on a coffee table, he reached for the remote control. "I need food" he stated. "After that little workout I have to replenish my energy." His jacket soon found itself spread over the floor. A tie floated through the air to land on an ornament.

"So you're going to sit there and vegetate?" Preston snorted at his colleague while he hunted for the phone. "How about pizza? Is everyone up for pizza?" Linden raised an arm in acknowledgement. "Boss?"

Vincent wasn't listening. He was perched on a stool in the kitchen area, chin resting in the palm of his hand, staring at the coffee machine. Not that the miracle of caffeine dispensing was on his mind at the moment. He was more concerned with the events of the past few hours, one incident in particular.

As the man in command of the Turks, it was his duty to compile reports on all the operations they undertook, for the President's perusal. He found himself in a quandary. Grisham's rise from the dead was a wild card - as far as Shinra was aware, the man had been disposed of years ago. But once Vincent revealed that he had faked the hit and that another member of the Turks had acted as an accomplice, who could predict what the reaction would be?

He was bound to tell the truth and nothing but the truth to his employer, and morally he knew that he should impart this information as well. There was still one nagging part of his brain though that refused to accept this, knowing the uproar the news would cause. The crime had been confined to just the two men, but would anyone else be implicated? Was Grisham's story even true? He himself had only been the youngest member at the time his mentor had 'died', but would Shinra think he had been involved?

But if he did conceal the truth, what then? Hassle was saved in the short term, but what if the President found out at a later date? The mercenaries' bodies could be dumped, but what if they decided to run tests on them and the duplicity was discovered?

His eyebrows tightened in a frown. There was also another matter trying to bother him, but that was one that was even more unwilling to acknowledge…

"Boss?"

Vincent looked up to find Preston a few feet away. "Hmmm?

"Maybe you should drink some of that coffee instead of trying to out-stare it" the other man suggested. Vincent sighed. They were technically off duty, so he was prepared to let the sarcasm go. "You want pizza? We're about to order."

"No, I'm not really hungry" he lied, watching Preston head off to the phone, and Linden spreading out over the sofa. He frowned at the scene playing out. "You two have been in my apartment for ten minutes" he remonstrated, "and already you have turned it into a war zone." Looking round the room, he took in the damage inflicted by his subordinates. "Whose tie is that over my Hotohori?"

Linden looked up from his seat guiltily. "Your Hoto-what-a-hi?"

"Shinji Hotohori, a famous Wutaian artist. Now please get your tie off his sculpture, it's priceless." Vincent watched like a hawk as the offending item was taken off the piece and unceremoniously dumped on the floor. He resisted the urge to sigh again. "You know, the first time I saw your place I wondered how on earth it was possible for a man to be so untidy. Now I think I understand."

Preston hung up the phone. "Two pizzas on their way, one with extra pepperoni" he announced. "Set the clock this instant. If they take more than half an hour we get it for free."

"Why are you bothering?" enquired Linden, not taking his eyes off the TV screen. "Vincent's paying."

This was news to the man concerned. "I am?" He decided that now would in fact be an ideal time for coffee. "Why am I paying when I'm not even eating?"

"Because you are entertaining two Turks who performed above and beyond the call of duty" explained Preston proudly. "All hostages accounted for, all terrorists eliminated or captured and mission accomplished. You didn't have to do any of that, so the least you could do is buy us pizza."

Vincent acquiesced with a wave of his hand before flicking on the coffee machine. He hadn't told the two Turks about his problems; there were some things that were best kept under wraps for the time being. Linden had never known Grisham, having joined the group after his supposed death. But Preston had though, having also been handpicked by the former leader in a similar way that Vincent had been. He'd known the man for longer too. If Grisham was telling the truth, then could Preston have been in on it as well? He sat there and looked at the two Turks, one of whom was engrossed in the TV show, the other was rooting through his fridge. Questions, questions, questions, and so far not enough bloody answers.

"Got any beers?"

Preston's head emerged from the fridge long enough to ask the question before diving back inside.

The leader of the Turks slid off the stool and mooched over to check. "I thought you'd drunk me dry last time" he observed pointedly. Peering inside, he managed to locate a fresh four pack, buried at the rear and passed them out. "You would appear to be in luck."

"Now that's what I wanted to hear" Preston exclaimed, taking the offered cans and bounding back over to Linden on the sofa. "Attention! We have alcohol!" A whoop from the seated man indicated his pleasure at the revelation.

Vincent couldn't help but roll his eyes as he closed the fridge door. Wandering over to the others, he eased himself into one of the armchairs. "What are we watching?"

"Linden's choice. When Animals Go Bad."

"Three."

Shaking his head, Vincent sank back into the chair. "Where do they get these things from?" he wondered aloud. "Isn't there anything better on?"

Linden dismissed the possibility. "Nope, and I have the power" he proclaimed loudly, waving the remote control with one hand. "Of course if I'd known we were gonna crash here then I would have brought my video collection with me…"

"We're probably better off without that" said Vincent firmly, nipping this particular suggestion in the bud. "I know what sort of videos you've got."

"Nothing wrong with a little adult TV" Linden replied.

"No, but why do you insist on watching it with everyone else?" the leader of the Turks asked looking around, hoping for backup on the point. "Isn't that vaguely perverted or something?"

Preston looked up from his beer. "He's got a point you know" he agreed. "If you're going to watch porn you don't want to do it with your mates around, do you? I personally have no wish to see you jac…"

Vincent zoned out their conversation, since more pressing matters were weighing on his mind. He had reached the decision that the President was going to have to be informed of Grisham's reappearance, there was no way he could get out of that. However, he was planning to opt out of writing it in the official report. If he told Shinra directly, he could at least try and forestall any awkward lines of questioning that might arise. That only left the problem of how to phrase it…

He was drawn out of his contemplation by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Linden was surprisingly the first to react. "Pizza!" he cried, practically leaping over the back of the sofa to run to the door, pulling it wide open. "About bloody time, it's been…" He trailed off.

"Hello Linden. You were expecting someone else, I take it?"

Vincent's head snapped up. That wasn't the voice of a delivery boy. "Lucrecia!"

What time was it? She hadn't been due over until later… A quick glance at a clock showed that it was much later than he had thought. He jumped from his seat and dashed over to the door, pushing Linden out of the way in the process. "Sorry, didn't realise the time" he apologised. "Here, let me take your coat… There's coffee in the kitchen if you want it too…"

Linden slowly meandered away from the door, grinning. It wasn't often he got to see his boss reduced to acting like a nervous fifteen year old, and he wanted to savour the moment. "Don't suppose you brought a lady friend with you?" he asked lightly. "You've promised to set me up with one of those Science chicks…"

Lucrecia slipped off her coat as she stepped inside, letting Vincent take it off her hands and hang it up. Closing the door behind her, she smiled at the roguish Turk.

"'Fraid not" she answered with a chuckle. "For some reason they all think you're a terrible womaniser."

"I am not. I am a gentleman."

"Liar." Preston and Vincent looked at each other as they spoke simultaneously. Caught in the middle, Linden held up his hands in mock defeat.

"Stooges" he complained. " I can't win. Anyway, nice to see you again Lucrecia."

The scientist inclined her head in response. "You too." Ever since she had started seeing Vincent on a regular basis, she had become more accustomed to the men who formed the Turks. Having met Linden (admittedly under slightly unusual circumstances), she had been forced to re-evaluate her opinions. Being introduced to Preston and Deacon had hammered the point home. She couldn't deny that they were certainly a formidable force, but she had seen them off duty as well as on, and had been surprised at the difference.

She noticed it in Vincent the most. Putting aside the fact that to all intents and purposes he was an intimidating presence regardless, it was almost as if he had two faces; one for while he was on duty, another when he was off it. When he was in his 'Turk mode' as she put it, he scared the hell out everyone he so much as looked at, herself included. She wouldn't have been surprised if even the President thought twice about arguing with him. His handsome face could have been etched in marble for all the emotion it showed. There was also no getting away from the fact that he killed for a living, should the need arise. He was a dangerous man.

But then when he was with her, a whole new side of his personality emerged. He let the barriers drop a little. Vincent didn't smile often, but when he did it changed his face completely. She wished he would do it more often.

She looked around at the apartment, amazed at the mess that was already beginning to pile up. "Planning a lads night in?" she enquired of the two now seated Turks, before moving over to the kitchen to pour herself a drink.

Their replies of "yes" were drowned out by a very firm "no" from Vincent. They turned to protest, but the leader of the Turks was having none of it. "I'm not letting you wreck my house again" he said decisively. "Go to the bar instead."

Linden smirked. "You want us out of here because you're worried about your apartment?" he asked incredulously. "I don't think so." This was accompanied by an exaggerated look over in Lucrecia's direction, which thankfully the scientist missed.

"And what about our pizza?" chimed in Preston. "It'll be here any minute and we wouldn't want it to go to waste. How about we hang around long enough to pick that up, then we can…"

Vincent stalked over to his two colleagues "Look" he hissed quietly so Lucrecia wouldn't hear, "I'm not going to ask nicely, I'm not going to bribe you, I'm just going to tell you. Scram. Scoot. Get lost. Just get out of my apartment!"

Preston and Linden exchanged knowing looks. "Come on" said the latter. "I think the boss wants to interrogate his girlfriend, if you know what I mean."

"And our dinner?"

"You can lurk around the building's front door till he turns up" conceded Vincent. "Honestly! What do I have to do to get some privacy round here?"