Collecting his PHS, he flipped open the top and dialled. He was mightily relieved to hear Shinra's tirade on the other end, berating him for interrupting his much need sleep.
His second job was to check on his remaining Turks, to make sure they hadn't had any untoward experiences.
"Come on" he murmered, "pick up…" He was rewarded a few rings later by Preston's voice.
"Boss?"
"Thank Odin for that." The leader of the Turks allowed a small sigh to escape his lips. "Have you two spotted anything out of the ordinary tonight?"
"Like what?"
Vincent cast his gaze to the assassin pile, where it appeared Linden had taken it upon himself to arrange them in amusing poses. He cracked a wry smile. Considering how close they had just come to death, he found himself feeling… flippant. "Like maybe… Attacks by silent armed ninja intent on stabbing you with very sharp swords, that kind of thing?" Remarkably flippant. Must be blood loss.
On the other end of the phone, Preston gave a sharp inhalation of breath. "You guys alright?"
Vincent looked down at his shirt, now mostly stained a delightful red colour. The pain from the wound in his chest was also now beginning to edge its way into his consciousness. Linden, finished with his task of heaping ninja, had collapsed on the nearest bed. He had begun the unenviable task of peeling off his jacket and attending to the gouge in his shoulder. "We'll live" Vincent assured his fellow Turk. "But get back here soon as possible. I don't want anymore of these incidents tonight."
Closing the call, he followed Linden's lead and eased himself onto a bed. Discarding his shirt onto the floor, he inspected the sword wound carved across his chest. He also discovered that he'd caught several more nicks and cuts that he hadn't even registered before.
"Ouch."
Now that the adrenaline of battle was wearing off, the pain of injury put off whilst fighting could be ignored no longer. Turks were trained to be able to do a wide variety of tasks, and in-the-field medication was one of them. Luckily, they also had a trump card.
Materia was in short supply around much of the world, but the Turks had a reasonably comprehensive collection. A mission such as this would not normally require the inclusion of Materia, but unwilling to take unneccassary chances, Vincent had slotted a couple of the crystalline orbs into one of his shotguns under his bed. Unfortunately for him, that meant he had to get up again to retrieve it.
Hauling himself to his feet he trudged over to his bed and knelt down to pick up the gun. As he bent over, he felt a thin trickle of blood ran down his face. Reaching up to follow the trail, he noticed that he hadn't been quite as lucky dodging the katana as he thought he had been. Hurriedly he pulled out the weapon and extracted the small green Materia from its place.
Seating himself on the floor, he used the bed as a brace for his back. Healing with Materia was effective, but draining. Cupping the orb in his hands, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Not exactly an easy task for someone in his condition, but Turk discipline was practically second to none. Focusing only on the Materia, he willed it to heal him, directing the energy inside it to do as he wished.
A soft green glow began to pulse from the object in his hands, growing more noticable with each passing second. The light began to twist and turn, coalescing into a mist. It swirled around the Turk, wrapping him in an intangible cocoon before settling and sinking into his body. He gasped loudly as the curative effect took hold. Using Materia always took something out of the caster, especially healing. And when the injured party was the one commanding the magic, it always seemed to feel ten times worse.
Still, looking own he could see that the gaping slash on his body had finally stopped bleeding and had closed. There would be some scar tissue for a while, but he would be good as new after a while. The smaller cuts and scrapes had been erased with more ease.
He saw his companion poking ruthlessly at his own injury and relinquished the orb. "Here, catch." He tossed the green Materia across the room, where Linden caught it awkwardly.
"Cheers." Soon enough, an ethereal mist was surrounding the Turk, who also let out an exclamation of shock as the healing took effect. "Damn!" He fell back onto the bed, exhausted. Each person had a different tolerance to Materia - some could use it as easily as breathing, others had to concentrate extremely hard to get even the smallest effect. Vincent considered himself to be about average, whilst Linden was definitely closer to the latter end of the scale.
From his position on the ground, Vincent was able to see the welcoming figures of Deacon and reston approaching down the hallway, as well as the not-so-welcome sight of a number of Kisaragi guards. He presumed that they had been alerted by the sound of the scuffle; it was unlikely that either Turk would have roused them, though he noted that the soldiers hadn't exactly been quick to arrive on the scene.
Thankfully the two jogging Turks were the first to reach the bedroom. They took in all the information available to them. Upon seeing that Vincent and Linden were alright (if a littlw woozy), Preston moved straight to the window, examining it to see how the attackers had gained entry. Deacon padded round to the pile of ninja, peering at each one closely.
The soldiers weren't far behind however, and immediately leapt to a hasty conclusion.
"Murderers!" The man in the lead pointed at the heaped Wutaians in shock and anger. "Rouse Lord Kisaragi!" The guards behind him started to draw their weapons, incensed. Even in his slightly battered state, Vincent was going to stand for none of this.
"Don't be bloody fools!" he snapped at them, causing the front man to step back in surprise. "For a start they're not dead, just knocked out. They'll come to in a little while." Indeed, one of them was already beginning to stir, making faint groaning noises no doubt intensified by a ninja dumped uncerimoniously on top of him. "Secondly, they were the ones who attacked us. Whatever you may think, we don't go around luring armed assassins into our bedrooms for kicks." He reached out his arms and used the bed to pull himself up to standing. The curative effect of the Materia was really beginning to kick in on him now.
"They came in through this" added Preston, leaning out the window slightly. "The hinges have been greased here and here." He pointed to the relevant parts of the frame. "And the other major giveaway is that their grapples are still in place." The soldiers looked uneasy. "Come over here if you don't believe me" said Preston cheerily. "Look, you can see two of the hanging down here, attached from the top of the palace…"
One of the guards received a shove in the back from a comrade, effectively volunteering him for the task. Warily he walked over to where Preston was standing and followed the Turks pointing finger. "He's right" the soldier confirmed. "There are grapples here."
The front man was rapidly becoming familiar to Vincent, and it suddenly hit him where he recognised him from. The bar. Sasuke.
The soldier stubbornly dug his heels in. "They could have planted those" he declared loudly. "Everyone knows Turks have no honour."
What with one thing and another, Vincent had a nagging feeling that this was not going to be his night. The situation was further complicated by a call from Deacon. The Turk had been examining the fallen ninja carefully, peeling off their facemasks, and he gestured towards Vincent to take a look himself. "What do you think boss?" he said, indicating one of the men.
Check that, Vincent thought. Definitely not his night. He knew this man too. It was the second one he had seen in the bar, engaged in 'discussions' with Sasuke. Surely that couldn't be coincidence. He'd been a Turk too long to believe in coincidence any more. It was all beginning to fall horribly into place.
Sasuke wore a slightly worried expression on his face. Evidently things had not panned out how he had expected, and he was unsure of how to deal with them. Seeing the sudden interest the Turks were taking in the ninja, he decided to act quickly.
"We will take these men away and question them" he interjected hurriedly, ordering some men forward. They were immediately stopped by the sudden looming presense of Vincent.
"I don't think so" he said. He could hardly say out loud that he didn't trust them, but the fact remained he wanted no chances taken before the Turks had had a chance to do the interrogating. "Deacon, Preston - have these men escort you and the captives to a secure location, then stay with them. I'll question them in the morning."
Sasuke floundered helplessly. "But… But Lord Kisaragi…"
"Lord Kisaragi can…" Vincent bit his tongue and restrained some of the more violent epithets from passing his lips. "Can speak to me in the morning too. Now get out."