Author's Note: Winding up this story is harder than I thought! But the adventure is only beginning. For this, too, I think will have a sequel. For not only will Luciel NOT have an angsty, lonely little ending, I will make sure has lots more opportunities to kiss his wuverboy.

----------------------------------

We were running, shooting behind us occasionally. I wanted to stay close to Vincent but he instructed me to stay a space away from him. That was, if either one of us was shot, then I could throw him a potion we picked up from a monster or run to defend him while he did so himself. It wasn't long until we reached the open Chocobo prairie, where the wild birds ran free and happy.

This method of fighting was good. We fought off monsters as we went, racking up the cash that fell out of their gullets. I felt my sickness at murder going away. I thought of it as getting points. I was hitting my intended targets a lot more than usual. Vincent hit nearly every time. One instance provided me insight into his mind. He had missed on account of there being too much sun, even if he could shoot a can against the sun in broad daylight. It was possible there was something else... but he kept on, and it didn't matter whether he missed or not as he still killed the monster that fell down upon us out of the blue and smacked into the earth like a wet bag of potatoes.

The house was only over the next hundred yards. Every chocobo we saw almost always shrieked in their warble-speech manner prior to dashing away with all due birdie speed. They mingled with the monsters, occasionally, maybe thinking they'd be safe. Then we'd kill the monsters and during the melee, the large yellow beasties ran once more.

I assumed we probably did look pretty scary, guns all a-blaze with murder in our eyes. Poor things. I think one of them had a heart-attack, rest its soul.

The house was quite quaint. A large fenced-in area in the front yard waited for us. There was a single scrawny bird standing all alone in the grass, pawing at the ground and picking at the grasses it deemed nutritional. When we came close it lifted its head and peeped conversationally, before trotting to the edge of the fence and following us on our journey to the front door.

Waiting for us there, beside a dozing old fart in a rickety wooden chair with a bottle of liquid in one hand, was his equally old, decrepit dog which looked up from both gnarled paws and gave us the canine once-over, lips curling slightly in what appeared to be a grimace of displeasure.

I tapped my foot, standing in the shade that was cast by the roof and the building itself. It was good to be out of the damn sun. Sweat made my shirt stick to my armpits and it was irritating the shit out of me.

"Uh, old man?" I asked, clearing my throat. A fly buzzed by the old guy's ear. He didn't budge an inch. I stepped close to Vincent, feeling my blood chill as anxiety trickled into my veins. "Jesus, is he dead or something?"

"I don't think so. I can see him breathing," the gunman relied. He motioned to the stables and began in that direction. When we got inside, it was cool and the hot, living smell of chocobos filled my nostrils. I think I... liked it. It was good. I breathed deep and sought refreshment from the cool, wild air. I loved the atmosphere in her. Something exotic and sensual came over me. I pressed my hand to the wooden wall of a nearby cubicle and let my eyes wander from stall to stall until they rested on Vincent, who stood, watching me.

His eyes were sad, but passionate. I wished I could have spent a little more time with him.

There were guns clicking from seemingly everywhere. Something was wrong from the start, and all of my contentment vanished like a hot dream from pre-teen days. I felt the cold chill of metal on my neck when the murderers materialized from the cool, sweet-smelling shadows. I saw Vincent duck and whip his pistol out like a badass western hero. His arm crumpled underneath an almost bone-breaking kick from a Turk that emerged from the side.

I strained against my captor. I couldn't waste time watching. But even I as kicked the man in the balls and heard his amusing high-pitched squeal, there was another man nearby, who knocked me in the temple with the butt of his electricity-crackling rod. I crumpled like a piece of paper.

"Too bad you didn't notice the dart in the old man's back. Otherwise you could've gotten away from us one last time."

This is the redhead, speaking over my shoulder. I realized just how far we've come, only to get fucked over in a goddamn chocobo stable. What a sad piece of shit luck for me. I tensed, restless beneath the rage and embarassment and helpless captivity under which I was kept. I felt the flaming red-head's fingers on my neck as he grabbed my shirt and searched my belt. I felt his groping touch wander too my groin, way too many times, until he plucked the gun from my pants waistband.

My vision blurred. Everything felt wrong still. I strained to see Vincent. I couldn't get a good look of him, but he was being man-handled by a big bald guy. And my hands refused to do what I wanted them to.

"Reno," Vincent mumbled with a testament of murder in his voice.

The redhead behind me coolly replied, "Vincent." He chuckled. "Got the hots for the manwhore, don't you? That's too bad! I thought you were married to your work... I guess it takes more than guns and murder to give you a hard-on, doesn't it? I'm proud!"

"Let him go," I mumbled, only to get smacked again. The electric end of Reno's stick caught me upside the shoulder and I yelped like a puppy. I was on my knees now, and I felt Reno crouch down behind me, his hand against my back... creeping lower--

"...Say, I wonder if he's got the infamous talents of a Midgar slut?"

Bubbling poisonous chuckles arose from the watching Turks as Reno's hand pushed its way down the back of my pants. Jesus, he's going to fucking rape my ass. Please, God, no...

Intruding, rough finger caressed my skin, enjoying the feel of it, undoubtedly pleased at how tame I was. I was used to getting groped, but not in front of Vincent. I bucked suddenly, throwing my weight back, and snarling like a wild cat as I aimed my elbow for his throat. I choked him, sending him sprawling back in the straw while I dove forward, grabbing my gun from the ground and shot the knee of one in my sights. He squealed like a pig and fell sideways, while I scrambled forward, only to be grabbed by the belt and launched upside down by another burly Turk.

I roared my outrage, squirming and not caring that my pants were probably half-falling off now. I saw Reno get up, clutching his throat, while his eyes were about as red as his hair. He flicked his hand out, gripping the electro-rod and turning it in his hand slowly. He burned of sadism. I cringed, feeling my arms pinned against the other man's chest as he held me loose. My pants inched down around my hips. In two seconds they'd fall to my ankles in a useless heap.

Reno's nose was an inch from mine. One hand disappeared between us. I suddenly found myself several inches off the ground as he yanked my pants up and practically gave me a wedgie. "Let's get these two back home before the president has a stroke, boys."

So, folks.

It was a round trip to hicksville and back, taking a free ride on the jazzy Turkmobile with our many new pals, including Reno the Jerk Off and Burly Rude Guy. We bounced around on the uneven road in our tiny buggy and took stock of our situation as we pulled in back through the gates of Midgar, a.k.a. Hell.

We weren't getting away. Vincent was suffering a bloody nose and I, well... I was plopped in the lap of luxury with Reno's arm around my shoulders and his booze-stinking breath in my face. I wanted to vomit all over his rumpled, fancy faggot suit.

Now, we stood under the weight of prosperity, taking a Militia Access Only elevator to the upper world. It was just me, Rude, Vincent, and my personal buddy Reno, riding the glass coffin into heaven. Or, to be more precise, my worst nightmare.

The paved streets were pretty tough under our feet. Reno had my handcuffed - and was mighty happy about it, too - while Rude manhandled the 6 foot beauty, Vincent. I tried to get his eyes to find mine, but to no success. I breathed a heavy sigh, pushed through another set of doors after being pushed around a dozen streets. By the time we reached the ShinRa Headquarters' lobby, my feet were sore and one shoe had come untied.

Up another elevator, into another glass coffin. This was the time to consider when and how the hell I was going to escape - preferably with Vincent. Somehow I wanted to speak to him, but I was afraid to talk. Besides, Reno was doing plenty of talking for all of us.

I wished he'd shut up.

"--gonna love the food they serve. I like the secretaries, such fucking babes, I could screw them all in one night in the same bed--"

Is this some kind of cruel and unusual punishment? To make me listen to this bullshit for the rest of my ShinRa HQ tour of the week?

I seriously began to taste bile, like a cold finger running up my throat like someone just jammed a steel rod up my esophagus. Something was seriously wrong. My vision blurred a little as we marched down steel corridors, which turned jaggedly to a line of doors on either side. Vincent was shoved into one, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of his eyes. The last glimpse I would see for months to come.

And then I, too, would be in darkness.

The first moments of pain that night came when I felt fingers peel themselves into my hair, like a pitchfork into a load of hay. I envisioned Reno there, grabbing onto me and purring to himself. And in that vision I remembered all the men who had taken advantage of me over the years, and when I saw Reno in my mind, he carried their faces instead of his own.

But this man was different. Already I could tell, because for one thing, he smelled different. Not necessarily better - he was like a hospital embodied in one guy. And I could see that his eyes flashed in the dark, probably tell-tale sign of glasses. His fingers caressed all along my scalp. My neck tingled. My insides churned the moment that his serpent's tongue formed words.

"So you're the one... that Vincent looks after so well. I'm sure you won't disappoint me."

His hands fell on my shoulders, and pulled me by my shirt, which was already coming loose from so many guys yanking me around in one day. But was I about to let this freak start molesting me in the dark? No way. Not without a good brawl, anyway.

I shot my knee out blindly in the dim hope that it would connect with something vulnerable. It cracked against the inside of his hip, but that was enough to startle him out of his little fantasy for another second. I thrust both hands out, pushing against his chest and throwing him back several steps, and before I knew what I was doing I was running blindly for the bold of light that was my salvation. I heard the man shout, and hard boots were thundering after. I ran anyway, as fast as I could.

"You blundering moron!" a man screamed. "I told you it would be safer if you left him alone! He's gonna get away!"

"No, he won't," the other man replied smoothly, and a tad bit irritated as well. "There are about a thousand soldiers in this building alone, plus the robots. Do you think he can possibly escape without any keycards?"

No sooner did he reveal this tidbit of information as I rounded a slightly familiar corner did I smash headfirst into a young woman with dark black hair and green eyes. "Shit! Will you watch where you're going?" I cried, as though I also were some employee in a tremendous hurry.

And I swept by her, snatching a keycard out of her skirt pocket with little less than a snort of satisfaction. Some people are so ridiculously blind.