The Aftermath
A Final Fantasy VII Fanfic
By Susycreamcheese
The game of Final Fantasy VII is owned by SquareSoft.
Rated R
Chapter Four
A feeling of total dread and anxiety washed over Vincent, as he gazed down upon Tifa's outfit that he was holding in his hands. Tucking her skimpy outfit away inside his shirt, (he wasn't certain why he had done that, if he needed it for some sort of proof or evidence that some misfortune had befallen her or he wanted it in order to present her with it the next time they met, or he just couldn't stand to thoughtlessly leave it lying there) Vincent returned his attention to the basement room again, this time looking at everything with a much keener eye.
He thought he found evidence of several drops of blood, but without a forensic kit he had no real way of knowing what it might be. Vincent realized the police force in Wall Market was practically nonexistent, because of the various and assorted businesses, which offered them bribes to look the other way. It would be next to impossible to motivate them to investigate a crime that might never have taken place; at least not by their definition of a crime.
Certainly many young women disappeared in Wall Market and often would emerge in the service of such places, as the Honeybee Inn. In fact, the Honeybee Inn was one of the nicer places they could be shunted to. There were many topless bars and several houses of prostitution also. It was not a mere coincidence that Shin-Ra lackey Don Corneo, the pervert and pedophile, had had his mansion located here.
His mansion had been only one of the many places pretty women could disappear to in Wall Market. Vincent realized that all of these places were now going to have to be searched in their quest to locate Cloud and Tifa, since he had discovered her clothing here. Just the thought of having to do this caused him to emotionally cringe. Vincent had more than enough intelligence and intellectual honesty to realize his reaction toward vice was due to his feeling nastily and mysteriously drawn to it.
He abhorred that in himself and he would go far out of his way to avoid anything resembling in the slightest a sexually aberrant situation, because underneath it all, Vincent was a highly moral individual and a man of high standards. Vincent believed these feelings were, once again, something that was borne of the hideous experiments that he went through at the hands of Professor Hojo. At least, all he knew for certain was he was not like this before that time.
Vincent vacated the old broken down ruin and walked down in the middle of the teeming crowds to the Honeybee Inn. Striding up to the doorman, Vincent demanded entrance.
"Sir," the doorman responded. The Honeybee Inn employee looked to be a rough customer in his own right, standing well over six feet and weighing in the neighborhood of two hundred and twenty pounds.
"Do you have your membership card available, sir?" he inquired. The doorman was wisely practicing politesse not caring for the looks of Vincent at all.
"A card?!" the dark-haired man echoed. "Of course not," Vincent answered in a tone that indicated he thought it ridiculous to think he would be a member of the Honeybee Inn.
"Well, then sir," the doorman continued to speak, "I can't let you enter without a membership card."
"How can I get one?!" the morose man inquired in a demanding tone.
The doorman smiled slightly at Vincent, which was to prove to be his undoing. "The Honeybee Inn is presently full and no membership cards are being issued at this time."
Anger flashed inside of Vincent and he clutched the front of the doorman's shirt with his surgically altered hand, which had the strength of a hundred men in it and easily lifted the minor giant completely off the ground.
"Don't you toy with me!" Vincent screamed at him, his anger being completely out of line in regards to the actual reality of the situation. The doorman wiggled in Vincent's grasp attempting to get free and when that didn't succeed, he placed his two hands on Vincent's arm and used his strength to the utmost in an attempt to force his tormenter to have to lower him to the ground, but to no avail.
Finally he was reduced to pleading, "Sir, sir, please put me down. You can hold me up forever, but we still have no membership cards presently."
Something suddenly snapped inside of Vincent and he finally realized the futility of it all and dropped the man back on the ground. The doorman staggered to maintain his balance and not fall.
Vincent wrapped himself in his red cloak and strode away without a word, realizing he had handled that as poorly as possible outside of actually killing the man. Cid will have to gain admittance. I will be unable to, realized the dark-haired man. He abhorred the thought of having to ask Cid for assistance, but it couldn't be helped. Certainly Nanaki wouldn't be allowed a membership card, although he could help Vincent search the topless bars.
I hope it doesn't warp his teenage sensibilities, Vincent thought with a slight smile adorning his usually serious features for a second or two, in a very rare burst of humor. Glancing around to see if anyone was following him since, after all, he had been in Don Corneo's old mansion, and not only was there evidence that someone had been there for more than a few minutes, as evidenced by the empty pizza boxes, there was also the matter of Tifa's outfit mysteriously being there, he didn't see anyone paying any particular attention to him. It almost appeared that Vincent was also attempting to discover if anyone had seen him smiling. After all, he did have a certain reputation to uphold. He realized that his rep alone kept most people from bothering him and that's the way he liked it.
Returning in his mind to the subject of the search for Tifa, the dark-haired man realized he and Cid could split the search of the houses of prostitution, although underneath it all Vincent actually thought the whole thing would be a exercise in futility. The morose man just had a gut feeling that Tifa was not anywhere in Wall Market, because no one had heard anything and there was just no way that somebody as dynamic as Tifa Lockheart could be kept a secret for very long. And where the hell is Cloud? Vincent wondered.
……….
Cid ran into some old friends, in fact they were some very old friends as it turned out. Men he wasn't even certain were still alive after all this time. Men he used to test pilot with. When they invited him to quaff a couple of cold ones at the local establishment at the end of their working day, he jumped at the opportunity to be off his feet for awhile. He just wasn't used to pounding the streets anymore. He was still an air jockey, Cid realized; even now.
After everyone had seated themselves with a brew of their choice, Cid asked, "So what are you all up to? Not doing anything for Shin-Ra, are you?" The older pilot was reacting to the consistent rumors that Shin-Ra was not dead, but alive and well somewhere in the underground presently.
"No," Jenkins Crowley, a tall thin, dark-haired man of indeterminate age, replied with a bark of laughter. "Not hardly, we're helicopter pilots for President Reeve and other members of his cabinet."
President Reeve, huh?" Cid replied. "What's he like to work for?" the blond one-time astronaut asked, thinking back to the stuffed Toysaurus with the talking cat that used to represent the rather flaky personality of the Reeve of two years ago.
"He's real good, surprisingly enough," answered Bosley Thomas, a redheaded pilot a few years older than Cid.
"And he's very fair with us," interjected Jackie Jackson, a raven-haired younger man, who Cid knew only slightly.
"Well, it sounds like a good gig," Cid commented.
"Except when we have things to do like tomorrow," declared Bosley, causing Jackson to suddenly glare at the redheaded pilot for speaking out of turn in his opinion.
"It's ok," Jenkins answered for Thomas. "We can trust Cid. We've known him a long time and I'm positive he is loyal to President Reeve's new government. He hates Shin-Ra more than we do, if that's possible."
"That I do," agreed Cid, taking another draw from his beer. "So what's going on tomorrow?" the blond haired pilot asked.
"We're going to the North Cave," Bosley answered sounding depressed and worried at the same time.
"The North Cave!" Cid excitedly echoed. "What the hell for?"
"Ours is not to reason why, ours is just to do or die," Bosley recited rather tonelessly.
"Oh, give me a break, Bos" complained the younger pilot. "It's not that bad," Jackie continued.
Jenkins responded, "You've never been there. You have no right to tell us what it is until you've seen it for yourself. You tell him, Cid"
Jackson's good looking features showed more than a little frustration on them, as he riposted, "Yeah, you tell me Cid."
"The North Cave is a unremitting hell hole and I can think of only one reason for going there."
"Sephiroth," Bosley simply said.
"Sephiroth," Cid agreed ominously.