Tifa's Bogus Journey

Chapter Four: The Vincent Cliché Part One

Couple of things before I start. Question for Malz. Meatshield? Where'd you come up with that one? I thought it was hilarious. Though I doubt George Carlin or a phone booth will be in it. Though there was a slight Bill & Ted reference in there (Drakengard had the title of Esquire). And for those that missed it, the Monty Python reference was the reference of 'Jim-Jam' being "able to summon up fire without use of flint or tinder" (Tim the Enchanter from MP& the Holy Grail could do that).

And Firefly99, I know which story you're referring to. I happened upon it the other day, and my cliché senses were going off left and right. Though it did warrant a good chuckle.

On with the story..... Only 'Jim-Jam' and 'Greg' are mine..... all in good fun..... etc.

..........

"So, you're sure he's here?"

Tifa heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes towards 'Greg' as she slid her arm from his.

"Where else would he be? I mean, unless he's possibly moping around in Lucrecia's Cave, he's bound to be here..... Unless he's in Rocket Town, shacking up with Cid."

"No, I don't think he'd be there," Greg answered, still staring dubiously at the mansion in front of them "I mean, when you said Vincent angst/romance, I assumed you meant Vincent and yourself, not Vincent and Cid. So, I doubt he'd be in Rocket Town."

Tifa nodded, his reasoning making a surprising amount of sense. Though, there was always the chance that Vincent could have moved on with his life, pushing his past aside, rather than dwell on it incessantly.

.....Ah, who are we kidding?

Glancing at 'Greg' who motioned for her to lead the way, she strode purposefully up to the mansion, boots crunching over the decaying leaves and dead plants choking the cobblestone path. Making it to the door, she grasped the handles, ready to pull them open with a flourish. However, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Isn't it kind of rude to just go walking in there? I mean, that Vincent guy is all 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' as it is, so wouldn't that kind of piss him off?"

Tifa rolled her eyes, turning to face 'Greg' her anger spiking at his comment.

"Oh, and I'm sure it would be perfectly acceptable to just go and smash it clear off its hinges!" She replied hotly, causing a dusky red to tint his face in embarrassment. Turning back to the doors with a sigh, she once again grasped the handles "Besides, this is what I always do."

"Exactly!" Greg sighed, wresting her hands from the ornate brass door handles "If you want to change things up, you'd better start off on the right foot."

.....Stupid 'author-created type' and his stupid powers of awesome deductive reasoning.....

Without waiting for her to answer, he reached out and pressed the doorbell, hearing a piercing shriek from within the mansion. Tifa glanced at him dubiously, her pride a little hurt by being shown up by 'Greg' this early on. She was certain she could have done this herself. Though she couldn't afford to get careless this early on. Not while she still had a lot of work ahead of her. And if 'Greg' could come to her rescue every now and then, all the better.

Though she'd secretly hate herself in the morning for needing his help. Stupid 'author-created' tag-along.

So they waited for Vincent to come to the door.

Waited, and waited, and waited and.....

"Hey, how long's it been?"

"Uh..... seventeen minutes."

"Ring the doorbell again. Maybe he was in the shower or something."

"Do you guys even need to take showers? I mean while the plot is rolling along and all that?"

Tifa paused at the question, her mouth half opened to answer, before she clapped it shut, drumming her fingers against her jaw in deep thought.

"I don't think the mansion even has a bathroom now that you mention it....." She muttered, eyes going back to him "Well, just ring the doorbell again. We can wait all night if we have to."

..........

"Ace high. What do you have?" 'Greg' sighed; bored out of his mind.

"Pair of Queens. I win again." Tifa muttered, tossing her cards down, cupping her hand around the small pile of pennies, sliding them towards her side of the front step.

They had opted to wait until Vincent showed up. And wait they did. Having been relatively sunny when they showed up at the mansion, the sun was now dipping below the mountains, shadows falling upon the two of them, camped out on the front steps of the Shinra Mansion, playing hand after hand of Poker in an attempt to alleviate their boredom.

Besides, AVALANCHE would often play poker to pass the time, and never tire of it, only exchanging good-natured jibes when one of them was really cleaning up.

Alas, such was not the case for Tifa or 'Greg', who were tired, bored, and getting more than a little bit cranky with having to wait so long. And 'Greg' was already down three thousand dollars, despite the two of them only using pennies to bet with.

They had given up their vigil on the steps for a few minutes, just to run back to Tifa's house use the bathroom, make some coffee, and get a jacket and scarf for Tifa, who was feeling the drop in temperature, only having a tank top on. And those arm warmers. But now, with her spiffy denim jacket and wool scarf (which both oh-so-stylishly matched that pair of pants she had put on earlier) she was okay to wait a little longer for Vincent.

As long as 'Greg' didn't get as annoying as 'Jim-Jam' had. But he seemed to know his place in this 'partnership', and had spinelessly adapted to it. Hell, he had broken character as well, and wasn't being all "Creepy Obsessed Guy from Tifa's Past". Well, at least he wasn't being obsessed anyway.....

"Are you sure he's even in there?" 'Greg' finally asked, leaning back and peering into one of the darkened windows, his glow-in-the-freakin'-dark eyes straining to make out any sign of its possible inhabitant.

"Look, there's a one in eighty seven chance that this is a story where he's moved on with his life, and will unexpectedly come to my rescue when I get into a tight spot after I thoughtlessly run off after a fight with Cloud. And you were pretty confident you wouldn't hop us to the wrong place. So-"

There was a creak as the front doors shifted inward a little, as if someone had been going to open the door, but paused at hearing the voices outside.

Tifa was no fool. She knew it was Vincent. And she knew she had to get 'Greg' out of sight, lest that screw things up way too much. She sprang into action, shooting her foot out, metal-plated boot catching 'Greg' square in the chest, knocking him backwards into the mass of creepers and brambles that overran what had once been a garden, hearing him land with a thud, and the stomach-turning crunch of what she tried to assure herself were dried twigs. She also swept the cards and more than three thousand dollars worth of pennies onto him, trying to hide them from sight so Vincent wouldn't notice anything amiss.

'Greg' was moaning, both in pain from getting kicked into a bramble patch, but also at the indignities of such an action, and the fact that his chest was being crushed by over three thousand dollars in pennies.

Leaning down towards him, Tifa cast a quick glance towards the door, a finger to her lips as she tried to quiet him down.

"Shh, shh! Sorry, sorry! I can't let him know you're here. You might scr-"

The door creaked open, and Tifa straightened up immediately, spinning towards the door, hands behind her back, a bright (and hopefully convincing) smile plastered on her face in an almost appalling rictus as she tried to make it seem like she hadn't been camping out on his front porch with a man that she had just unceremoniously booted in the chest.

Vincent stood there, eyeing her warily from over the high collar of his red cloak, blood red eyes narrowing at the intrusion upon his property. He hated visitors. Abhorred them. Drove them away as fast as he could.

And yet, at night, he would lay awake in his air tight coffin, wondering why he was so desperately lonely.

Glancing back and forth, eyes sweeping around for a moment before settling back on Tifa, he heaved a great sight of contempt.

"Is there someone else out here?" He asked accusingly, eyes darting let and right again, Tifa's forced smile faltering slightly.

"Oh, no no no! Absolutely not! You know that whenever I come running to you, I always come alone, and never remember to pack an overnight bag or anything." She said coyly, expertly dodging the question.

"You should leave." He spat almost immediately, eyes narrowing further. "I have to go out tonight, as I have to go out every night, and quench the gnawing pain of the monsters within me by feasting on the souls of sinners. For it is my eternal curse, for failing to protect the woman I loved fr-"

Tifa cut him off with a contemptible sigh of her own, eyes rolling in a quick sweep, her left hand doing that little 'talking' motion, as she was tired of hearing the same old story. He brought it up at least once a conversation.

Brief Interlude

Barret: Gee, sure is a nice day, huh Vincent?

Vincent: Truly beautiful. Just like my beautiful Lucrecia.....who I failed to protect..... Oh, my life is shit and I'll never find true happiness, and I must spend my life atoning for all of my sins, which will never be cleansed from my soul and-

Barret: Yo man, don't that cloud look kinda like a duck?

Vincent: .....Nah, more like a goose, I'd say.

Back to the story at hand

"Oh, boo hoo. All that again? You had more than thirty years to get over it. Really now. Was a woman that would marry Hojo really worth it? And didn't you notice that the ghost in that cave is really just an animatronic figure? Reeve made it as a joke, and really, to be honest, we were all laughing behind your back when you were begging it for forgiveness."

"Animatronic?" He gasped in bewilderment, the revelation coming like a slap in the face. Though it did explain that time when sparks started shooting out of her eyes, and she kept repeating the same thing over and over again.

"Mm-hmm. And we all know you don't have to go out and quench your monsters' thirst for blood and souls. It was never brought up, or even hinted at in the continuity of the game. It was a Limit Break for cripes sake. Nanaki had Howling Moon, and you don't see him going all nuts during a full moon in every plot."

"Well, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure if anybody cares about Nanaki enough to examine that possible aspect for a plot line."

"Right, right." Tifa nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, but, uh, anyhow, let's get back on track here. You're mopey, and I'm that little ray of sunshine that just barely manages to worm its way into your heart unexpectedly."

Vincent nodded, clearing his throat and brushing his hair back quickly, trying to get back into character.

"What are you doing here?" he asked flatly, point blank at her, eyes narrowed.

Though despite his uncaring, outward appearance he was inwardly excited beyond belief. Thank God Tifa was a rather attractive lady. Emphasis on lady. People in town were starting to talk. The term 'Poncy Fop' was becoming all too synonymous with the name "Vincent Valentine".

You could tell rumors were bad, when they were spreading through a friggin' ghost town.

Ah well, maybe now he could quell those rumors, and be able to stop getting into those situations where he had to tell people that Lucrecia wasn't imaginary; she was merely a spectre of the woman he had once loved, yet had rejected him for some pencil-necked geek, that ended up screwing him up beyond belief.

Vince, buddy, you sure Lucrecia was all that great of a catch in the first place?

"Oh, I was just in the neighborhood, you know, being one of the only three inhabitants of this cozy ghost town besides you and Cloud, and, well- "

"Let me guess. Cloud broke your heart because of his unyielding love for a deceased woman, and in your distraught depressed and possibly suicidal state, you've decided to seek comfort in the only person with a shittier love life than you?" He guessed in a bored tone, rolling his eyes.

"No. I-"

"You found out Cloud was cheating on you, and in your rage you came running out here despite unheeded danger, now you need me to protect you from something or someone, and in the process attempt to get closer to me and help heal your deep emotional wounds with my assistance?"

"Erm, not quite....."

"Some shit hit the fan in regards to Cloud, and now you want to move into the mansion despite the wary reactions of all of our old teammates just so you can waste away in the mansion because you know I'm a miserable bastard and don't care about your or your rapid downward spiral, and you want to share in the palpable, encroaching misery that surrounds this fine establishment?"

Tifa rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest and muttered under her breath. Undaunted, Vincent reached back in the recesses of his 'situational memory bank' grasping for one of the possible reasons Tifa was there. He had guessed, and missed, three of the main reasons she could have been there, so maybe there was a rather obscure, fourth, possible reason for her presence.

"Cloud has gotten distant and weird towards you, and you've become intrigued with me, and after a while of hanging around me, you develop strong feelings for me, we have our emotional ups and downs, I deflower you, and then we have more emotional ups and downs when you think I don't care for you in the least, though it turns out that all along I did love you, but felt unworthy, as Hojo turned me into a monster, undeserving of the love of such a fine-"

"Shut up and listen to me you Poncy Fop!" Tifa snapped, causing Vincent to flinch back visibly, as if he had been slapped across the face.

So even Tifa had heard the rumors.....

Though, since she and Cloud were the only two other inhabitants of ghost-town Nibelheim, there was a 50-50 chance that she had actually been the one to start that 'Poncy Fop' rumor.

"Look, I just came to ask you that....." She stalled, biting her lip uncertainly, not sure what to say. It would have to be something original.....

"Well? I'm a busy, bitter-hearted man. Make it quick if you would." He sighed, his pride stung.

"My door's broken, y'see, and I was uh, wondering if I could just steal one for a few days, until it gets replaced." She explained with a nervous giggle, pointing back over her shoulder, towards the gaping doorway in question.

Vincent stared at it, mouth set in a grim line.

"It's a sin to see a door as nice as that to have gone to such waste- "

"How in the Hell is that a sin?" Tifa asked incredulously, rolling her eyes.

"Well, I-" Vincent paused, blinking, trying to collect himself. "I don't know."

Tifa smiled triumphantly at her victory in their verbal sparring, and breezed past him into the Foyer of the Mansion, seeing that everything was still in a state of disrepair, dusty as Hell, and the silent Mansion was lit with nothing but the warm glow of candle light. She walked around the main hall slowly, taking in her surroundings with faint distaste.

"Vincent, would it kill you to fix this place up a little? I mean, it wouldn't be that hard to get a mop or a vacuum cleaner and run it over the floors every couple of weeks. Or maybe patch up these floors in the weak spots....." She made a point of noisily pulling her leg free from where her foot broke through a weak spot in the warped, rotting floorboards, "And why is this whole place lit up with candles?"

Vincent sighed, shutting the door and resigning himself to the fact that he'd have Tifa as a houseguest now. He'd just have to grudgingly endure it, until they ended up falling for each other.....Which would probably be a few chapters from now.

"Look, Tifa, you know I don't hold a real job. You kicked me out of your bar after I tried paying you with Monopoly money four nights in a row. I spend all my time alone moping around in the basement laboratory, reading up on Hojo and what he's done, even though it'll do absolutely nothing to improve my current situation, nor erase the scars of my past."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Vincent gave a long suffering sigh, rolling his eyes heavenward.

"I told you, I don't hold a real job. They cut off my electricity, water and phone line."

"First off, there's apparently no running water in this mansion in the first place, and second, you're so antisocial that you don't even use a phone, save for that brief stint when you made all of those 'psycho killer' prank calls to upset Yuffie." Tifa shot back, sighing.

"Well, okay, but I still don't have any electricity." Vincent huffed crossly, scowling from behind the collar of his red cloak. Despite it being however many years it had been since they had last gotten in touch with one another (even though she had just recently kicked him out of the bar for that Monopoly money scam), Vincent was still wearing that 'Fancy- Pants British Techno Goth Industrial Vampire' look, as if his closet was chock full of nothing but red capes, late '80s style bandannas, double breasted shirts, and pants that were meant to be tucked into his boots. Come on, no matter how cool Vincent is, and no matter how hard he's rockin' that look, it honestly looks questionable and silly. Especially if he goes parading around in broad daylight.

.....Though I can't really even make fun of that being cliché. After all, he is dressed like that in Advent Children. And in Advent Children, he is prancing around like that in broad daylight. And he doesn't age.

Way to suck the wind outta may sails Square-Enix. So much possible material to run with right there, and yet.....

Picking up a candelabrum, Vincent stepped by her, motioning for her to follow as he made his way up the stairs.

"Come along Tifa. Perhaps the answer to your question, and the soothing of my grief-ridden soul can be found..... in the basement." He sighed in his drab monotone, holding the candelabrum up higher, casting the wavering light haphazardly through the darkness, sending shadows dancing across the floor. Because where Vincent was involved, the shadows always ad to be doing something elegant. Like 'dancing across the floor'. Because Vincent is apparently a really cultured guy. I bet he reads The New Yorker, and gets a kick out of that high-brow stuff.

Tifa sighed, rolling her eyes again as she tromped up the stairs after him, glancing toward the window and motioning for 'Greg' to hurry up and get inside.

Going down into the basement with Mr. Miserable was probably a really bad idea. Really, really bad. After all, there were plenty of doors upstairs that she could take back to use, and maybe reward him with a little smooch on the cheek. That could qualify for the romance. And Vincent was always in some sort of trumped-up angst scheme.

If she struck now, she could easily end this and attempt to cut her losses.

But no, he was already halfway down the basement steps, and she knew awful, ill-contrived plot devices would abound, and she would have to help Vincent through. It would cement their bond as friends.

.....And perhaps more.

At some point.

Picking up her pace, she started down the stairs after him, cursing to herself.

"Okay, fine. But there is no way I'll let you do me on top of, inside, or anywhere near that coffin of yours!" She called down to him, hoping to make herself, and her intentions clear. She was definitely trying to steer clear of any lemony-situations this time around.

"No problem Tifa. There's a surgical table in Hojo's Lab. It has restraints and everything."

Well, that was certainly..... non-clichéd.

And utterly creepy.

Tifa managed to bite back the scream that was threatening to tear from her throat, the noise stifled into a high keen of rage. She wrung her hands as if physically sullied by hearing such a thing, and then threw punches, swinging at the empty air to try and dispel her sudden burst of rage.

Ew. Ew. EW!

Sure Vincent was often creepy and weird to begin with. But that, that was just too much. Though creepy, bondage-loving Vincent was not a breakthrough characterization she really wanted to deal with.

Steeling herself, she took a deep breath, swung her scarf back over her shoulder defiantly, and made her way down the steps, determined to keep her new, stylish, and unrevealing outfit firmly in place, and away from Vincent's groping claw-like thing.

What had she gotten herself into?

END FOUR

Well, there we go. Part One of the Vincent cliché. Eek. Part Two will be coming up soon, and we'll see how Tifa fares in this foray into cliché-breaking. And there will be no creepy bondage. I tried to stay with the whole 'Vincent being creepy-weird' aspect that he's normally seen in.