This chapter is sponsored by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Well, okay, not really, but wouldn't it be cool if it were? I don't own them either, not to mention everyone in this story. Poor widdle Alan was mine, and look what happened to him!

Chapter eight: Whatever happened to Vincent Valentine?

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He was still bleeding. He had been bleeding ever since he'd turned back to human, but at least the red was flowing slower now. Still, maybe he'd die here, in a small cave somewhere in the Nibel mountains. He might as well, for now that he was back in human form, Hojo's collar enslaved him, and since he was so far from the mansion he was just about paralyzed. He could blink, breathe, twitch a finger, but that was it. He couldn't stop the blood from flowing, nor could he stop the whisperings in his head.

The demon was louder now, and bolder. It cursed him, bribed him, tried its everything to get Vincent to let it out again. But he didn't know how. It had named itself Chaos, and that was exactly what the black, winged creature left in its wake, chaos and mayhem. Homes turned into funeral pyres. Vincent could see the smoke with his slowly fading eyesight, rising from the ruins of Nibelheim. At least the fires had died down...

Red eyes turned from the smoky sky to stare at the body at his feet, the remains of late Alan Kaze. The boy's pale skin had been torn open, ribs broken, entrails eaten... the pale blue eyes stared up at the cave's ceiling while the cold wind moved the blond hairs ever so slightly. 'Just like Cloud,' Vincent thought, and wondered if the boy and Sephiroth had escaped. The General had been hit, was he alright? Had Chaos caught and devoured them, just like poor Alan? Vincent couldn't remember exactly what had happened while Chaos had been in control, but he got the feeling that his son and friend were still alive.

/It's just a question of time... now let me out!/

Vincent thought that he might actually do it, if he only knew how. Wouldn't anything be better than laying here paralyzed, slowly bleeding to death? He was so tired... but if Chaos was left out, who would be safe? Hojo had planted four demons into his mind, but apparently Chaos was the strongest. Maybe it even controlled the others. And if he'd let it out for long, maybe it would take full control of him, and Vincent Valentine would be nothing but a ghost in his own body.

/It wouldn't be so bad.../

'Shut up already...' Vincent thought and closed his eyes. He couldn't see much anymore, anyway. Everything was turning black, and the quiet howling of the wind between the Nibel peaks was fading as well. Everything was going away...

/Stay awake, you idiot!/ The voice sounded almost concerned, and the Turk smirked, opening his eyes slowly.

'Well now... could it be, that if I die, you won't be able to get out?' He could almost hear the echoes of his own thoughts, and Chaos's low, annoyed rumble inside his head.

'Could it be, that you're even more of a prisoner of this body than me?'

/Don't get poetic, Valentine, you're no good at it.../ The beast within growled.

'Everyone's a critic...' Vincent thought and tried closing his eyes again. That caused everything to start spinning out of control, so he quickly opened them again. He was feeling bad enough already without throwing up. Chaos growled inside his head, and he could almost see the beast, walking around frustrated like a caged animal. He ignored it as best as he could, and tried to recall the happier days.

His childhood hadn't been much, he'd been a loner, enjoying his own company more than that of the village kids. From his first slingshot, he'd been the perfect marksman, and as soon as he had been old enough, he'd left to Midgar, where he became a member of the elite group of Turks. He had been happy then, even if his job meant that he'd have to kill people. Still, he had been proud of what he was, and had been as honourable as a sniper could be considered to be. From what he'd heard, mostly from Hojo and his assistants, the Turks weren't elite anymore, nor barely a group. Just a small pack of bloodthirsty mutts, cruel and eager to obey the festering boil the President had become. Even if he could go back to Midgar, back to his old life, it wouldn't be the same, and the thought of it mainly made his stomach turn. He wasn't a Turk, not anymore.

The times in Nibelheim, with Lucretia. He had been the happiest then, with her. Those precious, short evenings and nights alone with her, and the small picnics on Sundays, up to the windy peaks of the Nibel mountains. The wind was always cold there, even in the middle of the summer, but that just meant that they'd have to sit very, very close to each other, and wrap the blanket very tightly around themselves, share body heat and...

Even if Vincent now suspected and feared that she hadn't really cared for him, had just used him, his feelings had still been strong and true, and that alone made the memories so good it hurt. She had been the first and the last thing in his thoughts every day, still was, and he tried to convince himself that she HAD cared, even just a little. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have bothered to go through the trouble of spending all her free time with him, she could have just seduced him, and he would have surrendered willingly, even if it would have torn his soul to do so.

But even if she had loved him, it didn't mean that the quiet voice in his mind was really her.

Vincent sighed and wondered how much blood he still had left. Breathing was much harder now than he remembered that it should be, and the smell of Alan's decaying body didn't make it any easier. Chaos was roaring something again, telling him to let it out, promising that there wouldn't be any pain if he'd just surrendered his body to it. The demon went so far as to promise him that it wouldn't hurt Sephiroth or Cloud, even if it killed everyone else in the world. But the ex-Turk wasn't stupid or delusional enough yet to believe it.

Something sharp was pressing against his back. It had been hurting a little ever since he'd woken up, but now that he couldn't even see much anymore, Vincent decided that he could die more comfortably, and moved just an inch. The slight movement, however small, tore something inside of him, and more blood spilled out as he could feel everything spin around, faster and faster. He could hear Chaos howling and raging, telling him to stay awake, but the Turk was too tired, he had lost too much blood. Everything went completely black.

Darkness. Something, or someone, was nudging him with something sharp. He didn't as much wake as he just started to feel things around himself. Cool mist, a smell, the sharpness... carefully, fearing what he would see, he opened his eyes.

"Well well well, if it isn't little Vincent Valentine..."

He could hear the sneer in the voice before he could make out the form. With a moan, Vincent sat up and covered his face with his hands, hoping that he hadn't seen what he just saw.

Black, glistening skin, easily a head taller than he was, well-muscled and eyes on fire was Chaos, standing in front of him and flexing his black and red wings. The mouth full of sharp teeth was twisted to a cruel smile, and the beast clearly enjoyed the fact that just looking at him made Vincent very uncomfortable.

"Welcome to your head, Valentine. You won't get out again."

The ex-Turk ignored the booming laughter that echoed all around him, and stood up. The world around him was grey and smoky, but the smoke had shapes that transformed as it moved, wrapped itself around him and disappeared. There was a dim, red-purplish light that illuminated him and Chaos, but the light's source was nowhere to be seen. He could smell blood and death, but that might have been Chaos as much as their surroundings. And the whispers...

The whispers were so much stronger here. It wasn't just Lucretia, he was sure he could recognize many voices from his past. Friends, family, old lovers... all the things they'd said that he remembered, or thought he'd forgotten. They were all replayed here, again and again, the voices drifting with the thick smoke, reminding him of the past long gone. The voices, everyone he'd known, his parents, family, all dead. It hadn't hit him, really, not until now. He had slept for 25 years, how many people who he'd known were still alive?

"You just gave up, didn't you? Loser."

Chaos's hissed words came from behind, and Vincent turned to face the monster who had bowed so that they were face to face. He could feel the hot breath on his face, and smell the fresh meat and blood on it. He wasn't really breathing, but he still smelled it, and tasted it in his dry mouth.

"You just gave up and now wait to die?"

Vincent closed his eyes and lifted a hand to the gunshot wound. It wasn't bleeding, not here, but he knew that outside the blood still flowed, taking him closer and closer to his death. He was dying, he would die in the very near future, and there was nothing he could do about it. Still, he wasn't sad.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Sharp, hot claws dug into his skin and jaw, roughly turning his head. The Turk opened his eyes and looked at the monster. Like a raging bull, steam was now coming out of Chaos's nostrils, and his eyes were blazing so violently that Vincent almost felt the heat.

"You thought it was real clever, didn't you? Dying? Locking all of us in here, ending our existence along your own?" The demon's face was so close to his that Vincent could feel the dark aura around Chaos.

"You don't seem too happy about it, so yes, I would call it 'real clever'." He answered, voice calm and uncaring. Any moment now, his body would just stop breathing, shut down all systems and release him. End this wretched existence. No matter what Chaos would do to him now would matter, as it would all be over soon.

Vincent kept thinking those comforting thoughts while Chaos roared at him. Sharp, razor-sharp claws dug deeper into his skin, and squeezed, just about breaking his jaw. He still stared at the demon's open maw but could see the smoke twisting around them, gathering into three forms that became clearer and more solid. The one coming from the left was purple, with a red mass of something resembling hair and two long, white horns on its head. On his right was a mismatched collection of limbs sewn together, electricity crackling around it. From behind, Vincent could hear the noise of a chainsaw roaring into life. And the part of his mind that wasn't convincing him of the approaching end to it all was telling him that none of the four had any sympathy for him. His last moments might be coming soon, but the ones before them would be painful.

/Lucretia, if you ever loved me, if you ever cared, give me strength to endure this.../ the Turk thought, feeling his blood flowing from the wounds Chaos was tearing across his throat. The purple thing was gnawing on his left shoulder, tearing the metal cover of his hand into shreds like it was tin foil. A crushing, heavy punch from the right broke a few ribs and punctured a lung, and the chainsaw was doing something very painful to his spine. Vincent endured it all stoically, not screaming once, not letting the pain show on his face. He just waited to die.

"NOO!" Chaos roared as a white light formed around the torn body between the four demons. Vincent looked up, at the white mist, and with his dimming eyesight he thought he could see her, smiling down at him. He let his own mouth twist into a small smile and closed his eyes. Finally.

The other three tried to hold him, wound him just one more time, but Chaos, unseen by Vincent, turned around, eyes burning with the fires of pure rage. "You bitch! You said he would be ours!"

The misty, slightly female shape shook its head and laughed, a cold, unemotional laughter that chilled even Chaos' anger. The beast growled under its breath and turned back to see the ex-Turk disappear into the white light.

The enraged screams and roars of the four beasts grew quieter as the white enveloped him completely, and Vincent spread his bleeding arms to welcome death. He could feel the pain in the wounds they had caused, but it wasn't as bad as it had been just a moment ago. The noises, the smell, the darkness, everything disappeared into the white light...

"...up, you piece of..."

"...ke up!"

"WAKE UP!"

The slap left his cheek tingling, and Vincent forced his eyes to open. His chest was on fire, the bullet wound closing but still hurting. He was cold, wet with blood, back aching with the coldness and hardness of his stony bed. This was not what the Promised Land was supposed to be like.

Rough hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him to a sitting position. The world spun around and the ex-Turk moaned and closed his eyes, trying to stay conscious.

"Get up you lousy piece of shit..." a voice growled and he was pulled up to his feet. Stumbling and feeling faint, Vincent was dragged out of the small cave, into the world of cold mountain winds and bright, painful sunshine. Reality was forcing its way into his tortured consciousness, shattering all hope of rest and peace.

"...no..." he covered his face with his hands, the metal cold against his skin, smelling even more metallic than usually, as it was covered with blood. His, Alan's, someone else's, he didn't really know. Or care. As when his watery eyes grew more used to the brightness of the world he recognized two of Hojo's assistants, accompanied by three Shin-Ra troopers.

He hadn't died. He wasn't free of this life, its pains, the demons and Hojo. He was alive, cured of the mortal wound, being delivered back into the scientist's hands. They dragged him down the mountain while his mind tried to comprehend the cruel trick destiny had played on him. Down the mountain, to the small valley, to the smell of burned wood and flesh... back to Nibelheim. When he saw the smoking small village again, Vincent wept and lost consciousness as the mansion came into view.

And in the darkness, they waited.

Hojo closed his PHS and grinned sadistically as his assistants dragged the unconscious man back to the laboratory. The third assistant, still bruised and bleeding from the punishment he'd received, cowered behind the scientist and stuffed a handkerchief into his bleeding nose.

"Sir, you didn't need to come, we can take care of the situation here..." the man said with a shaky voice as Vincent was dropped to the cold, stony floor before them. Hojo snorted and gave the man a look than shut his mouth.

"If you really believe that I'll leave YOU in charge of ANYTHING ever again, you're more of a fool than I thought you were, Malaka." The scientist hissed and turned to Vincent, nudging his prone body with a polished shoe. "You managed to really fuck everything up, not keeping a better eye on him. Why the hell didn't you put him to sleep? You knew that people would come here, didn't it occur to you that he'd try to get into contact with them? No, of course it didn't, not with your limited capacity of rational thinking... be glad that you're not completely useless."

The scientist nodded slightly to the two men who had carried Vincent in, and they grabbed the still-cowering Malaka and started to pull him towards the Mako tanks. When the man realized what was happening, he started to scream, kick and plead, but the men were stronger and he was soon locked in, his voice muffled by the thick glass, hands more used to scientific research barely making the transparent prison vibrate slightly.

Hojo chuckled at the sight and crouched next to Vincent. "One down, one to go..."

Laughter.

/I told you... he won't die that easy.../

Pain with red and black wings descended on him.

A.N: How can I be so cruel?! Poor Vincent. Tortured by Hojo when awake, and by the wicked four when unconscious...

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