Author's Notes: As promised, here's the last installment! Took longer to get out than I thought it would, no thanks to my sister staying overnight again and stealing the computer from me while I was in the middle of editing. Just so y'know, I don't know how big Rufus Shinra's balls are, nor do I want to. It was just something cute I figured Cid might say. There are women in this chapter. They don't stay long. My language (and Jim's, and Cid's) got kind of colorful, but colors are pretty, so it shouldn't be a problem. And it's not as fluffy as you might want it to be, but I think it's cute, and that's all that matters. I'll be writing more VinCid stories later on, and they're bound to be more romantic, I promise. But for my first one, I don't think this is too bad.
Oh! And don't mind Doug. He's not trying to steal Vincent from Cid. He just hero-worships him. Vincent is The Don.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII belongs to Square Enix, The Dark Tower belongs to Stephen King, the plumber thing was a silly subtle reference to Mario, which belongs to Shigeru Miyamoto, who rocks, and Nintendo, Cosa Nostra, Doug, Jim, Hank, the Umbra Company and its employees and president all belong to me (unfortunately for that last bit - I don't want President Goodman! I'll take Doug anyday though...).
Cosa Nostra
Part Three: Saving Cid's Ass
1
Doug, Jim, and Hank exited the meeting hall onto the street. They were being led by Cloud Strife and Barret Wallace, setting out on a very, very important mission. It could be deadly. It could be fatal. It could end up killing them. But they would do it. Because they were men. Real men. Strong men. Tough men. Men from Cosa Nostra. And Cosa Nostra men weren't pussies. Unless they were women. Then they kind of had no choice.
"On the road again," Doug mumbled, once more dragging his feet and slumping his shoulders.
Jim clapped him on the back. "Aw, c'mon, man, it's not that bad. Fresh air and a chance to kick some butt! What more do ya need?"
"A little more logic," Doug grumbled. "It's bad enough The Don doesn't have a phone, but you'd think with the Captains all having phones, he wouldn't have to send us out for a phone book!"
Hank threw his hands in the air. Who the hell cares? "Guy don't need a phone book if he ain't got a phone."
"Yeah, but—" Doug started.
Hank held up a hand up to shush him. "Dougie, stop questioning The Don. It's doing you more bad than good. Just go with the flow for once, okay? As they say in that book The Don loves so much, let ka do its work."
"Ka is like destiny, right?" Jim asked.
"Sounds like kaka to me," Doug said. "Total bullshit." Hank and Jim laughed at that, and after a moment, Doug joined in.
Hank said, "They say that in the book, too!"
And so they agreed to let ka do its work.
2
No man remained in the training hall by ten o' clock. The group led by Cloud and Barret—the ones out looking for the Umbra Company's address and telephone number—found precisely what they needed to, thanks to a local shopkeeper, and reported to Yuffie immediately, via cell phone. Yuffie passed the information along to Don Vincenzo, and Don Vincenzo sent his search parties around the city once more, except this time they would be known as the reinforcements and not the search parties. Keep an eye out on the town in case anything goes wrong, Wilson.
Cloud and Barret's group was to wait by the fountain for Vincent. When he arrived, away they would go. Cid was as good as rescued.
Vincent arrived at the fountain by 10:12.
"Where's Tifa?" Cloud asked right away.
"Base," Vincent said.
"Doing what?"
Vincent shrugged; he obviously didn't care what Tifa did so long as she wasn't in the way.
"Where's Yuffie?" Cloud asked next.
"Base," Vincent said again.
"Doing what?"
This time Vincent opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, there came a crash from behind as Tifa Lockhart kicked over the box Doug Etheridge had been leaning on. Doug fell to the ground elbow-first; he forced back a yelp. Yuffie stepped over him, hands on her hips, and glared angrily at Vincent. Tifa did the same.
"Sexist!" Yuffie accused. "Send all the men out, but leave the women in the kitchen! We care about Cid, too, ya know!"
"Sexist?" mused Vincent. "True, there aren't as many woman as there are men in Cosa Nostra, but of how many there are, I sent all of them out—except for the two of you."
"Yeah, so how come?" Tifa asked. "Hmm? Why leave us out when we're just as good as those other women, if not better?"
Vincent seemed a little surprised, or maybe he was just disgusted by the way these women were talking to him. He pointed a finger at Cloud. "Ask him. He requested I purposely leave you at the base." Cloud doubled back as Yuffie and Tifa turned to him. Tifa especially.
"What's the big idea, Cloud?" she demanded.
Cloud thought quickly. "I didn't want you getting hurt in case it got serious."
Wrong answer.
Yuffie ignited almost at once. "What're you talkin' about? We can fight just as well as these guys!" She pointed to Hank and Jim, hitting Doug in the face, who was just getting back to his feet, and knocking him over. "How do you think you managed to defeat Sephiroth? Alone?"
"Uh... Um..." Cloud backed up into Barret, who smiled wanly at him before facing the enraged rhinos. Er, women.
"Now, look, Yuffie, Tifa," he said. "If Vincent didn't have a problem lettin' ya stay at the base, there must be a good reason for you to be there." He nodded and pointed to Vincent, taking the blame off of Cloud. Cloud gave him a thankful nod and straightened himself up.
The rhinos rounded on Vincent again.
"Well?" Tifa asked.
Vincent remained stoic as a stone. "Someone needs to keep watch on the headquarters and Marlene."
Tifa and Yuffie exchanged horrified glances.
"That's right!" Yuffie exclaimed. "No one else is there but Shera!"
"We better get back!" Tifa agreed. "Anyone could attack the building and hurt Marlene!"
They dashed off down the street.
Cloud looked from Barret to Vincent and smiled. "Thanks for covering me."
"No problem," Barret said.
Doug Etheridge finally got to his feet, grabbed Vincent's clawed hand, and kissed it. Multiple times. "I love you, man!" He was either weeping, or on the verge of tears. Vincent watched him with mild interest before shaking him off. He turned to Cloud and Barret.
"Shall we be going?"
"Going we shall be," Cloud replied, and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "The Umbra Company. Twelve Appleseed Drive. Got any idea where that is?"
"Right across from my grandmother's," Hank said. To Jim, he added, "She came up with the street name." Jim nodded solemnly.
"Alright," said Cloud. "Let's mosey."
Good thing Cid wasn't around to hear that.
3
The Umbra Company was in fact located across the street from the Appleseed Company. Hank's grandmother owned a pie-making business, and her house was quaintly attached to the factory. Truth be told, Cloud found the Appleseed Company, with its chimneys billowing heavy smoke and its tall towers and simmering furnaces, far more intimidating than the Umbra Company, which appeared small, puny, and vulnerable in comparison, as it was just a mediocre office building squished between two bigger ones. Neither, however, rivaled the wrath Tifa would inflict upon him later.
"So," Barret speculated, studying the building and scratching his chin, "you think Cid's in there somewhere, huh, Vincent?"
"I'm fairly certain," Vincent replied. Doug stood beside him, had stayed fairly close to him since he got rid of Tifa and Yuffie, and now he mimicked Barret.
"What would these people want with Cid?" he asked.
Vincent stared at him as though seeing him for the first time, and side-stepped a few paces. "That is to be kept between me and Cid."
Cloud turned to face them. "And me."
"And Cloud," Vincent agreed.
Cloud returned his gaze to the building. "We should be ready in case of attack. If they really do have Cid, they won't be happy to see us."
"Sooo... Why don't we tell 'em we're plumbers or somethin'?" Jim asked.
Barret raised an eyebrow at him, then pointed to Cloud. "Does he look like a plumber to you?"
"No, but—"
Barret pointed to Vincent. "Does he look like somebody who's ready to fix a leak under a sink?"
"Maybe by blowing it up, but—"
"Answer the question."
"No."
Barret pointed to himself. "Do I look like the type of guy to go into people's houses and mess with their toilets?"
"Sort of..."
Barret whacked Jim upside the head. "We're not tellin' 'em we're plumbers! Use yo' head, boy! We're goin' to march in there and ask for Cid, and if they refuse to tell us where he is, we'll shoot 'em!"
Cloud tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. "But... What if they honestly don't have Cid or know where he is?"
Barret shrugged and cocked a thumb toward Vincent. "I'll leave that for him to figure out. This was his idea, after all."
"Thank you," Vincent said, with a hint of sarcasm. "All three of you."
"Wh-what about me?" Doug Etheridge asked eagerly. "I helped a lot tonight!" He missed the sarcasm by a mile.
"I'll give you your thanks later," Vincent told him. To the others, he said, "Onward. Let's not dawdle any longer."
"Right." Cloud put his game face on and turned to the building once again. He and Barret each grabbed a handle and pulled.
The doors opened.
4
"I'm very sorry," said Amelia Cage, who didn't sound sorry at all as she continued to file her nails and procrastinate on the job, "but that's private information I'm not authorized to give out."
"If you have sex with me, will you become authorized?" Jim offered. Hank whacked him upside the head.
Cage gave him a disgusted look. "No."
Vincent bopped Jim on top of the head with Cerberus and then pointed it at the computer on Secretary Cage's desk. "If I shoot your computer, will you tell us?"
Cage wrinkled her nose as though that offer was more repulsive than the last. "Hell no," she said. "Don't you dare—"
But Vincent shot it anyway. Smoke and the smell of roasted wires rose into the air. He hit the monitor and not the actual computer, but he didn't care, and it was all the same to Amelia Cage, with her dyed auburn hair drawn into a tight bun, her lips painted pink and her eyes bespeckled with smart, trim, black-framed glasses she didn't need, but wore to look smart. She gaped first at the ruined monitor, and then at Vincent.
"You—! I'll call security!"
Vincent pretended not to hear. "If I shoot you, will you tell us where to find Cid Highwind?
"Over my dead body!" She reached for the phone. Vincent shot it before her hand could get to it, three bullets from three barrels, piercing through the receiver and rendering the whole thing useless.
"Alas," he said, "I need you alive if you are to talk. But I know plenty of places to shoot you without killing you."
She gulped and fell back in her chair wordlessly. By now Barret had his gun arm ready, and everyone else had their guns drawn and aimed at the secretary. However, Vincent still ran the show, and no one would fire unless he told them to.
"Cid Highwind," Cage said, her voice shaky, gaze stuck on the barrels of Cerberus. "They took him to Cell Number 492, on the third sub-floor."
"Sub-floor," Vincent repeated slowly.
Doug was quick to tell him, "That means it's underground, below the ground floor," and was quick to receive a smack upside the head (with the clawed hand, no doubt) in return.
"I know what it means. How do we get there?"
Cage trembled visibly now. When she spoke, her voice squeaked, like she could barely contain a scream. "T-take the elevator on the left," she instructed, pointing in the direction they were to go. "It'll give you options to go to the sub-floors, but it'll ask for a password. The password is 4928763."
"4928763," Cloud echoed. "Okay, I got it."
"Let's go, then." Barret headed for the elevator. Hank, Jim, and Cloud followed while Vincent and Doug lingered.
Assuming they were done with her, Cage returned to filing her nails. Without any explanation or warning, Vincent shot the file out of her hands. It landed on the floor, broken into two pieces and almost completely blackened. Cage screamed this time, took one look at him holding the gun, and dived under her desk, crying. "Don't hurt me! Please! Whatever you do, don't hurt me!"
Satisfied, Vincent joined the others at the elevator. Doug followed. "That was some pretty badass aiming, sir!" he said. "Like Annie Oakley! You could prob'ly shoot the cigarette from someone's mouth without even hurtin' 'em!"
"Shall I use you as the test subject?" asked Vincent.
Doug flushed. "N-no thanks. I don't smoke."
"No, but Cid does," Cloud said as the elevator doors opened. "You can use him."
They boarded and let Cloud fill in the criteria. Each man took his own spot and didn't say a word as the elevator got moving. Upward.
"Hey now," Doug broke the silence right away. "We're not s'posed to be going up!"
Vincent sighed heavily. "Cloud, did it ask for a password when you punched in Sub-Floor Three?"
"Yeah..."
"And you typed in exactly what she told you?"
"Yeah..."
"She didn't give us the password."
"No?"
"She used us to call security."
The men stared at him, and just as Barret was about to cuss that bitch out, the doors opened again. Waiting for them outside on the third floor were two men in black suits, each with blue-and-purple-striped ties and armed. One man's head was painted completely red, and the other's green. Cid's new friends.
The party in the elevator returned this greeting by pointing their guns back at Red and Green.
"Welcome to the Umbra Company," Red said. "We hope you will enjoy your stay."
"We hope you enjoy seein' the world in a whole new color!" Barret replied, and exited the elevator. Immediately he was bombarded with the sound of locking guns. More security guards. These men wore masks so their faces couldn't be seen at all, but the suits remained constant.
Vincent stood beside Barret, one hand holding Cerberus toward Mr. Green, the other—the clawed hand—hidden somewhere in his cape. He seemed oblivious to the many red laser dots covering his body. "Cid Highwind," he said to Mr. Red. "I want him in exchange for this." His clawed hand came into view, holding a very ancient-looking revolver, big and bulky, with a sandalwood grip. The gun President Derek Goodman priced at three hundred thousand gil. Red and Green gasped in chorus.
"Hold your fire!" Red barked to the security guards. "Do not harm this man and do not let that gun out of your sight!"
Green added, to Vincent, "Give us the gun and we'll take you to Cid Highwind."
Vincent declined. "Cid first, gun second."
Green glanced to Red, who nodded his approval. "Alright," Green said, facing Vincent again. "Follow me." He motioned to the others still in the elevator. Red started down the hall, Green ushered the group along like they were a band of tourists. And here we see the security guards engaging in their annual game of laser tag! Grab a sniper and don't hesitate to join in! The more corpses on the ground by mid-night, the better! Oh, the guards held their fire, sure, but they didn't let the antique revolver in Vincent's claws out of their sights.
It appeared guards all over the place got the message, because even when Red and Green led the Cosa Nostra troop into a different room, red dots covered the party from head to toe. Not even Cloud's hair would escape if Red and Green ordered the guards to fire.
They marched down a different hallway to a different elevator and packed in rather tightly; with an additional two hefty men, that made for eight guys stuffed into a single, smaller-than-average elevator. Green tapped in their destination and the proper password despite the cramped conditions, and within a few moments, they were brought down to Sub-Floor Three, a great place to be if you were a prisoner.
Vincent kicked Doug out first. "Look for Cid and stop touching me." Doug said nothing in return, but got to his feet and looked for Cid as instructed. Red followed him out and took him by the arm.
"That way," he said, pointing to the right with his firearm. "Cell Number 492."
Jim, Hank, Cloud, Vincent, and Barret hopped out one-by-one, following Red and Doug. Green hung back at the rear.
"Holy shit-fuck, Batman!" Jim said in awe as they passed down the line of jail cells on either side. "Got enough prisoners or what?"
"Most of them are temporary hostages," Red explained. "Like your Cid Highwind."
"Temporary hostage..." Cloud pondered. "For what?"
"He didn't pay off his dues!" Green called from behind. "Bastard tried to get away with just twenty thousand gil!"
"For that?" Jim pointed to the old-fashioned revolver Vincent held. "That don't look worth twenty gil!"
"Hush," Vincent warned. "It's the last of its kind."
"And it can still fire pretty damn good, too!" A voice they were all familiar with, coming from just up ahead. "You should'a seen him fire it earlier! Blew a hole in the wall bigger'n Rufus Shinra's balls!"
Cid's cell was void of everything except for him, and he... Well, he looked pretty void of everything, too. The same question sprouted in everyone's (save for Red and Green, who already knew) minds, but Vincent was the one to ask it.
"Cid, where are your clothes?"
A blush rose to Cid's face, but he made no effort to hide himself. Cloud was pretty sure he could see a tint of pink in Vincent's face, too. Not that he would comment on it. Everybody knew Cid was The Don's favorite; they dubbed him The Donnette, after all.
"Uh, well, see," Cid began. "They sorta wanted me to finish payin' off the three hundred thousand gil for that gun, but all I had on me was a couple hundred, so we played poker and the winner got to decide the final price to pay." He paused, looking at them and bracing himself for their reactions to this next: "Strip poker." Jim, Hank, Doug, and Barret burst out laughing. Cloud and Vincent continued to stare at him in shock. "It wasn't my idea, honest! It was that fuckin' President Goodman! He's a goddamn sicko!"
Cloud and Vincent exchanged glances. Finally, Cloud said, "Let's get you out of here." He reached for the keys hanging on the wall next to him. Red grabbed his hand before he could.
"Not without that first." He nodded toward the all-sacred antique revolver.
"Of course," Vincent said, and offered it to Green.
"Dammit, Vinnie! Don't!" Cid shouted. "That's yours! I bought it for you! They have no right to take it!"
"Of course they don't," Vincent agreed, although he continued to hold the gun out to Green. Green glanced from Cid to Red to Vincent to Roland's gun, and slowly stretched a hand out to take it.
Vincent drew Cerberus with his other hand and shot Green promptly. Blood created a red circle in the middle of his green forehead, and spilled down between his eyes onto his nose. Christmas came early this year.
He fell with a heavy thump on the floor. Cloud took the hint, drew his own gun with his free hand, and shot three times at Red. Only one of those three bullets made it; guns had never been Cloud's thing. That one bullet grazed the big man's shoulder. Growling, he lashed out at Cloud, and was shot in the back of his own head. He fell on top of Cloud, who then threw the body to the floor. Doug stood before him, gun smoking, grinning uneasily. Clumsy oaf, but a fine marksmen indeed. He turned to Cid.
"Real nice upgrade. Smooth firing and very little recoil. Thanks."
"No problem."
Cloud grabbed the ring of keys as he intended and fumbled with the lock on Cid's prison cell door. Once he tried them all, he tossed the ring on top of Red's bleeding head. "None of these work."
"Let me try." Barret pushed him out of the way. Unlike the others, he had no need to carry guns with him. He had one build in. And now he pointed it at the lock. Cid stepped as far back and out of the way as he could. Barret fired. The bullet pierced not only the lock as intended, but also the wall on the far edge of the small cell. When he tried it, the door slid open easily.
Cid nodded his approval as he walked out into freedom. "Not bad shooting, men. Although you could do better." He caught Vincent's eye. "Especially you. I expect a lot better from you in the future."
"As you very well should," Vincent agreed. "Shall we be going?"
"Going we shall be," Cloud answered. He and Barret led the way back to the elevator, all the while prisoners along the way complimented them on their performance, begged to be let out, too, and hooted as Cid walked by. Cid ignored them the best he could, walking toward the elevator as fast as he could, but when he got there, Vincent refused to let him board.
"What's the big deal, Vinnie?" he demanded to know, trying to edge his way past him. "I'm cold and naked and wanna go home! Why you stoppin' me?" Don't you love me anymore? he almost added. He was glad he didn't.
Vincent held both his guns out to either side. "You said you wanted to see better shooting from me. You're about to see it." Cid got shoved aside then, but he didn't care. He watched Vincent Valentine run down the long corridor of prison cells and blow off the locks of each one as he passed. That was good enough to make up for the shoving. He moved so quickly and fired in such rapid succession, his body became a red blur and you'd think he was holding machine guns in both hands. Not to mention a never-ending supply of ammunition.
The prisoners stood aghast in their cells until this was over, and then every door creaked open, as though pulled by the hands of a thousand friendly ghosts. The room erupted in cheers. Vincent made his way back to the elevator.
"Going we shall be," he said to his men, and boarded.
Cid cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to the roomful of free men: "Hail Don Vincenzo!"
"Hail Don Vincenzo!" they repeated in perfect unison, and again, laughing, "Hail Don Vincenzo!" The rest of the group joined Vincent and fled that joint.
5
Getting out wasn't as easy as getting in. Many lives were spared as well as taken, gallons of blood were shed. But there were seven of them, and six of them had guns and more than enough magazines to last them through the night, continuous shootout or not. Of those six with guns, one had two, and another had a formidable Buster Sword for backup. The seventh man was huddled in the midst of the other six, as he was naked, vulnerable, and unarmed.
All seven of them made it out of the building alive, but the action didn't stop once they got onto the street. This time, however, they had reinforcements. Remember those troops The Don told to wait outside? They were smart people. Knew how to locate where a shootout was taking place. And so all of Cosa Nostra (save for Tifa and Yuffie, who kept watch on the base) gathered at the Umbra Company on 12 Appleseed Drive. When their leader emerged, followed by a herd of security guards, the troops took hold of the reins, leaving the main party to return Cid to the base, where some fresh clothes, some cold beer, and his wife awaited him.
6
Cid showered, put on some clean clothes, and eased Shera's worries. He sent her home to wait for him as he finished things up at the base, although what he had to finish (other than the abandoned airship with the screwy radiator, which he would work on tomorrow), neither he nor she really knew for sure.
He sat on the balcony outside Vincent's office, sipping his beer and staring at the stars, wondering how a gun could be so valuable it very near cost him his life. He was joined by Vincent soon after setting his own bum down there.
"Tell me somethin', Vinnie," he said, not looking at him until they were sitting side-by-side. "What really kept you from handing that antique gun over? I know it wasn't me. You were too zoned out at that point to be thinking of me. What's so special about that damn hunk o' metal'n wood?"
"You're wrong," Vincent replied. "I was thinking of you. You gave it to me. Saved your money so you could buy it for me. Lost your dignity to give me a chance of keeping it. After all that, it would be a shame to give it up, don't you think?"
Cid gazed into his cup. "Well, yeah, but—"
"It's as much mine as it is yours," Vincent interrupted. "You know that, don't you? It's our thing."
Cid smiled at that. What a funny way to word the secret he tried to deny for so long. It had nothing to do with the gun. Absolutely nothing. Or maybe it did. Yeah, it had something to do with the gun. But that was only a physical metaphor. The real thing... It was theirs.
That night it was not his wife he slept with.
END/Cosa Nostra
End notes: Okay, this is the important time to review, now that the story's over. How was it overall? Did I do the FFVII characters justice or do they need tweaking? Did you like my own characters? Would you like a sequel of some sort? Is my writing style annoying or fabulous? Go on! Be honest! I like honest people!
