The next day, Cid had gone to work, and had immediately been sent back out. Palmer had, unbelievably, sent him for donuts. Knowing Palmer would expect a full dozen for himself, along with about fifteen gil in change, Cid used said change to buy two donuts for himself. He would claim later that they had upped the price. Palmer would grumble but not approach the shop owner, and he would probably forget about his change during the tirade as well.

That was, in fact, pretty much how it went. Cid handed over the box and reached into his pocket for the change, commenting offhandedly that Palmer would only be receiving twelve gil instead of the usual.

"Upped the price? I'm three gil short! We ought to put them out of business! Highwind! Go complain."

"Yessir."

"Tell them I'm their best customer and they'd better not forget it."

"Yessir."

"What are you still doing here? Go!"

"Yessir."

Cid pocketed the change and returned home instead. He would shower –he hadn't had time that morning- and then come back, telling Palmer that the owner had agreed that the original price was best.

After finishing his shower, Cid took notice of Valentine's glasses, still sitting on his TV tray. They seemed to be smiling at him, grinning with the glare from the lights in the kitchen. He folded them onto his collar and, whistling, left his apartment for the second time that day, locking the door behind him.

When he was more than halfway to work, Cid caught sight of a dark vehicle, familiar in size, off to his right. Instinct had him speed up to get away, but only a split second later, the training took over and caused him to slow his step to a casual walk.

As the vehicle approached him, he finally remembered that Valentine had promised to "be in touch," but had never clarified how. Sighing, Cid stepped closer to the vehicle and raised a hand at the driver in greeting.

The black, heavily tinted rear passenger window rolled down to reveal Tseng's unreadable face. "Mr. Valentine requests your presence, Mr. Highwind. Please get into the vehicle."

"Figured as much. A' right, let's go." Cid climbed into the vehicle from the other side and glanced around at the interior. "S'dark in here. C'n I maybe roll down a window or somethin'?"

"No," Tseng said evenly, tilting his head to pin Cid with an apparently blank stare. "Mr. Valentine prefers his business to stay private. You would do well to remember that, sir."

"Right. Well, reckon I shouldn't smoke then, either, on account o' it'd stink up this place. Pretty nice, so I wouldn't wanna do that. Anything else I oughta remember?"

A muscle in Tseng's jaw began to twitch. "Stupidity, sir, pulls a trigger faster than does a finger. Mr. Valentine does not abide stupidity, and his patience for such things is short."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cid said grimly. "Say," he started, leaning in toward Tseng, "you look pretty tense t'day. More'n normal, I mean. Somethin' big go down?"

Tseng just stared at Highwind, convinced that he didn't hear the cop right. He couldn't even justify answering that question, let alone considering it. Right now, he couldn't believe that he was pushing Vincent to accept this man's offer! Cid Highwind…was an idiot.

Cid blinked. Clearly this man was not going to respond to the persona he presented at work. It made sense; this man, unlike Palmer, was no fool. He sighed and brought his hand to his temple, again smudging his glasses in the process. "Look, it's easier t'act like that when I don't have a clue what's goin' on, all right? If I put m'self inta that mindset, the one I use at work that keeps me from goin' crazy an' killin' people an' shit, then it don't matter if I feel helpless, 'cause that guy is, y'know? But the guy who's doin' business with Valentine, he don't like bein' helpless. I ain't the fool y'think I am. Sometimes I wish I was."

Tseng's eyebrow rose, but his expression otherwise did not change. Highwind was rather…verbal, and he didn't think Vincent would have much use for the man if he didn't learn to control his mouth. The cop also was too quick with the assurances of his own intentions and that made Tseng wary…and very suspicious. But he trusted Vincent, and knew from much experience that the man he called his 'boss' would easily see through Highwind's charade, if there was one. "We shall see, sir," was all Tseng said in reply.

"You…you ain't the nicest guy on the block, are ya? Well, I reckon I oughta expect that. 'Course, the nice guy on the block usually turns out t'be the serial killer or some shit like that…but then, you are technic'ly the bad guy, so that'd work, really. Uh…well, whatever. You don't think too much o' me, do ya?" Cid asked, having quite reluctantly cut off his rambling in favor of another attempt at conversation.

"What I think is ultimately irrelevant. It is Mr. Valentine whom you need to convince of your intentions, Mr. Highwind." Tseng said softly. He then turned his head to stare at the cop. "But a word of advice? Do not lie to him, for he will smell it, and do not betray him unless you seek a swift death."

"I ain't gonna betray 'im. Guess you have no reason t'believe that, seein' as what I'm doin' now is betrayin' the people I work with, but I won't. An' I certainly hope not t'lie to 'im. Shit, I don't know if I could. S'somethin' in the way he looks atcha that just makes ya change yer mind when y're about to." Cid sighed and stared out the window, facing away from Tseng. "So, uh, are we there yet?"

"Shortly, sir." Tseng rested his elbow on the sill of the window, his eyes growing distant, and his voice soft and sad. "He has been betrayed enough. See that you do not."

Cid could only stare silently after that, stunned by the statement and the demeanor that accompanied it. "We all have," he told Tseng as he descended from the vehicle a few moments later. "Once is already more'n enough. The world betrays us the minute we're born, seems like, an' then we go around hurtin' each other in revenge fer that. I don't ever wanna be that kind o' man. Frankly, I – I'm glad y'care about 'im. Everybody needs somebody t'care about 'em. How's this- I'll give you my word right now that I'll never betray 'im, an' you promise me y'll keep on bein' good to 'im."

Tseng stood and silently scrutinized the cop. He spoke prettily, but Tseng had been around enough people who had had silver tongues and black hearts. He could choose to dismiss Highwind's promise or he could choose to believe it. He took a risk, and chose to believe it. Tseng nodded slowly and held out his hand. The cop looked at him as though he had grown three heads and Tseng gave him a cold smile, before shaking his hand. Satisfied, he turned and began walking. "This way, Mr, Highwind."

After a few moments of walking in silence, Cid remembered something. "Say, how's the kid?"

Startled, Tseng paused and looked back over his shoulder. He hadn't expected that question. "He is recovering quickly. We will not forget your treatment of him." He turned back around and they walked the rest of the way down the hallway they were traversing in silence. When they came to a heavy wooden door, he knocked loud and briskly, twice then opened it for Highwind. Motioning with his arm he said, "He is expecting you. And Mr. Highwind?" He said as the cop began to walk past him. "Remember my advice."

Several hours and a blackening eye and bruised jaw and throat later, found Vincent standing in front of the large window of his office, hands clasped behind his back and waiting for Cid Highwind to arrive. Below his calm exterior, he seethed. He could still taste Rufus in his mouth despite having brushed his teeth three times. He felt dirty, cheap and helpless; three feelings he decidedly did not like.

Vincent smelled the old cigarette smoke before he heard the man clear his throat. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Highwind." He said softly without turning around. He looked down at the people walking below the tower, then up to study a slowly passing airship. "After careful consideration, I have decided to accept your offer." He turned then to regard the cop wearily. "That is if it still remains on the table?" At Highwind's startled look and wary nod, Vincent flashed a small smile. "Excellent," he said, striding around to sit at his desk. "But before we finalize this little contract of ours, I believe we need to clarify just what is being offered here, as well as the terms of…payment." He couldn't keep the hard edge from his voice at the mention of payment, but ShinRa had taught him well.

Cid had begun to shrug off his coat upon entering the room, and he draped it over the chair that he never got around to sitting in. His fists clenched reflexively when Valentine had turned to face him. The concept of someone strong enough and gutsy enough to cause him such damage startled Cid momentarily…and then he remembered Shinra. Certainly neither gutsy nor strong, but in a position of power nonetheless. In short, a coward. If they decide t'kill the sonofabitch, they'd better let me get one in.

His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment or two as he struggled to remember what conversation they were having. He knew he looked foolish, but there was nothing he could do about it. "I…payment?" Oh, god, is that what that is? Payment? Whaddaya want me to say? That I'll get you what you need, but in return fer that, you spread yer legs for me once a month an' take whatever I give ya like a good boy? Is that what he wants from ya? Fuck…Fuck…. "Fuck. Shit." Fists still balled, Cid walked to the window Vincent had just abandoned. He pounded both fists softly against the glass once, then let his forehead drop onto the cool pane.

He had seen worse than this. He had known worse than this. Why it affected him so much, he could not say. He only knew that he was offended for this man, hurt for his dignity and mourning for his pride. His eyes, so mysteriously painful before, made perfect sense now. They told Cid the story of those bruises, the quality of his voice, and the winces at the light. He stepped away from the window and up to Valentine, removed the glasses from his shirt, and slid them gently onto Valentine's face, pushing back hair when it got in the way. "Sorry 'bout th'fingerprints. I never can get glasses on right, even though I been havin' these goin' on five years. Anyhow, maybe yer head won't hurt s'much if th'light ain't botherin' ya," he said in a small voice.

He did not fear Vincent Valentine, but he was unnerved by him, as if being around him left one in the presence of something much greater than a man. So, after boldly leaning over to gently kiss the taller man's cheek, he stepped back, saying, "An' maybe y'll heal faster now. Momma useda say that worked, but I can't say I've ever really tried it m'self, an' I don't remember so good if it really worked for her. I reckon it don't, but…s'the thought that counts."

And now that he was babbling, Cid figured he might as well move on to the real topic at hand. "Right. Payment. You do your job –keepin' everybody off my back while I clean out the system, an' helpin' me outsmart 'em, 'cause there ain't no way I c'n do that m'self- and I'll get you your meds. S'as simple as that. I ain't gonna ask no questions, an' I'm gonna keep it all as impersonal as possible. I know you don't wanna work with me, no matter how p'lite you are about it, so I ain't gonna try t'be 'one o' the guys' or whatever." Cid sighed. "An' y'c'n start with this: I am gonna be in deep shit when I get back. I was on m'way t'work when yer boys picked me up. Palmer ain't s'smart, so I'd be damn grateful if you fellas could come up with a way t'fix this one. It'll all be over if 'e suspects me o' doin' anything but what 'e tells me to, an' I don't think any of us can afford that."

After a brief moment of consideration, Cid squatted down and placed his hand on Valentine's arm. "I wouldn't dream of askin' fer more'n what I deserve. I wouldn't ever even dream of askin' what he asks." I'm sure I don't know th'whole story, but what I c'n see is bad enough.

Oh, but he would dream of it. He would, and it shamed him so deeply that he finally looked away as he stood, breaking eye contact with Valentine for the first time since he had handed over the glasses.

"Well, if that's it for now, I prob'ly oughta get on back. Thank y'fer yer time, Valentine." He removed his hand from Valentine's arm and extended it for a shake, glancing once more, sadly, at the defeated man in front of him. No, not defeated. He only pretended at being defeated so he could rise to the top. Just the same, he was exhausted, lonely, and wretched. Cid wanted to give him rest as much as he wanted to take his own. "It must be so cold where you are," he said softly. "Reckon I'll leave m'jacket just in case y'need it sometime."

There, an open invitation to see Cid again if he had the urge. Not that many had such urges; most wanted to avoid him for the most part. But they could talk, perhaps, over the returning of the jacket. Maybe they would have tea again.

Inwardly, Cid snorted. This man did not want to be his friend. He was amazed that even the cold calculation of the city of Midgar had not been enough to crush his romantic's soul entirely.

Such a pitiful existence. Such a hopeless world. Was the rest of the world like this as well?

Vincent looked at Highwind's outstretched hand, a frown creasing his brow. "Sit," he growled, and when the cop just stood there and blinked at him, he slapped his hand down on the table, making the man jump. "Sit!" he barked. As soon as the cop had sidled around his desk to sit nervously in the chair across from him, Vincent very slowly and carefully removed the returned glasses from his face, folded them and set them down on the desk. He studied them as they lay there, frown still in place. His mind was a jumble of emotions. He was furious at ShinRa and what the man made him do, and did to him. He was angry at this cop who came marching in here like he owned the place and dictated the terms as though Vincent was little more than a brainless employee. In that regard he was no better than ShinRa. But it broke his heart, moved him in such a way that was completely foreign to him, when Highwind had touched him so gently and kissed him without hesitation or ulterior motive other than to offer comfort. And finally he was oddly impressed at Highwind's guts…or perhaps stupidity, surrounding the bold demands he was making.

Finally he looked at Highwind. "First and foremost, let us understand that I asked you here for this meeting, therefore I dictate when you get to leave, and I am not yet finished with you. Secondly, you deserve nothing. You march in here making demands of me and I have no proof whatsoever that you are going to uphold your end of the deal." He leaned forward and his voice became strained. "And do not presume to know what arrangements were made between ShinRa and myself. You grossly overstep your boundaries, Mr. Highwind. Now, that being said, let us move on to business." Vincent leaned back in his chair as he continued to eye Cid Highwind. "Now, you offer to supply me with the mako formulation that I require in return for my protection. I am willing to fulfill that obligation as best I can, but you must understand that I am currently limited in both manpower and funds. But there is something else I require, and I am willing to pay for it. You may even name your price, provided it is within reason. I want information. Reliable information. I know your position within the force and know that no one considers you either an asset nor competent. That puts you in a unique position. People's tongues loosen around non-essentials. Likewise no one will notice you as you move among them. I am willing to take a gamble with you, Mr. Highwind. Something inside…call it my intuition if you will…seems to want to assure me that you are in fact quite intelligent and very competent, otherwise we would not be having this conversation. You strike me as tenacious; perhaps it is the fact that you are physically unable to shut your mouth that has clued me in to that little fact. But regardless of what it is, you are in a position to get me what I want. What say you?"

"I say it don't sound much diff'rent from my every day." The glasses came off, and Cid returned to rubbing his temples. "Street urchins put prices on information, Valentine. I'd like t'think we're better'n that." Non-essential. Almost sounds like a respectable job title when he says it. I'm gonna have a separate office when I'm in charge, hire a bunch o' nobodies call 'em 'non-essentials.'

"Look, I'll give ya what I can, but there's some's already on the alert around me. Mostly 'cause I screw up too much. They ain't likely t'spill stuff around me no more."

His head ached. It always did when he tried to get his eyes to focus without his glasses. "M'sorry if I made you uncomf'table," he said grudgingly. "You asked a question, an' I went straight inta answerin' it. Well, I guess maybe I detoured a little…but all o' that, Valentine, was the closest t'bein' honest with ya anybody could ever be. I hope you can appreciate that fer what it is, even if y'don't like it much. I know y'don't want nothin' t'do with me, but I don't think anything I do c'n change that. All I c'n ask is that we learn t'treat each other like equals. If you c'n pick me up whenever it's convenient fer you, I c'n leave when I want just as easily. Like I said, neither of us are gonna get very much outta this if I lose my job over it."

Vincent shut his eyes. His head was beginning to hurt, his jaw ached and really all he wanted to do was to return to his quarters and pour himself a stiff drink. He sighed and said, "Do you think I am unaware of how information is traded, Highwind? I am not naïve. Nothing in this business is free, there are no gifts, and there is no trust. Not without some sort of leverage to protect yourself with. Grow up, Highwind. This is precisely why no one likes you and you cannot get above the bottom. You are simply too trusting and you lack true ambition." He stopped and tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling. "I cannot believe that I am talking to you about this. What am I, a therapist?" Screw waiting until he got home, he needed a drink now. Getting up he walked over to his minibar and poured a glass of vodka. He looked up at the cop who was scowling at him. "Can I offer you a drink?" He wasn't surprised when Highwind shook his head. He muttered, "This is supposed to be business." Walking back to his desk he sat back down. He set his glass down and leaned forward onto his arms. "Look, I appreciate your being honest with me. It's as refreshing as it is unexpected. And if I didn't know better, I could have sworn you had talked to Tseng before coming in here. He seems to approve of you. I however am a little harder to sway. Let me clarify myself, Mr. Highwind. The kind of information I want is a little more significant than who went into what building and who is sleeping with whom. The kind of information I am looking for will impact careers and end lives. Are you willing to participate in that?"

You think I don't realize all this? Why the hell do you think I care so much about changin' it? "S'cuse me fer not bein' as stupid as you think I am, but I understand that you're not lookin' fer that kind of information. You wanted that, y'd only have t'pick up tabloids in the checkout line. An' believe it or not, I'm willin' to trust you, an' it has nothin' t'do with bein' naïve. Has to do with survival. You know all about that, dontcha?" he spat, feeling more venomous than he ever had toward this man. "Now if y're quite done bein' a fuckin' drama queen, I'd appreciate it if we could just get on with this. I've already said I'd do it. I've already given my word. I ain't gonna back on ya now, later, or ever. I don't know how else t'make you understand that."

Damn, this dude knows how t'piss a guy off…

With a pop, Vincent shattered the tumbler that held his vodka in one hand, sending shards of glass deep into his palm. "Drama. Queen?" he said calmly, his voice low and even. He slammed his hands down onto his desk, driving the shards even deeper, and snarled, his voice shaky with rage and something else. "Do not even speak to me about survival. Gutter. Trash." He shut his eyes and literally fought to get his breathing back under control. "I think I have more than earned the right to be a little dramatic, Highwind," he hissed before standing up and turning to lean against his bookshelf, his chest heaving. And when he spoke next his voice was dead. "Do you have any idea what I would give to have your life? To be a nobody? Worthless? Unwanted?" He hung his head and took several deep, steadying breaths. "All right. We have a deal. Don't bother with the information. I have other…sources. You'll receive your "protection" when I get my first dose of mako. I need it no later than Thursday night, now get out." It had been a long while indeed since anyone had cut him this deeply.

Cid, surprisingly, knew when it was time to go. Sighing heavily, he went to the door, turning to look at Valentine once more before leaving. "I…" He should have had something to say, something either resentful or very meaningful, but nothing came. Even after this, he was not afraid of the man who seemed very much on the brink of injuring him. "Okay. Trash. Fine. I'll be trash. Just don't forget that even I have people who love me. Think about the ones who love you. Decide if you'd be willin' t'give that up, an' then wish you were nothin'." That said, Cid opened the door and closed it gently behind him, leaving his coat just as he had said he would.

Vincent waited a moment before moving to his door and locking it. He then went back to his minibar and retrieved the bottle of vodka, not even bothering to bind his wounds, and returned to his chair. As he began his slow journey though the bottle he leaned down and pulled Cerberus out of his desk drawer. He opened it, checking to make sure it was loaded and shut it again. As he drank he slowly spun a chamber. Trash. He knew all about trash. He sold his body for an illegal refinement of mako that wasn't even for himself. He was disposable. Rufus was right. His life was a lie. Everything he did, every business transaction, every assassination, every dirty deal…was a lie. He didn't want it. He never had. But it had become who he was to the point that he didn't remember who he used to be. He snorted in disgust as he put Cerberus back into his drawer and returned the lid to the vodka bottle. He would continue as he had. He would fuck who he had to, blackmail who he had to or kill who he had to in order to achieve his goal. He just wondered if there would be anything left when he got there.

_____The Next Day____

"What'd'ya mean he ain't come out?" Reno snapped at Tseng as he paced in front of Vincent's heavy office door.

"I thought it was rather obvious when I said it," Tseng replied flicking the paper he was reading in a manner that clearly said "drop it." "He'll come out when he's ready to."

Reno snorted. Sometimes he just couldn't stand Tseng, and he had no idea why Vincent had hired him, let alone put him as his second. Furthermore it completely pissed him off that Vincent didn't trust him or Rude with any information. Well, that wasn't entirely correct, he did understand. At least with himself, after all he did tend to loosen his tongue a bit when he drank. But that wasn't the point. The point was that Reno cared for Vincent. Vincent had taken him off of the streets, trained him himself and gave him a chance that no one else would have, not to mention saved his ass more times that he cared to try to count. Reno looked up to Vincent, and would gladly give his scrawny life for the man, if he ever got the chance. Which led him right into the situation that they had to endure with Shinra. He didn't know exactly what it was that Shinra did to Vincent, but he saw what it did to his boss, and it made him want to throttle ShinRa, bring the man back to life and throttle him again. And he knew that Vincent did it to protect him, Tseng and Rude. If there was one thing Reno hated with a heated passion, it was being in debt. And Vincent thoroughly owned all three of them. That fact would have made Reno rather difficult to be around but for the fact that he loved his boss too much. He knew that Vincent was slowly killing himself for a reason he wouldn't share, even with Tseng (he knew because he asked the man the one night he had actually managed to get Tseng thoroughly knockered) and it was making him livid and impatient. In short…it was making him stupid.

"Aw, fuck this," he said, throwing up his hands and glaring at Rude and Tseng. "I ain't gonna just dick around here until his highness decides to lower himself enough to show himself to his subjects." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black case. Before Vincent had pulled him in to work for him, Reno had been quite a successful little thief and was unrivaled in the speed with which he could pick a lock.

"Sit down, Reno." Tseng said, not looking up from his paper. Rude remained silent.

"Yeah, well fuck you too, ya mangy gargoyle." Reno muttered, and had Vincent's door open and was inside before Tseng could stop him. He shut the door and immediately squinted into the gloom. As soon as his eyes got used to the darkness, he saw Vincent sitting at his desk sipping from an opened bottle of something and looking out the window. "Oy! How long are you gonna sulk in here, princess?"

He frowned when Vincent took another sip of…Reno sniffed- alcohol. Vincent was drinking in his office. That was…unusual. But it was what Vincent said that made Reno take a step back in surprise. "Good morning, Reno. Is there something I can do for you?" Vincent sounded so…cold. And the fact that he wasn't snapping at him for barging into his office said a lot more. Vincent hated it when he just barged into his office. "You okay, boss?" he asked, taking a step closer to the desk.

"I am fine, Reno."

"You, uh, you don't sound fine, boss. Did everything go all right with the cop? Did he insult you? You want me to break his kneecaps for ya? 'Cause I will," Reno said. He never was one for elegance in wordplay, but that wasn't why Vincent kept him around.

"No," Vincent replied, taking another sip. "I have accepted his offer. It wouldn't do to assault a business associate without proper cause, now would it."

"I guess not." Reno muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Y'know that cop ain't so bad. Kinda dumb, but he's a good guy."

Vincent snorted. "The pot calling the kettle black. What has this world come to?"

Well, that was more like it.

"Yes, he is 'all right' isn't he." Reno shuddered at the tone of Vincent's voice. "I suppose I should be grateful that he did not demand sex as payment."

Wait a minute. Reno's eyes grew round. "What?" He blurted.

Vincent laughed. It was a dead, hollow sound that made Reno shudder. "Oh don't look so surprised Reno. What did you expect goes on when Rufus summons me to his private rooms? That we play checkers?"

"But he only does that when he's…after we…because I..." Suddenly it all made sense. Vincent's pale, drawn features the next day. Tseng's haggard and drained expression. Why they never saw Vincent until a day later. Suddenly Reno felt sick. He was responsible for some of that. "Why didn't you tell us? Tell me, dammit!"

"I have my reasons, Reno. Do not question them. Just be grateful that I do not let Rufus have you. You would not survive." Vincent said tilting his head to see as he rearranged some papers on his desk and taking another drink.

That was when Reno saw it. With a gasp he walked around to stand in front of Vincent. He took his boss's chin in his hand, raised his face and was shocked into horrified silence. Dark, angry bruises surrounded one eye, the man's jaw and he saw finger marks around his throat. Vincent's eyes were flat, lifeless and unseeing. There were dark circles under the red eyes that Reno had come to love, as well as a pale, ashy tone and texture to Vincent's skin. Vincent's soul was dying.

"Is something bothering you, Reno? You look upset," Vincent said flatly, blinking slowly.

Reno shook his head and released Vincent's chin. He was suddenly struck with the brutal urge to commit murder, and if he didn't cool down, he knew that he would. But Vincent had said that he had taken the cop's offer. And if he had, then that meant that they were all going to get out from under ShinRa's thumb. But why was Vincent acting like this? He was "fine" before his meeting with Highwind…Reno straightened. That fuckin' cop must'a said something to him. How dare he think he knows Vincent, Reno thought, balling his fists as a steely calm settled around him. He needed to go and make a little social call, and find out just what was said.

"Yer fuckin' right I'm upset. How long has that piece of shit been hurtin' ya boss? Naw, don't answer that. I can actually figure it out myself." Reno began to head for the door. "But if you let it continue, I'll kill that fucker myself and gods damn the consequences. Clean yourself up 'n get out here. We're worried 'bout 'cha." With a backward look, he wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind him. When Tseng glared up at him and Rude pushed himself off of the wall he growled. "We gotta get him away from ShinRa…now."

________One Day Later__________

"Yeah, you got it. T'morra night? Excellent. No, here's fine. I'll bring it where it needs t'go after that. Oh, all right. Yeah, I'll send somebody by around eight. Thanks a lot, doc," he concluded, with the vocal equivalent of a wink.

The next night, Aerith, looking as prim and proper as ever in a thick skirt and thicker glasses, left Cid's house for Hojo's lab. She had been there before occasionally, parading as a health official. Hojo took a particular interest in her for the shape and color of her eyes, so unusual in Midgar.

Tonight, Midgar would consume her completely. She had a way of convincing a man with no more than a glance of what she wanted, and she would exercise that on Hojo. Even an upstanding member of what was more or less the food and drug association of Midgar could fall victim to something with as strong a siren song as the jenova mako.

Few knew of the jenova; results had never been released, as tampering with mako was both dangerous and illegal. However, a friend of a friend of Aerith's –or so she would tell Hojo- knew someone who knew someone who had been a participant of the initial testing. Aerith wanted a sample to test personally, and would require more in the future. The association would never know, and she would find a way around the rules for Hojo, she would claim.

A sketchy story at best, but for the chance to follow Aerith around on yet another tour of the labs, a weak-link assistant would agree immediately. She might never have to deal with Hojo at all. If she did, well, she knew how to handle him.