HEAVY warning on this one. Violence to a fairly graphic degree, violent, bloody death of a nonessential original character. Anger, stress, the beginnings of the UST that runs our stories. Also, the dreaded effword has made itself a cozy little home in this chapter.

Again, the part to skip if you're easily upset is the part between the line breaks, about halfway down the page ^^

A light knocking on Cid's door told him Aerith had returned, and by the quality of her giggle when he yelled for her to hold her chocobos, she had been successful.

As she stepped into the open door, Aerith handed over a small package. "Easy as pie," she said cheerfully. "I love it when he hires those kids fresh out of school. All I have to do is look at them the right way, and they won't have a clue who it was they gave the sample to."

"Y're a good kid yerself, Aer," Cid took the package and placed it on the table.

"Well, somebody has to look out for you. Shera looked well," she told him. Cid had been worried sick once he had discovered that Shera was pregnant and still working in such a high-risk area.

"She oughta get 'erself outta there," he growled, lighting a cigarette and handing one to Aerith, who politely declined as usual.

"I'm gonna get myself on outta here, Captain, how's that?"

"Be careful. I know y'c'n take care o' yerself…but this place ain't no good."

"Where I live isn't much better, and you know it. Now stop worrying about me and focus on taking over the world." She left with a wink, and Cid sighed at her retreating back.

Some people, Cid noted, figured out how to make the world turn in their favor. He wished he could have learned how to be one of them.

Early the next morning, Cid's phone rang and he was disgruntled to find that it was one of those annoying updates on the local pizza place's specials for the week. He could not have cared less about that if he tried. Almost immediately after hanging up the phone, Cid jumped. Someone was knocking at his door…and the knocking sounded angry. Cid readied himself for a fight –there was no peephole or chain on the door- and pulled the door open to reveal none other than Reno. He relaxed momentarily. "Hey, kid, how's it goin'? Y'drop by fer tea? Shoulda called me, I'd'a had some ready. C'mon in!"

Cid's face fell again when Reno didn't respond beyond tromping quite deliberately and unhappily into the room. "What's wrong? He said Thursday, didn't 'e? I'mma have it ready 'fore then, if that's th'problem. I-" His rambling came to a halt as the look on Reno's face told him quite plainly that that was not the problem. "What is it? Them crazies didn't get ahold of ya again, did they?"

"What did you do, old man?" Reno whirled and pointed a finger at Cid.

"What did I…do? I don't…what the hell're ya goin' on about!?" Cid jerked back from the pointing finger, offended.

"He was fine until you talked to him. What did you say?" Reno grabbed Cid by the front of his jacket and shoved him back into the wall. "What did you say!" By now all that Reno could see were those dead, red eyes and all he could hear was the flat voice. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he was overreacting and misdirecting his rage. But he wanted to hurt someone for what he had seen on Vincent's face.

"What did I… I said I'd get 'im what 'e needed! There somethin' wrong with that?" Cid yelled back, but finally his mind finished processing the words. "Whaddaya mean he was fine? He ain't fine now? What happened? He was pissed when I left, but 'e was fine, 'cept 'is hand. Kid…calm down an' tell me what's goin' on. I sure as hell can't undo anything, but if I did somethin', I c'n try t'fix it. Now let go o' me an' sit down an' tell me what's th'matter."

Reno snorted in disgust and shoved Cid away to begin pacing around the small apartment like a caged beast. He paused long enough to hiss, "Whatever you said or whatever you did in that meeting you had with him, hurt him. I saw his face this morning. I saw the bruises. I know what ShinRa does to him, but that ain't nothin' compared t'what I saw in his eyes, yo." Reno was so agitated that his speech had slipped back into the street dialect he had used for so many years before Vincent's "second chance".

"You think I did that? Is that what y're sayin'?" Cid was confused, angry, and a little hurt. "Shit…the last thing I wanna do is hurt 'im. Gave m'fuckin' word on that, an' you oughta know I ain't one ta…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Look, I…I don't know what coulda made 'im so upset that it's got you this upset. I don't know. In case you didn't get the message, I ain't askin' him fer nothin' but help. I'd appreciate not gettin' taken out by the people I'm s'poseda be workin' with." Cid sighed and braced himself for another shove, battle cry, or something. "Shinra's the asshole here, not me. 'Kay?"

"Look cop, the boss has been takin' the beatin's for us for years now…fuckin' years and never once have I seen his eyes that lifeless, yo. I've seen him fuckin' bloody 'n unable to walk so Tseng had to fuckin' carry him back to his room and still his eyes have never looked like that before. So the only conclusion that I can figure is that you said somethin' to him that hit him harder than any fist, cane or whip." Reno's fists were clenched and shaking by his sides. Finally he narrowed his eyes and said, "Ya said ya had his shit. Then let's go 'n give to him, and so help me you whiny old fuck, if you make him look like that again, I'll fuckin' kill ya. Now let's go." And with that Reno pushed past Cid and headed down the stairs and to the waiting car.

Cid sighed and shoved the mako, a glass similar to the tumbler Vincent had broken, and a pack of cigarettes into his backup coat, a ratty old thing that made him appear to be little more than a wino. Sometimes he figured that wasn't too far off. He got reluctantly into the car and found that he did not enjoy the interior nearly as much when he was surrounded by it under bad circumstances. He did, however, manage to hold his tongue until spoken to.

----Meanwhile, back in Vincent's office----

"Did you get what I asked for?" Vincent said looking up from some shipping orders as Tseng strode into his office.

"Yes, and it was insulting," Tseng replied with hostility as he handed Vincent a manila folder.

"I'm sorry, Tseng. But if we give him bigger players they'll suspect someone is helping him, and we cannot afford that. This one is under more radars than I'm comfortable with."

"Understood, sir."

Vincent opened the folder and began scanning its contents, speaking as he did so. "Even old Wedge here may raise a few eyebrows. Considering Highwind's track record of arrests – or more appropriately lack thereof – we should have started with shoplifters. But he needs to get some attention, and this idiot is perfect. Besides, I'm getting sick of cleaning up after him." He sighed. "The last thing I need is a turf war between gangs right now, and this was just too convenient."

Tseng nodded. "It is that, sir."

Snapping the folder shut when he finished, Vincent let out a low whistle and grinned at the Wutaian. "Impressive, Tseng. I do love to watch you work." He tossed the folder down onto his desk. "Remind me to never piss you off."

Tseng's lips pulled up into a wan smile that was almost more grimace than grin. "I doubt you could, sir. And I think I'd be dead before I could use any of it."

"Touché," Vincent said soberly.

"So what about this 'protection' Highwind is asking for?" Tseng scoffed, sitting precariously on the edge of Vincent's desk and crossing his arms. "I still think the arrangements of this deal are too generous on your part."

"Your concern is duly noted, Tseng. But I need that mako and the price is more than acceptable. It's downright cheap." If annoying, Vincent thought, rubbing his temple. He was beginning to get a headache. Headaches and Highwind, he thought, must be a two-for-one deal. He sighed wearily. "I don't know what exactly he expects us to do. I can give him a modicum of protection from the underbelly, but it runs a risk of more heat from his own people. I really do not believe he knows what he's doing." Vincent chewed on the inside of his cheek while he thought. Finally he said, "Put Verdot on him."

"Verdot, sir?" Tseng said in disbelief. "Are you sure that is wise?"

Vincent frowned slightly in thought. "I don't have anyone else. And Verdot has a unique talent for subtle intimidation. The man's a fucking ghost. Really he's the best option we have for this job."

"But can he be trusted, Vincent? The man has no fear," Tseng said skeptically.

"Wrong." Vincent said quietly. "He fears me. Be sure he knows the importance of this job. If you have to, tell him it's personal and if he fucks up then I will personally peel the flesh off of his bones and he will be awake for all of it. He is to be invisible, and act as a buffer between Highwind and the dregs. I don't care how he does it so long as he does not create problems for me and he cleans up after himself. That should keep him happy. And he should have no contact with the cop unless forced to, which should make him even happier."

Tseng nodded. "I'll see that he is informed, sir and that he knows only what he needs to know to do the job."

Vincent nodded in return. "Good."

Just then Reno knocked once and poked his head into the office. "Someone t' see ya, boss."

Vincent looked at Tseng and both men frowned. He wasn't expecting anyone. At least not anyone who would come here of his own free will, and it was only Wednesday. He nodded to Reno. "Show them in."

Reno's head disappeared and a moment later was replaced by the disheveled and scruffy cop Cid Highwind. Vincent stiffened, eyes going cold. "Will you excuse us please, Tseng?" He propped his elbows on the armrests of his chair and laced his finger together.

"Sir, will you-" Vincent raised two fingers and Tseng stilled and nodded. He then headed to the door where he paused and looked back. "And what about our next order of business?"

"Carry on, Tseng. After all we cannot stop business or rearrange our schedules for every unexpected visitor that we may receive."

"Yes, sir." Tseng said, bowing and excusing himself.

Vincent narrowed his eyes and gestured to a chair across from him. It was time to show the cop just what he had gotten himself into. "Now. What can I do for you, Mr. Highwind?"

"I just…I got yer stuff." He took out the mako first and placed it on the desk, then removed the tumbler and set it upside down beside the package. "Figured I oughta r'place that, on account o' s'my fault it got broke."

Vincent made no move to retrieve the mako, nor the tumbler. In fact, he didn't even look at them, instead keeping his eyes pinned on Highwind. "You're early. I told you Thursday."

"You said 'no later than Thursday night.' It ain't later'n Thursday night." Cid tried to glare back with equal force, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

"And sucking up will win you no extra points with me," Vincent said flatly. "I deal with enough sycophants; I do not need one more."

They were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door. "Come!" Vincent barked. The office door swung open and Tseng entered shoving a short, puggish-looking man in front of him. At the sight of Vincent, the man whimpered and tried to run only to be caught by Tseng and shoved down onto the carpet. Vincent's lips curled up into a gentle smile. "Ah! Dexter! How good to see you!" He turned back to Cid, smile in place, but his tone was hollow. "Please excuse me, Mr. Highwind. I have some business to attend to. This will not take very long. No need to get up…" he stopped Cid's attempt to leave by shoving down on his shoulder firmly. "I'll only be a minute."

He calmly walked over to the sniveling man curled upon the floor and knelt down. "Now, Dexter, you owe Mr. ShinRa a lot of money…"

"I-I-I'll get the money, I swear I will, just gimme a second chance…please!" The man named 'Dexter' wailed.

"No need to yell, Dexter," Vincent said curtly, wincing at the shrill voice. He reached out and easily pried what was left of Dexter's hand away from his chest and lifted it up, dropped it and repeated the motion with the other hand. "Now Dexter, we've given you eight 'second chances' and none of them have worked. I don't believe that a ninth 'second chance' will work, do you?"

"Please…one more chance…have mercy!" Dexter sobbed.

"Mr. ShinRa can be a benevolent master or he can be your worst nightmare. You were told this going into the deal, were you not?" Vincent asked soothingly.

Sobbing now, Dexter only nodded.

"Yes," Vincent said stroking the man's head. "Good boy. Such a good memory. It seems, Dexter," he continued as he got up and began walking to his desk, "that Mr. ShinRa has decided to cut his losses with you." He leaned down to retrieve a case, which he then set on his desk and opened. He slowly put his gauntlet on and buckled it down tightly. At the sight of the wicked golden glove Dexter screamed, making the cop jump.

The sudden movement also managed to catch Dexter's attention. "You! I-I-I know you! You're a cop! Help me! Please, I beg you. I've got information, you can use it! Just please, you can't let him do this! You're supposed to help us! Protect us! Please!"

"Now, now, Dexter," Vincent said softly, "Mr. Highwind is a long way from home right now. His oaths to serve and protect have been…modified." He grinned at the weeping man that Tseng now held down.

"B-b-but how could you? You swore to protect us!" Dexter pleaded, looking at Highwind.

"That's enough, Dexter," Vincent said matter-of-factly and he nodded at Tseng who then pulled out a gag and effectively silenced the man's pleas. Vincent walked over and crouched down next to the man. "You have been given many chances, Dexter. Mr. ShinRa is a benevolent man and he was thinking of your wife and children. But he has lost patience with you and now you must pay." And without any warning he moved with lightning speed and dragged a claw deeply across the man's throat, slicing it open. Dexter's eyes widened in shock and there was a bubbling gurgle as he slowly bled out, his muscles spasming and twitching. Vincent, his back to Highwind, shut his eyes and fought back the nausea. He hated this part of the job, and each life he took carved out one more piece of his soul. He stood up and swiped across his mouth with his jacket sleeve, wiping off the sweat that had beaded on his upper lip. Turning, he walked back to his desk and retrieved the rag from the case and began to meticulously wipe off the bloody blades. He was beginning to feel sick at hearing the man tenaciously refusing to die. "Tseng, why is he still alive?"

"Yes, sir," Tseng said flatly and there was a sickening crunch of bones as Tseng twisted the man's neck until it broke. "Although I do not know why you insist on doing this on the carpet. It makes a terrible mess."

"Personal preference. I wish to be comfortable," Vincent said as he secured the gauntlet back into its case. He then went to his wall safe, quickly entered the combination and retrieved six thick stacks of bills, hesitated, then added two more to the stack. He shut the safe and went back to his desk to retrieve a black silk bag into which he slipped the money and tied it closed. He picked up the phone on his desk and punched "0". "Reno. We'll be needing a tarp. Take the body to the second drop point and dispose of it." He then hung up the phone and walked over to Tseng and handed him the black bag. "Please see to the woman and children. There is a quarter of a million gil here; see that she gets out of town. You can put her up in one of my apartment buildings in Kalm until she can get back on her feet. Go." Tseng nodded and when Reno came in, he helped roll up the body and carry it out.

With a sigh Vincent walked back to his desk and sat back down, crossing his leg and leaning back in his chair. "Now, where were we? Ah! Yes, business." He leaned forward and picked up the mako. Sniffing it gently, he gagged and abruptly jerked it away from his nose as his body reacted to the Jenova mako. "This is genuine. I am satisfied." He choked and coughed, quickly wrapping it in a silk handkerchief. He opened a drawer and carefully placed the tube inside. He then reached forward and pushed the manila folder over to the shaken cop. "As per our agreement. This should get you noticed, and get you started. You do your own legwork, but all the evidence you need is there to assure the conviction. Even a corrupt judge cannot dismiss what is in there." He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands in his lap. "As for your 'protection', I have a man keeping an eye on you. He'll keep the lowlifes off your back. I would however be careful of your own people. Cannibalism in the force is sadly, rather common." Vincent finished and smiled, blinking slowly then abruptly sat up, making the cop jump. "Ah yes! I have a job for you, if you wish to accept it. You may refuse of course, but I would be grateful if you did and you may set your price, naturally. Are you interested?"

Cid had seen murder before over things even more trivial, and by people more innocent and less surprising than Valentine. Still, this shook him somehow. He thought for a moment that it was perhaps just the shock and suddenness of the situation that left him reeling. However, he discovered soon enough that this was not so.

Valentine suffered for this. It hurt him to be the man feared by all and respected by few. Fear was not respect, as Cid knew well.

What have I done, he wondered, by askin' him t'take over? He hates this. I c'n see that.

I'm so goddam selfish.

He registered a moment later that Valentine was speaking to him…offering him a job, of all things. He looked at the folder on the desk in front of him, something he quite violently did not want anymore. He wanted out, but Dexter had just proven that such things were not possible. There was no out. Besides, he had given his word on this, and, more importantly, to Tseng that he would not betray Valentine. Highwind was and would remain a man of his word…when the other party held its end of the bargain, that is. He'd winced when Dexter had commented on his defecting from the force…but it was necessary for the greater good. …Wasn't it?

"Yeah, I- I'll do it." But a price? That was always the most difficult part. What did he need? He could ask for Shera's protection, but such things would only stress her out…and she would know about it no matter how careful they were. Cid cursed woman's intuition.

"I…I don't…" He shook his head, wondering what he could ask. There was nothing more he needed, but was there anything he wanted? Just to avoid trouble, really, with both sides, and he was already getting that.

He glanced again at the folder and opened it, a file detailing a petty but well-known man. So I'm still gonna be the incompetent one who can't do a damn thing right. I love it, lemme tell ya…I'm so fuckin' sick o' this place. Why'd I get m'self inta this? I coulda just left. Coulda taken off an' gone t'some tiny little place. Rocket Town, maybe. Coulda made somethin' o' m'self there.

I'm so fuckin' tired o' bein' ever'body's fool.

He brought his eyes back to Valentine and remembered why he was here so early, regaining his ability to speak coherently in his anger. "Kid came t'get me t'day, so fer one thing, y'c'n just shove it about me suckin' up." Yeah, there ya go, Highwind. Tell on 'im. Like a fuckin' five year old. "Another thing, I want direct contact with you whenever I'm s'posed'a meetcha. I ain't passin' information or anything else I might bring ya through yer boys there. It goes straight to you. An' we're gonna be meetin' once every two weeks, 'cause that's the price. You're gonna meet me fer drinks every other Friday night until I fix whatever it is I broke in there," he finished, pointing at Valentine's head. "That sound all right t'you?"

Trying to appear pleased with himself, Cid sat back in the chair, arms folded, and stared hard at Valentine while awaiting his reaction.

Why the hell do I get m'self into these situations?

"What are you talking about." Vincent blurted, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. So Reno had paid Highwind a visit behind his back, had he? That did not please him. Reno knew better than to jeopardize potential deals, and the fact that this particular deal was personal made him livid. And what was this ridiculousness about 'meeting for drinks'? "I believe I need to have a…word, with Reno." He regarded the cop for several minutes without blinking, and expressionless. Finally he nodded. "Now you are beginning to understand." He tapped a finger on his bicep. "I shall give you my personal number. It is screened of course, electronically, but you will be able to contact me directly. And as for the rest of your terms…" he frowned again, brain picking apart the various scenarios and ulterior motives that the cop might try to be hiding and came up with nothing, which frustrated him, "…besides being unorthodox and extremely risky for both of us, are acceptable. Every other Friday upon the conclusion of my business that day, I shall meet you for…drinks." He said the word with a sneer. "Shall I assume that you shall determine the location?"

Poor planning was, as most knew, a very strong trait in Cid Highwind. "Um." He felt his cheeks going red and wished again that he would think ahead before saying anything. "I figured you'd know some places it's safe fer you t'be?"

"No place is 'safe' for me, Highwind. Your place will be sufficient, for the time being. Will you excuse me?" Vincent pulled out his PHS and punched in Tseng's speed dial. "Tseng? When Reno gets back, have him come to my office. We need to have a little chat. No…just being Reno, but this time it was too far. Good." He snapped his phone shut and placed it back in his pocket. He looked at Highwind again. "It would seem, Mr. Highwind, that your boss and my boss are getting rather chummy. I need to know what they are up to, as it could make things rather difficult for me. Do you think that will be a problem?"

"After I take care o' this," Cid said, lifting the files he held, "I'm sure I'll be able t'help ya there, yeah. We definitely can't have that…" he mumbled, shaking his head. "Hey…the kid…"

"Is none of your concern." Vincent finished, placing his arm on the table to tap a finger absently. "He acted without my permission, and that needs to be addressed. Do not bother yourself with business that does not involve you."

Cid nodded slowly and stared at his knees. "Yeah." He understood, but he had grown quite attached to the kid somehow, perhaps because Reno was so protective of Valentine. He admired that, certainly, and figured it could account for a lot of it. Another thing was that the kid was so young…he reminded Cid of himself in certain ways. "Is that- is that all fer now, then? I was tryin'a get t'sleep 'fore I got dragged here."

Vincent waved his hand dismissively. "If you like. When shall I make my first "payment", then? This Friday or next."

"What is it, Tuesday? This Friday oughta be good. Enough time t'clear out the evenin' fer me, an' you'll let me know when yer business fer th'night's done, right?" Cid could not remember ever having been as tired as he felt suddenly. "I- could I get a lift home again? I hate t'do that, but…I don't think I'd even know how t'get here an' back m'self."

"It is Wednesday, and this Friday is acceptable." Vincent said, checking his watch. "I'll have Tseng drive you back as soon as they return from their chore. Until then, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Highwind."

"'Kay." Cid didn't think he could ever be comfortable in these cold rooms, but he wasn't going to say so. Eventually, Tseng returned and immediately left again with Cid in tow. When he got home, Cid collapsed onto the couch and tried to enjoy a broken, less than restful sleep.

Meanwhile that night, back across Midgar, Vincent too enjoyed a rather restless and unsettling sleep- but for an entirely different reason.

'You've done well, Vincent.'

"How much longer must I do this?" he whispered from where he stood, naked and shivering in the frigid, hazy darkness.

'Until I am strong enough to return,' came the lazy reply. 'The time draws ever closer.'

"I do not know how much longer I can keep up," Vincent said, hugging himself. "He hurts me, and I am frightened. Frightened that I am losing myself."

'That is of no concern to me, Vincent. The only thing that matters is that you get the mako. How you do it is entirely up to you. If you chose to make a victim of yourself, then that is your decision. Do not bother me with it.'

"It should be," he replied, peering fruitlessly into the void. "If I die, then your chances of return are gone."

'Ah, but you won't, will you Vincent?' purred that terrible, beautiful voice. 'You owe me, and your sense of honor and duty…dare I even call it loyalty, will ensure that you succeed. You are weak, Vincent, you always have been. But you are intelligent, and resourceful, which makes you invaluable to me. When I return, I will see that you get what you deserve. That you receive what you desire most. Loyalty such as yours shall not go…unrewarded.'

And then that voice began to chuckle, an oily sound, rich and deep that slowly flayed Vincent alive where he stood, soaked into his bones and stained his soul even further. He awoke with a shout, sitting bolt upright and covered in a cold sweat. It was the same every night since the explosion that nearly killed him. The dreams kept coming, kept telling him what to do, taunting him with promises of freedom. With a shudder, Vincent shoved his hand through is hair and got out of bed. With shaking hands he got out the vodka and poured himself a glass. He then walked out to the chair that he always ended up in night after night, and watched the Midgar skyline until dawn.