Warnings for this one: Violence, gore, death of a minor character, UST

They drove in silence for a while, Vincent managing the wheel quite easily despite his gauntleted left hand, and taking direction from the cop without comment. Finally he said softly, "I shall let you handle the bulk of this. Just think of me as your 'muscle'. The fewer people who recognize me the happier…and safer, I'll be."

"I'll keep ya safe," Cid promised quietly, staring out the window after finding himself unable to look at Vincent. All this was quickly growing to be too much, and he desperately needed to get it under control before he became, well, desperate. The glint of the sun on the gauntlet caught his eye, and he wondered silently if Vincent hated it for what symbolized.

Vincent signaled and turned into traffic that was moving slowly due to an overturned truck ahead. He caught Cid's sidelong look at his gauntlet where rested upon his knee. "Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked softly.

Cid replied, "No, not really, but I reckon it prob'ly should. I just wondered if it made you uncomf'table." He returned to gazing out the window and crossed his arms over his chest, realizing that this was the first time he and Vincent had been alone in quite some time. He didn't know how to handle it, and he wasn't up for trying to figure it out. All he could do was make small talk and hope things stayed positive. "I don't even know where th'hell we're goin'," he told a passing building matter-of-factly.

"I think I have a vague idea. I used to do a lot of business down here in the early days." Vincent said wearily. The tension between them was slowly draining him of his energy and he found himself rather missing the easy banter he and Highwind used to have. If it had ever been easy. He made a loose fist with the gauntlet, and laid his head back against the headrest, as the traffic ground to a halt. "It used to. You would not believe how many times I used to cut myself with this thing until I learned how to use it properly. Cid, look," he turned to face his companion. "I feel that I need to apologize. I should not have asked you to stay…when I did. That was unfair to you…don't, you don't have to say anything. But if we are going to work together in this, I need some of this…tension, lifted or I shall not be able to function efficiently, nor effectively."

Cid looked sharply at Vincent then, ignoring his claim that Cid didn't need to say anything. "I needed t'stay then. I needed to. I need to now, Vincent, and I always will. There's only tension now because you won't understand that I mean what I say, and this time I know what I'm talkin' about. If you push me away, all o' this is goin' t'hell, 'cause I can't take that. Not from you." He stared determinedly at Vincent, knowing that this attempt would succeed no better than the others, and that he would only create more tension between them.

"You are obsessed!" Vincent breathed, looking mildly horrified. "Cid, this could never work, and I do not know how to tell you 'no' without hurting you more than I wish to! I-" he was at a loss for any more words. And now he was trapped in his car without a way to escape, and was forced to deal with this. So he did the next best thing, and looked out the window as the traffic crept ever forward. "It could never work," he reiterated quietly.

Obsessed? Cid wondered over the word and its implications for a while, trying to weigh whether or not Vincent had a point. At last, he shook his head and replied, "Not obsessed, Vincent. If you ever said no and really meant it, I'd back off as good as I can. But you know an' I know that there's somethin'. There must be, or you would never have asked me t'stay. Would never have played for me. Wouldn't've gotten so upset over it after it was all said and done. Maybe it won't ever work, but that doesn't mean we stop tryin'. That doesn't mean we don't give it a shot. An' it certainly doesn't mean that I stop feelin' for ya the way I do. This is just one more way I'm hopeless, I reckon," he finished, head resting against the back of the seat as he looked at Vincent.

"I can't do it." Vincent breathed, exhausted and resting his forehead against the steering wheel as traffic once again ground to a halt. "I just do not understand what you see. I kill people for a living, Highwind. I rule by fear and intimidation, and now you ask of me the very things that in my line of work will make me lose my reputation, and my life. So I will ask you, one more time, for both our sakes: Let me go. Give up this hopeless infatuation, before one of us ends up dead."

"Please don't make me talk about it anymore now," Cid said quietly, voice audibly shaking. "I don't know how much more o' myself I c'n offer t'you t'day if I want anything left fer t'morra. Just know that I will not let you go. Not now and not ever, and I mean that more honestly than you know." He didn't expect Vincent to understand anymore; he was beyond looking for that and would now be satisfied with simple acceptance…and reciprocation, if luck was on his side. Today, it clearly was not, but he figured that was okay; luck needed to be with Elena today. "We have to find 'er, Vincent. She has t'be okay."

"We will find her," Vincent said firmly, if softly. Traffic was finally unclogging and their car eased by the wreck and moved on toward their destination. He was more than glad to drop this subject, but he was deeply regretful that Cid had to feel the way that he did, but in the long run it was for the best. They were both miserable, but they were at least alive. Their main concern now was finding this Elena. "What can you tell me about her? That might help us? We cannot go into this completely ignorant of their situation, and the more we know, the more effective our questioning will be."

Cid shook his head slowly. "I don't-" he stopped to clear his throat "-I don't know too much about 'er at all. Pretty little thing, short blond hair, kinda soft-spoken but real eager t'please…I really ain't talked to 'er all that much. Everything I know 'bout her situation b'fore was what she told me yest'y 'fore she left. He wasn't good to 'em, she left with th'kids, an'…I asked 'er who was puttin' 'er up in th'room, but she dodged th'question an' I didn't have th'heart t'interrogate 'er while she was so upset. Said she had somethin' t'settle with 'im, an' I figured she'd come back in bad condition…but I figured she'd come back. Y'know?"

"Yes, unfortunately I do. I have seen it too many times." Vincent said sadly. He pulled the car into a filled parking garage and killed the engine. He turned to Cid and said, "We walk from here on out. The part of town we shall be entering is…not a pleasant one, and I do not think that I am in the mood to deal with my car being jacked. Are you armed?" When Cid nodded, he continued, "Good. We will enter his apartment building first, that is where you shall come in. The less I say there the better, and you look nondescript enough that you will get away with asking the necessary questions. People will simply think that you are some buddy this fellow met in the bar." He hesitated, gazing into Cid's rugged and lined face, aged too much for his years, before slipping on his dark glasses and continuing solemnly, "You have skills, Highwind, instincts – I would be a fool indeed not to acknowledge them. You could not have survived as long as you have, if you did not have them. Trust them now. You blend in; you are one of these people, whereas I stand out…painfully so. I have your back, just focus on asking your questions, and trust me to keep you safe. We are in this together, everything in the past is forgotten, and everything in the future put on hold. We will find this woman and reunite her with her children. We will end this, all right?"

Cid blinked, confused (and rightly so, he thought) at Vincent's sudden…optimism, before saying slowly, "All…right." Reassured despite the oddness of the situation, Cid nodded firmly and repeated, "All right. Y're right." Cid didn't like that Vincent knew exactly where this guy might be; it promised that this "Spike" character was no good. "Vincent, I- I don't really know what t'do. I've never been anything but a screw-up when it comes t'shit like this," he said, eyes searching the streets for unsavory characters, of which he found a multitude, "an' I really don't like this place too much."

Vincent chuckled as he climbed out of the car, shutting the door and hitting the alarm. He walked around to the trunk and waited for Cid to join him, then together they began walking down the street that would take them into a neighborhood that Vincent would not go into alone, even if he lost a bet. "I should hope not, if you did I would seriously question your sanity, along with mine for associating with you. My advice to you now is to keep to your own business here. Do not make eye contact unless you are supremely confident that you will win the fight that you inevitably trigger. I spent a lot of time in neighborhoods like this early on. In point of fact, I picked up Rude from one of these neighborhoods." He fell silent as they continued to walk. His nerves grew tighter as the streets began to grow more cluttered, and there were fewer and fewer people out on them. Vincent could feel eyes watching them from alleyways and windows, and he made a small show of flexing his gauntlet in a way that caught the random, stray rays of sun, which caused the metal to glint maliciously. The fewer people they ran into, the better off they would be, and silent shows of dangerous intent spoke heavier, and meant more than any speech could. "Keep calm, Cid." Vincent breathed so only the cop could hear as he fell slightly behind the man, but still remained close. "We are being followed, but that is to be expected. Strangers here attract more attention than magnets attract metal. Up ahead, do you see that run-down brick building? Head for that, and do not look back. The man's apartment should be there. Just focus upon getting through the front door."

"Right," Cid answered, but it was hard to stay calm in a place like this. The buildings seemed to become darker, uglier, and more dilapidated as they continued, and the atmosphere only grew heavier. Cid could feel eyes on him and he prayed they were Vincent's; anyone else watching them would be suspicious of their being here. Cid was a stranger here, and the locals likely knew that, but Vincent, by his own admission, stood out even further. He was seized with a sudden certainty that someone would try to take Vincent from him for malicious purposes, and was very glad for Vincent's ability to defend himself. He also realized what a disaster it would be for the name "Valentine" to be mentioned, and he wished they had discussed aliases in the car. He stretched his arms above his head and sighed, hoping the gesture looked natural and was not some signal for something and…he sighed again as he realized he was making himself crazy letting his thoughts chase each other in circles. Creativity, too, seemed to escape him as he searched for a name to give in place of his own and could come up with none that did not already belong to people he knew. The feeling of being watched had lessened somewhat, but he thought that was probably due more to Vincent's presence than the fact that whoever had been following them had ceased doing so. Their destination now loomed in front of them, and Cid had to fight the urge to open the door for Vincent as they stepped inside.

Once the door to the apartment complex shut behind them, Vincent relaxed. He tapped Cid on the shoulder and after checking the lobby for any unwanted listeners he leaned in close to the cop and said softly, "Okay, well done. Now we are both flying blind. There should be a directory and mailboxes somewhere here in the lobby, but I doubt very much that we would be lucky enough that this man would put "Spike" as his listed name if that is the one he goes by on the street. But then again stranger things have happened. In the all likely event that has not occurred, then we begin by questioning someone from each floor. If this fellow is as nefarious as he sounds, then someone will have heard of him. Loyalties are thin, and easily broken here if complete anonymity can be guaranteed. We just need to come off as the greater of two evils to cross if the information we seek is not provided."

Cid, looking grim, nodded and the two of them moved into the lobby. Vincent found the directory and while "Spike" was not listed, Elena's name was: fourth floor, apartment 417. Without another word spoken, the two men moved as one, Cid just ahead of Vincent, as they made quick work of climbing the four flights of dirty, cluttered stairs. Once an elderly woman opened her door to set out a bag of garbage, saw their grim faces, and hastily shut her door again. Vincent had to chuckle. If he had a gil for every time that had happened to him, he could retire and take Cid with him. Finally they came to apartment 417. Vincent stood to the side, keeping an eye on the other doors as well as the stairwell while Cid raised his large fist, and knocked loudly three times.

There was a muttered, "Yeah, yeah, hold yer chocobos, I'm comin'" before the stained and cracked door was yanked open to reveal a heavy-set man whose gut was just as thick as his arms were. He looked at Cid for a second, dull brown eyes going wide in sudden fear, before he slammed the door in Cid's face, and they both could hear furniture being overturned and ceramics breaking. They looked at each other for a heartbeat before Vincent swung around, and leant his shoulder to Cid's as they both crashed against the feeble door, and knocked the thing in…for probably the last time the poor hinges could withstand. Across the living room, they saw the open window with its stained and torn curtains fluttering in the sudden breeze, and the fire escape beyond. "Cid! The fire escape!" Vincent shouted, shoving Cid into the apartment gently while he bolted back out the front door and hit the stairs, stopping halfway down each to swing over the banister and drop down to the next flight of stairs. If he was quick enough he could head the man off at the bottom.

Cid snorted in amusement at the feeling of a bad movie drama this scene evoked as he tore after the idiot. He wondered if wishing that the guy had fallen down the fire escape made him a terrible person, then decided that it hardly mattered. The escape seemed, unsurprisingly, very unstable and not likely to hold up much longer, but it held long enough for Cid to get down it. By the time he'd reached the ground, he was breathing hard – impromptu physical activity hadn't been on his schedule recently- and "Spike" was turning the corner of the building. The panting was due partly to the running, partly to the fear of falling off the damned rickety escape, but mostly to the exhilaration of being on a chase. He'd even broken down a door, something he'd never been required to do before, and was only a little disappointed that it wasn't for his actual job. This was better, really, since he cared more about Elena and the kids than about pleasing Scarlet and Palmer. Speaking of them, he had completely neglected to report in today, but he'd deal with that later. He turned the corner a few seconds behind the other man, and was gaining on him as Vincent came back into sight from the other direction. Without warning, Spike took a sharp turn, and Cid, who hadn't anticipated it, was unable to do the same. Instead, he kept running and stopped just short of colliding with Vincent. Just short, that is of a Vincent who was still moving and who seemed not to have realized that Cid had stopped and was not running after Spike. Just as Cid caught sight of their target again and was preparing to begin the second part of the chase, Vincent skidded to a stop a little too near him, and they collided anyway. "Dammit!" Cid shouted as he attempted to keep his footing while also keeping Vincent upright. Finally they were both steady again, and Cid pulled Vincent by the hand in the direction he'd seen Spike take.

"Y're faster'n I am," he said, huffing, "so don't wait on me if I slow ya up. He went thataway," he finished, pointing to an alley behind the next building. They started after their quarry again, Cid constantly a few feet behind Vincent but keeping up fairly well despite his recent lack of exercise. The alley turned into another one, this one running perpendicular to the nearest street, and they could only assume that he had run further into the shadows; a few moments of advancing in that direction proved them right as they spotted Spike slumping to catch a breath before picking up running again.

"We got 'im," Cid said to himself. "Right? He's bound t'just pass out sooner'r later." He followed Vincent, knowing that he himself would have given up the chase long ago if this had been about Palmer. He hoped that Elena, wherever she was, was still okay and in a condition good enough to greet her children when they got home.

Vincent didn't waste his breath with a reply, saving it instead for the chase. They would find out sooner, he hoped, rather than later, but that hope was dashed when he saw Spike duck into a warehouse. "Dammit," he grunted and pulled Cid to a stop just outside the door the man had disappeared through. They were in a shipping district, close to the wharf, if his nose was informing him correctly. And these warehouses were notorious as places to hide. This would prove problematic for the hunters, and beneficial to the hunted. He withdrew Quicksilver from the waistband of his pants, and saw Cid do the same with his own weapon, appearing from his shoulder holster. "Be careful. I do not like this, but I think perhaps it might be better if we split up. Keep to the shadows if you can. I shall take the right side and you the left, and we will meet in the middle." Cid nodded, and the two men slipped inside.

Moving easily amongst the large crates and hanging chains, Vincent made no sound as he progressed, and his eyes quickly became accustomed to the darkness after he removed his glasses to place them into an inside pocket of his vest. He strained his other senses for evidence of the prey, but only picked up the smell of oil, dirt, diesel fuel and the distant, rancid odor of decaying fish. His ears weren't much more help; he could hear the scratching of rats as they ran for cover, and the occasional loud flapping of pigeons as they were startled into flight. Outside, he could distantly hear the calling of seabirds. He could distinctly make out Highwind's progress, and from the sound of it, he could precisely place the man within the vast building. It wasn't as though the cop was being loud, rather Vincent's hearing was sharp…unnaturally so. What had him worried was that he couldn't hear Spike, and he simply could not believe that the man was that skilled at being silent, which meant that he was lying in wait for one of them.

What happened next was the closest thing Vincent had ever had to an out-of-body experience. As he rounded a corner, he had a clear view of Cid making his slow way parallel to him, gun outstretched before him, and the next thing he knew there was a loud 'pop' and he saw Cid spin around to slam back into the metal wall of the warehouse with an equally loud and reverberating 'bang'. Slowly the cop slid down the wall, leaving a bloody trail behind as he sank to the floor. The feeling of all the blood leaving his face and his heart stop was something new and alien to Vincent, and it was a feeling he did not like. Leaping over crates and tools, he fired off several return shots in the direction the first shots had come from, to give himself some cover, and slid to a stop, falling to his knees at Cid's side.

The cop was panting and sweating, his blue eyes squeezed shut as obvious pain contorted his rugged and handsome features. "No!" Vincent breathed, moving to straddle Cid's thighs, and begin to push the cop's suit jacket off of his shoulders. Weakly, Cid tried to push at Vincent's hands, protesting that he was "all right", but Vincent just batted his hands out of the way. Jacket pushed back, he began unbuttoning Cid's shirt and it too went the way of the jacket, down the man's thick biceps, revealing a t-shirt that was slowly becoming saturated with blood. He assessed the damage: shoulder wound, he reached behind the man's body, which earned him a grunt and a wince, but also revealed an exit wound, but from the placement of the wound and the amount of blood he ascertained that Cid's scapula was damaged. "Fuck!" Vincent bit out, and reached down to rip a wide swath from Highwind's t-shirt. That earned him a muttered curse to which he replied sourly, "Bill me", then proceeded to bind Cid's shoulder as best he could until proper medical treatment could be sought out.

That done, he put both hands on Cid's face, taking exquisite care not to inflict further damage from his gauntlet. Cid's blue eyes, clouded by pain, met his own, and Vincent fought a sudden surge of fear. Fear borne from the knowledge that just several inches over and he could have lost Cid. But what disturbed him the most was the sudden and feral swell of lust he felt rip through is body. The warmth from Highwind's body rose up to meet his own, and the result of which sank down into his groin. He should have been horrified that the man's pain caused this reaction in him, but the combination of adrenaline, fear and the sheer proximity of the other man's body to his own had him wanting those big, strong hands on his body…more specifically on his crotch, which was becoming increasingly more rigid behind the tight confines of his leathers. As a result, his legs opened more, and dropped him more fully upon Cid's thighs, and quite on its own his mouth sunk closer to Cid's until their lips were only a hairs-breadth away from touching. His breathing was coming in pants now too, only these were pants not borne from pain, but from wanting, from desire. "Cid, I…" he breathed. He needed to be closer, to touch, to be touched, claimed, owned, fucked…and dare he hope for it but, loved. Cid had been right, there was something there, and he had been too damned blind to see it.

"Ha-ha! Gotcha, didn't I, copper! Now all I gotta do is get yer girlfriend, and I'm outta here!" came a cackling voice from above them and to the right, causing Vincent to jump and pull back just before he could seal their mouths together, and so seal the potential for some kind of future. He pulled back, more than a little chagrined at his grossly untimely display of affection.

"I'll be right back. Don't move," he said softly, and with a last, gentle stroke to Cid's cheek pulled away from the fallen cop. He had some unfinished business to attend to. It was no longer just a quest to find Elena…it was personal.

The initial shock of being shot had sent Cid's mind as well as his body reeling, and he hardly noticed slamming against the wall. The first sign that something was wrong had been Vincent's rushing to him; why was he abandoning their plan? Cid was fine; he'd just tripped…or something…right? The pain hit him all at once as he realized what had happened. He gasped when he tried to examine the wound himself, and again when Vincent knelt down in front of –no, on him. He patiently sat through Vincent's "band-aid" application, and had almost immediately picked up on the desire coming off Vincent's body in waves. He had wanted so badly to return it, but by the time he'd had the idea to act, the moment was too intense. He risked ruining it if he moved, so he just kept looking, drowning in that look he'd never seen on Vincent's face before. The pain became irrelevant with Vincent so close to him, so close to giving in once and for all, and Cid was certain that they were going to make love right here as soon as their lips met. They never did meet, and as the pain came back and mingled with the lightheadedness and desire, Cid became confused all over again.

He hadn't heard Spike's declaration, and had no idea why Vincent was leaving him. His uninjured arm lifted to reach after Vincent as he choked out, "Don't leave me," but Vincent was gone. Despite having been told not to move, Cid struggled to stand, wincing and gasping again as he absentmindedly tried to use both arms to raise himself. When he finally did make it to his feet, he found that he was dizzy even though Vincent had effectively slowed the blood loss. He sat instead on a large crate nearby; it would be easier to get up from there. He'd be going after Vincent in a few minutes, anyway, he decided as he settled against the wall.

Pushing Cid, and the cop's condition, out of his mind, Vincent focused upon the task at hand: apprehending Spike. Since the cop had been shot, the man had become more confident, and in effect, more careless. Standing deep in the shadows, Vincent shut his eyes and used his keen sense of hearing to pinpoint Spike's location, and when the man quit moving, apparently to 'lie in wait' again, he lips slid apart in an evil grin. You are mine, he thought with finality.

With great care he slowly closed a circuitous route until he came up behind the man where he lay atop a large stack of crates. Crouching in the rafters above Spike, it took all of Vincent's self-control not to just kill him outright. Instead he dropped noiselessly to the crates behind the man, and when Spike learned of his presence, it was too late. He buried the muzzle of Quicksilver in the man's back, growled in one hairy ear, "Nighty-night," and brought his fisted gauntlet down against the man's skull, knocking him clean out. He then effortlessly draped the man's body over his shoulder, and leapt down from the stack of crates to make his way over to Cid, and dumped the body at the cop's feet. "Sorry it took me so long," he said quietly.

"Y'came back," Cid murmured happily, honestly a little surprised. Vincent hadn't really been gone all that long, and Cid had somewhat expected to be left alone much longer. He was about to ask if Vincent had killed the guy, but noticed that the chest of the body on floor was moving in a way that indicated breathing. Cid didn't want him to wake up; didn't want to have to deal with this anymore, but he knew he had to. With a little more strength than he had possessed when Vincent had left him, Cid kicked at the unconscious man's leg. If this had to go on, he wanted it to end as soon as possible so he could take Vincent home and finish what they'd almost started. "C'mon, y'ijit. Wake up so I c'n go home," he said, standing up slowly.

"Easy, Highwind," Vincent murmured gently. "When he wakes up, he shall be at a distinct advantage over you. Come," he said, hefting the body over his shoulder again. "We need some rope and a chair before I am willing to turn you loose on him." He waited until Cid proved that he was steady on his feet before he led his wounded friend towards the back office he had seen, snagging a coil of rope that was laying on a crate, on the way. Once he broke open the door, he thumped the man down onto an office chair and securely bound his arms and legs, before stepping into the corner to fill up a paper cup full of tepid water from the large jug there. He then splashed the contents into Spike's face, before melting back into the shadows as the man groaned and slowly came to. He would step in only if Cid signaled him to do so.

Cid scooted another chair over to sit a few feet in front of Spike. When the other man woke up completely, Cid grinned widely at him and leaned in. "Hey there. Hope you realize what a shitty situation y're in right now." Vincent's presence comforted Cid more than he should have allowed it to, but it was comforting nonetheless, and without it, he doubted he would have been able to affect the carefree attitude he was attempting to project. "Me an' you got a couple things t'clear up. First thing's this- y'ever call m'man a girl again, I'mma let 'im do more'n just knock you out. Understand? Second thing's this- Where's Elena? You better tell me quick an' honest, too, 'cause I ain't gonna fuck around with ya no longer'n I have to." Cid's head was hurting, and that was one of the quickest ways to make him irritable. It certainly seemed to be doing so now.

"Fuck you, cop…'n fuck yer pussy-ass girlfriend too," Spike spat out, and leered at Cid. "Fuckin' lame-ass excuse fer a cop, I think ya got shot on purpose s' you can dress 'er up in a nurse outfit." And he burst out laughing at his own humor.

Shaking his head, Cid said, "What the hell was that sweet girl doin' around you? God, an' the kids… You even realize what a fuckin' idiot you are? Coulda just stayed still an' answered our questions an' none o' this woulda been necessary. We wouldn't'a messed up yer operations or whatever th'hell illegal shit y'got goin' on. There ain't no cop here. We just want Miss Elena back. I'll tell ya what. You get one more chance t'answer me. I ain't up fer dealin' with somebody as stupid as you right now, but I bet he is," he said, jerking his head in Vincent's direction. "So if you wanna walk outta here with all yer limbs attached, I'd say you oughta answer me right now."

"An I tell ya again, cop…Fuck. You." Spike said, glaring at Cid. "Ya think I'm scared o' yer girlfriend? That bitch ain't even worth my time, or those brats she calls kids…th' little pieces o' shit ain't even mine, thank th'gods fer that. Waste o' fuckin' space th' both of 'em."

"Yeah, I bet they're glad too," Cid said, before turning to Vincent. "You don't know how much I regret havin' t'do this. I kept hopin' maybe you was a reasonable guy, just scared, but it's startin'a look like that just ain't gonna be th'case." As an afterthought to the throb in his shoulder, Cid leaned forward and spat in the guy's face. "That's from me. I'll leave th'rest up t'him. B'lieve me, y'll be afraid of 'im soon enough." Cid's eyes were sad as he turned them on Vincent's and shook his head, indicating that he had gotten nothing and had no idea how else to approach it with a guy this stubborn. "Take it away, babe," he said with a flourish of his uninjured arm, and left the chair to sit on the desk with his back to the scene. He knew he would not want to see what ensued when Vincent began wearing down Spike's resolve.

Vincent had watched the whole scene with a kind of sick humor. The fact that he was referred to as a woman didn't bother him. He had been called far worse, and had learned over time to not let words hurt him. But what Spike had said about Elena and the children…that had struck a chord in him deep down, and kindled a familiar black rage. He knew this type of scum, had dealt with them too often, and as a result knew the only kind of persuasion they responded to. Secretly he had hoped that Spike would have answered Cid, but he knew that would never be the case. Men like this tromped over the good people in the world, and it took policing by the even worse to keep this ilk in line. He waited a while in silence, until Spike began to squirm from anticipation before he said softly, "I wish you would not have to see this. Would you not consider stepping outside?"

As much as he hated to admit it, Cid was almost afraid to step outside. He was not certain that no one else had been informed of his and Vincent's presence, and was not sure if he was willing to take the risk of being attacked again. If he were completely honest with himself, he just didn't want to leave the room without Vincent. He considered for a few more moments, stretching out the tension again as he debated what to do. "I'm better off in here with you than out there without ya. Y'know nothin' y'do'll make me think any less of ya. I won't look, though, an' I'll plug m'ears as best I can. That all right?"

"As you wish," Vincent murmured sadly, "but you shall think differently of me when I am finished here."

"Wha-What're ya talking ab-AHHHHH" Spike screamed as there was a sickening crack of bone as Vincent broke Spike's bound forearm effortlessly. "What th' fuck, man!" Spike sobbed, "Ya broke my fuckin' arm!"

"Yes, I did," Vincent said pleasantly, moving around to stand in front of Spike and look down at him mildly. "And I shall break much more than just your arm if you do not start telling us what we want to know. Now, where is the girl?"

"I dunno what yer talkin' about!" Spike wailed, then screamed again as Vincent broke Spike's other arm, shaking his head.

"Yes, Spike, I think you do." Vincent said. "You see, whereas my friend here does not like to hurt people, if he can help it, I have no such qualms. In fact, I do it for a living. You are a blight to humanity; a cancer living off of the good people of this city, much like myself, and it is nothing to me to cut you out of existence. Now," he said smoothly, standing firmly in front of Spike and staring down at the man with his arms crossed over his chest, one metal-clad finger tapping a patient rhythm on his bicep. "Where is Elena?"

Spike blinked bleary, mud-colored eyes up at Vincent, and met a lava-colored gaze, and then it hit him just who this man was. There was only one person in Midgar who had those colored eyes, and it occurred to Spike that he was well and truly fucked. "Yer-yer Vincent Valentine!"

Vincent sighed patiently, looking bored. "Now I do not know if your sudden surge of intelligence should make me feel better or horrify me. Yes, I am, but it does you no favor to avoid my question. Now, I shall ask you one more time, before I use more pain: Where. Is. Elena?"

"He-he said he needed a girl…" Spike blurted.

Vincent nodded slowly. "That is a good start, Spike, but please…don't stop there."

"He said, if I brought 'im a girl, then e'd ferget my debts, said e'd make 'em go away. S' I figured, Elena's pretty enough, so I brung him her," Spike finished.

Vincent nodded again. "Okay, so where did you bring Elena?"

"I don't remember!" Spike said pleadingly.

"Hn," Vincent said reaching out, and placing a bladed finger at the neck of Spike's dirty T-shirt. "I bet I could make you remember."

Spike began to squirm at the proximity of the wicked-looking metal to his skin. "H-h-honest, man! I swear I don't remember!"

With a savage jerk, Vincent ripped the man's shirt down the front, exposing flabby, hairy flesh, and cutting a thin trail as it went. He lifted his lip in a disgusted sneer. "One too many beers there, Spike. Now, where did you take Elena?"

"I-I-I…" Spike stammered, watching Vincent's clawed hand.

"Quickly now, Spike! We haven't got all day," Vincent rushed the man.

"Warehouse!" Spike blurted.

"Warehouse where?" Vincent asked, patience beginning to run out, and he let his tone of voice reflect that.

"Not far from here, shipping to the upper plate, th'far end o' Loveless Avenue!" Spike said.

Vincent froze. He knew that address, and knew it well. "When!" he barked.

"I don't…grk…" Spike's eyes bulged as Vincent stabbed two fingers into the man's abdomen.

"No more games, Spike," Vincent hissed impatiently. "When did you deliver the girl, who demanded her and why."

"Just t-today…" Spike groaned, gurgling as blood oozed out of the corner of his mouth. He cried out weakly as Vincent jerked his fingers up, parting the man's flesh to expose adipose tissue and muscle. "Early t-today, somethin' about needin' girls fer a b-brothel. It was s-some redhead freak with a long red leather coat…never tol' me 'is name. I SWEAR!" Spike screamed again as Vincent savagely tore his gauntleted fingers from the man's body, then promptly placed both hands on either side of Spike's head, and with a savage twisting motion snapped the man's neck, putting an end to the gurgling breaths. Calmly, he grasped the tattered ends of the man's t-shirt and thoroughly wiped the gore from his gauntlet.

"Time to leave, Mr. Highwind." Vincent said softly, removing his dark glasses from his vest pocket, and placing them once again his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number other than Tseng's. "I need a cleanup down on the wharf of district 9, warehouse 5, back office…thank you, and please be discreet, Reno." After he hung up, he said, finding that he was unable to meet Cid's eyes for fear of finding a horrified stare, "Reno will take care of the mess, and retrieve any surveillance that might have been collected. We need to move to Loveless Avenue. Are you all right to continue? Or shall I go on alone."

"I'm gonna come with ya, o' course," was the answer. He'd gone longer periods of time with worse injuries than this –he thought- and he wasn't going to leave the rest of the work for Vincent when this was an errand Cid had had to drag him into in the first place. "Hey," Cid called quietly before Vincent reached the door. "Come 'ere, Vincent." Vincent did come, hesitantly, but it was good enough for Cid, who stepped forward and placed his good hand on Vincent's cheek. They looked at each other for a long moment while Cid's thumb brushed the skin at the corner of Vincent's mouth. His only regret at the moment was that his shoulder was hurting too badly for him to even attempt to raise the other hand; he would have loved to have Vincent's face in both hands right now just to emphasize the point he was trying to make. He leaned in and kissed Vincent, not nearly the way they would have kissed earlier had they not been interrupted, but it was a the best he could give with the current mood. "I still love you every bit as much as I did earlier t'day, if not more. Okay? Believe me when I say that."

Vincent actually managed a weak smile, which he failed to feel. "If you say so, Cid." He turned away and opened the door, his voice flat and lifeless. "If you say so." They didn't speak as they headed back out of the neighborhood, and toward where they left the car. The ride to Loveless Avenue was just as quiet. There was tension again between them, but a different kind now that Vincent was more disquieted with. He could no longer deny a physical attraction to Cid Highwind, but how did he feel towards the man? He wasn't entirely sure, and that unsettled him. He shook his head and shoved the thought away. They had to find Elena, and besides, he had a more pressing and worrying issue: the warehouse. Nearly any other warehouse, and it would not have bothered him but… "Cid," he said as he deftly navigated traffic, concern coloring his voice. "I'm worried about the location that Spike gave us."

"Why's that, Vince?" Cid asked simply, too distracted by myriad circumstances to realize that he had chopped an entire syllable off Vincent's name. He stared out the window, forcing himself not to imagine how the day would have ended if Spike had just kept his mouth shut after shooting Cid.

Vincent shot Cid a quick glare, but chose to let the slip go in favor of the more pressing issue of the moment. "I own that warehouse."

Anyone else want to knock Vincent upside the head?