Kay, guys, things are starting to get nasty for the boys. The next several chapters involve unpleasant experiences of various kinds, graphic descriptions of gore, etc. There's nothing in this chapter that I need to block off, but I'm warning you now about the upcoming ones. I may still cut out the worst of the scenes and direct you to Cal's version instead, just so I can preserve the eyes of those who don't want to read things like that.
Happy readin'!
Monday had come all too quickly. Rufus had been out of the building all day, a small blessing, and Vincent had spent that day setting up his meeting with Weiss and Nero. He had contacted Rosso, and given her a heads up that he requested her employers' presences in Healin the following day and that he was sending one of his personal helis to get them. She had been suspicious, naturally, but had agreed to pass on the word. His relationship with the Syndicate had improved greatly upon his rectification of a missing shipment of mako about a month back. He had sent more, at a cost to himself, along with a 'sincere' apology, which consisted of the man's head who had stolen from him. Weiss had then called personally to express his acceptance of the apology, and his (rather sick) delight in doing business with his 'brother' in Midgar.
Tuesday finally rolled around, and while Tseng flew him to their headquarters in Healin, Reno flew east to Modeoheim. Truthfully, Vincent would have preferred to send Tseng, but since his second was full Wutaian he didn't dare. Relations between the crime families in Modeoheim and Wutai were strained at best, and he didn't know how he managed to keep the Syndicate and Kisaragis from killing each other during their quarterly meetings in Midgar. He had left word with Verdot that should ShinRa inquire about his absence that he would be tied up in meetings all day. Now he was standing at the window when Weiss and Nero walked into the modest conference room, looking out at a rather picturesque waterfall, lost in thought. When Tseng gently cleared his throat to get his attention, Vincent's eyes focused once more and he turned, smiling wanly. "Gentlemen, thank you for joining me on such short notice. Please, let's be seated." He held out an arm to the chairs across from him and the two men took them.
His skin always crawled when he had to face these two siblings. Nero was the easiest to take, but his silence was his greatest weapon. You never knew what the man was thinking, what with the unwavering way he stared at you. Weiss on the other hand, you knew he was psychotic just by making eye contact. His wild gray-blue hair didn't help matters, nor did the rather animated way he spoke…when he chose to. These two men were men of few words, but decisive and violent in action. Vincent was immensely respectful of the power they wielded. Rosso stood across the room from Tseng against a wall, arms over her chest, eyes watchful.
"Most inconvenient, Mr. Valentine. Why did you ask us here?" Nero said softly; his voice accented and cultured.
"My apologies to all three of you," Vincent said sincerely, holding out his hands. "But this could not wait, nor could I trust the questionable confidentiality of a phone call."
Weiss blinked and growled under his breath, but Nero silenced him by holding up a hand. "Your concern is duly noted, Mr. Valentine, but we would hear of what has you so troubled."
Vincent nodded. "It has come to my attention, gentlemen, that the Syndicate has been conducting business in Midgar's lower plate without contacting me first, ergo, without my permission." He hated to be accusatory right off, but he had to know if his suspicions were correct or not, and the only way to do that was to confront these two right off.
"Careful, Valentine," Weiss said, pinning Vincent with a cold, deadly stare out of eyes so light a blue they were nearly white. Nero quickly placed a hand on Weiss's shoulder, which told Vincent just how close he had come to being throttled.
"What my brother is trying to say is that such accusations that you are insinuating are highly insulting, Mr. Valentine. And one would hope that you would have proof to back that egregious hypothesis." Nero said calmly, but by the flicker in those near-red eyes, Vincent could tell that Nero too was close to acting upon his ire.
"Again, my apologies, gentlemen. No offense was intended, I only meant to gauge your level of knowledge with what I am about to tell you." Vincent hastened to smooth ruffled feathers.
"Continue." Nero said, gaze never wavering, and only with great effort did Weiss ease back into his chair.
Vincent nodded and began. "Not three days ago I had the misfortune, or perhaps fortune in this case, of unintentionally overhearing a meeting that was being held in one of my warehouses without my knowledge. This meeting was between a rival of mine, one you know of, Genesis Rhapsodos." At that Weiss turned his head and spat, and Nero actually sneered. "I see that you do. Moving on. The others partaking in this meeting were Rufus ShinRa, Scarlet – the head of the authorities of the lower plate, and Azul the Cerulean."
"You lie," Weiss hissed, leaning forward as Nero sat up straighter, his gaze sharpening.
"I do not." Vincent said softly meeting their eyes in turn, unflinchingly. "I saw him with my own eyes, and heard him with own ears. It was also witnessed by one other."
"And you did not bring this 'other' with you to corroborate your claim?" Nero asked suspiciously.
"No," Vincent said firmly. "He knows nothing of our relationship, or of the business that we conduct, and I saw no reason to involve him beyond what he already was."
"Continue," Nero said, while Weiss twitched in his seat. "You said you heard him? What was said?"
"I did not hear much, as my business was of another nature, but what I heard troubled me greatly. They spoke of assassinating the President of Midgar." Vincent said levelly. "And pinning that killing on myself and the other man who also witnessed this conversation."
"That's a very serious accusation, Mr. Valentine. What would assassinating the President gain these men?" Nero asked.
"By eliminating the President, it would open his seat in the government and anyone with enough pull, or enough officials in their pocket, could claim it. In effect they would control the entire city. Azul's role in this is unknown, but I felt that you should be warned should the man stage his own coup upon your control in Modeoheim. With the power of Midgar backing him, he would succeed. Of which you are aware," Vincent said seriously.
"You risk your life by telling us this, Mr. Valentine. Why?" Nero said softly.
"Because I did not work as hard as I have to build a relationship between our two organizations to have it destroyed by rot within. We have an agreement between us all that benefits us all, and that would be torn apart if Rhapsodos were allowed to gain control over the plates. Let me ask you this, would you rather deal with me, or him?" Vincent asked, leaning forward for emphasis.
"Now you ask stupid questions!" Weiss snorted, tapping agitatedly with a finger upon the table.
"Easy, brother. Even you cannot deny the risk Mr. Valentine has taken in coming to us with this information." Nero turned back to Vincent. "What makes you think you were not meant to hear this conversation? That you are not being played?"
"I know not," Vincent answered. "And that is the truth. Mr. ShinRa knows that on weekends I conduct personal business and as a result am not aware of his actions. So I can only conclude that I was, in fact, not meant to hear the discussion between these parties. My only real concern to the contrary would be the clear lack of judgment in choosing that location for their meeting. But Mr. ShinRa is not exactly known for his good judgment."
"I agree." Weiss said, and then looked over at Nero and back again to Vincent, appearing to have calmed somewhat. "Then that just leaves us one thing to do."
Vincent raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
"Deciding what we do next," Nero said with finality. And Vincent knew that this would be a very long day indeed.
"Finally decided to show up, did you, Highwind? Good. I've got a job for you."
Cid raised an eyebrow. This shouldn't be so easy. Scarlet should be angry at him, threatening…but instead there was just a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. "An' what job might that be?"
"I need you to find someone for me. He's a known criminal, and we got a call saying he took some money in return for some goods he'd brought in, and then snuck the goods right back out with him! Don't look at me like that; it was a setup," she snapped, as if Cid had accused her of being in the drug market. As it was, he had a sinking feeling.
"Where might I find this fella?"
"Well, that's your job, isn't it? Rio Ferrare, known most widely as "Spike;" we've had a bit of trouble with him before, stealing and things, but we needed what he had this time for part of the operation."
Cid knew that she knew that he knew she was lying. "Well, do ya at least have a file on 'im 'r somethin'?"
"Of course there's a file on him." Scarlet handed him a folder two inches thick. He sighed. "You'll look over that today, and tomorrow you start looking for him." She smiled sweetly again. "You'll report back to me every night, and I expect good news by Thursday. If not…well, frankly, Highwind, you've been little more than a bother to keep around. I'll be sure someone gets some use out of you before you leave." She walked away before Cid could announce that when he left, it would be of his own free will…and it would be soon.
He sat down and looked at the fat folder, afraid to open it. He knew he would recognize the man in the pictures he would find, and he knew what it meant. Scarlet knew they had been there, somehow, and was going to make sure he knew not to cross her again. "Well," he said, "that ain't gonna be a problem, 'cause I'm gettin' th'hell outta here."
As Cid sat there, Zack walked past and gave a theatrical jump at the sight of Cid. "Whoa, man, we all thought you died or somethin'! The hell are you doin' here?"
"Aw, shut up," Cid grumbled, whacking Zack with the folder and then bringing it up to his own forehead, knocking his glasses askew in the process.
"What, she finally sendin' you in t'see the big guy? Lemme warn ya, he doesn't listen to reason, and he takes orders directly from her, I mean step by step. Way she hates you, I'll be surprised if he doesn't break every bone in yer body one by one." Fair stopped to snicker, then patted Cid on the shoulder. "But hey, you're tough. You'll live through most of it." He walked away looking even jollier than before, and Cid wondered if it really felt so great to revel in other people's misery. He never really saw the appeal in it himself.
"I hate people," he groaned, and left the building, folder in hand.
The next day, he was roused quite early by a knock on his door; Tifa greeted him when he opened it. "Scarlet says you're not trustworthy on your own, so you get me for a partner this time." She grimaced. "Just don't smoke on the job, okay? I can't stand the smell."
Cid made a noncommittal sound and a vague gesture for her to wait inside while he dressed. Dammit. Ain't like I don't already know where 'e is. Only I can't take it easy 'til we find somethin' solid now, 'cause I got this 'un taggin' along b'hind me… He threw on some rumpled, possibly unwashed clothes and rejoined Tifa in the living room. "Let's go. I've heard of 'im b'fore; got a gen'ral idea where we might wanna start lookin'. Ain't no place fer a lady, though. I dunno what they're thinkin', sendin' you in there."
"Thinking I'm probably more useful in a fight than you," she answered smugly, and Cid had to admit that she had a point. "Sector five slums?"
"Yep. Nasty place. Real nasty place," he said redundantly.
"No kidding." Tifa rolled her eyes, then huffed and began preparing to drag Cid from the apartment and down the stairs; this man certainly didn't move very quickly.
They spent the day asking for information around Spike's recently vacated apartment. The scant knowledge the day yielded pointed, at least, in the same direction despite the variety –and doubtful conditions- of people they had approached: Spike had disappeared not too long ago after two men had come around looking for him. When asked about his business endeavors, most just shrugged or refused to answer, but one man was feeling loose enough to say that he had been talking about pawning off his latest ex. Tifa, disgusted, had become quite enraged after that, and they had spent the rest of the day asking about this ex. They had split up, sure that people would be more willing to speak to Tifa without Cid's presence.
When they met again at the end of the day, Cid confided that he had found the girl, and that she was fine. It was a stupid move, but this way he could at least make it appear that they had searched diligently. He told Tifa that the girl, who wished to remain anonymous to avoid further trouble, had escaped after being delivered. Tifa was still rankled; Spike had received the money anyway, and they were no closer to finding him. He said that they should check around the warehouse where the girl claimed to have been held, not to mention bring the girl in as proof. Cid pointed out that such things weren't really necessary in the Midgar system anymore.
Cid knew there would be no body, no evidence, of Spike's demise, and no reason to search the place where he'd been killed anyway. From any angle, the man appeared to have vanished from the face of the earth, and Cid knew he would never be able to prove his death without confessing to his involvement in the whole affair. For what was certainly not the first time in his life, Cid Highwind was well and truly screwed.
They reported their day's work later and filed the proper paperwork, Cid still refusing to name the girl. They set out for the warehouse early the next day, and Cid felt only a little guilty for breaking onto Vincent's property. When they had split once again to explore, Cid found something he could only assume had been left on purpose: the hat Scarlet had been wearing that day when he and Vincent had witnessed the meeting. He considered dragging Tifa in with them, but decided it was better not to. He left it untouched, still on the floor where it had been lying. What he was going to do about it he would decide later. He didn't think blackmail would be effective (or a wise decision), but alerting Lazard to what they had seen, and leaving the room in the same condition the members of the meeting had left it in—well, he'd talk to Vincent first.
Even with all that had happened, Cid still couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing Vincent again the coming Friday. He found Tifa, and discovered with much relief that she had not found anything except a dead dog.
"Well, it's late. We better get back," he said after they had asked everyone in the vicinity of the warehouse about Spike. No one had heard of him, and Cid was glad for that. Tifa seemed to find it fishy.
"I'd like to talk to this girl, make sure you got the right information and that she's not lying or hiding anything."
"She's not," Cid said. "B'lieve me, but don't ask how I know. A' right?"
Suspicious, but willing for some reason to believe Cid –perhaps it was the weary expression on his face, or the heavy sigh he released with his statement- Tifa just nodded and was silent as she drove them back to the station.
Scarlet was very much unhappy with the two of them when they regretfully informed her that no one else seemed to know anything about Spike, and that no other aliases had turned up. "You've got until tomorrow to bring me something."
When, by the next evening, they had not, Scarlet shook her head and said, "Lockheart, this is the first time you've failed me. I'm willing to accept that Highwind dragged you down. As for you," she said, turning to Cid, "you've run out of chances, Highwind. Wallace!" she called, and a large, muscular, dangerous-looking man entered her office, face set in a rough, animal grin. "This is Mr. Highwind. I know you've been waiting a long time to meet him. I'm sure you'll get along very well."
The next thing Cid knew, he was being lifted off the ground and carried away. "Hey, what th-"
"I suggest, Highwind," Scarlet said coldly, "that you behave yourself and don't struggle too much. If you do as you're told, we may consider keeping you on the force after all."
"Fuck the force," Cid grumbled, "an' fuck you!" He was then abruptly tossed into a cold room he had never known existed, and Wallace was bearing in on him, that same grin still in place. Dammit, I shoulda gone fer blackmail after all…
When he left later that night, he did not walk away unaided.