READ: Guys. NC-17ish chapter. Violence, blood, gore, torture, unpleasantness. Not even kidding.

I couldn't find a way to cut it out without ruining the chapter entirely, so I'm just warning you about it instead. Don't blame me for traumatizing you at the end of it. Thanks.

It was disgusting, all of it. The way the crowd fawned over him, the way the old man hung on his every word. Sickening. Rufus shut off the TV with a click that was followed by the bang of the remote being slammed onto the desk. It was a Thursday. Who planned things like this on Thursdays? Foolishness. And the old man- he was such a waste of space. Who had granted him power anyway? He had no idea what went on in Midgar, the place he was supposedly in charge of running. So much went on right under his nose, in "his city." "His people" were so corrupt, even in the upper plates. Midgar ran on money, and money surpassed all values. With it, one could buy power, loyalty, prestige…at the risk that someone with more money would later do the same. The old man still thought that Midgar ran on its founding principles, the idiot. Oh, he was an idiot… He was probably oblivious even to the existence of ShinRa Pharmaceuticals. One thing he was decidedly aware of was the young man who had spent the majority of the evening with the elder's arm about his shoulders, the one responsible for protecting dear old Daddy from the horror of everything below the top of the tower. Rufus sneered. The pair of them, fools…but he'd take care of them. Oh, yes, he'd take care of them…it should have been him, after all. He knew how to run an empire. He'd built one of his own here; that was proof enough. Old man Deusericus and his proper, upstanding son- they had no idea what it took. They had not the ability to instill fear in the hearts of their subjects. Nothing could ever get done if one played by the rules. Rufus knew this. And when he took his rightful place at the top, everyone would know it.

It would have been his if not for the older Deusericus, would have been his by right, and by blood. Not, Rufus thought, sneering, that blood had come to much for him anyway.

"You're not really my brother, you know," nine-year-old Lazard Deusericus informed the small boy seated in the tire swing he was pushing. "If you were, you wouldn't have a different last name."

"So?"

"Sheesh. Kids don't get anything. You're so dumb, do you know that?"

"I am not!" Rufus argued, but some niggling, hidden thought cried that he was as dumb as Lazard said, and that not really being his brother somehow made all the difference in the world.

"Yeah? Well, we'll see, I guess," Lazard snickered, and began pushing the swing again. He watched Rufus' face as the swing went higher and higher until the smaller boy looked as if he were about to cry.

"That's enough," he started, calmly enough. When Lazard did not stop and only pushed with more force, Rufus started yelling. "I said that's enough! Stop it! It's going too high!" Soon he was crying, but Lazard was still pushing him, higher and higher, and-

Rufus was awakened from the flashback by the sound of the television snapping back on. He had pounded his fist on the desk and accidentally hit the remote, turning on the television, which was now airing a recap of today's much-broadcasted meeting between President Deusericus and his only son, the number one district attorney in Midgar, who was now in charge of two separate sectors after the resignation of Sector Three's former idiot DA, Ruber Kotch.

Disgusted all over again, Rufus shut off the television with a sigh.

He'd broken his arm that day by jumping off the swing when Lazard still refused to stop. He'd wet himself first and cried a good while before finally summoning the nerve to jump. As soon as the doctor had left him, his father had come in and scolded him for being so foolish. "I don't have time for you to keep hurting yourself," he had said, "and Lazard stopped soiling his clothes when he was three. You've no call to still be doing it." Gone then were the brief, hopeful thoughts of six-year-old Rufus Shinra, thoughts that had him believing that maybe now Lazard would be punished and he, Rufus, would be cared for, waited on hand and foot. As for Lazard, he'd gotten off with a quick, almost affectionate, "Keep a closer eye on him from now on, son. It's a busy time for us, no? And he's a fool; he'll be jumping off the roof next just for the attention."

At that moment, Rufus decided he would be no one's fool, and that he would never again be a weak idiot of a child. Yes, he supposed it was that very day that he decided he would be the one to win his father's favor…it had been twenty-two years now, and that goal had been proven impossible long ago. There was only one alternative: force him to see the potential in his younger son.

And he would see it. He would see it soon, close up, and if Rufus had his way, it would also be the very last thing he ever saw.

He sneered again. Both of them. He'd get both of them. But he'd have to wait…far too long for his liking. He'd built up far too much frustration today, wallowing in his memories like some woman. If he had to wait, he would find another way to release today's tension.

He buzzed Tseng. "When next you see Vincent, he is to report to his office and await further instruction from me." Not that Vincent would be able to make it to his office…and he certainly wouldn't be going anywhere else for quite some time.

When Vincent had returned from his meeting with the Syndicate, Rufus had been nowhere to be found. And when he had seen the man, Rufus had been jumpy and nervous, which in turn had made Vincent skittish. He was getting very tired indeed of startling at every strange sound and random shadow. His suspicion that Rufus might have been tipped off as to his whereabouts the weekend past, was making him skulk around the building like an escaped convict, and he didn't know how much longer he could take the anticipation of being "caught."

It was all to come to a head the day before he was to meet with the cop for their scheduled "payment" for the mako he was receiving.

Vincent was walking down the hallway toward his office, having just gotten back from a "collection" run with Reno and Rude when there came a blinding flash of pain as something impacted the back of his skull, sending him to the floor, unconscious. He woke up slowly shortly thereafter, blinking his eyes rapidly as his vision swam and nausea threatened to choke him. He gradually became aware that he was chained, completely nude, from the shackles Rufus had installed in the ceiling in his 'special' quarters for just this purpose. They were set wide enough apart and high enough so that he hung very painfully, and with the most amount of unnatural force upon his arm sockets. Vincent winced and couldn't help but squirm a little bit as he futilely attempted to get more comfortable. Something flaked off onto the flesh of his wrists and he realized that it was dried blood…his dried blood.

He caught movement off to his right, and he turned his head toward it, hissing and shutting his eyes as the room swam sickeningly around him. Perversely, he felt a wave of relief flood through him at the fact that something was finally happening. "What is this? What's going on?" he rasped from a throat that desperately wanted water.

"Where were you last weekend, Vincent?" asked Rufus in a deceptively silky voice.

The room was dim, made so on purpose, so Vincent had to squint to see Rufus, which only made his headache worse. "What are you talking about?" He knew exactly what Rufus was talking about, but the man would not be getting anything from him. It was a real shame that ShinRa didn't realize this by now.

"Don't be stupid, you know exactly what I'm talking about, Vincent," Rufus said with irritation. He finally moved into Vincent's line of sight.

Rufus wasn't wearing his normal outfit of leather straps and decorative chains. Instead he was dressed in one of his impeccable white suits, and Vincent had a sinking feeling that this little 'meeting' was going to end very, very badly for him. "No, Rufus, I don't. You know I tend to personal business on the weekends, as it happens I was actually meeting with a business associate."

"The cop?" Rufus asked quietly.

Vincent swallowed nervously. Rufus knew. He needed to be extremely careful what he said next or he would be risking Cid's life, yet again. He felt a prickling at the nape of his neck as he broke out into a cold sweat. He hoped Rufus wouldn't notice that. He had managed to perfect the art of keeping his expression completely unreadable, but sweat did not lie. "Yes…the cop. And not the first cop I've conducted business with, nor will it be the last." Vincent was careful to affect a bored tone to his voice.

Rufus nodded and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Then where you, and the cop?"

"And I say again: that is personal." Vincent bit out through clenched teeth. "What I do with my personal time, is just that. I don't ask you where you go when you leave the Tower, do I?"

"That would be because it's none of your business." Rufus glowered.

"Which is exactly my point," Vincent said harshly.

"But I am your employer, I'm not required to tell you where I go," Rufus spat back.

"No, but I was not 'on the clock', therefore, not required to tell you either," Vincent said calmly, when in fact he wanted to yell at the man. "When have I ever betrayed you, Rufus?" He asked bluntly, startling ShinRa into actually backing up a step. It was such a vague, yet telling question that it was safe to make and it was also the closest he dared to get to revealing what he knew, and Rufus knew that. He could see the fear in those cold blue eyes. Genesis must have put the squeeze on Rufus, and with Azul backing that threat up, Vincent would not want to be ShinRa right now. He almost pitied the man. ShinRa only had circumstantial evidence that he was in the vicinity of that warehouse, and it was poorly circumstantial at that…

Rufus backed up until he bumped into his black cabinet. He reached behind himself and lifted the latch, opening it, then turned to rummage around inside. Vincent shivered as he felt a drop of sweat roll down his back. He knew what was kept in that cabinet. When Rufus turned back around he held a coiled whip in his hand. Vincent's breathing quickened, and he began to struggle again, twisting and writhing in his chains as Rufus walked closer, tapping the barbed-wire whip on his thigh, never taking his eyes from the horrid tool of pain. "No," he breathed, panting like a cornered animal. "Please, no…"

"I'll get the information from you one way or another, Vincent. What's your choice?" Rufus purred evilly.

Cid, he had to protect Cid. He had to keep quiet; it was the only way to fight the plot against himself and the cop. "I've told you that I don't know what you are talking about."

"I thought you'd say that, Valentine." Rufus said with satisfaction, letting the long coil of whip unravel.

ShinRa had used this whip only once before. Once had been enough for the both of them, and had left Vincent with the few scars that he had. Now, there would be more.

"I'll ask you again, Vincent. Where were you this weekend?"

"And my answer will not change," Vincent gasped, and clenched his teeth together as Rufus lashed him again, and again. In the end, the only way Vincent managed to keep silent was to picture Highwind's gentle, smiling face, the soft way the man had touched his body…and it brought him peace within this maelstrom of pain.

The sadistic question-and-answer session continued for twenty more agonizing minutes until Vincent was left covered in blood from head to foot, and amazingly still conscious, and Rufus, white suit splattered with gore, had dropped the whip, shaking and pale, to wipe his mouth and back up. "So be it," ShinRa said, and left the soundproofed room. He pulled up sharply when he ran into Tseng and snarled, "Cut him down." Then proceeded to lock himself in his office.

Tseng, swallowing in trepidation, walked up to the door to Rufus's private quarters and eased it open. He took one look at Vincent's mangled body and put his clothed sleeve over his mouth and nose, gasping, "Leviathan protect us!" He turned and exited the room, pulled out his PHS and dialed Reno's number. When the redhead picked up Tseng said brokenly, "Bring a blanket to Mr. ShinRa's quarters, now. Stop whatever it is you are doing and get here." He hung up and re-entered the room.

As he approached Vincent's body, he was terrified that his friend might be dead, but when Vincent looked up at him out from under matted, bloody strands of hair, he didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed that Vincent had survived. "Get the others," Vincent growled raggedly. "Tell them to meet in my private quarters…now." Then fell mercifully unconscious.

There then came a hesitant knock on Rufus's door. Reno had indeed been quick. Tseng cracked the door open and said shakily. "Get the others, and have them come to Vincent's quarters. Tell them it's urgent, and to report immediately."

Reno, face pale, nodded and said, "Is the boss all right? I mean, he's not-"

"Don't ask questions, Reno, just go…now." Tseng said softly in a voice that brooked no argument.

Reno nodded, and hurried off. Tseng, blanket in hand, walked back over and unchained his friend, catching the limp body in the blanket and wrapping it up protectively. Then, clutching his friend's body to his chest, made his way back to Vincent's quarters.

By the time the others were gathered in varying degrees of unease in the common room of Vincent's apartment, Vincent had woken up and together the two of them had gotten the blood off by means of a cool shower. Tseng had to strip to the waist in order to help keep Vincent propped up, but they had managed. The wounds had finally clotted, leaving savage-looking cuts all over Vincent's body, and one angry slice down the left side of Vincent's face when he had not managed to turn his head away in time. Slowly, and with Tseng's help, he had managed to pull on a light pair of sleep pants, but he could not bear anything to touch his chest and back.

"They're here, Vincent," Tseng said softly, stroking his friend's hair. "Just as you requested."

"Hand me my canes," Vincent said wearily. "I'll speak to them on my own two feet."

Tseng nodded and retrieved Vincent's two ivory-handled canes from the man's closet, and with a short, soft cry of pain, Vincent eased onto his feet. Gripping the canes, one in each hand, he managed to hobble out to talk to his men. When Rude, Reno and Verdot saw the state their boss was in, the first reaction was pure, unadulterated rage. Rude had to hold Reno back from stalking out to kill Rufus at that second, but the strangest reaction came from the slightly psychotic Verdot. The brown-haired man raised his chin and actually looked proud. Vincent dismissed the expression for the time being and met each of their eyes evenly. "Gentlemen," he said slowly. "The time has come for me to end my association with ShinRa."

That was met with, "About fuckin' time," from Reno, a relieved nod from Rude, and a cruel smile from Verdot. Tseng remained silent. Vincent lifted his hand slightly and they all fell quiet again. "Now you all have a decision to make. You have two choices. One: You can leave. I shall give you all enough money to start a new life; the gods know you all have more than earned it. The only stipulation is that you leave Midgar. And two: you can stay with me. I would welcome the help as I have come to respect each and every one of you and your talents. I would offer to let you stay with Rufus-" he was interrupted by rude noises of disbelief and disgust from the others, and he smiled wanly- "But I know how you feel about Mr. ShinRa. Think carefully about your answer. I'm offering you a way out. No strings attached, no debts, no questions. That's more than you would get from anyone else."

He was met with silence, and then Verdot stepped forward to stand in front of Vincent. He placed his hand over his heart and said in his deep, lazy voice. "I bleed for no man but you, Vincent. We'll go to hell together."

Vincent chuckled, wincing as he put a hand on Verdot's shoulder. "And I shall be glad for the company, my friend." He looked at Rude and Reno as Verdot took his place beside Vincent. "And you two?"

"Where 'm I gonna go, boss?" Reno said stepping forward, looking first at Verdot, then at Vincent. "A gutter rat like me don't know nothin' about livin' a straight life, yo." Reno was so shaken by what he had seen and heard that he had slipped back into his street dialect. "Ya gave me a chance, 'n this," he gestured to the men in the room, "is home fer me now. I'm stayin' with you."

Vincent, moved, could only nod and smile gently as Reno came over to stand by Verdot, grinning sheepishly as Verdot clapped him on the back with a nod. He looked next to the big man, Rude. Rude stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at the floor, appearing to be lost in thought. Finally he looked up and removed his glasses, meeting Vincent's eyes levelly. "Reno's right, sir. We all were nothing when you found us. Verdot was drinking himself to death, Reno was one knife fight short of a cut throat and me, huh. I had so many small-time mako dealers gunning for me that I didn't dare set foot out my tiny bit of turf. You gave us a second chance, and now look." He held out his arms. "We're the reigning power in Midgar."

Vincent chuckled quietly. "The Lower Plate."

"For now." Was Rude's stoic reply. "I'll stay with you, sir." And remained where he stood.

Vincent nodded, then looked over at Tseng. "And what about you, my friend? Don't wish to return to Wutai? Leave all this death and dishonor behind you?"

"You don't need to ask me that question, Vincent, because you already know the answer." Tseng replied softly.

Vincent nodded. "So we remain together. So be it." Vincent shifted uncomfortably. He desperately wanted to sit down, to rest. But business came first. "Now gentlemen, we must put our heads together, and decide how best to take down the giant."