The week passed quickly as the pair grew tense in anticipation of Reeve's return. Vincent had grilled Aria more than once about her discussion with Rufus in an attempt to uncover the cause for his call to Reeve. Aria consistently claimed good behavior; they came to no conclusions.
Early Friday afternoon, a desperate voicemail from one of Reeve's captains summoned Vincent for an impromptu rifle training session with the newest WRO recruits. A confident nod from Aria consented him to take off mid-lunch. The sky beamed with purifying sun as Vincent left the apartment. The fastest route to the training site took him along the edge of the city, where Midgar's remains haunted the horizon. As he glanced toward the bones of the old city, he seemed to drive through a wall of cool air. The sudden change of temperature drew his attention forward and caused him to brake in the middle of the empty road.
From the distance, he heard Edge buzzing with life. Yet the sound of silence coming from the ruins seemed far more powerful. Staring into the broken skyline, he inhaled deeply, then closed his eyes as a chill ran through his neck: With that breath had come a metallic smell, foreign even to a gunman. He recognized his distracted state and pressed on quickly, attempting to ignore the sudden magnetic draw of Midgar.
Traces of the scent followed him to the training site: the Midgarian Plains. Amongst little more than grass and dirt, Vincent noticed that with each breath he took, the metallic notes became more difficult to ignore. Within an hour, as he stood behind a line of sniping recruits, his throat began to slowly constrict. The captain that had begged for his help approached his side.
"They're making quick progress. Thanks to you, we should be able to set these boys loose on Midgar in no time."
Staring through blurring vision, Vincent pushed out a coy response. "Why would you do that?"
"With all due respect, Mr. Valentine, as if the gangs that have taken over the streets aren't enough…" He paused, lowering his voice. "We both know there's something bigger going on. Forty people don't just up and run away from home together."
The comment warranted a smirk that Vincent could not manage.
"Hopefully, they never have to use those guns. But if they do, at least you've prepared them," the Captain added, hardly noticing Vincent's shallow breath in his praise. He could not know that the sun was now blinding his prized trainer.
Accustomed to reigning in panic, Vincent calmly closed his eyes against the harsh glare.
.
Once sure of his departure from the building, Aria cleared the half-eaten meals from the kitchen table and slipped out onto the balcony. From deep within the exterior storage closet she pulled the cardboard box stuffed with files and stray papers. With the box securely in her arms, she paused a moment to stare at the accessory case that occupied a portion of the closet's floorspace. A frustrated roll of her eyes accompanied the slamming of the closet door.
Upon re-entering, she lowered herself and the box to the floor of the living room, and in unpacking the contents, surrounded herself with piles of old newspapers and lab reports ranging from her own time as a Shinra employee to several years before her birth. She had privately immersed herself in the history of Project G for over an hour before her temples began to ache with each new report she read. Every article painted more graphic images of broken minds in the bodies of gods. Photographs of Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley included in lab reports and profiles built a suspense that tightened her chest until the opening of a plain manilla folder sent her memory reeling.
She drew her knees into her chest and leaned against the cool brick wall, hardly noticing the gray clouds roll in as she stared into achingly familiar green eyes.
"'Legend'? Rather audacious, don't you think?"
"I didn't invent the title. I just...acquired it." A contagious smirk pulled first at her lips, then his.
"And what does that title get you? More money that you won't spend? A penthouse you will never use?"
"I use my apartment. I'm just...busy. No...well, yes, it gets me those things. But it also gives me autonomy and authority. I'll have a team of my own, should I so desire."
"Do you so desire?"
"I'm sure I will someday. Did you get the third degree when you became General?"
"No. I earned it."
"And I didn't?" she protested. He smiled darkly and cupped her chin in his palm.
"Oh, you're a true Turk. You blackmailed your way to the top."
She jerked her head away and shot a look of warning through deep violet eyes.
"I survived an assassination attempt. I think that's 'earning it.'"
"How is your shoulder?"
"It only hurts at night now. It's strange. Guess the bullet can't sleep."
"It's not strange at all. The deepest wounds always haunt us in the dark."
A loud knock on the front door caused Aria's body to jerk back into awareness. She frantically began reboxing the folders until she heard the familiar voice through the door.
"Open up, or we're breakin' it down!"
A mild wave of relief washed over her as she abandoned her work on the floor to greet Reno.
"My neighbors must be charmed by your presence," she gibed, opening the door for the redhead to step through.
"I thought the same thing." He stepped into the living room, stopping short upon seeing the mess of files scattered in a circle on the floor. "You've been busy."
"And I don't feel like I'm making any progress. Everything points to Project G dying out with Rhapsodos and Hewley. Hollander's gone, and no one seems to have picked it up, catastrophe that it was."
"And...why do you care, again?"
She perched atop the back of the couch and sighed, looking first at her hands, then into Reno's questioning eyes.
"Something is happening in Midgar."
"The disappearances. Yeah, that's not news. The place is crawling with outlaws."
"Someone sought me out in Cosmo, Reno. A Restrictor, whatever that means. He mentioned Project G, said I wasn't alone, and that 'they were coming.'"
"You've said some pretty enigmatic shit yourself, sister."
"And then he died."
Reno's back straightened at this. "Oh, my."
"Nanaki said he had been waiting for me. Whatever is going on...it's personal."
"What's Valentine have to say about all this?"
"He doesn't say much about anything, but he's meeting with Reeve later today. We want to go back to HQ, but we need some support. And everyone agrees that the WRO needs to patrol the ruins. Keep civilians out…"
"...and keep the baddies in?" She nodded once. He continued, "Well...since it's a waiting game right now...why don't you pack a bag and come out to Kalm for the weekend? The festival awaits…"
"I hardly feel like celebrating," she protested. He would not hear it.
"Which is exactly why you need to be there. Come on. Rufus won't go with me. Don't make me go alone."
A heavy sigh served as consent.
.
"There he is. Okay. Thank the gods."
The familiar voice raked Vincent into a dull awareness. He opened his eyes to a half-circle of concerned faces.
"You just dropped, man. You okay?"
Vincent stood slowly, brushing the loose dirt off his sleeves. His trainees watched him from their firing line. He cleared his throat, turning his back to the majority of the watchful eyes.
"I'm fine now. I don't know what...I'm fine."
"You want someone to drive you to the hospital?" the friendly captain offered. Vincent declined.
"No, thank you. I'll be fine. I feel...I'm fine."
"I'll call Marx," he persisted, pulling his cellphone from his breast pocket. Vincent covered the device with his brassy palm and shook his head.
"Don't worry about it. You don't need me here now. I am leaving…" Before taking off for his bike, he turned to face the concerned men one last time.
"I would be obliged if you would not mention this to...anyone."
They nodded solemnly and let him leave the training area without any further protest.
.
As Vincent tiredly climbed the exterior stairs to the apartment, his phone rang. He knew the caller without checking the display.
"Reeve."
"Ready to talk? I'm back in the area, but you'll need to drive a bit."
"Where do I go?"
"Kalm. And bring your dancing shoes: The festival has started."
The joke severed the conversation, but still lingered in his mind as he opened the door to Reno standing in his living room.
"What…" was all he could manage to grumble.
"Hey, Valentine. I'm gettin' ol' Marx outta your hair for a weekend. We're going to the festival-"
"In Kalm," Vincent finished the thought for him.
"Yeah. Were you plannin' on goin'? I mean, I wouldn't dream of stoppin' ya, but you hardly seem the type."
"How do you think we spent our first evening together?" asked Aria coolly as she emerged from the bedroom with a backpack hanging from her fingers.
"Ah yes, the Cosmo Harvest," Reno replied in illumination. "So…?"
"He called. I'm meeting him in Kalm," Vincent said to Aria, his subject intentionally abstract for their guest.
"Good. Reno, we'll meet you there. I'll come revel with you during the meeting. Besides, there's a materia shop I want to check out."
Reno smiled as he headed for the door. "I like that joke."