"A Tsviet?" Tseng echoed. "An elite SOLDIER. In ranks with the Turks?"
"He's a good kid," Veld told him, wondering slightly at his own words.
"This is the same boy who slaughtered two of the street patrol and nearly killed his entire unit during a training exercise?"
"Yes," Veld replied evenly. "He's a living weapon, just like Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal. Like them, he's a person. He's got a heart and a soul and a need to please. He could do well in the right environment."
"And you think the Turks would be better than the military?"
"He's…" Veld paused, searching for the right words. "We both know he's an accident waiting to happen, but with training and direction, accidents can be avoided. He'd be invaluable to you. He just needs someone to teach him, to guide him. He's not going to get that in the military."
Tseng nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. Gods know Shinra wasn't any kinder to its SOLDIERs. It isn't fair to write him off before he's been given a chance."
Inwardly, Veld sighed, knowing he'd won.
"He'll need to pass the usual screenings," Tseng reminded him. "He'll be put through his paces just like everyone else."
"Of course," Veld nodded.
"I don't need to remind you that a repeat performance of his military trial would greatly diminish his chances," Tseng warned, one eyebrow cocked.
Veld fought the impulse to smile. It wasn't often Tseng wore the full authority of his position in front of his own Chief and mentor.
Veld nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir."
The suit wasn't blue, but dark gray, and looked better on Nero than it had on Vincent, not that Vincent had worn it more than once. In it, Nero's skin looked less pallid, closer to something more mundane. Vincent helped him tie his hair back in a low queue. Even with the mask, it was the closest to "normal" he'd ever appeared. Peering at himself curiously in the full length mirror attached to the back of the second bedroom's door, Nero seemed reasonably satisfied with his appearance as well.
"I don't look like me," he observed. "But in a good way."
"You clean up well," Veld agreed, sweeping a lint brush over the boy's shoulders once more for good measure.
"Keep your arms at your sides," Vincent reminded him, as Nero reached for his own shoulders. "S'alright. Tseng'll be plenty impressed."
"Sorry," Nero apologized and locked his arms straight against his body. "Yessir."
Most people didn't have access to the WRO training rooms.
Most people also didn't have Max Kimura's hacking skills.
Somebody in the bio-gen labs had spilled a story about a new guy throwing troops around like rag dolls. Turks were involved. Half a gil said she knew which Turks; or ex-Turks, more likely. She skipped out on a lecture at Midgar U to find out for herself.
It took nine seconds to get past the lock. The idiots hadn't even bothered to change the codes since last week. She ought to be able to trade an unbreakable code to Reeve in exchange for permanent access to the training area.
She slipped into the room just as a trooper came flying past. The man landed hard and rolled to a stop in a corner. Another followed, sprawling on top of the first. Max followed his trajectory back to the opposite corner, where a stranger in gray stood, legs braced wide apart, taking on all comers and wreaking havoc.
"The hell…?" She came as close as she could to the roped-off arena, just to the left of a man with familiar gray-bronze hair. As she watched, shadows sparked and swirled around the stranger, blocking an attack by four of Reeve's finest. All four were thrown ass-over-elbow out to the middle of the floor.
"Gods above and below. Where'd you find him?" It was definitely a man, as tall as Valentine and about as wiry.
"Hello, Max. Cutting class again?" Veld Dragoon glanced over his shoulder at her, giving her the Big Scary Turk scowl that hadn't frightened her since she was nine years old.
"It's just pharmacology. I'll borrow someone's notes." She nodded at the man in the far corner. "Whozat?"
He sighed. Oh, yeah, he was so long-suffering. She grinned at him. "Come on, Turkmeister. Details?"
"His name's Nero. And this is supposed to be a private trial." Cue the pointed look, which she ignored.
"You're testing him for the Turks? And you won't test me? That is totally unfair! You know I've wanted to be a Turk since I was nine!"
Veld waited until another pair had been bounced halfway to Junon, then turned around to face her. "One: I didn't mention the Turks. Two: It's not up to me to test anybody for the Turks, as I am now employed by the WRO. And three: You're a bioengineering student, not a goon. Oh, and four: How the hell did you get in here?"
"Duh. In reverse order: I hacked the lock, it was easy. I'm a student now, but when I graduate I'll need a job and you know in your black heart I'd make a damn good goon, er, Turk. You're not fooling anybody by working for Reeve, even Rufus Shinra defers to you on that score. And you don't have to mention Turks, you just have to exist."
He rolled his eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were related to Valentine."
She caught the slight turn of his head, the way his gaze flicked to Nero for half a second.
"Wait. Are you saying-?"
She peered across the floor to Nero, tall, lean, moving with an eerie, fluid grace she'd only ever seen one other person exhibit. Most of his face was covered by some sort of mask, and his eyes appeared to be yellow-gold, not red; but the long, black hair, the shape of his head and shoulders, the narrow hips and very nicely curved backside that she certainly couldn't swear matched Vin's…uh…
Mentally smacking herself for getting distracted, she watched him for a couple more seconds before turning back to Veld.
"He's Vincent's son?"
"Did I say that? Don't jump to conclusions."
Typical Turk obfuscation. Veld said nothing more. Max watched him watch Nero.
"He moves like Vin, though!" she said. "Similar body type, same coloring, except for the eyes. Even his hair…"
The man gave so little away, but after years of practicing her observational skills on him, she caught the narrowing of his eyes, the slight jump of a muscle in his jaw. She'd hit her target, or come damn close.
"So it's possible, isn't it? How'd that happen? Was Vin really in a box for decades, or is that story bullshit, too? Come on, Veld, give!"
"Pushy brat." He took her arm and steered her away from the roped-off area, far enough from the other observers that they couldn't be overheard. "All right, Miss Turk-Wanna-Be, what do you know about Deepground?"
"That bunch of crazies? Some nutty project run by that wackjob Hojo, wasn't it? Offshoot of the SOLDIER program or something like that?"
He nodded. "Close enough. That's where Nero grew up. And Vincent's years in the coffin did happen. You should know better than to question that."
She winced. "Sorry." Valentine was okay, even if he was wound a little too tight. "So cut to the chase. How'd this guy end up here?"
"After Deepground was taken down, he turned up in the city. Vincent and I are sponsoring him as a refugee. I'm not confirming or denying anything else. Now keep your speculations to yourself. I am not kidding, Maia."
"Yeah, sure." Anytime he used her formal name, she knew it was serious. What the hell, for old family friends she'd keep a secret, if there was one to keep.
The troopers- volunteers, if they'd followed procedure- clustered at the far end of the arena, eyeing Nero like a flock of sheep eyeing a wolf. Nero himself, while breathing a bit hard, didn't appear to have a mark on him. He shook his hair back, brushed off his snug gray body suit, and gave Veld a surprisingly shy smile, just visible around the edges of his mask.
"Was that all right?"
His voice, not quite as low as Vincent's, came out breathy, with a bit of a buzz as though he'd spoken through a bad microphone. He approached slowly, all arms and legs and shifting shadows. He stopped in front of Veld, barely glancing at Max, and waited with the eager air of a young sighthound hoping for praise.
"That was brilliant." Veld grinned his wolf's grin, wide and white and sharp. "Vincent will be sorry he missed it."
Again that barely-there smile behind the mask, eyes flashing gold. The golden gaze flicked to Max's face.
"Hello."
Max blinked. Sweet Gaia, that was a damn pretty man…well, the eyes were, anyway, and the rest, what she could see of him, wasn't bad at all either.
"Nero," said Veld, "this is Maia Xavier Kimura, also known as Max. She works here at the WRO. She's also a student at the university next door, when she actually shows up for class."
Nero took that in with obvious confusion, though Max wasn't sure Veld could tell. Or else he was trying to keep the kid off balance. Turks did that.
"Why do you have three names?" said Nero. Poor guy had probably picked out the one thing that he could actually process.
Max smiled at him. "It's just a tradition that my parents liked. You can call me Max, though. Okay?"
"Um, sure." He gave her a slight nod, flushing a little at the afterthought. "I…it's nice to meet you."
"You, too. Looks you like beat the snot out of the troops, there. Pretty good work."
"Thanks." There was that slight smile again. The shy ones were always so cute.
"Hey, you wanna go get some coffee?"
"Um." His eyes flicked to Veld, seeking permission.
"Go ahead." Veld waved a hand, dismissing them. "Bring him to my office when you're done, Max. And don't go anywhere else you're not authorized for!"
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, shadow-boy!"
Nero's eyes had gone wide at her tone. Seeing that, she snickered.
"He's an old friend of my family," she said. "I've known him since I was a kid. Don't worry, his bark is worse than his bite. Mostly."
"His what…?"
She shook her head, leading him toward the doors. "Never mind, I'll explain over a latte, okay?"
Nero nodded, only slightly bewildered. "Okay."