Chapter 24
Use as Directed
Cid—Got beds ready. But need volunteers to sleep in the hangar. Shera's got a crew painting the spare room over the garage.
Barret—Bet Denzel will love that. Sign us up.
Yuffie—I should get my own room now. Married woman! Just sayin!
Tifa—Why do I feel the sofa calling my name this time?
Reeve—I have cabins on our ship if you don't have room. I don't want to put anyone out.
Reeve—And would hate to ask Tifa to sleep on the couch.
Nanaki—I can sleep in the hangar.
Cid—You don't need a bed, Red!
Tifa—As long as you can put me somewhere, I'm happy just to see everyone in the same place!
Yuffie—Is there at least a full bed? My husband complains I kick.
Cid—Maybe Yuri wants the hangar then! Ha! Ha!
Yuffie—Shiva, Cid! You're such an old geezer! LMAO!
Cid—What the hell does LMAO mean?
Vincent resisted the urge to toss his phone out the window, instead shoving it into his pocket forcefully. He yanked a bag out of the closet as the device continued to vibrate incessantly. As if packing wasn't enough chore. Now he'd have to filter through mindless communique, searching for any that might be relevant to him—confident none would be.
He loaded his duffle with two new pistol cases and ammunition. His Cerberus weapon was irreplaceable, but that didn't mean he neglected to hide a sidepiece here and there. Vincent stuffed extra leather pants, vests, and underclothes beside the cases. His toiletries were minimal, though their presence at all marked a significant change from his days traveling in solitude. He smirked at himself. Maybe he was finally domesticating.
Once sufficiently packed, he resigned himself to checking the phone, surprised to find an unread from Simon.
Doc Simon—Come by the lab before you leave. I have something for you.
Vincent cringed, hoping it wouldn't require another needle piercing his arm. But he was hoping for a more effective replacement to the powder. His last venture to Tifa's bar was a near disaster. Poor young Bernard will need post-trauma medication after witnessing his very own come-to-god moment. The anti-depressant was ineffective. Just as Vincent feared it would be, only buying him time but not preventing the episodes.
Shelke called out to him as soon as he entered the labs. "Vincent Valentine, I have news to share." He eyed her curiously as she stood up from her seat, beaming at him with an odd smile—a smile only Shelke could make. "The treatment is showing signs of promise. I've grown two inches."
"No kidding?" he answered. His next question was interrupted as agitated voices rose from the conference room in the corner. Through the windows surrounding the room, he spied Reeve and Yuffie talking animatedly. Rayleigh sat in a chair, elbows on the table and her head propped up on her hands in deep concentration. "I'll catch up to you later, Shelke."
"Why didn't they let us know her condition was deteriorating?" Rayleigh asked Reeve. "We might have been able to offer an alternative or additional diagnosis."
"That's a great question, Sandra. And one I intend to bring up with Godo as soon—" Reeve stopped abruptly, noticing Vincent quietly shutting the door behind himself. "Vincent, glad you came by. We've had an unfortunate development with the girl in Wutai."
"I know, I know! But what do you want me to say, Father?" Yuffie shouted into her phone. "I didn't impregnate her! And Reeve sent you the meds! Are you sure you used them as directed?"
"What's happened?" Vincent asked though he suspected he knew the answer.
"The government official's daughter—the treatments did not help her condition, and I'm afraid she didn't make it," Reeve said solemnly.
"What?! You're not serious! You can't do that!" Yuffie screeched. Reeve moved into her line of sight, soundlessly asking what her father was saying. She held up a finger to silence him. "I'm not here to be your eyes and ears, Father! My work is real, and we're trying to clean things up. You're not helping—what? Yes, fine. But I'm not staying."
"Sandra, let's make sure we conduct our own due diligence thoroughly. Review the medicines sent with Simon and Shelly. Oh—and ensure to pull copies of our trade logs."
"Of course, Commissioner. I'll send Carlos right away to obtain copies." Sandra exited the conference room and motioned Carlos into her office.
Yuffie pocketed her phone and gave Reeve a grim frown. "The old man said Kunsel can't leave. Did you know he's been shagging up with a Turk?"
"Uh, well—" Reeve stammered. His expression and reluctance to speak revealed his knowledge on the matter.
Vincent could understand not wanting to discuss Kunsel's private affairs but wasn't sure it was that simple. As a diplomat and representative, Kunsel was accountable to the organization and its goals. The Turk he was dating complicated a historically thin-iced international rivalry between East and West.
Vincent recalled his meeting with Tseng and the revelation that one of their operatives may soon be compromised.
"You knew?" Yuffie accused, anger redirected at Reeve for his perceived betrayal.
Vincent didn't think he'd ever seen Yuffie so mad. She looked offended at the very idea that one of her colleagues in the WRO would lower himself to engage in intimacy with a ShinRa lackey. But her anger could've been triggered by not knowing the company still operated in her home country.
Reeve's phone rang, saving him from enduring Yuffie's interrogation.
"Tseng! I know what this is about—and well, we're extremely disappointed with the news. Yes, yes. Please, patch me through to him." Reeve covered his phone with a hand as he spoke in a low tone, "Oh, Vincent. This might delay our flight a few hours. I'll text everyone to let them know—but there's no help for it," Reeve said, rushing out of the lab with his phone stuck to his ear.
Vincent pulled out his own device and sent a quick message to Tseng.
Vincent—Need the info on your ex-pat. We'll launch after I talk with the doc during our trip. Team is mine.
He had more than a sneaking suspicion the Turk operative and Kunsel's partner were one and the same. That brought up another question—was she close with the SOLDIER for ulterior motives?
Tifa watched the TV, distractedly drying a plate while trying to focus on ShinRa's latest snafu. Reeve stood next to Rufus for the live news broadcast. Neither appeared confident with the topic. Damage control was Reeve's least favorite part of his job as commissioner.
She was packed and ready for their trip to Rocket Town. This impromptu media conference was likely the reason for their delay. Tifa didn't mind; the original flight would've had them arriving late at night, and she'd planned on sleeping in her cabin. Though exhaustion had her hitting the sack early each night since the Nibelheim trip, she didn't find rest. Her emotions were in turmoil. Just when she'd begun to feel a pull on her heartstrings, they'd been cut. Or at least knotted up, tangled so thoroughly she couldn't figure out which line to tug free first.
The feelings planted her in a place she hadn't been in a long while. Unrequited, again—a status that was beginning to solidify as a statue in her mind, a memorial to her hopes and dreams of love and a family of her own.
Tifa didn't want to think of that now. A saddened attitude made for unhappy customers. Unlike her, they seemed content, happily conversing over their soups and sandwiches. Oblivious to the heartache she felt when they thanked her for replenishing their drinks. Momentarily distracted from their everyday worries as they enjoyed being served. Tifa needed a distraction, too. She turned up the TV volume to hear over the lunch crowd chatter.
"President ShinRa, what can you tell us about the SOLDIER involved? Does the company still employ him?" A young reporter asked, shoving the microphone into his face. Tseng placed his arm in front of the journalist, gently forcing her to retreat to a more socially acceptable distance.
Visibly irritated, Rufus glared at the reporter and her microphone before straightening himself into a regal height. "I can confirm that although we do not yet know the identity of the SOLDIER, we are currently investigating the matter. However, regarding your question, you have my assurance that he is not under my employment and has not been for the last six years."
Several journalists surged toward the podium and asked a rush of questions at once. The Turks formed a protective barrier in front of their boss. Reeve's security team provided him the same as the commissioner moved directly in front, attempting to echo the president's assurances. "We are doing everything we can to work with our liaisons in Wutai, and we ask for patience until our investigation concludes."
Reeve was peppered from all sides. "What is the name of the girl?" "How far along was she in her pregnancy?" "Does Lord Godo still agree with his daughter's involvement in WRO affairs?" "How many former SOLDIERs are living in Wutai?" "Aren't SOLDIERs sterile? How is this even possible?" "How many women have died from a SOLDIER pregnancy?" "Do the children show enhanced strength, too?"
Reeve ducked his head and held his hands in the air to quiet the crowd. "First, we are treating several patients who have started families with SOLDIERs, and we are making significant progress—"
"Why do I always get the jerks?" Rikku complained, dumping dirty plates and glasses into the sink.
"What's up?" Tifa turned the TV volume down as she turned to the young bartender.
"Table 1—ugh, creeps! They look like SOLDIERs, but you never know these days." Rikku shrugged and grabbed two mugs to fill with beer. "As if I'm here to sit in anyone's lap!"
"I'll take care of it," Tifa offered and rang up their bill to get them out of the door quicker. She halted midway across the floor, recognizing Luxiere as he glanced up at her. His friend was new, a former SOLDIER with long blonde hair and a sardonic grin.
"What's this? No dessert?" Luxiere sneered when she handed him their bill.
"We're out today, sorry," Tifa replied, though not sorry at all for her lie. She stacked their plates into a hand before giving him a weak smile. "Thanks for coming by."
"Where's that freak boyfriend of yours, huh?" he cracked at her. His friend chuckled, leering as he pulled worn leather gloves over his hands. "He still doing my work? You know I'm still on probation, but that fucker gets to go on our missions with Samuel's team."
Tifa's face reddened with anger, the reference to Vincent biting in more ways than one. She just wanted to get the SOLDIERs out of here. Usually, she'd already have thrown a disruptive patron out of the front door. Two SOLDIERs were more fight than she could handle solo. A different tactic would have to suffice.
"How's Liza doing? Is she back home yet?" Tifa asked sweetly, straightening her back after clearing their table.
Luxiere stood up, a threatening glare darkening his eyes. His friend rose with him and placed a hand on Luxiere's chest as though to hold him back. Tifa took a step back as the unknown SOLDIER positioned himself behind Luxiere and winked at her.
"How do you think she's doing? Huh? Laid up in bed all the time. Sick!" He snarled at her, and his friend pulled him back a step. "Not like your friend. Molly, right? I see she's doing ok." Tifa's eyes narrowed at the mention of her friend's name.
Luxiere snorted before continuing with a growl. "Seems to me the commissioner has some favorites. Why does that bitch—"
"You need to leave, now!" she yelled at him, setting the dishes down and pointing to the exit. She reached for her gloves. If she had to, she would.
"It's alright, miss!" The blonde finally spoke up, and Tifa shuddered at the mocking laughter in his voice. "We don't want the little lady to break a nail showing us the door. Do we, Lux?" He patted Luxiere on the chest as he gave the other man a lopsided grin.
Luxiere allowed himself to be pulled toward the door, glaring at Tifa with boiling hatred.
"You keep an eye out for those boyfriends of yours—that freak and the poser." Luxiere threw the last bit in as he exited. Tifa exhaled in relief as the door swung shut and watched the two men descend the porch steps and ready their motorcycles.
Tifa glanced back at the TV when she returned to the bar. The newsreel had cut to a wealthy residential district in Wutai where a weeping crowd outside of a home held flowers and candles in vigil. Several children stepped forward to lay wreaths at the gate and fence surrounding the property.
"Tifa, have you seen my—"
Tifa faced Cloud with her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to continue. He stared through the windows with eyes widened in shock. Cloud slammed his bag on the counter and sprinted out of the door as Luxiere and his friend rode off on their motorcycles. Tifa hurried to follow, worried over his sudden alarm.
Catching up to him on the porch, Tifa placed a hand on his shoulder. "What? What's the problem? It's just Luxiere." Tifa said. Sure, the SOLDIER was a ticking timebomb. But he'd done nothing recently to garner this kind of reaction from Cloud.
"It's not Lux. It was his friend."
"Who was his friend?" Tifa asked, and Cloud scoffed at her in response.
"His name is Roche. He fought us—me, Jesse, Biggs, and Wedge before Reactor 5," Cloud answered as he crossed his arms. "What the hell is he doing here? Does he work for Reeve, too?"
"Uh, I have no idea. You'll have to ask him," Tifa replied as she turned back inside. Her neck already ached, and they hadn't even left for Rocket Town. She left Rikku with instructions for closing and upkeep for the next few days before mounting the steps to grab her things.
"Shelke says she's grown two inches," Vincent said as the doctor brought out a small box with an auto-injector tube.
"Ah, I was surprised myself at first. We didn't find much but made significant progress after reviewing what little archives there were from Deepground on the treatments that led to her condition." Simon held up the cylinder in front of Vincent. "This is for you. It won't do the SOLDIERs any good."
Vincent took the tiny glass container from the doctor's hand and inspected the greenish liquid within. "My custom-made anti-depressant?" Vincent smirked at the doctor, waiting for him to explain as he rolled the vial between his fingers.
"Not entirely untrue, Vincent. I noticed something in your cells that's unusual." Simon paused a moment and retrieved his tablet from the desk. Vincent peered at the doctor with a sarcastic quip on his tongue and waited patiently for him to open Vincent's file.
"The corruptions that lead to your transformations do so by interacting—or responding, better to say—to receptors in your central nervous system, specifically the receptors that trigger the body's acute stress mechanisms. Or uh—flight or fight response," Simon continued and showed Vincent images of blood cells in various states of response to unknown factors, comparing his to an unenhanced individual and a SOLDIER. "I still don't know how the corruptions lead to a full transfiguration that doesn't result in your death or permanent disfigurement. But I've at least identified the trigger."
Simon set the tablet aside as he continued, "essentially, stress, happiness, anger, etc., can have enormous effects on our immunological responses. Suppose we treat your body's response to stress as a severe allergic reaction in your nervous system. In that case, we can interrupt the morphing process before it can complete its cycle."
"An allergic reaction to stress?"
Simon's face reddened faintly, recognizing Vincent's upspoken criticism by questioning the diagnosis offhand.
"I know it sounds like junior science, Vincent. But we are trying to deal with the problem on a short-term clock—i.e., when you feel the transformation," Simon explained. "I'm at a loss how you're able to live and breathe with the Lifestream corruption coursing through your veins. So, we'll have to figure that out if we're going to work on a long-term solution."
"Has the Nibelheim research been helpful?" Vincent didn't want to talk about her but knew Lucrecia's research specific to his experiments would require more scrutiny along with Hojo's.
"Well, what we have on you, in particular, is minimal. I'm guessing the rest of any research on your experiments is still in mansion library?"
Simon seemed to ask the question delicately as though afraid of upsetting Vincent by bringing it back up. Lucrecia's journal gave the doctors a peek into parts of his past he'd rather remained buried beneath layers of dust. Simon now knew more about Vincent than anyone else alive. There was no help for it.
"It's not relevant to the SOLDIER pregnancies," Vincent replied, head downturned. "This will be fine." He rolled the injector between his fingers. "It works like a shot of adrenaline?"
"I think of it more as quasi adrenaline, but it will have the same effect as adrenaline on a patient suffering an acute allergic reaction. It has substantial similarities with the anti-depressants we prescribe to the SOLDIERs, and it contains a manufactured mako serum to interact with your unique blood cells." Simon cleared his throat at Vincent's raised eyebrow.
"It's extremely potent to penetrate your cells' unnatural defenses and devised to work as quickly as adrenaline. The design neutralizes the receptors before they agitate the corruption—which would otherwise instigate the change you'd previously held in check through your controlled meditations. So, you'll need to keep it on your person." Simon gestured for Vincent to hand over the auto-injector and pulled on the cap.
"As soon as you feel the need, just pop the top and jam the needle into your thigh—and uh, let me know of any side effects. If you feel faint, chest pressure, racing heart, shakes, dizziness, sweating, impotence, etc. Just make sure you use the V-serum as directed, and only when you feel an episode coming."
Vincent smirked at the warning. "V-serum?"
"Well—it's not an official name. Nothing else came to mind, and I needed to call it something." Simon shrugged. "Of course, you'll have to let me know if this works. I have only a limited supply of the Mako product, and it takes a bit of time to manufacture. In the meantime, keep using the powder to temper your anxiety."
Vincent leveled a slightly indignant scowl at the doctor. "Thanks, Doc."