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Chapter X – Healing Rain
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Recesses crawling with darkness so potent that one could see it writhe and wisp... Thoughts were devoured here, obscured and lost in meaning... The feeling of eyes upon him... He could feel himself crawling in his own skin, repulsed and tormented by the sensation creeping under his flesh... A violent shift and suddenly, a single fleck of light... Vincent desperately grasped for it.
The ground slowly reappeared under his feet with an odour of blood so terrible and acrid that it almost caused him to retch. The pungent smell assaulted his nose as he wavered blindly, his vision blurred and bespattered with black. He grasped at something, anything, to gain his bearings. His right hand found something soft and, to his dismay, wet. As the black began to creep out of his vision he straightened up as best he could, swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat. His hand was soaked in blood.
He couldn't help but watch as the deep red liquid ran off his leather glove like a stream, dripping heavily from his fingers. A feeling of dread accompanied it. He focused to see what exactly his hand lay on and immediately wished he hadn't. Blood seeped from what had been the King Behemoth's ribcage, tattered flesh and matted gold fur pierced by its shattered ribs. He hastily withdrew his hand from one of the protruding bones, his mind blank as he tried to comprehend just what exactly he was looking at. Ribbons of emerald danced and twirled around the dead creature, flecks of green light rising into the night like fireflies. Vincent studied the rest of the beast and grimaced at what he saw, his lips set in a thin line as he furrowed his brow.
'Did I... truly do this?'
The Behemoth's mighty jowl lay next to its head, tendon and muscle still clinging to the hinges of bone. The force of its body crashing to earth had planted the upper jaw's teeth firmly into the soil. The spirit in its eyes had been broken, along with one of its huge curved horns. The wind blew past lazily, bringing a fierce chill to Vincent that made him realise his face was covered in wet blood. It was then realised that his whole body was drenched in it, the stench overwhelming. A hiss erupted around the image of horrid, blood stained teeth in his skull, the sound wavering in glee.
'No. I did thissssss.'
Vincent bristled, glaring as he forcefully pushed Galian Beast from his mind. The huge werewolf-like creature simply snapped his jaw in satisfaction, licking his canines as he sauntered back within the gunslinger's head. When his presence had fully receded, Vincent's glare softened to a look of dismay. His crimson eyes moved down to his golden gauntlet as he raised it, palm upwards. Blood stained the metal as it ran off the surface, the wet trails left behind beginning to crust over in a dark, murky red. One could barely tell the original colour of the wicked appendage, unless they were familiar with it.
He could see the others out of his peripheral and he took time to check that they were unharmed. While he was relieved that they were well, he simply couldn't bear to look at them. Instead, he watched the mighty soul of the Behemoth be claimed by the Planet; its huge essence taken away by the sparkling malachite-green wisps of energy. It was a beautiful sight to a danse macabre.
The flesh slowly melted away from the monster's bones, all of the blood running off to pool at the base of the creature's final resting place. In a way, even the blood returned to the Planet, the soil soaking up the red liquid like a thirsty plant. Suddenly, an incredible force hit Vincent like a punch to the stomach, forcing him to double over and drop to one knee. Noises erupted in his head like squealing amongst leeches, skin writhing in discomfort. He only vaguely recognised someone calling his name as his body was racked with pain, a vicious and alien pulling sensation that tore from within and caused him alarm. A tremendous power bore down upon him, a pressure so huge that it felt like his skull was being crushed.
'NO. I WILL NEVER BEND!'
Chaos' malicious and broken voice boomed and rattled his braincase, while Vincent could feel the demon twist and turn inside. This simple action caused Vincent to shudder involuntary from the sheer power Chaos exuberated, the sudden urge to vomit overwhelming. Paralyzed, Vincent could do nothing but endure whatever it was that seized hold. Hot liquid rose to the surface and reached his mouth, but he forcefully swallowed it back down. The intense taste of copper met his tongue and it was then he realised he had swallowed down nothing but blood. Chaos turned once more, causing Vincent to be lurched down further to the ground against his will. Finally, after what felt like minutes, the pulling abated and Chaos withdrew back into the depths of the gunslinger's psyche, dangerously irritated.
The enormous pressure was lifted from Vincent and he gasped for air, only now realising that he had been suffocating. The sudden intake of oxygen made the bitter taste of copper catch the back of his throat, causing him to cough hard and grit his teeth. The pain had felt like nothing he'd ever experienced before; it rattled through him as if shooting through his very bones.
' …! What was that?' Vincent thought in alarm, truly vexed. 'Chaos' words... I have never known him to speak or act in such a manner. My control is slipping faster than I anticipated... and I... I am powerless.'
The thought caused frustration to bubble and boil under the surface, his claw flexing irritably; Vincent wasn't entirely sure if it was by his own doing or his demons. Suddenly, he felt a small hand rest gingerly on his shoulder, causing his muscles to rapidly tense in response. He purposely shrugged it off as he shakily rose once more to his feet, feeling the owner flinch away. When the hand returned to gently hold the elbow just above his gauntlet, he turned his eyes to meet concerned russet hues. The fear they held was not lost on him.
"Tifa..." Barret warned from behind her. The gunslinger didn't have to look to know that the dark-skinned man had his gatling gun pointed at him. Vincent held her gaze for a mere second before quickly averting his eyes. To Tifa, it was in a way that almost appeared ashamed. He removed his elbow from her hand, turning away to focus on the King Behemoth's remains and causing Tifa's brow to furrow, perplexed. She watched as blood ran down his face, disappearing behind his cowl to drip from his chin. Ignoring the red fluid that now covered her from reaching out to him, the fighter opened her mouth to speak.
"Did you assist in this?" She blinked, taken aback by Vincent's sudden question. She followed his gaze to the skeletal remains of the Behemoth, its huge bone structure now all that was left to show of the events which had transpired that night. She paused uncomfortably, knowing that he actually addressed the whole group.
Nanaki cautiously spoke up.
"... In what way do you mean, Vincent?" The gunslinger suddenly spun to face them, his glowing eyes burning. Barret thrust his gun forward ready to shoot as Tifa stepped back in a flash with raised fists; even Nanaki tensed, flame-tail whipping behind him, prepared to strike.
"Did you assist in killing the King Behemoth?" Vincent bit out curtly. The wind picked up and blew more strongly across the field, as if feeling the tension in the air. Vincent's cape swept and rose with the currents, blood dripping from the ends of the soiled fabric while Nanaki's tassels jingled and danced. The sound of leather crunching together joined the chime as Tifa balled her fists. Barret's strong voice broke the silence like hammer to glass.
"We 'assisted' by distractin' it. Tha's all." Barret stared down Vincent with a hard gaze, accompanied by the scowl on his face.
"... I see." Vincent already knew the answer; he simply didn't wish to acknowledge it. A monster which once took three of them at full strength to bring down, was now brought down single-handedly by himself. Or more specifically, a demon that had grown far too powerful and far beyond his control. He stared blankly at the scene of death created by his own hands, taking some of it into his own being. A numbing sensation smothered any emotion he had left.
He turned his back on his comrades.
Tifa slowly lowered her fists, before trying to reach out to him once more.
"Vincent-"
"Leave me."
She froze, hand outstretched, before lowering it. She knew there was no use in arguing. She took a step towards him despite knowing better, the want to console him too overwhelming.
"Tifa." She turned towards Red who had spoken, watching as he shook his head, spiked mane swaying in the cold night air. She paused, indecisive, before nodding in surrender. Turning back, she walked towards the others, her drooped shoulders the only outward sign of her own felt defeat. Whirring broke the tense air as Barret changed his gun-arm back to its prosthetic form. His face was set in a grim fashion and when he spoke, it was in a fatigued rumble.
"Come on. We're late." With that, Barret trudged away, wiping a hand over his face; his mind no doubt trying to catch up with everything it had witnessed that night. Red watched him for a moment before following, slinking away and taking the light of his tail with him, inky blackness beginning to creep back and claim the grassland once more. As the lion-like dog moved on, his remaining embers caused a glimmer to shine from between the grass blades. The light caught Tifa's eye and she looked towards it in curiosity.
It was Vincent's gun.
She stepped towards it softly, pensive. The triple-barrelled revolver lay innocently on the ground, blood spattered all over the muzzle and giving the ornate engraving of the three-headed dog a gruesome suggestion. The silver-chained pendant that hung from the grip shimmered in a pool of wet blood, the crimson liquid settling in the grooves like a grisly series of red rivulets. Tifa realised that this was the first time she had really gotten to see Vincent's gun up close, and subsequently, that she did not recognise it.
Bending down, she reached for the grip and picked up the deadly weapon, ignoring the blood now running from her gloved hand. It was heavier than she thought. From past experience of watching Vincent wield his guns, one was given the impression that they were as light as air. She brought up her left hand and gently held the underside of the barrel, holding it securely as she examined it further. She had to admit, while she never cared much for weapons in general, (always preferring to rely on her fists;) it was a beautiful gun. Rather Gothic and haunting in design, but nevertheless, beautiful.
She looked over her shoulder to the cloaked figure standing behind her, exuding an air of forceful seclusion. Resolute, she turned on her heel and strode over to Vincent. However, she became slower and more hesitant the closer she approached. Eventually she stopped dead, six feet away from him.
"Vincent...?" Tifa tried out, a gentle pry. No response. "... Here's your gun." She placed it down at her feet with great care, blood running over her knuckles as she did so. The wind blew gently, waving her chocolate coloured hair with it. "I won't intrude on you anymore. You know where to find us. … We'll be waiting for you." With her piece said, Tifa turned away for the last time. Steadily walking on, she followed the glow of Red's tail in the distance and eventually caught up with the pair. They travelled in silence all the way back to Kalm, no doubt lost in their own thoughts and feelings. Tifa was not alone in this – yet only she knew the feeling of melancholy that settled in her heart.
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~ oOo ~
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The innkeeper jumped up in his chair, startled as the front door was suddenly thrown open. Three familiar faces trudged in wearily, and it took a moment for the man to realise that it was some of the group that had checked in a few hours ago, (at least, judging by the clock on the wall.) A look of confusion passed over his face, before horrible realisation dawned upon him.
"You didn't go out of town at THIS hour, did you?!" he blurted out. The three turned to look at him with a start, as if they didn't even realise he had woken up. The young woman was the first to speak up.
"Why? Is there something wrong?" she asked in an innocent manner, but he could tell by the tone of her voice that she seemed to know more than she let on.
"Yes there is, young lady! Terrible monsters have been known to come out this late. Not like normal ones either, not like before. I'm talking powerful." This easily caught the interest of the group, given they now all regarded him with an advertence that was almost palpable. He continued. "Now, this mining town ain't a stranger to monsters, we've had to fight them off before to get to the mines. Mainly Kalm Fangs, while avoiding the odd Midgar Zolom. But a few months ago, there's been strange sightings..." he crossed his arms.
"Strange sightin's? Like what?" The largest member of the group asked suspiciously, taking a step closer him. The innkeeper steadily met the gun-armed man's gaze.
"Huge creatures, powerful beyond what we're used to dealing with. A few weeks ago, I heard someone talk about the sighting of a beast as tall as a mountain!"
'That may have been the King Behemoth that we just encountered,' Red thought quietly to himself. He looked up to the kind man with a sharp feline eye.
"I thought the mining operation in this town stopped because of the Midgar Zoloms?" The fire-dog enquired, a rather puzzled expression on his face. The innkeeper nodded.
"It did, but After Crisis they started to decline in number. We decided to try opening the mines again shortly after, and they haven't been giving us any bother. As long as we don't get too close to their territory, of course. The past few years have been great, the town's never been better. But now... any time after dark, really powerful monsters have been appearing. It's too dangerous to go out anymore. There's been rumours that they've come from the north." Here, the group shared a look between each other. There was no doubt that they all thought the same thing. The Northern Crater. "Anyway, I don't hold much to gossip. I prefer facts, you know?"
"Yeah, I hear ya. Thanks, we'll keep all that in mind." The large and bulky man wasted no more time in climbing the stairs to their room, the young woman following closely behind. The red-coated dog nodded politely to the innkeeper in thanks before climbing the stairs himself. The young man scratched the back of his neck while yawning, thinking on the odd group that had decided to stay with him that evening. It was too much to ponder on for such a late night, and he instead decided to retire as well, moving into the back room towards his own bed.
As soon as Barret reached the top of the stairs, a frantic and hushed voice rushed to meet him.
"Where've yer been? Av'e been worried sick!" Cait Sith jumped down from the windowsill and rushed over to the ex-AVALANCHE leader, dancing about his feet with worry. "Been lookin' out that windae fer what feels like hoors! It's past midnight!" The little robot's fretting was completely ignored as Barret tiredly made his way over to Marlene's bed, his feet booming down upon the floorboards. As Tifa and Nanaki appeared on top of the landing, Cait Sith ran over to them. "Wha's chewin' at him?" Tifa moved straight past the cat as if in a trance, shuffling over to the window and staring out through the glass. She watched as small drops of water began to hit the pane. It had started to rain. "... Where's Vincent?" Cait Sith suddenly sounded afraid.
"Do not worry," Nanaki spoke softly. "He's going to catch up with us." The fire-dog nuzzled under Cait Sith in such a way that he was lifted up onto his muzzle, before Nanaki raised his head and sent the little cat sliding down into his bushy mane. "I apologise for us being late. It's been... an eventful evening." As Red comforted the robot and discussed the Kalm Fangs they had dispatched, Tifa continued to watch the rain hit the window. It fell heavier now, the pitter-patter against the glass a rather comforting distraction. She almost jumped when a heavy hand fell upon her shoulder.
"Hey," Barret said wearily, his tone soft. "Me an' Red were talking earlier on the way back, decided to keep what happened between ourselves. You alright with that?"
"... I guess so." Tifa turned around to face her old friend, her russet eyes meeting his own of deep brown. "I'm worried about him, Barret," she admitted. Barret just sighed in response, running a hand over his cornrow styled hair. It was rare indeed for Tifa to speak of her feelings, so he knew it must be affecting her greatly for her to give voice to it.
"Right now, I'm more worried 'bout us." Tifa blinked at Barret's own admittance. "Look," here, Barret lowered his voice to a tone that gave him a husky rumble. "You saw that thing. We've seen Vince transform before but... that thing was huge. Twice tha' damn size of him normally. That grin it gave us... I can't geddit outta ma head."
On Barret's mention, neither could she. Enormous teeth, the size of her arm. Stained and dripping with blood, its eyes burning a disgusting yellow... but what really shook her was how much the beast looked just like him. From Vincent's left gauntlet replacing its left arm to the golden plating on its feet, the tattered crimson cape that hung around its waist... never before had any of them seen this variant of his demons.
"He's dangerous, Tif," Barret continued. "And man, I'm jes' lookin' out for Marlene, ya know? An' all of us. So... I think it's best if we just keep this between ourselves fer now, an' keep a close eye out. That is, if he comes back." Tifa nodded, not outwardly showing the painful stab she felt at Barret's words. It hurt to admit, but he had a point. Maybe... maybe Vincent wouldn't come back this time. "Come on girl," Barret finished, "let's get some shuteye." He gently lead her towards the beds while the light patter of rain echoed all around the room.
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~ oOo ~
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Tifa stirred, blinking her bleary eyes. A downpour of rain met her ears, along with Barret's heavy snoring. She gently rubbed sleep from her lashes, turning over to face towards the wall and readjusting herself under the soft duvet. She nestled her head back into the downy pillows with every intention of going back to sleep, when something caught her eye as she adjusted to the darkness. Dim, bluish light spilled from the window and on to something on the floor, casting a reflection that took Tifa a moment to recognise what it was.
Water droplets.
She blinked, this time in confusion as her brain sluggishly came awake.
She slowly rose up on her elbows, staring at the innocent little drops of rain on the floor. They made a trail. Moving the duvet from her person, she peered around the room. She could make out the glow of Red's tail from the bottom of the stairs, no doubt where he decided to rest for the night. (The fire-dog preferred to stay away from the rest of the group as they slept, out of courtesy, as he believed the light from his tail kept them awake.) Barret could be heard more than seen, deeply snoring in a way that made Tifa think of a grizzly bear. Denzel and Marlene still slept soundly, judging by their silhouettes gently rising and falling on the beds next to her. It was then that she noticed the outline against the window, the shadow causing her breath to catch in her throat.
It was Vincent.
The gunslinger rested on the windowsill with his back against the framework, left leg propped up with his gauntlet draped across the knee. She could just make out water droplets dripping from the golden appendage and also his tattered cape, the sound joining the rhythm of rain outside. His face was turned towards the pane, as if watching the raindrops dance against the glass. Tifa quietly got out of bed, never moving her eyes off him as she crept her way over to where he reclined.
"You came back," she whispered as she moved to stand behind him. Vincent gave no indication that he had heard her, remaining as still as ever. She frowned, watching water run and drip down his face and ebony hair. He was no longer covered in blood, the rain clearly having washed it away. However, he appeared soaked to the bone and it concerned Tifa. She had no idea how long he had been out in the heavy rainfall. It was then that she noticed a different kind of liquid ooze from his left arm.
Blood.
A series of deep, angry gashes ran down his bicep, located just under his cloak and above his gauntlet. The red liquid was viscous, flowing slowly from the wound and falling to the floor in steady drops. Tifa tried to catch his eye with her own filled with worry, but the man simply continued to stare out of the window. She rummaged in her front duster pocket, pulling out the Cure Materia contained within and holding it towards his arm. The bauble shimmered and chimed softly with green light, before emerald wisps drifted from the orb and began to knit the gashed flesh back together. Vincent's muscle flinched slightly in response, but he himself did not move.
Tifa concentrated on the wound, puzzling over how he had received it in the first place. He didn't appear injured when they had left him; unless of course, he was ambushed on the way back. However, she knew Vincent to be excessively careful and couldn't quite bring herself to believe that he would have been caught off-guard. Unless...
"I hope you picked up your gun," she whispered to him. She began to feel dismayed when Vincent, yet again, did not respond to her; completely steadfast. She was beginning to grow increasingly worried, yet she also understood his strange behaviour to an extent. What had happened... it confounded and scared them all. But she could only imagine how Vincent himself must feel...
She swallowed uneasily, focusing her attention on healing his wound. The gunslinger gazed intently at the raindrops running rapidly down the glass, his red eyes glowing in the dark alongside the glittering Materia.
What Tifa didn't know was that Vincent had indeed been attacked by a group of Kalm Fangs while he had wandered in the downpour, but he had let them attack and subsequently ravage his arm. He did not have the will to fight, and instead scared them away with a single gunshot from his revolver. The gun rested safely in its holster strapped to his right leg, hidden from Tifa's view as she concentrated on healing the deep gash made by the Kalm Fang's claws.
"... I'm not scared of you, Vincent."
This finally gained a reaction from him, his gaze slowly moving from the glass to meet her own. She stared back at him, worry written all over her features.
"I'm scared for you." Vincent blinked slowly, as if dazed, inwardly surprised at her honest whisper. As she returned her attention to the magical orb that mended his wound, a warm feeling wrapped and spread around his arm, easing the sharp pain and bestowing him relief. He moved his gaze to join Tifa's in watching the glimmering tendrils of magic, discreetly leaning further back into the wooden framework as the painful tension finally left his aching muscles. The two of them remained in silence, watching the Cure Materia work and glow gently in the dark to the sound of heavy rain.
