Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Jenova's Children ❯ Deception ( Chapter 16 )

Jenova's Children

By Kawaii and Junsui

 

Chapter 16

Deception

 

“I have a plan!”

Oh, this could not be good. Kadaj groaned into the beaded pillow held tucked between his arms. His left still throbbed painfully as it lay in its sling. Riku sat across from him in a high backed armchair, Cait Sith in his lap. They looked attentively at Haruki Nonaka, who was perched on a round ottoman between the two. A tall glass of what had to be vodka had been placed precariously on the coffee table beside a vase of bright yellow flowers that Yuffie had picked. A singular daffodil was tucked behind said young woman's right ear, her head resting on Vincent's chest as they cuddled on the loveseat.

Begrudgingly, Kadaj took a sip of the beverage beside him, replacing the glass quickly. It was true the vodka kept the edge off the pain, but man was it strong. But that was Haruki for you - doctors were pointless and just cost too much. Home operations and remedies made you stronger and increased your life. Kadaj for some reason did not believe in the whole `increase your life part'. Living with Haruki it felt more like an `increase your life if you live through the experience'. He grunted irately and sunk into the cushions.

“This is going to be good!” his mother crowed, looking from face to face excitedly. “Okay… so! You, cat!” she began, pointing a finger at Cait Sith, who squawked in surprise. “You didn't find the file things, right?”

“That's righ' missus. Wiped clean, the lot of `em.” He nodded.

“So, if they aren't at Shin-ra Manor, then they have to be somewhere else under Shin-ra's control - especially if it wasn't in the computers.” The remainder of the group stared blankly at her. “Right?” she queried.

“Ya, but… we kinda already knew that.” Riku mumbled nervously.

“Well of course you already knew that!” Haruki boomed. “Now allow me to finish!” the room silenced immediately, a palpable tension in the air. “Now.” She ushered, clearly enjoying the ambience she was setting. “As we all know, Shin-ra has many buildings scattered across the continent. Seeing as Midgar is naught but ruins, there are more buildings than before. At least, more are being used as actual facilities rather than bases. And Sitoshi, your father, bless his soul, frequented quite a number of these larger bases, as well as a few smaller ones. If you take the southwest road out of town for a good forty five miles or so you will come upon a large Shin-ra facility. The place is positioned near the coast, and it's accessible by air and boat, as well as any other land craft. They say that many of the records and possessions within the manor were moved there. That base alone has more information than the database probably has - those records only date back starting from roughly four years ago, when Sephiroth first came to his end.

“Therefore, you would want to head there to find your answers. But you can't just go waltzing right in, of course. The base is high security and probably has more protection methods than we can even dream of. Penetrating the outside would be murder, bursting in with weapons is sure suicide. But if one were to slip in undetected, then perhaps you'd have a chance.” She sat back promptly with a triumphant smirk upon her lips. Clearly, she knew something the others did not and was enjoying it immensely.

“So… how the hell would someone slip in without detection?” Kadaj asked in spite of himself. He knew this was a game of his mother's, which meant two things: one, she was setting up her story to cause intrigue and questions that would make her look knowledgeable and clever, and two, this was Haruki Nonaka. No plan, no matter how brilliant, how fool-proof, how cunning, would not end up with someone nearly getting killed - whether that was their physical body, their ego, or their pride.

As expected, the woman bristled with glee once the question was posed. “You, Kadaj Nonaka, slip in under cover, maneuver through the floors, and access the computer terminal. Then you grab the files, put them in a briefcase and carry it out. Simple.” She crooned.

“Under cover?” Vincent frowned, confusion floating in his garnet orbs. “But how? Wouldn't someone realize he's an outsider?”

“Not necessarily.” Haruki argued. “I have Sitoshi's old things. The dear old man was batty enough - made copies and replicas of everything he was ever given from that company. I have everything: his old uniforms, ID's, records, badges, photos, mission statements, and transcripts, everything that Shin-ra tried to repossess upon his assumed death. What they wanted with it, I don't know. He was well respected at his work, I know that. But I am also certain that nobody would think anything odd with Kadaj dressed up like his old man.

“But…” Riku began nervously. Haruki may be his true mother, but she was crazy enough to intimidate even him. “Wouldn't someone think something was odd? I mean… Sito-…Dad” he corrected himself, the word strange on his tongue. “Dad has been dead for a few years, right? Surely someone would realize that it would be impossible for him to just come waltzing in out of nowhere.”

“Not really.” Yuffie chirped. Surprised, the group turned to look at her. Vincent nodded an affirmative.

“From my prior experience, I know that Shin-ra has a poor excuse for an editorial team when it comes to filing. They had three filing cabinets full of records that were labeled to be obliterated, most of which had been residing there for the past ten years or so. There is a huge likelihood that your father's files have yet to be erased from the system.” He thereupon turned to Haruki. “It is my assumption that Shin-ra wished to repossess his items to further erase his existence and any ties that he had with the company. They do much the same with Turks.”

“I don't get it.” Kadaj pouted. “How am I supposed to look like Dad? I mean -” he exhaled heavily, blowing away his bangs so that they resettled over his eye. “- I don't look anything like him. Besides, even in his clothing, he was taller than I am now. And all of THAT aside, there aren't any SOLDIER anymore. But Dad was one of them. How do you figure THAT?”

But the devious smile that played over Mrs. Nonaka's lips never quavered. She instead rose from her perch upon the ottoman and crossed the room - kicking Satan away with a booted foot - to a tall wooden china cabinet. Within the middle center drawer she withdrew an old leather wallet. Meticulously each finger wrapped around the soft cover, opening the folds like an old book. And from inside said folds she produced a shining, square card.

“This.” She said importantly. “Is the official Shin-ra SOLDIER ID card of Sitoshi Akaiko Nonaka. And now…” her hazel eyes softened uncharacteristically for a brief lapse of time, settling as they rested on her eldest son. “… It belongs to you.”

Kadaj stared back at her blankly. “Me?” he replied. “Not Riku? Me?”

“Yes.” His mother nodded. “You. In fact, he left all of his personal belongings to you. All save for this.” She whispered this last bit, reaching up unconsciously to finger a chain around her neck. Sitting looped on the twisted material was a broad banded silver ring, inlayed with a circular diamond that was framed in small emeralds and peridots that were cut into the likeness of leaves. Beside it, was the ring's mate - a thicker band of the same silver, this one with two lines carved into the exterior, one lined with a dark green, the other light. As his mother touched the two wedding bands, the light from the ceiling fan shone on the insides and Riku could see that the words `Sitoshi' and `Haruki' were engraved in the opposite ring of their owners.

In an instant, the moment was broken, Kadaj haven woken from his shock. “I still don't understand.” He said, his voice tremouring with a slight whine. “Why are you sending me in there? Riku fits the bill more than I do!”

“However could you say such a thing?!” Haruki demanded, protectively striding over to wrap her arms around her youngest. “He's your little brother Kadaj, you should be ashamed.”

“I think you love him more than me.” The other replied flatly. “But I-”

“I wi-!”

“I think we should move on then.” Vincent interjected. “Ms. Nonaka-”

“Haruki, dear, if you please.”

“Haruki, will you make a list of groceries and the like that you need around here? Yuffie, I ask that you do the same. We'll be needing to hit the shops anyways just to supply these two.” He nodded towards the two brothers, both of whom had managed to collect a cat - neither of which seemed to look too pleased about their predicament.

“Oh Vinnie! Why don't we all go out?! It'll be fun!” Yuffie exclaimed.

“Oh indeed! That does sound quite delightful. Now, forget lists, if we can't remember it, then it's not important. I'll go get my bag. I always thought purses were far too feminine.” The other woman said, growling the end in detest.

“Oh now we wouldn't want that, now would we?” Kadaj drawled as she disappeared around the corner.

“I heard that ELIZABETH!”

The room went deathly silent, and everyone turned, deadpan, to look at the elder silver haired teen. There was a loud `WHUMP!' as the leather satchel connected with his head, and a soft grumble.

“Elizabeth?” Riku posed, one eyebrow arched skeptically. “Elizabeth?”

“Whenever I'm really pissed, I'll call you by your middle name.” his mother quickly informed him, a slightly deranged smile arranged on her face.

“So that means…. ” The semi-silence was broken by Yuffie's sniggering.

“YOUR MIDDLE NAME IS ELIZABETH?!” she crowed.

“Shut up! I didn't choose it!” Kadaj yelled defensively.

“Actually, when I chose their middle names, I thought they were male names. You see, they're foreign, so…” Haruki remedied. “Yours is `Paige'.” She added, nodding to Riku.

“At least mine isn't as feminine.” He smirked. Within a few minutes, the house was cleared out, Haruki with satchel slung across her torso, and Yuffie clinging onto Vincent's arm, Cait Sith looped into the other.

 

 

“Ugh. Silence. Finally!” Kadaj moaned, reclining in his seat, feet propped up on the ottoman.

“You better not leave footprints.” Riku warned, eyeing his brother's feet warily. “Mom `ould kill you.”

“Don't remind me.” The other grumbled. Riku gazed around the room for what felt like the umpteenth time since they had arrived. Everything was a part of him now, every bit of it the home he never had. And every time he looked, there was some new treasure to behold. This room was unique to him. It didn't seem to be the type of room Haruki would have pieced together, what with the soothing contrast of dark wood and soft colors. The walls themselves had been painted a soft yellow, and the furniture - from the high backed armchair, to the loveseat and the ottoman - had been upholstered in a rich ivory. The wood of the coffee tables and furniture legs were in a weathered dark varnish. The theme carried on down the hall a ways, the effect only emphasized by the soft sunlight that trickled in through the thin burgundy curtains adorning the windows.

No, to Riku this room was his family. His mother's touch of her softer side, and what had to have been his father's strength and protectiveness. It seemed like perhaps what was left of the world he had left behind, now only a cloudy memory. He turned his attention to Kadaj who was still spread out on the couch, staring blankly at the spinning fan blades. Slowly, the green cat eyes slid over and met Riku's, still dazed looking, and edged with suspicion.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The younger one replied. “Hey… so.”

“So?” the eyes flipped back up to the fan blades, intent on following the path of one of them.

“Should we look for his stuff then?”

“Look for?”

“Ya. Dad's stuff. Mom said that -”

“Nothing to look for.” Kadaj explained. “Nothing's changed, I'll bet. Haruki is a sentimental old bat.” Riku gave an indignant snort. “She probably hasn't moved anything in his office for years.”

“Dad had an office?” the keyweilder exclaimed softly. The other turned to him with a sarcastic expression.

“Not at all. Come on.” He said, getting up with a stretch. “I'll show you.” The two exited the living room and climbed the progression of stairs, stopping on a landing. “This house isn't really two stories, it's three. Plus there's an attic. If his stuff isn't in here, then it's up there.”

Riku stared at the wall before them. It was the same nondescript white colour as the rest of the wall leading up the stairwell, slightly dingy with age, but white nonetheless. There were a few framed pictures hanging there, all with mish-matched frames and mats. One showed Kadaj at age five, standing with his trademark grin, a soccer ball tucked under one arm. Beside it was an oval image of Riku at two, sitting under the Christmas tree in a red jumper, already with a thick crop of black hair. Below this was a large picture of four individuals, all crowded together. Loz stood the tallest, consuming the majority of the left corner, a football under his arm, the other slung around Kadaj's comparably small frame. He stood at the center, ducking slightly, with a hand on Riku's head, grinning broadly at the camera. And to the farthest right was Yazoo, smiling serenely, one arm linked with Kadaj's, the other resting on Riku's tiny shoulder.

“Why are we all so young here?” he asked, fingering the image of his toddler self. “Why are you all so young in these pictures?”

“Dad disappeared when I was seven.” Kadaj said. “We never had the heart to change the pictures. These were his favourites.” He then reached down and placed his hands on the small table beneath the photos. There was a scraping sound, and then silence.

“What wa -”

“It's a lever.” Kadaj indicated. “Dad built this table so that the lever is unnoticeable, and lays flesh with the wood underneath. He was kinda paranoid, so… he thought that this would be a good hiding place for things. Turns out, it is.” With a push, the wall gave way, swinging open and hinged like a door.

“That is insane!” Riku gaped.

“Not yet it isn't.” his brother crowed. He grabbed the other's arm and hauled him inside, closing the door behind them. There was a click, and Riku stiffened.

“We're locked inside.”

“Yup.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN `YUP'?!” Riku exclaimed.

“Locked from the outside. The lever just snapped back up into place, so it's impossible to see from the outside. But we can get out just fine.” Kadaj assured him. He strode across the room beside a darkly varnished armoire, pushing aside a vase of faux white orchids. He lifted the runner the vase sat upon and traced the wood grain with his finger until he found a groove. Beckoning his brother over, Kadaj inserted his finger into a side of the wood and pushed. The wood fell in and slid back, revealing a neat little inset with a black switch inside. “If I flip this, the door will open up again. Dad made it so that way he could trap people in here too. Like I said, he was paranoid. Guess it comes from training as SOLDIER, especially high ranking as he was. But there's more.”

He replaced the flowers and walked over to the West facing window. It was plain, the glass slightly frosted and adorned with stuffy violet drapes. The elder teen reached up with a slight grunt to the iron drapery pole and yanked down on it. It gave, and there was a soft groaning noise, then silence. Pulling back the drapes on one side, Kadaj motioned. “See the wood carvings under the sill? Well, if you find the right leaf -” his fingertips blazed over the white figures, resting on one. “- it's actually a door knob. The pole unlocked the door, and all you have to do now is open it.” He said victoriously.

“But, Kadaj… this is the side of the house. If there's a door here, then…”

“Emergency escape. The neighbors don't know of it, obviously. It just opens up the side of the house, and you'd fall straight down. To the feed sacks, actually. And let me tell you! They're not as soft as you'd think.” He grumbled. “Broke my elbow that way once. Fell onto the sacks, and then rolled off of them to the ground. The best thing to do is to just plummet, hit the sacks, and climb onto the roof of the shed, then find a way off. Not as painful, I'd think.”

“Wouldn't it be noticeable though?” Riku quipped.

“Nope. Well, sorta. The door would still be open, and there's no lever or button or anything to close it again, so it's more of a last resort tactic. But there aren't any windows below, so no one can actually see you escape from inside the house. Dad was brilliant.” He marveled.

“So do we have an elevator and a trap door too?” the keyweilder snorted.

“Heh, naw. But there are two points along that wall -” Kadaj pointed to the wall that they had entered the room from. “- that have panels that slide back to look through the eyes of pictures. One looks up the staircase, the other down it.” He turned and pushed the drapery pole back up into place. “There. Well… shall we?”

“Ya…” Riku nodded, slightly dazed. “Where to begin?”

“Well, the armoire might have his clothes.” The katana user mused. “Check his desk for the other stuff.”

“Right.” The other fingered the leather chair, carefully sitting in the plump seat. The desk matched the same varnished color as the rest of the furniture. Its top was flat and coated in a soft layer of dust, otherwise meticulously kept. A green velvet mat sat in the center, a cup of pens to the right sitting under a gold bank lamp. The only other object sat in the top left corner of the desk - an oval picture frame featuring the entire family. Riku carefully plucked it up and cradled it in his hands, eagerly scanning his father's features. Sitoshi stared back at him with the same ice blue eyes, human rather than cat-like, with an intensity only rivaled by Kadaj. Silken black hair framed his smooth face. It was masculine, but soft, almost slightly androgynous but definitely male. He had thin lips too, and a pale rose color, like Kadaj's. Looking at the teen riffling through clothes across the room, it was becoming increasingly easier to see the resemblance between father and son.

“So… all his stuff is yours now, huh?” The clothes stopped flying.

“I guess. That's what Haruki said.”

“Why don't you call her Mom?”

“Bad past.” Kadaj said hastily. “Anyways, she doesn't mind. Hey, do you want this?” he asked, holding up a green parka.

“Uh… sure.” Riku shrugged off-handedly, looking back at the photo. He replaced it on the desk and opened the thin drawer in the middle. More pens and old business cards. There was a thin address book too, it's pages yellowed with age. “Doesn't look like you really inherited much from him, no offence.” He cocked an eyebrow as he fiddled with multi-coloured paperclips. “Mostly office supplies in here. That and a rubber band ball.”

“Fascinating.” His brother replied dryly. “AH-HAH! Here!” with a flourish, he extracted a long bag from the armoire, holding it before him in awe. His eyes snapped to the desk, and in a flash, he had swept the contents off onto the floor. “Look, Riku, look!” he said excitedly, nearly tearing off the zipper.

“There's a note card attached.”

“And?! I wanna s -”

“Hold still a moment!” the other snapped. He gingerly examined the paper. “It reads: Sitoshi A. Nonaka, SOLDIER Fifth Regiment, Second Class, Bronze Star. And underneath….” He squinted to make out the loopy scrawl.

“That's Haruki's handwriting.” Kadaj noted.

“Huh. It just says `November 2nd'. This is the same stuff that Vincent and I found in the database. What do you make of it?”

“November 2nd is the day Dad went missing. You were already gone by then, so it was just Haruki and I. I remember when they brought this in to us. It was his spare outfit, but the nicer one that he wore for special occasions and celebrations and stuff. The normal uniform was what he was wearing when he went missing, so…” he stared down at the glistening buttons. “This looks sort of like a spiffy Turk outfit.” He snorted. “But it's pretty cool.” He added, wistfully running his fingers over the bars and medal on the jacket's left breast.

“It's also yours.” Riku said. “So Mom thinks you should wear this into the Shin-ra place?”

“She's a lunatic, I know.” Kadaj groaned. “What if there are secret handshakes or something?! Or passwords I should know?!”

“Well what if there are retinal scans?” his brother said in mock seriousness. The remaining colour drained out of the katana-user's face.

“Then what would I do? Riku, I can't do this!”

“Well, Mom's getting you contacts -”

“What if the scan can detect contacts?”

“Who says there's really retinal scans anyways?! Geez, Kadaj, I was only kidding! You'll be fine, I'm sure. We just need to do something about that hair of yours…”

 

 

“How old is this exactly?” Riku asked, looking critically at the tub. He peeled his fingers from the rounded edges, reading the label. “Oriole Midgar, Onyx Black. Seriously, Kadaj, how old is this stuff?!”

“You know, I don't think it really matters with hair dye.” His brother shrugged. His upper body was buried underneath the sink, his butt sticking up in the air. The entire contents of the bathroom were scattered on everything, mainly being pink towels.

“You look retarded.”

“Cool. So, does it say how big the bag has to be?” he asked distractedly.

“Ummmm…” Riku gave the tub a cursory glance. “Nope, just says a plastic bag.”

“That's it. I'm using a grocery bag.” the other decided.

“Kadaj, I don't think they mea- grocery bag.” The keyblade wielder finished lamely. “And he's already gone.” Calmly, he set about straightening up the bathroom, separating a few items out as the directions indicated. “Didn't know we had so much hair crap.” He muttered under his breath. Riku crouched down and looked under the sink where his brother had recently vacated. “Holy shit! We've got an entire inventory down here!”

“You ain't kiddin'.” Kadaj drawled from the doorway. “Got a bag.”

“Midgar Mart, nice.”

“Super Midgar Mart. Even better. Haruki used to order stuff from them a years back for resale. Think it'll work?”

“The bag? Ya, sure, why not? I mean, between all the clips, bobby pins, banana clips, and scrunchies, I think we'll be all set.” Riku said sarcastically.

“Okay, so what's first?” Kadaj asked bracingly.

“Uh, it says to mix the dye. Apparently there's a … yup, a little comb in here. One side has a pick and we're supposed to mix the dye with the pick end.” His brother replied slowly, unscrewing the lid as he read.

“Ugh, that smells horrible. I'm supposed to put that shit in my hair? It looks…”

“Goopy.” Riku said, watching the black globs stick to the comb. “Is it supposed to do that?”

“I… don't know.”

“I told you it was too old!”

“I still don't think it goes bad…”

“How long have you had it for?! If it's anything like how Mom keeps cereal, we're screwed.”

“We've had it since… well, not quite that long, but…”

“But what?!”

“Since Halloween.”

“Which Halloween, Kadaj?”

“Halloween… nine years ago. I was ten at the time, so I was a… ninja.” He smiled lazily. “So was Yazoo. That was a fun year.”

“A… ninja?” Riku raised an eyebrow. The only thing he thought of when he heard that word was the hyper ball of joy that was Yuffie. “Why a ninja?”

“Well, we had gone to Wutai for a school vacation field trip thing - you know how there's one every spring? - and needless to say, we were…”

“Infatuated.” His brother finished for him.

“Ya, pretty much. After that we started taking Tae Kwon Do, Bak Fu, and weapons training. Oh, and kickboxing. It sort of started a life path for us, I guess.”

“I still don't see where the hair dye comes into place.”

“Oh, that was for Loz. He was a vampire that year, and he didn't think blonde vampires were really all that cool.” Kadaj laughed.

“Loz was blonde?”

“Couldn't ya figure?” the katana user joked. “Anyways, I think that stuff is mixed enough by now, it looks like whipped cream.”

“SHIT!” Riku swore. “Well, whatever, if you don't care about it being ancient, then this shouldn't really matter either.” He shrugged, shoving the container into his brother's hands. The elder teen looked down at it blankly.

“Now what?”

“Put it in your hair, stupid!” Riku said exasperatedly. “Do I have to explain everything? Read the damn container if you're confused, it's right on there.”

“Jerkoff.” Kadaj snarled, slapping the black whipped cream into his silver tresses. “This better turn out right.” He added, looking fervently at his darkening hair.

“Use the comb.” The only remaining silver haired teen advised. “It might get those clumps out.” He pointed to the bouncy ball sized knots. Within a few minutes, the black goop had thoroughly consumed Kadaj's hair, still slightly clumpy, but saturated from the roots to the tips.

“I smell horrible.” He groaned.

“You think?” Riku twitched. “I'm the one with a delicate sense of smell.”

“So now the bag?”

“Mmhmn. Just put all your hair in it, and… not your whole head, idiot! You'll dye and die. And now…” he cast about for the appropriate hair do-dad, settling on a banana clip. “We secure it with this.” The two looked up at themselves in the large mirror. Riku snorted.

“Laugh and you die.” Kadaj warned.

“Just heat it with the hair dryer.” His brother sniggered, exiting the room. “The tub said it would make the color stronger with more heat.”

“I'm setting the timer!” the now black haired teen called. “If I don't hear it, come tell me!”

“Sure thing.” Riku nodded dismissively. “Idiot.” He was back in Kadaj's room, sitting on the window seat that served as his bed. Like the rest of the house, this room called to him in a strange sort of way that nothing else had. `The life I could have led…' he thought. It seemed to echo in his head as he took in the light yellow walls and macabre Murder Will posters. `This could have been my room once. This could have been my life.' He paced across the blue area rug to the TV, picking up the photo of Kadaj and his friends in front of the Ferris wheel.

“I thought he said that Loz was blonde.” He mused, looking at the brunette teen. Curious, he slipped the picture from its frame, flipping it over. “Oh, that's why.” He smiled, reading the date. It was a month after the Halloween Kadaj had described. “The color was fading out.” He explained to himself. Replacing the frame on the wardrobe, he came back over to the bookcase. Almost nostalgically, he trailed a finger along the spines of the books, stopping here and there when he thought he was getting a memory. He paused at a thick red and gold spine, moved on, then went back to it. Something seemed vaguely familiar about it.

He pulled it from the shelf and nestled back into his window bed, tucking his legs underneath him and using them as a table. The book itself was oddly shaped, long in width rather than height, and closed securely with a golden ribbon. Undoing the bow, he flipped open to the first few pages. A handful of pictures were glued in semi-haphazardly, some taped at the corners where they had started to lift. They were already starting to yellow a bit, and there - to Riku's amusement - were even a few Polaroids stuck in. Most of them depicted Kadaj as an infant and toddler, playing with toy trains and school buses in Oh Gosh overalls. There was his first Christmas and birthday, and a few of him being held by family members Riku couldn't even begin to fathom.

He turned the page and was met with a fancily framed baby picture of himself. He chuckled as he thumbed through his infant years. There were more memories now, dredged up by the faded photographs, and almost as distant at times. Memories of the swing set in the backyard that had since been ripped out, picking apples in an orchard with his brother, fighting over Fiery Tires and toy dinosaurs, playing in the sand box. And then they abruptly cut off as the images of his infant self disappeared altogether.

His brow furrowed in frustration. It was like trying to recover from amnesia, having lived two different lives. Suddenly, he felt very sorry for amnesiacs. The photo album continued, he found, to show Kadaj's preschool and elementary school years. More pictures of Loz and Yazoo started cropping up, both beaming and often missing teeth. Loz's peewee football card was included, depicting a stocky blonde grinning broadly at the camera, football tucked under one arm, and covered in white, silver, and blue. A large number five was plastered on the front of his uniform. So he had been a quarterback.

Opposite this were three images of Yazoo, taken at roughly the same time. The gunner appeared to be about ten (figuring that the Loz in the other photo was twelve). The first was a portrait that was taken in a studio. Riku had to suppress a gasp when he saw it - Yazoo looked… with no other word to describe it, beautiful. His flawless features shone softly like the powdered faces of porcelain dolls, light green eyes shining out of the matted image with a strong intensity. Everything about him, from the perfectly flowing hair, to the precise shape of his eyebrows and delicacy of his jaw line, appeared feminine and somehow otherworldly.

The feeling carried on to the other two photos. The one to the right of it showed Yazoo in a pinstriped dress shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A beret was sitting skewed on his head and he was looking wide-eyed, as if caught off-guard, at the camera, a pencil tucked behind one ear, with a sketchbook in the other. There were ribbons and bows in the background as if at a birthday party, balloons tucked almost out of view. A thin girl with auburn hair sat on a barstool behind Yazoo, smiling the same serene smile that the gunner always wore. Riku assumed that she was must have been his sister.

The third photo showed Yazoo smiling from behind a counter, dressed in a moss coloured turtleneck, kneading dough. Golden brown loaves of bread were displayed in wicker baskets, croissants and bagels topped with sesame seeds sat under warm lighting in display cases. There was a rack of various pretzels behind the ten-year-old, and a whole case of pastries gleamed under the bakery's lights. Éclairs, petit fours, ladies fingers, Danishes, bearclaws, cinnamon rolls, coffee and carrot cakes… all topped with anything you could imagine, surrounded by small cakes and parfaits.

It seemed that there was so much that Riku had missed out on. Birthdays, holidays, friendships. With a frustrated sigh, he flipped to the last few pages. There on the second to last page were the pictures from Kadaj's tenth Halloween. He stood proudly in the center, hands on hips, with an arrogant grin. He was swathed in black and violet fabric, soft leg wrappings, and fishnet. Beside him was Loz, in sweeping velvet, holding the cape up in the stereotypical vampire manner. And on the other side was -

“I see you found my photo album.” Kadaj drawled, peering over Riku's shoulder.

“I! Holy shi-! Dude!” the younger teen spluttered. “I thought you said that Yazoo went as a ninja.” He finally choked out.

“He was, wasn't he?” Kadaj frowned, squinting at the picture.

“A girl ninja?!” the other corrected.

“Oh ya, guess I forgot to mention that, huh?” the katana user smirked.

“But… dude. I thought…”

“He really looks feminine there, doesn't he?” The Yazoo in the picture had sleek tight black pants with a high, thick red waistband, which was mirrored at the bottom of the legs in broad X patterns. A tight black top hugged his chest, and a thin red ribbon encircled his crown. A wakazashi knife was strapped to his side, two small chakrams emblazoned with oriental flowers and stars in one hand, closed nunchucks in the other slung over his shoulder. “If I was ten… he would have been thirteen, and Loz is fifteen.” He threw in.

Riku stared in shocked silence. “Why did he…?”

“Yazoo is Yazoo.” Kadaj shrugged. “Now, should I wash this out, or-?” he began, pointing at his head.

“Idiot!” the other hissed, jumping up. “Don't just let it sit!”

“You were supposed to listen for the -”

“Just wash it!”

“Fine! Jeez! I'm going, I'm going.” The elder of the two trudged off to the shower. Within seconds, there was yelling. “RIIIIIIIIIIIKU?!!!!” The corresponding brother rushed into the bathroom.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly. Kadaj slid open the shower door.

“I don't think this was supposed to happen.” He said softly. Black water was sliding down his body like tears, pooling in a large puddle at his feet. Riku stared in surprise before starting and scrambling to find the container.

“Dye, dye, dye.” He chanted, pushing towels and stained plastic gloves aside. “Where'd you put the damn thing?!” he exclaimed.

“The middle drawer, I think.” Kadaj replied shakily. “Next to the-”

“Hair straightner?”

“Ya.”

“Um… it says…” Riku read, impatiently drumming his fingers on the counter. “`Wash until water runs clear.' Apparently it's supposed to do that.” His brother nodded slowly and slid the door back closed, hurriedly finishing his shower.

“I think it's good now.” he called, muffled by the glass. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out and looked at his reflection. Riku stood nervously beside him.

“So, what do you think?” he asked. Kadaj continued to stare blankly back at himself, his good arm stretched out and braced against the sink. “Kadaj?”

“I…” he breathed, his voice hitching a little. “This is…” Suddenly, Riku realized that the eyes he was watching in the mirror were glistening for a reason.

“Kadaj?!” he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. “What's-?”

“I look like myself again.”

“What?”

“Except for the eyes, of course.” He continued, as if Riku had never spoken. “Except for these damn eyes of mine. If only they could see me. All Yazoo ever wanted was for us to be normal again. That's all he ever asked for. So we could be ourselves again, be free. So that way we could live whatever life we wanted, the lives we were robbed of. For him to want that so much, and for me to return, however cheaply… it's not fair. It's just…” it took him a moment to realize that he was crying.

 

 

“Are you just about done in there?” Riku called. “Mom wants to see you, and -”

“Ya, ya, I'm coming. Just give me a second, will ya?” Kadaj snapped back through the door. Riku paced around outside a bit before rapping on the door again.

“I'm coming in, you know.” He warned while simultaneously opening the door. “So I hope you're not doing anything weird in here.” His brother stood with his back to him, talking softly under his breath. Startled, he flung something onto the bed and stalked out of the room.

“I said I'd be out, didn't I?” he said testily, shutting the bedroom door and stepping out into the hall. “Come on.” He ushered, grabbing Riku's elbow and dragging him down the stairs. “Might as well get this done and over with.”

“Kadaj, what were you doing in there?”

“Getting ready, what else?”

“You're going to mess up your uniform.”

“Wrinkles happen Miss Priss, now get over it.”

“Bloody hypocrite!” Riku vented.

“KADA-CHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!” Haruki cried, bounding up the few stairs remaining in an instant and locking the teen in a death-grip. She pulled away, excitedly looking him up and down. “Oh you look so wonderful, just like your father. Dear, you do look like Sitoshi. Splendid! This should work out perfectly. Now, I've given your friend Vincent the directions to the Shin-ra building, and he'll be taking you there. No reason for you to go now, Yu- I mean, Riku, so you can stay here with Yuffie and myself. Kadaj, you get your ass in motion because daylights fading and we'll need you in and out before the day is through. Hop to it!” All of this being said in less than half a minute. Riku counted.

With that, the elder Nonaka was swept out the door and into a small blue vehicle that looked as if it hadn't been run in five years. Vincent gave him a side-long glance from the driver's seat (now dressed in a less noticeable rich burgundy sweater and grey slacks) and honked the horn lightly in farewell. The last thing Kadaj heard coming from the house was a cry of “WHO WANTS TO MAKE OVEN-FRIED-FLOYD?!” and a responding scream of, “NUUUUUUUU!”

 

 

“So how long do you think it'll take before Haruki cooks all of our chocobos?” Kadaj posed grimly.

“With any luck?” Vincent smiled. “We'll be gone before she can force it on us again.”

“Wouldn't want to impose or anything.” Kadaj joked along. “But that woman better not get Floyd. She's doing it to spite me, I just know.”

“Spite you?” the other queried. “Why would she do that?”

“For loosing Riku.” The teen replied. There was a lapse, then Kadaj continued. “He was four, and I was five. I was supposed to watch him. We all were. Yazoo and Loz too. But we wanted to play, and thought that Riku'd be fine on his own… but when we came back to get him, he was gone. We searched for hours and never found him. Then the adults got involved and they never found him. No one did. But he was my responsibility, and I let him and my parents down… it's my fault that he went through all of this.” He finished sadly.

“Kadaj…” Vincent paused, gathering his thoughts. “Kadaj, you were five at the time, only a toddler. How can you possibly blame a toddler for -?”

“But he was my responsibility!” the teen argued. “And I had always looked after him. Always.” Hysteria was creeping its way into his voice.

“You were five Kadaj! You didn't know any better at the time. And don't try to argue either! You need to let this go, and you need to talk to your mother. Obviously this is something that's bothered you for a long time.” The other man said firmly. “Besides, what else would his life have led to? The way it went, he was adopted by a nurse and her rich husband, had excellent education, lived in a mansion, had friends, and grew up on an island paradise. Here, his life would have been right down the same path as yours - directly to Sephiroth. And for all you know, he'd have become a remnant too. Can you honestly say you'd rather he had that path?”

The rest of the car ride was silent, filled with slight tension, but otherwise peaceful. The landscape zipped by with extraordinary speed, although Kadaj never got the feeling that they were pushing sixty. In actuality, they were going one-ten, and no more than a blur on the deserted roads. The scenery itself wasn't too exciting - mainly high pebbly foothills covered with lichen and scrub weeds. After a few minutes the terrain flattened out and the land to Kadaj's left completely fell way. Peering down from the backseat window, he could see the dizzying drop to the craggy ocean shore below. It appeared as if the waves were crashing mercilessly against the shale that peered up in cruel points, hungry for the occasional car or convoy that might plummet over the foot tall safety wall. Vincent had veered off to the right pathway (the road had forked before reaching the sea), heading more West than South now.

A few stray gulls spotted the wispy clouds gathering in the distant and bending sky, but the overcast weather only damped Kadaj's spirits. This task was impossible, even for him. He didn't know what awaited him there, but the more he thought on the matter, the more promising the shallows below became.

“Either I'll fly like a bird, or drown in my failure.” He grumbled, scooting down in his seat.

“And if you drown, I'll pull you out and kick you till you breathe again. And if I don't, then I can promise you Haruki will.” The dark man replied from the driver's seat. His crimson eyes flashed quickly to the rearview mirror, before pulling back to the twisting sea road. “My cloak is packed under my seat in case we need it.” Kadaj saw him squinting ahead and frowned.

“What do you see?” he quipped, stomach now not only knotting but doing back flips as well.

“La baise bonne, ceci n'est pas bonne. Aucun bon.” Vincent hissed irately. “There's a security check-point up ahead. It's right before we get to the actual building.” He explained, already reaching behind the seat and groping blindly. “Get behind the seat.” He instructed.

“What?” Kadaj stressed, fidgeting nervously.

“Reach into the pocket behind my seat and pull everything out.” Vincent restated. “Everything.”

“Right, right…” the teen stuck his hand into the pocket, grasping a thick bundle of paper. Suddenly, the car lurched forward violently, feeling almost at a dead stop. “What the bloody hell was that for jerkoff?!” Kadaj exclaimed, heart racing. “My head was down, did you hit a fucking jackrabbit?!”

“Shut your mother fucking mouth and do as I say. I'm buying us time, we're going sixty five now.” Vincent replied evenly, knuckles white on the wheel. He was clearly stressed out, and the teen wisely realized this.

“R-right, so what am I looking for exactly?” he asked shakily. He thumbed the papers. “Vincent… where'd all these passports come from?”

“Shin-ra, about fifty some years ago. They were mine once. Some of them are fakes - those are for you. Look for the ones labeled as `Sitoshi A. Nonaka', `pole arms', or `rifle'. Those all indicate you. They are replicated passports, identification papers, copies of receipts that were tampered with to show recent dates, copies of licenses and registrations. I even managed to get Reeve to fax us a few brochures and copies of recent literature Shin-ra has handed out to employees. Those should be our ticket to freedom. Get what's yours, and put it into the briefcase under the passenger seat. That's yours. You'll use it to put the things you find into, and carry your own replica papers in.”

“How did you -?”

“No time for questions, just listen. There is an official Shin-ra card in there, you'll find it's somewhat old.” His smirk could be seen in the rearview mirror.

“Is this you?” Kadaj asked out-loud, looking at the young Vincent in the photo. His hair was much shorter, cut in a boyish A-line.

“Yes, it's me. A bit different though, isn't it? Find the other card in there, and slip the official one into it. It will lock into place and be almost the same weight. Parts of the official card will show through, but the updated things will remain.” There was a click, and Kadaj examined the new card in his hands.

“I still don't know how… why do you need a new card?”

“I can penetrate the base farther if I appear to be an employee. I can get you in further this way.” Vincent replied quickly, licking his pale lips. “They're going to search the car, your briefcase, and us as well. If there is anything you don't want them to find, throw it out the window now.”

“Just out?!”

“Out. Quickly!”

“Wouldn't they see? Why can't we just stop?!”

“No, we're out of range to be seen so far. Back when I switched gears they started to track our speed to see if there was any suspicious activity. Dump the stuff now, Kadaj, we can't stop now.”

“Right, I got it.” The teen mumbled, fetching around for anything incriminating. “There's nothing.” He said after a few frantic seconds. “Is there anything in the trunk or the glove compartment?”

“La merde, n'a pas pensé à celle.” Vincent's ruby eyes snapped up to the mirror and locked with Kadaj's. “Be careful. Now, fold down the middle seat and look into the trunk.” The silver tressed teen did as he was asked, squinting in the darkness. A clunky object was faintly outlined from the overcast sky outside. The car swerved around another curve in the mountainside, and the object flashed into view quickly. Kadaj blanched and turned to his companion.

“There's a gun in there Vincent. Why is there a gun?!”

“We're going to have a stand-off.” The other replied grimly. “I can guarantee it. You'll have to be quick, but they'll figure out something's up soon enough. I'll have to fight them, and we'll need to escape.”

“What do I do with it?” Kadaj stressed.

“Unbuckle and climb back there. Move the carpet and stash it under the paneling in there. I'll warn you when we're going to turn.”

“WHAT?!” the teen shrieked.

“Just do it!” Vincent snarled. “Now!” After a moment's hesitation, Kadaj unbuckled, diving headfirst into the trunk. He squeezed his shoulder blades together and wriggled through, peering in the increasing blackness. His fingers groped blindly, reaching until he found the edge of the trunk, fingernails scratching uncomfortably upon metal.

“Turning!” Vincent called. Wincing, having felt a fingernail rip, his bad arm throbbing painfully from the force of his exertion, Kadaj tore back the carpeting. He placed his palm against the plastic underneath until he detected a fissure. Fingering along it, he came to a grove and lifted up.

“Turn!” the dark man called again. The car shifted heavily to the right, and there was the deafening sound of scraping metal as the gun slid into the tire storage. Ears ringing, Kadaj righted the area, turning around just in time to see Vincent's head duck down as he reached for the glove compartment. The car jolted to one side, and the teen rolled unexpectedly off his knees.

“Non, manière fausse.” The gunner winced, pulling a wad of junk from the gaping door. He shoved it backwards towards Kadaj, and the other launched forward to get the papers, still half in the trunk. “What's in there?”

“Shit! It's directions and stuff. This has to do with AVALANCHE and the Seventh Heaven, and then the -”

“Throw it out - NOW!”

“How?!” Kadaj countered. Suddenly, there was a low popping sound, then a huge gust of air. The teen turned slowly to see the man had popped the trunk. Suppressing his exclamation of shock, he took a deep breath and threw the papers out into the wind. He watched momentarily as they spiraled lazily into the breeze, escaping like gulls on the wind.

“There's a bag back there too?” Vincent interrupted. “It should have emergency supplies in it.”

“Ya, I see it. It's black and grey with -”

“The Seventh Heaven logo. No time to switch out. Just dump it.” Bile now rising in his throat, Kadaj hurled the bag as hard as he could, watching it cascade over the edge of the cliff and out of sight. A metallic vice gripped him. Something didn't feel right.

“Vincent, I've got a bad feeling.”

“So do I.” the other agreed. “Haruki won't be happy she's not getting her car back. Which reminds me… there's one other thing to do. Climb back up here a moment and grab the plate in the other passenger pocket. Kadaj looked incredulously at the rectangular metal slab.

“You've got to be shitting me.”

“They attach with hooks at the top. Switch the license plates and throw the old one over. Hopefully the tides will sweep it away by the time Shin-ra sends their little peons down to check for evidence against us.”

“Why the license plate?!”

“They can track your mother down and bring her in for questioning. They could kill her. You'd know that best. Just do it.” His voice was not unkind, but the rapid flitting of his eyes suggested his nervousness. Crawling backwards into the open trunk, Kadaj lowered himself halfway over the rushing pavement, sucking in a deep breath. His hurt arm was folded against his chest, although bandaged; he could tell that it was bruising from the pressure of his body. Swinging his arm over the lip of the trunk, he located the two hooks the plate was attached to. With a grunt, he pried it upwards. It stuck on the rusted hooks, grating loudly, then flying off.

“No!” Kadaj shrieked as the plate hit the ground, wildly snatching for it. Now more than halfway out of the back of the car, his fingertips snagged the back of the plate, dragging it along the pavement. Paint chipped off the plate's front, now being ground into the road, the back edges sparking from friction. It hit a large pebble and jumped, slamming into Kadaj's hand and slicing the tender skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Yelling out in pain, he determinedly kept his hold and, like the bag, flung it over the edge, recoiling back into the safety of the trunk.

Taking a second to suck away the blood, the cut stinging severely, he looked up to see a few spotted patches of crimson spotting the fading roadside. “Son of a bitch.” He growled vehemently, swinging back over the edge to reattach the new plate. The first few tries, the holes missed the hooks, almost threatening to clatter away like the previous one. Kadaj's grip loosened, and lost grip of the plate. He inhaled sharply, as the corner of the plate fell. It jerked, and then swung back upwards, one hole having caught on a hook. With a sigh of relief, Kadaj attached the other side and reached up to grab the inner handle, slamming the trunk closed.

“It's done.” He said finally, heaving deep breaths in his seat.

“Are you alright?” Vincent asked worriedly. “I tried to ask what happened, but the wind was too loud for you to hear me.”

“The fucking plate cut my hand.” Kadaj swore, shaking the abused appendage.

“Which one?” the man frowned.

“The old one. There was rust and shit on it and the edges were serrated. It didn't cut too deep, but it still stings like a bitch.”

“We're here.” Vincent breathed, pulling up into the wide drive. The pavement had ended and had branched out into a dirty, pebbled road. To the left of the road was a station, a sign tacked to its side reading, “NOTICE, All Visitors Subject to Search” in bold red lettering. A few men in puffy red jackets strode around outside, all moving with purpose. Beyond the station was an ominous chain link gate, slatted with thick bars of metal and crowned with spiraled barbed wire. Kadaj craned his neck to see the top of the twelve foot gate and gulped audibly.

“Straighten up, soldier.” Vincent ushered softly from the driver's seat, his eyes trained straight ahead, watching the worker's every movement. Kadaj brushed off his lapels and straightened the bars over his left breast.

“How am I supposed to get out of there alive?” he breathed, eyeing the four statue-like men at the gate's close, each armed with a glinting machine gun. Beneath their long bulletproof vests, Kadaj could see ammo belts slung around their waists. The guards moved as one, admitting an unmarked big rig entrance, closing the gate once more as the vehicle rumbled on, coughing out black smoke. The old car rolled forward, stopping behind the green truck before the gate.

“I'm not sure.” Vincent admitted. “Just keep calm. Be the man you remember your father to be.” He whispered, pulling forward more.

“Is there anything I need to know?” Kadaj asked in rushed whispered tones. “Secret handshakes or anything?”

“Everything I'd know would be different now.” Vincent replied apologetically. “There's a roll of tape in your briefcase. If you need a thumbprint… ”

“Got it.” The teen nodded, trying to act neutral as a security guard peered over at them. He reclined back in his seat more and tugged at the front of his jacket, trying to keep his posture as formal as possible. “Where will I find you?”

“I'll try to stay inconspicuous for as long as possible. If I need to fight, I'll lead them around the South end of the building. You might get lost, but they have maps around the area sporadically. They should give you a sense of direction. Jump out a window if you have to.”

“But the South side would bring us close to -”

“Good afternoon gentlemen.” A thick voice interrupted. He had a bushy brown beard, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking like nothing more than caterpillars. “I'll need to see your ID, please.” He asked crisply, holding out a gloved hand. Vincent shot him a quick smile and reached into his back pocket calmly, extracting the fake ID.

“An ex-Turk, eh?” the guard mused, flipping the card over in his hands a few times. He squinted at the image and looked up and Vincent, then down again. “Yup, that looks like you, Mr.… Viktor Valentino?” The dark haired man nodded cheerily and accepted his ID, slipping it back into his pocket.

“And who's this man with you?” the guard continued. “Roll down the window for him please Mr. Valentino.” Vincent obliged and shot Kadaj a meaningful look in the rearview mirror. The teen reached for his briefcase and fumbled with the clasp, pawing around until he found his father's ID.

“Sitoshi Nonaka.” He replied, holding up the card for inspection. The guard paused a moment, scratching his chin, then nodded, stepping away from the vehicle.

“All yours, Rick!” he hollered, stepping back inside the station. Another man emerged, this one cleaner looking with slicked dark brown hair. A second man appeared beside him a moment later, this one with sheared blonde hair. They stopped before the blue sedan and stared down at the passengers expectantly. Kadaj swallowed nervously, squeezing his eyes shut, and wrenching them open a second later, hoping the action went undetected. His stomach had evolved from back flips and was now outshining the entire Russian circus.

Simultaneously, he and Vincent opened their doors and stepped out into the dismal sunlight. The air was surprisingly cooler than Kadaj had expected, drenched in the smell of salt from the ocean below. The condensation in the air made for a damp cold, and at once the nape of his neck started to feel clammy and sweaty. He and Vincent exchanged brief looks and stood placidly beside the car, watching as the dark haired man sat in the driver's seat, lifting cup holders and flipping down the visors. His hands nimbly moved over every square inch of the interior, slipping in-between cushions and groves, and sliding under every crevice. He turned the key in the ignition and checked the tape player and the few old electronics installed. Satisfied, he popped the trunk and turned off the engine, moving to the back seats and repeating the process.

All the while, Kadaj could see Vincent out of the corner of his eyes. To his surprise, the gunner had pulled off a sort of bored and relaxed attitude, rubbing his shoulder and lazily watching the birds move in from the coast. Kadaj himself stood with his hands shoved into his jackets pockets, legs braced apart to keep his body from shaking. The piercing blue eyes of the blonde man next to him tore through his skin, gauging every movement, ready to alert his partner if the suspects had alerted him to search a certain part of the car more thoroughly. Self consciously, Kadaj pulled his balled fists from his pockets, straightening the jacket once more, and clasping his hands behind his back studiously. He licked his lips and tried to look around in feigned disinterest.

The darker haired man had moved on to the trunk, searching for anything incriminating. At long last he closed the trunk, giving the license plate a cursory glance before nodding. As he went to close the rear passenger door, something caught his eye. Bending down, he extracted a lumpy red object from beneath the driver's seat, turning around to face the other three. Kadaj's throat constricted, and suddenly he found it difficult to breathe.

“What's this?” a chocolate coloured brow cocked suspiciously, green eyes zeroing in on Vincent. “Mr. Valentino, I believe this was under your seat?”

“It was.” Vincent nodded nonchalantly. “Just an old cape my grandfather gave me years ago. I forget I leave it there half the time, but since he passed, I haven't had the heart to remove it. He loved it very much, see.” He concluded fluently, a touch of sadness tinting his words. The dark haired man glanced at his blonde counterpart, who nodded curtly. The first man proceeded to unfold the cloak, snapping it once unfurled. The tattered edges blew in the wind, looking like a tired flag that had survived a long battle. Content that nothing was stowed inside the folds of the material, the man rolled the cloak back up into some semblance of a fold and placed it on the seat.

“If you could now please stand apart with your arms slightly raised, and feet apart?” the blonde quipped. His voice was silken and surprisingly young. Vincent and Kadaj reluctantly complied, knowing what was coming.

“So Mr. Valentino, what is your business here this afternoon?” the dark haired man asked. His hands moved quickly across Vincent's body in the same way that he had searched the car.

“I'm escorting Sitoshi to the building.” Was his sharp response.

“Is that so? And Sitoshi is a Turk?”

“I am.” Kadaj replied, holding his voice steady.

“And where are you from, Mr. Nonaka? I've worked here two years and never once have I seen your face.” The brunette turned his attention.

“Gongaga.” Kadaj answered quickly. Vincent turned to him, covering the startled action by nodding.

“His father's from there. I'm his cousin, and I live out in Nebelheim now.” he added.

“And you are an ex-Turk?” the brunette asked.

“Yes.” Vincent nodded again.

“So you have never been to this base before?” the blonde asked suspiciously.

“That is correct.”

“Then where were you stationed before this?”

“Kalm.” Vincent replied smoothly. “That's where my family is from. My grandparents had lived in Rocket Town, so I came back when I retired at twenty five to live nearby. I settled in Nebelheim because it was more to my liking.”

“How exactly are you two related?” the blonde continued, not buying Vincent's story.

“My grandfather had eight brothers, you see.” Vincent began. “He was the oldest, and the fifth son was Sitoshi's grandfather. From there they obviously grew up, married, and had children, who are our parents. So Sitoshi and I are more of second cousins really, but because of the age difference of our parents, I'm more of his uncle than anything.”

“And what was your father's name?” the blonde persisted.

“Grenier.” Vincent covered, almost correctly answering `Grimoire'. “And Sitoshi's father was also named Sitoshi, so he's a junior.” He smiled in a fatherly way at Kadaj that made the teen almost want to punch him.

`How does he come up with this shit?' he wondered wildly, feeling slightly violated after a thorough frisking. `And how does he pull off being so… happy?'

“How long have you been in the service, Mr. Nonaka?” the brunette asked, staring Kadaj down with his even gaze.

“Three years.” The teen replied as coolly as he could muster. “I enlisted at sixteen, as soon as Shin-ra would accept me.” He found it a struggle not to curl his lips in disgust at the words.

“And somehow, you've garnered all of these…?” the blonde added, staring at the numerous bars over Kadaj's left breast.

“My father had a high standing position in his day. Second class, bronze star.” He recalled thankfully.

“Which regiment?”

“Fifth.”

“You lie.” The brunette smirked triumphantly.

“What?!” Kadaj exclaimed, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest. “No… no.” Then he realized his mistake. His father hadn't been a Turk, he'd been… “He was a General in SOLDIER. Because of that, I had a good in to Shin-ra's programs. I trained as both a Turk and in Shin-ra's special guard during my first year of service, trying to decide which route to take.” He quickly devised. “Socially standing, I was able to enter in at a much higher level than others, so I got a few of these from that status alone.” He said, indicating to the bars. “The others are for years and service. Different training camps and missions.”

“Is that so…?” the blonde drawled, glaring at the regalia. “So what does this one stand for?” he asked, selecting a random bar. Kadaj peered down at it, and his heart sank. It was upholstered in red fabric, a blue band running vertically on one end.

“This one?” he asked, buying time. He could just feel Vincent urging him on mentally. “It's for… pole arms.” He finished. “For completing a year's worth of training. I took the rifle as my official weapon as a Turk, but went back for a year's worth of pole arm training. It was more challenging, and merited a bar for completion and mastery.”

The blonde and brunette looked at each other uncertainly. The lions had been released in the Russian circus in Kadaj's stomach, and he suddenly felt that same uncomfortable metallic fear that he'd felt back in the sedan's trunk. At long last, the blonde nodded slowly.

“How old is that bar?” he asked slowly, the cogs clearly turning in his mind.

“This one, or this kind of bar?” Kadaj asked hopefully.

“Both.”

“Well, I've only had this bar about…” he calculated quickly on his fingers. “Well, only two years really.” `First of four years was double training, second year being a Turk and pole arms.' He thought quickly. “The bar itself was new then at the time. …Scarlet's idea.” He added, recalling the name of the Head of Weaponry on one of the literature packets Reeve had faxed. Whatever the blonde was going to retort with, he bit back, looking at his partner. The brunette shrugged, and then nodded.

“Very well Mr.'s. Valentino and Nonaka. If we can take only a minute more of your time, may we see your briefcase?” he asked, stepping back and indicating that Vincent was permitted to resume the wheel.

“Of course.” Kadaj admitted, surrendering the case at once. After a few tense moments, the two handed the case back to him and closed his passenger door.

“A good day to you sir's.” the blonde called formally. “I look forward to seeing you here at South Ridge again soon, Mr. Nonaka.” He said, locking eyes with Kadaj. His own glinted with a subtle danger. “Perhaps we can train together some time.” With that, the two Turks stepped away from the car and the giant metal gates opened to welcome them into the unforgiving prison-like fortress.