Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Predetermined ❯ Part 2 ( Epilogue )

Long years had come and gone but that didn't change the work for Tseng. He had climbed in rank and had established a fine reputation. He was serious, stolid, lacked a sense of humor, had polished his glaring techniques, and always made sure his tea was strong enough to eat through a stainless steel building faster than any corrosive. He was also still responsible for errant and meager `chores' such as paper work and simple missions such as receiving items, investigating buildings and meeting people. Mina's yakuza group was still underground, which was good, but on a particular day where he could have been enjoying seeing Reno run away from Guard Hounds and Kalm Fangs, he was off on some menial task the President wanted of him.

 

The objective was to simply find some of the storage files regarding a few of the SOLDIER's and ex-SOLDIER's so conveniently located in the storage room beneath ShinRa mansion in Nibelheim.

 

“I still don't think Reno could have screwed this up……unless of course he decided to go wandering or make use of the master bedroom,” Tseng muttered to himself under his breath. It was a simple in and out trip, shouldn't take more than a few minutes. With one SOLDIER watching the bottom of the stairwell for any oncoming persons or for a monster that just might want to attack, Tseng was otherwise alone. Smashing apart the rusted lock, the cool and collected Turk swung open the heavy door to reveal something he wasn't quite expecting: a coffin. The room wasn't any lighter or darker than the tunnel, but his eyes seemed to deceive him. A coffin? He decided he wouldn't question it but instead turned his attention towards the stacks of lidded crates.

 

The worst part was at hand: the search.

 

`This could take all day and night,' he complained to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off any oncoming headaches. Well, maybe the President wouldn't drag him to that conference with the Professors from Junon. An idea struck him. Pulling out an orb of sulfur colored material, Tseng held it up and activated Scan over the boxes. A large surge of series of information came rushing to him. Holding the scan with his energy, he located the crate with the most reports and set to work on opening it. He could use Fire II and risk destroying something, but he was good enough to put it out with Ice II if he had to. He chose to freeze the box and wake with it a jolt from Bolt instead. The box shattered, successfully saving and scattering the piles of papers. As Tseng sifted through the various papers and folders, he located the ones he needed and stacked them neatly atop another box. Most of the print was faded or slightly illegible, but whatever the President could make of it, good for him. A muffled moan emanated from somewhere in the room, halting Tseng in his work, perking his ears and causing him to look suspiciously around for the source.

 

The sound of shifting and creaking wood sounded as Tseng waited, silencing his breathing to hear the stillness about him, until another groan was heard. Behind him……..the coffin? That tomb? Was someone or something inside? Did some beast lurk in there to sleep or wait for foolish people to disturb its slumber? Cautiously Tseng stood, ready to use his fists if he had to. The ghostly haunting was silent. Still suspicious but not wanting to try and wait the thing out, Tseng opened another box, preserving as much as he could to hold the other odds and ends. Upon the hearing of splintering wood a rattling emitted from the coffin. Something inside wanted to get out.

 

“Who dares disturb my slumber?” the agitated thing in the box growled, sounding forlorn and disparaging. Tseng took a long look at the box as silence once more filled the room. Narrowing his eyes as if in silent challenge he went back to shuffling through the papers in the crate until he gathered the last two reports. Another growl resounded within the coffin.

 

Already uptight and annoyed more than ever ShinRa's proud leader of the Turks kicked at the lid of the elongated grave, sending it flying off. Steel toed boots were always a plus. In a flourish of red, something jumped out, flipping and spinning to land on its feet close to the door. A handgun was pulled quickly, aimed and cocked, ready to fire. Flowing ebony hair surrounded a porcelain face, ruby eyes staring his opponent down. Those eyes….. Without discretion Tseng stepped forward, the gun trained on him, unwavering.

 

“Vincent?” he said softly. It was indeed a change. Skin that looked as if it hadn't seen light in years—and probably hadn't; raven hair like midnight ink, black and glossy, flowing and long, streaming about his face, held in place with a blood red headband to match his crimson cape, thrown and buckled about his shoulders, obscuring half his face; a metallic arm, sharp with golden claws; decked in black as if to hide in the shadows. This man, a reflection of a haunted soul, wanted to hide away and never be seen. Finally, he lowered his gun, watching the Turk with morbid eyes.

 

For as many years as Tseng thought he had buried those memories of Vincent, he never could forget that warm, piercing gaze, now seeming like icy steel, deprived of humanity and the outside world. Tseng quietly debated whether to ask what happened to Vincent all those long years ago, but decided against it. For a reunion that wouldn't be a happy topic to converse on. The Turk didn't want to seem as if he was caught up in old, long-dead emotions. It did still turn his face sour to see Vincent, try as he might to dig another grave for those old memories, but it was not a loathing so much as it was a concern to know he was at least alive so that he, Tseng, could continue to forget hi by remembering him. Vincent circled to the far side of his coffin, metallic shoes muffled by the hard-packed dirt ground. Tseng brushed a stray strand of hair away from his face.

 

“What are you doing?” the ex-Turk asked, his clear, brass voice just as smooth and pleasant. An involuntary shiver coursed down Tseng's spine.

 

“Collecting the reports I was asked to,” was all his said, collecting himself in order not to fall apart in from of Vincent. The tall, dark man was still formidable, especially with his mysterious, foreboding attire.

 

Vincent skulked to the other side, his gait light and sure, yet magnetized towards the shadows; approaching the destroyed boxes, Tseng wandered closer, but the seemingly delicate man shied away from the Turk's presence. He picked up the first few sheets with delicate fingers, scanning them, then sifted through the others. His expression remained emotionless, but a hint of recognition and tension flickered across his face.

 

“These…. Why are they needed?” he asked, voice hinting dangerously that a wrong answer might set him off. Vincent appeared to back away, leaning farther into the embrace of darkness that lined the walls as Tseng peered into the papers, trying to catch the curiosity that set the ex-Turk off.

 

“I don't know their purpose, I was merely asked to retrieve them,” Tseng replied simple, voice level as he looked Vincent in the eye. The shadowed man seemed to ponder the intent before setting the reports afire with a spark from the flintlock of his gun. Tseng's eyes went wide as the brittle paper turned into a small conflagration. Vincent dropped it from the heat and let it smolder on the ground, the shocked Turk's hand half reached for Ice I. Tseng's mouth hung open, half ready to say something before snapping it shut, eyes glowering, posture stiffening.

 

Some things had changed, and he wasn't about to let Vincent get away with something like that. If those reports were needed for something important, authorities would not be pleased.

 

“You don't need them,” Vincent said, turning cheek and floating back towards his coffin, stopping before it to look back at his long-time friend. All emotion had fled from his eyes. “Now leave.” His voice was soft, somber. He stepped back into his coffin, ready to settle back down.

 

“What happened?” Tseng asked bitterly, trying to control his temper. If he was going to play games then he deserved to be able to put Vincent on edge as well. The ex-Turk merely looked at Tseng from where he half stood, eyes lowering before he turned away once more, ignoring the question. Not about to take this disrespect, Tseng briskly approached where Vincent now sat, placing his slender hands on the side of the coffin and leaning over towards Vincent.

 

“I asked you to tell me what happened. ShinRa lost a good employee and wants to know why. The excuses Hojo and Lucrecia gave didn't settle so well, at least not with me. It was too suspicious, how you died so easily,” the Turk said tersely, voice hinting at a venomous whisper, threateningly cool, eyes determined, and face set.

 

Vincent flinched at Lucrecia's name, lip curled in feral disgust, but the gesture was fleeting and his countenance was just as passive as before. The claw on his left hand clicked as he restlessly flexed his hand, watching the other man, seeming to wonder as if he didn't know what to make of him. Finally, as he looked away, steadily watching the doorway he replied.

 

“I'm not entirely sure myself. I only know that when I was in some…….demonic rage, Hojo was laughing insanely, gloating that his experiments had worked on me. Then…. <i>She</i> had to calm me down. I don't remember much else. I came down here, vowing to stay in this nightmare. I cannot atone enough for my sins. Please, just let me rest.”

 

“But what did they <i>do</i> to you? What experiments?” Tseng asked, pushing the subject, sounding a little more demanding than he should have. Vincent's eyes clouded, an angry glint in them, as he glared. The Turk was slightly taken aback by such a sharp change in demeanor.

 

“I asked you to leave,” he said, voice dangerous with warning.

 

“What did they do?” Tseng asked a little calmer, too stubborn to stop fighting the subject.

 

“Get out.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“Now.”

 

“Tell me.” Vincent stood, throwing his cape aside with one arm, eyes flashing.

 

“You want to know,” he murmured, taunting. “Then you shall find what you seek.” He almost doubled over gritting his teeth in pain as his hunched form grew, rippling with purple fur, his face contorting into a wolfish expression, glowing yellow eyes, long curved horns, and a shaggy crimson mane. His metallic claws turned into real claws, teeth gnashing, tail whipping. He snarled, bloodlust in his luminous eyes, hot breath snorting in his friend's face. He clambered out of his coffin, half on fours, hunched like some primitive creature evolving to walk on two legs. Tseng backed away hand on his pistol just in case, though he still didn't plan on using it.

 

`Dammit Vincent, don't make me do this.' He tried a reasoning tactic.

 

“You know Vincent, I thought once a long time ago that I……I loved you. But I guess I was wrong,” Tseng was playing with fire, which just so happened to be the Galian Beast's specialty.

 

It snorted, a grumbling in its throat as its tail swished back and forth like an angry cat.

 

“Maybe it's a good thing Lucrecia left you—” The beast roared. “—because no one could love a monster like you.” Vincent lunged, catching Tseng, who had been slowly backing up, in the doorway, teeth crunching around a dagger the Turk had pulled.

 

“And Vincent,” he continued as the beast growled and snarled, “I don't mean they didn't love you because of those mutated strains of DNA. I mean they didn't love you even before you <i>looked</i> like a beast.” The words were harsh and stung bitterly, but Vincent's hulking shoulders were too wide to fit the door. He howled in rage at his losses, a painful, pitiful howl of despair. Tseng apologized sincerely on the inside, but part of him was glad he had severed the bonds. If Vincent could ever hope to feel that was about him ever again, he'd think otherwise. And if Vincent could love a man as tactless and blunt, as insensitive and cold-hearted as he, then the poor ex-Turk would have done better pursuing his first love, Lucrecia.

 

 

<i><b>End</i></b>

 

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AN: Ok Other than a couple things off I know, I'm hoping I didn't go TOO far from what happened…. At least this is based on FF7 and Wikipedia knowledge XD *plots to get Dirge of Cerberus * The only things are, a minor one: Lucrecia was supposed to come in AFTER Hojo shot him… but yeah I apologized for that….

 

And the time frame… because the Turks that we know didn't exist when Vincent was in the Turks….. so just pretend they are….. or like I said once upon a time somewhere, pretend the Jenova cells have a very high cell reproduction rate in the fact that Sephiroth grew up in the span of a few years……