Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Ice ❯ And so we meet... ( Chapter 2 )

 

Chapter Two: And So We Meet…

 

Vincent strode through the town, keeping his body well hidden and trying his best to mask his emotions. He could not help but flinch at the looks that some of the townspeople gave him. Parents protecting their children from the menace of the tall, blood-clad gunman, he supposed. These thoughts only served to draw further into himself, crimson eyes casting out for someplace to be alone.

 

There was not much to the small out-of-the-way village, for which Vincent was grateful. He supposed that had it been a bustling town, he would have gotten more in the way of frightened stares and probably a few attempts on his life. He sighed, his mind returning to when Cloud and the others had awakened him not so long ago. They should have left him sleeping in that coffin, in that living grave, for all eternity. He had much to atone for, and if living nightmare after nightmare in eternal torment was not enough, well…he did not know what else to do.

 

Vincent's black boot clad feet carried him swiftly in no particular direction, though unconsciously he migrated towards the rusting rocket gleaming dingily in the midday sun.

 

`How many dreams were lost and stolen with the failure of this project?' he wondered grimly, looking at the leaning tower of ages past. But it was there that he would find his solace.

 

Why had he chosen to remain with Cloud's group anyway? To slay Hojo and only that? Would he return to his slumber after that task was complete? Would Lucrecia's death be avenged? No. Sleeping in a coffin was far too good a fate for him. He would have to find another way to atone, for his sin was too great…too much to ever be released.

 

He found the old creaking stairs partially hidden behind a rather large tree. He briefly wondered if the townsfolk were trying to hide their failure… or protect it, before he took a step onto the rusting metal stairs. They swayed for a moment under his weight and he froze, waiting to see if they would collapse. But no, the old stairs of times past simply creaked quietly and accepted their fate. Smiling sardonically, though none could see beneath the cloak, he began his ascent. Perhaps within the fallen dreams and ancient metal, maybe surrounded by someone else's failure, he could find just a moment's peace.

 

Or perhaps not.

 

Either way, he could be without Cloud's idiocy for a while.

 

He knew he would return to the group eventually, having no quicker way to find Hojo. Yet, sometimes, the foolishness behind the young man's mako eyes irritated him to no end. And Tifa's bubbly personality seemed so fake to the gunman. Barret cursed far too much for his liking. Yuffie was more than annoying - bordering on the edge of insanity - kleptomaniac. He had no qualms with the fire wolf, Nanaki - Red XIII, whatever he chose his name to be - for he, it, was quiet and did not bother him. Aeris… well, he had no arguments about her either. She was an entirely different story.

 

The stairs groaned as he climbed steadily but did not break. He kept his hands on the railing even as he walked without really paying attention, pale flesh right hand on one side, golden sharp metal claw on the other…

 

His punishment… his fate… for meddling in the affairs of one mad scientist. The cool metal of his left arm, he wasn't sure whether or not he really had an arm under there or not - he had not had the courage to look, scraped against the rotting metal of the stairs. It knocked off random flakes of coppery dust as he climbed, making him think that the rails were crying dry tears of blood… painful tears of a forgotten and lost hope.

 

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of his thoughts even as his long black hair slid into his face, concealing much of his features as the headband had slipped out of place. He stood at the top of the stairs, outside the entrance to the interior of the rocket, and looked out over the town. It seemed so much smaller, so much more forlorn, from his vantage at the rocket. With quick fingers, he redid the headband across his forehead, pulling back just enough of his hair that he could see. He was so used to it being short, but Vincent was not sure why he kept it long even now… he could have cut it.

 

Placing a cautious hand on the Sniper CR at his side, finger curled around the trigger, Vincent stepped through the doorway of the abandoned ShinRa project and into the gloom. His eyes adjusted quickly, being as light or dark made no difference to him.

 

`My blessing and my curse…that damned mako…' he thought to himself, his own mind lost in his thoughts.

 

“Goddamned ShinRa, better not be jerking me around this time or they will find a spear up their asses for sure…can't stand that sneaky little bastard Rufus…”

 

Vincent's crimson eyes widened when he realized that he was not alone in the rocket. He unconsciously pulled out his gun, aiming for the figure bent down in front of him, back to him, messing around in the wires and such behind a small panel.

”Eh?” questioned the man gruffly, turning to glance over his shoulder. His sky blue eyes were startling even as they peeked out from under unruly short blonde hair. A barely lit cigarette clung between his lips, bouncing up and down with his words as if by magic. “What the hell are you doing in my fucking rocket?” demanded the man.

 

Vincent only stared at him, gun pointed at the man's head, unwavering in its solidness.

 

“Hey, I am fucking talking to you!” cursed the older man, rising to his feet and angrily turning around to face the crimson cloaked gun man. “This is my damn rocket and you had better get the hell out of here!”

 

“This is your rocket?” asked Vincent slowly, lowering his gun but not holstering it.

 

“Damn right it is! Second in pride only to the Highwind, but damn ShinRa took that from me too!” muttered the man, his eyes brightening for only a moment before they dimmed. He took a puff of his cigarette, inhaling the nicotine gratefully.

 

Vincent appeared to think on this for a moment. Damn. He was going to have to find a better place to be alone now. Curse this man, whoever the hell he was.

 

“Put that damn weapon away and let me tell you a story!” ordered the man gruffly, tapping his hand at his side, gesturing towards the weapon that he now carried. Vincent was not even sure when he remembered the man having grabbed the long unadorned spear. He now tried to determine whether or not the stranger was a threat.

 

Vincent stared at the man, crimson eyes flicking from the goggles on his head, to the cigarette in his mouth, the blue flying jacket that he wore over his arms, and back to the sky blue irises yet again. Determining that the man was not a danger to him, Vincent shrugged and holstered the gun. He decided he would listen to the man's story as he leaned against the side of the rocket's hallway, looking as nonchalant as possible.

 

He lifted an eyebrow in questioning, though he wasn't sure if the blonde stranger could see it.

 

“Rocket town's dreams were built upon this rocket. All the hopes and aspirations of everyone centered on this baby making it up into space…” And so the man began to tell his story, interspersed with cursing, and blames on the ShinRa. Vincent listened patiently, finding something that he at least was not to blame for.

 

“However, all that is null and void because Rufus is supposed to be coming back today to reinstitute the space program!” finished the man happily, taking another deep drag on his cigarette.

 

Those words caught the dark-haired man's attention, “You said Rufus is coming here today?” Vincent questioned. Cloud would be very interested to find this out…not that he cared.

 

“Hell yeah! Finally, someone with aspirations unlike his bastard father! Kinda glad some SOLDIER look-a-like killed him.”

 

“Excuse me,” said Vincent, inclining his head only slightly. “I must be going now.”

 

“Whatever.” The man shrugged, turning his back to Vincent and returning to working on the wires in the rocket, muttering to himself about ShinRa and rockets and space and mysterious gunmen dressed in red.

 

Vincent turned and hurriedly left from the rocket, heading for the inn. ShinRa was coming to this pathetic excuse for a town and Vincent doubted that it was because of the rocket like that fool thought… another dashed dream courtesy of ShinRa politics. There had to be some other reason for Rufus to be coming here, and he would bet all his gil, which frankly wasn't much, that Sephiroth had something to do with it.

 

Sephiroth… now that was a name that sparked many feelings within the gunman, none of which were good. He was absolutely certain by what the others had said, that this Sephiroth was Lucrecia's child. The signs were all there. Yet, another sin to add to his growing list. He should have protected her better… he should have dragged her out of that town no matter what she wanted… he should have shot that damn Hojo bastard when he had the chance.

 

Vincent shook his head gruffly, trying to clear his dire thoughts. Right now, it did him no good. They were better suited for tormenting himself when he was alone, not making himself look a fool in public…

 

`You will always look a fool, no matter what you think you may do…'

 

Chaos… that demon that lived within him, he and the three others, taunting him always, speaking to him even if he tried to ignore them. Chaos wasn't strong enough to manifest yet, not like Galian, but soon enough he would be, and Vincent wasn't sure if he could control him. Just another atonement to add to his sins, the price he paid for his faults, this broken body of monsters.

 

Finally, he saw the inn, his thoughtful march taking him exactly where he needed to go. He did not hesitate in the slightest as he entered the inn, nearly wincing at the horrified look the clerk behind the counter gave him.

 

“Which is Cloud Strife's room?” he asked with no introduction, only expecting a quick and efficient answer.

 

The clerk stumbled, looking all of fifteen. He probably should not even be working yet, his rich parents probably owning the inn. He stuttered as he answered, “I… I am sorry sir… but our records are private and…” Vincent's crimson eyes narrowed, about ready to respond when Cloud's easily recognized voice came from the balcony above.

 

“He is with us,” Cloud said, leaning over the railing of the second floor and looking down at the two of them. He flashed Vincent one of what he considered charming smiles and gestured that he climb the stairs and join them.

 

Shooting the desk clerk one scathing glance, Vincent turned on his heels and climbed the stairs, stopping when he reached Cloud.

 

“Well, you decided to return did you?” commented Cloud, frowning upon the gunman, his earlier smile gone.

 

“Look, Strife,” began Vincent impatiently, “do you want to know about ShinRa or not?” He folded his arms and glared at the young man, another contest of wills developing between the two.

 

Cloud turned on his heels and made motions for Vincent to follow him. Sighing softly, the crimson-eyed man did as he was told, catching up to walk beside his leader.

 

“Well, what did you find out?”

 

“ShinRa is coming here, today, on the premise that they are reinstituting the space program.”

 

Cloud snorted. “I believe that.”

 

“The pilot of the rocket told me its story before informing me that he was supposed to meet Rufus at some point today, probably at his home. I was under the impression that he lived in town.”

 

Cloud appeared to muse quietly, one black gloved hand placed on his chin, before responding aloud, “That explains the empty house then…”

 

“…” Vincent did not respond, having considered his job done for the moment.

They now stood in front of one of the few doors lining the small inn. Vincent stepped forward as if to go in, ahead of Cloud, when he felt an arm grip his right. He turned swiftly, glaring at the spiky-headed teen. Cloud flinched but did not release him.

 

“If you are going to travel with us, I will not have you undermining me,” hissed Cloud dangerously.

 

Vincent jerked his arm free, and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh? And what would you do then?” he questioned.

 

Cloud relinquished his hold on Vincent's arm only to reach over his shoulder and tap on the hilt of his sword, his meaning obvious. “I do not fear you, Vincent.”

 

The gunman narrowed his blood-red eyes. “That will be your mistake, Strife,” he simply stated before turning the knob on the door and walking into the room. Shaking his head and sighing, Cloud followed after him.

 

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