Forbidden Love
The Story of Vincent Valentine Chapter 7
The Puppets and the Puppeteers
By Leok
Planetary Year- 1904 --- 2/14 Nibelheim
When Vincent got back to the mansion, he was seven pounds
lighter. Sweating nightmares, endless movement, and carrying an ever
growing supply of subject bags behind him that collectively, weighed over
a ton in the end. He'd needed to rent the only working car in the town
to bring them all back. It had taken three trips, anyway.
Vincent was thoroughly pissed off. He had long since
decided he wouldn't be one of those nuts who talked to corpses. Sadly
enough, all this left him with was himself; or, more accurately, his
memories. A past of being victimized, altered only by making others
the victims was not a life one often enjoyed reflecting on... At least if
he had a heart.
He DID have a heart, after all. Thinking along these
lines had slowly put him on the track of "separated from Lucrecia" to "damn
that Hojo" to "damn the Shinra" to, of course, "damn the whole damn
world". Having gone through this cycle at least twice a day had left
him in less than a happy mood.
He had gotten back to the mansion, all bags in tow, labeled,
and prepared at four AM, the ninth year anniversary of his being kidnapped
by the Shinra. He had learned from experience that sleeping on this
night; regardless of how much attention he had paid to his calendar; left
him with the most horrible, screaming, past-life nightmares he could ever
have imagined. His solution? He didn't sleep. He manned
the coffee machine for his vigil, watching the sunrise Lucrecia had mentioned,
caffeine addling his brain on one end of the balance, as sleeplessness shook
the other.
"Hey! 'Morning Vincent! Welcome back!"
The mostly drained coffee cup dropped as though in slow motion,
as Vincent shot into the air in surprise. Vincent's quaking heart didn't
keep him from roaring out the loudest, most surprised stream of profanity
in his life.
Lucrecia yelped in surprise when the cup hit the floor, and
again when Vincent's nerves shattered. She bent down to pick up the
shattered pieces, and bonked heads with Vincent, who's voice had calmed,
giving way to embarrassment and adrenaline fueled reactions. "Go-good
morning, Lucrecia. Sorry about that." He said, heart, breath,
and mouth, still racing.
Lucrecia's own heart was starting to slow down, as Vincent
helped her clean up the coffee. "No problem, Vincent. Sorry I
startled you." She nervously laughed. "Guess you really aren't
that much of a morning person."
Vincent shook his head. "That's what happens when you
mix ten cups of coffee, bad memories, and-" He paused, glancing at
his watch. "-about forty sleepless hours."
"Forty hour-" Lucrecia murmured in surprise. "Why
didn't you sleep?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes it does."
He shook his head again. "Nine years ago, I was drafted,
that's all. There's another few cups in the machine, if you want
some. I'm gonna get to work." He walked away.
Lucrecia was stuck, as physical reactions, and three different
apologies stuck against her brain. By the time she was able to decide,
Vincent had already left the room. Lucrecia sighed, and poured a cup
of coffee. "I'm sorry." She whispered.
***
He certainly hadn't WANTED to do this, but Jenova had given
him the only choice. He had tested the subjects thoroughly. It
did work, at least. It was safe. He sighed, and mixed the beaker
again. He didn't need to test this formula out. It would
work, he knew. A few drops would get Lucrecia to come to him.
Then Jenova would have her vessel. Then, and only then, would Jenova
come to him, she had said. Hojo picked up the vial, and grinned as
it achieved the proper color. Lucrecia would give child. A child
not of her own, but of Hojo's... And Jenova's. Then he would
be complete.
***
Gast heard the laughter in the other room, and shuddered.
He was mad. That was all. Absolutely, utterly, helplessly
insane. He crossed the mansion, to Vincent's bedroom. With a
sharp push on a single stone, he opened the door into the Sanctuary.
Gast wasn't much older than he looked, but this house was. He had been
born in Nibelheim. He knew everything about it. Everything.
He walked down the old stairs, into his grandfather's library. The
old man, and his son, had both been, if not scientists, then researchers.
They had both written with frightening punctuality small diary entries about
their scientific progress. Gast had done the same. But he'd done
a lot more of it. He'd copied down his entire knowledge of Jenova,
and moved it down here, amidst the hundreds of other books. Suddenly,
he realized he hadn't closed the door behind him. He ran back up the
stairs, and closed them. He didn't see Hojo's shadow darting away from
his line of site, as he shut the ancient, camouflaged door.
***
Everything was happening so quickly. Then again, without
a proper host, it was difficult for Jenova to keep a firm grasp on time.
All Jenova knew, or felt, was that it was all coming into play. Wherever
Jenova was, whoever Jenova was around, they were all working, willingly or
unwillingly, to Jenova's ends. Her conquest would come soon.
"The mood is about to change." -- Tazz
(God knows why I put this down. Oh well. All the great artists
were insane.)
.