Restful Death

CHAPTER TWO

words in (( ... )) are words in electronic messages

A/N: I'm not sure I got the city names right but I'm too lazy to look
them up right now. If they're wrong, I'll fix them next time I post.
Also, thanks for the reviews, and I do know that about Vincent's glove,
I'm just going to say this story is a little AU in that I'm using it
as a plot device - that others, and maybe Vincent, don't realize that
yet...


Vincent took careful aim along the gun site, watching as the group of
people below him milled around the campfire, laughing and talking.
They were a tourist group, out of Costa del Sol, on a trip to see
‘famous sites of the last Battles.'

In other words, they were idiots.

These places were dangerous.

Very dangerous.

He held his breath for a long, gentle second, then relaxed and squeezed
the trigger.

Death Penalty roared, and a crouching beast on the far side of the
campsite exploded in a mess of blood and fur.

The tourists screamed and darted around and Vincent rolled his eyes.

Really, they were *idiots*! Anyone who looked could see the remains of
that beastie, there was no sense it acting like they were under attack!
He stood, slung the gun over his shoulder, and started drifting down
off the hillside.

Even with the downside of protecting idiots, this was a good job. For
him, anyway. It wasn't like he was leading the group; he'd been hired
to protect it from the Mako-infested creatures that roamed these
canyons. He got a pretty bounty for each one he shot, and mediocre
wages for tagging along after the group, making sure nothing and no
one attacked them.

There were bandits in these hills, too.

More idiots - why would anyone *willingly* live among these deadly
creatures?

He didn't have a problem, of course. He was far more deadly than
any of the monsters he hunted.

More of a freak, too, but he kept out of sight. So that wasn't a
problem. The people he protected knew he was there, they'd been told
he was there - but they rarely caught a glimpse of him and that was
the way he liked it.

He'd been forced to abandon the red cloak while working - it showed up
too brightly against the barren wasteland of these canyons. He'd spent
the few gil he had before he took the job on a long, greyish-brown coat
instead, used strips cut from the hem to tie back his hair. Now he
blended in with the darkness, invisible unless he wanted someone to
see him.

He hadn't wanted that, yet.

He reached the deceased Mako-beast and knelt, looking it over for a
convincing trophy to turn in at the bounty office. It looked like a
very large dog, all snarling teeth and claws, Mako eyes still glowing
green even in death. Its head was too big to carry around - this trip
had three days to go - but one of the feet with the six-inch bladed
claws would work very well. He used his own claws to slice it neatly
off, then scrubbed the blood away in the sand. Unslinging a small,
padded box from over his shoulder, he packed it away in dry ice along
with half a dozen other gruesome trophies.

"Val! Val, was that you?" The guide of the little tourist group, an
obnoxiously cheerful man named Sam, called out from the flickering
firelight. Vincent, knowing full well that his name was on the list
as a ‘war hero' - pppft! - had shortened it to ‘Val, just Val' when
he signed up for the job.

"Yes," he said quietly, knowing his voice would carry in the sudden
stillness. Sam must have got the idiots to shut up.

"Good." The tour guide moved closer, peering at the carcass in the
dark. "Oh, hey, that's a big ‘un! Gonna be a rich man, Val, you keep
this up!"

"Sam?! Is that our mysterious protector?" A feminine voice called
from the campsite. "Do bring him in so we can finally meet him!"

Sam peered questioningly at Vincent, who had very nearly flinched.
"Wanna go in? Got some pretty females on this trip." He leered
slightly.

Vincent shook his head. "There could be more of them - I need to
circle the camp, make sure."

"Oh, right. Yeah, do that. Don't want no problems like Guthrie's
Classic Tours had. Moron didn't hire nobody to watch, had three
tourist eaten first trip out." He shook his head and started moving
back toward the camp, calling out an answer to the inquiring voices.

Vincent sighed with relief and slid back into the darkness.


*


Cid Highwind grinned down at the empty coffin.

He *knew* Tifa was a liar.

Despite the fact that it had taken him days to find the hidden
chamber, he was completely pleased that Vincent wasn't inside this
box. The thought of anyone - but especially Vince - sleeping for
eternity made him sick to his stomach.

Of course, now he had to search all over the Planet to find a certain
red-cloaked gunman - but it was better than dragging him out of this
coffin and trying to convince him not to crawl back in. He glared
down at the metal rectangle for a moment, wondering if he should just
destroy it and be done?

No - there was always the future chance that Vincent would freak out
and try to get back into this place. As long as the coffin was here,
Cid would know where to come looking first.

Speaking of looking... He'd start with Midgar II, move on to Costa
del Sol...

Cid left the crypt and moved back up the stairs, mentally listing the
cities he would search. The Planet wasn't *that* big. Vince had to be
somewhere. Wouldn't be easy for someone with his looks to hide. Even
if people forgot he was beautiful, there was always the ruby eyes and
the golden claw. Vincent might hate those features, but they didn't
bother Cid.

And they were sure going to come in handy, now.


*


Cid left the ShinRa mansion and went back to the Highwind. He'd been
able to park it nearby - the entire place was deserted. He didn't
blame people - it was creepy here even in bright daylight.

The communications console next to the Pilot's chair was flashing a
frantic red light. He frowned and pressed a button, wondering who
would be sending him a message? Most people had no idea he'd left
Rocket Town.

(( Cid! )) Shera's voice filled the cabin and he scowled, almost
hitting the ‘delete' button without listening to what she had to say.
Ah, well, maybe he should let it play. Once. It might be about
business.

(( Cid, you need to call me! Your friend Cloud came by looking for
you, and as soon as he left, that girl Tifa came by looking for *him*.
What's going on, I thought he was the friend you were going to help?
Is there something else going on? Are you in some sort of trouble?
You know you can always depend on me to...))

Cid growled and hit the delete button. Annoying woman - like she
could help him out of the kind of trouble he usually got into! And
the whine that had entered her voice during those last sentences had
set his teeth on edge. If she'd been here, he might very well have
hit her. He'd never struck a woman in his life, but Shera was
jumping up and down on his last nerve. Had been for the past two
weeks. He'd had enough of her constant hovering behind his right
elbow, the badly-cooked meals she prepared, the half-assed seduction
attempts she kept trying.

Why couldn't she find some nice boring guy who wanted a nice boring
wife and settle down? And stop chasing after him when he'd made it
clear - to everyone *else* in Rocket Town, at least - that he wasn't
interested.

Never had been, never would be.

People had gone from avidly watching what might become a romance, to
feeling sorry for Shera, to shaking their heads sadly when they saw
her heading for his house. Some of them had started making gentle
fun of her - Shera only stared at them, with not a clue what the
teasing was for.

He was going to stop thinking about Shera now. He was gripping the
armrests so hard they were creaking.

He had a friend to find - maybe two friends.

What was up with Cloud?


*


A motorcycle pulled up at the ShinRa mansion about five minutes after
the Highwind had lifted off. The rider pushed his goggles back into
his spiky blond hair and stared at the patterns in the dust.

The big plane had definitely been here.

Beautiful blue eyes, glowing slightly with Mako energy, lifted to look
at the mansion. Had Cid found Vincent, taken him away?

There was only one way to find out. He got off the bike and went
inside.


*


Vincent reached the little shack he called home now and felt relieved.
Another tour over, a nice bounty collected, and three days to spend as
he wished before the next tour started. Sam had asked him if he wanted
to come into town and celebrate with the other guides, all of them
ready to blow their earnings on whiskey and women. Vincent had
carefully worded his refusal, made it sound like he had pressing
business when really all he had to do was turn in his trophies for
the gil.

The tiny house he'd found was about a ten minute walk outside Costa
del Sol, but it might as well have been in the middle of nowhere.
Thanks to a nicely situated hill, you couldn't see anything of the
city except for a glow in the sky late at night. Vincent, who'd
always valued his privacy and did so even more now, liked the place
very much.

The shack had taken some work - he'd been able to get it at a
ridiculously low rental price because of that, but a weekend with a
hammer and a stack of boards bought at the local lumberyard had fixed
it up nice enough for him. He didn't require anything fancy. Just a
roof that didn't leak, a bed to sleep in, and someplace to wash up.
The shack had contained a cot and a rusty old stove - he'd bought
blankets and stove black and that was very nearly all.

It was more than enough.

He put away his earnings in their hiding place and stretched out on
the doorstep, since the cabin didn't have a chair. The sun was just
setting, lighting up the small hills and valleys with shades of purple
and red.

It was nice, just sitting here, watching. No battles, no enemies
sneaking up on him, no scientists with needles and dark coffins.

Just air, and soft light, soothing balm to his rumpled soul. On
evenings like this, even the Chaos that tormented him inside was
quiet, still. He rarely even thought of Lucretia - she'd been his
sole focus while in the coffin, but outside of it his memories of
her were growing dim.

Perhaps if she'd loved him, in return, he wouldn't allow her to slip
away. But she hadn't, she'd loved her work, and perhaps even Hojo,
and treated the love he offered like it was some childish crush.

And he wondered, sometimes, if she hadn't known what Hojo planned to
do to him...

No. Lucretia might have been fixated on her research, to the point
of allowing Hojo to impregnate her with an experiment, but she'd been
a kind, caring woman and she would never agree to... to...

He shuddered, and forced his mind away.

He had to go back to the city tomorrow, pick up some supplies. It had
been too late to get them by the time he collected his wages. All the
stores had been closed, leaving only the bars open. He had no desire
to visit them. He needed a stash of food put back for the days the
weather was bad, needed a few extra shirts and another blanket
wouldn't hurt. And the stove kept smoking a little no matter what
he did to it; he was fairly certain that it needed a new stovepipe.

He kept thinking over his list until the last of the shuddering faded
away.


*


The shopping took longer than he had intended - he'd left for town at
noon and it was approaching dark when he got back to the shack.

There was something different about it - his senses went on high alert.
He set the crate of supplies down carefully and slung Death Penalty
off his shoulder. He used his foot to push the door open - *that's*
what was different, it had been unlatched and open a crack - and then
swung inside, gun ready.

A familiar form was sprawled over his cot, with a familiar grin on
his face, and a very familiar voice called out mockingly, "Hey, *Val*,
long time, no see!"