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The sickly glow that covered the city of Midgar, whether day or night, still remained. And outside in the midst of all that ugliness and upon the roof of her tavern was Tifa, the only beautiful thing amongst the unpleasant underground world. She somehow managed to climb up the porch and balance nimbly upon the roof's edge, her long legs dangling carelessly over and into the misty air. Perhaps she thought that if she climbed up high enough she could escape this world and see the sky.
That possibility, though, seemed bleak. She would not get her glimpse of the heavens today.
Tifa had to pick that spot, of all spots to choose. Vincent guessed it was because it posed something of a challenge. After all, Tifa seemed the girl who took chances and challenges with the most stubborn of outlooks.
Vincent sighed and craned his head upward, his long hair spilling down his shoulders like dark colored raindrops. He didn't know if she saw him there, peering upwards wisely. He didn't really care either. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. Without another thought on the matter, Vincent easily ascended the old wooden porch, climbing over the roof's edge and seating himself besides the seemingly oblivious girl.
Tifa carefully looked over the edge of the roof, her long hair coming loose in the breeze that peered down with her. "Long way down."
Vincent, however, was looking upwards to that cold, pipe-covered sky. "Long way up, if you could fly." Tifa glanced up at him curiously, but Vincent did not answer that question within her eyes. He turned his head to meet with her gaze. "Tifa, you baffle me."
"Why is that?" She asked tersely. She wasn't quite in the mood for Vincent's remarks. Barret's were enough for the day.
"You seemed so insistent that I find your Cloud Strife, but when I ask you for the information I need in order to find him, you run away. Is that how you plan to deal with this?" Vincent answered calmly, ignoring her sudden snippy tone.
Tifa pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. She regretted ever taking off her nice, warm coat, for the air seemed chillier the higher up she went. Funny, it had been so warm the morning before. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm not angry with you."
"So just who are you angry with?"
Again, Tifa found herself at a loss of words. Who was she angry with? Barret? Cloud? Herself? Instead of answering Vincent she merely glanced at him, then back down at the ground, looking a million feet below them now. She couldn't give him an answer when the question seemed so impossibly difficult. Tifa shook in the sudden breeze and she simply said, "I don't know." Before she looked at him, curious of what his expression read, if anything, she felt something warm being draped around her.
Tifa glanced down at Vincent's cloak, which fit clumsily over her shoulders, and she smiled slightly. It was too big for her. "Thank you."
From the corner of her vision she thought she saw him smile as well.
And if he indeed was smiling, it surely faded when he finally spoke again. "Do you love him?"
Tifa turned her head slowly towards him as he spoke. As strange as it sounded, part of her was waiting for when someone would finally ask that question. And those simple words stirred within her a mix of emotions that she didn't wish to feel at the moment. Cloud. He meant Cloud. Do I love him? What kind of question is that...? She looked at Vincent, and for the first time actually looked at him. She never really saw his face before with that strange cloak of his always covering the bottom of it. She watched him, even thinking him handsome, but quickly looked away, like she feared that he could somehow read her thoughts.
"Yes. I do." Even as Tifa answered, though her words sounded sure, her eyes held uncertainty.
Vincent raised his eyebrows and looked generally surprised. "Really? Are you sure?"
"Am I sure?" Tifa repeated his words with an edge of exasperation. "I'm positive."
Vincent kept his gaze upon the girl, never once looking elsewhere. She couldn't fool him. She could fool herself, perhaps even her friends, but not him. Vincent knew what he saw in her eyes. "You don't even know. In fact, I think you are confused."
"Confused?" Tifa laughed, a bitter, nearly harsh sound. Vincent sensed a bit of panic as well, as if she was afraid that he might be right. But she masked her fear nicely with anger. "What do you know of love? If you were always as cold as you are now you probably know very little of it." Tifa pursed her lips tightly and looked away from him. "I know how I feel."
A small frown touched Vincent's face. "Love?" She heard him scoff and his tone turned suddenly from indifferent to something she couldn't quite decipher. "Every time you speak his name you look miserable. Every time I ask about him you look as if you will cry. And - though I am not certain, but stop me if I am wrong, Miss Lockheart - you most likely feel terrible every time you think of him. If you believe that's what love is, you are terribly mistaken."
He watched her with his piercing eyes, his voice sounding angry now, and she found herself unable to look towards him. Tifa was afraid that if she did she would see something more than irritation in his eyes. Concern, maybe? All Tifa knew was that she thought herself happy loving a shadow of a man that perhaps was never there to begin with. And who was Vincent to tell her otherwise?
"You know nothing about me," Tifa simply said. "So don't tell me who I do and do not love." She pulled his cloak around her tightly, like she wanted to hide herself within it. Tifa probably would have given it back to him to somehow prove her point, but she was too cold to even think that a possibility.
Vincent stood up, moving silently with the fog and the shadows. Without his blood red cloak around him he was nearly impossible to see. Only his scarlet eyes showed well through the mist, much like Tifa imagined the eyes of a ghost would. Those two wraithlike orbs disappeared when he closed his eyes.
"I know plenty about you, Tifa. That is my job, after all. I observe people. I get inside their heads. That is how I learn about them." Without another word, her bounty hunter vanished into the fog.
Tifa lowered her head, hunching over slightly, and what little part of her was not enveloped by Vincent's cloak disappeared now beneath it. "People aren't always what they seem, Vincent..."
*
Vincent walked alongside Barret, holstering his guns and glancing toward the big man. Vincent moved so silently that if it were not for the clicking of the guns fitting into their holsters, Barret would never have heard him there.
They had left Tifa's 7th Heaven once the fog thinned to the midday sun, not that any of them could actually see the sun. Barret said he would escort - in all its sense - Vincent and Cid to the places that Cloud used to hang around, to Barret's knowledge. Wedge came along, but Biggs and Jessie stayed behind with Marlene. Jessie had objected again, as usual, and Biggs... Biggs was Biggs; silent, seemingly displeased Biggs, who hadn't said a word to Vincent and Cid since they had arrived. In fact, he hadn't said a word to anyone. It was well assumed that he disliked Tifa's idea as much as Barret, if not more.
Barret regarded Vincent with a nod. He accepted him it seemed, not that Vincent cared. Still, it was good to know. Vincent's arms fell beneath his red cloak again and he turned his head to Barret, strands of his black hair falling before his eyes.
"Somethin' botherin' you, bounty hunter?" Barret glanced at Vincent, but wouldn't hold the man's gaze.
"Cloud Strife," Vincent simply said.
Barret kept his eyes straight forward, watching Tifa a few feet ahead of them. She was walking next to Wedge and even though the seemingly content, stout man was talking to her, she stayed quiet; Tifa was another world away, where Wedge's voice could not be heard.
"She didn't tell you?"
"She was vague on that subject."
Barret chuckled ruefully, shaking his head, as if to dismiss an unwanted thought. "I never trusted that jackass. Never, since the moment I laid eyes on 'im."
"Tifa loved him." Vincent couldn't help a small smile at those words. Loved? He was certain that Tifa didn't know a damn thing about love. "Wasn't that enough?"
"You're a smart man, Vincent. You know that's not enough. It's never enough. Not in'a world like this..." Barret ran his left hand over his black, closely cropped hair. "People change."
Vincent paused for a moment, thinking of things that his big companion could never grasp, and something flickered in those red orbs of his. Perhaps it was understanding. Maybe it was even sympathy for a girl who thought love could conquer all. "He wasn't the trustworthy type?"
Barret snorted, shook his head again and looked at the back of Tifa's head. "Damned if I know. He just showed up outta nowhere some years back. I let 'im stay 'cause of Tifa. He was her childhood friend or somethin'." Barret grunted his disapproval of the past. "But he used to work for ShinRa - hell, used to be in Solider! First Class, or some shit like that..."
"You thought he would betray you?"
"He was only interested in the money, nothin' else. We're in the damn Slums... and we don't got money like those ShinRa bastards..." The big man sighed, eyes trained on Tifa. She bowed her head after he spoke, but he couldn't tell if it was because she overheard them, or simply because she was lost in her own thoughts of what once was.
"You don't think he was taken." It wasn't a question and Vincent watched Barret watch Tifa, no change in his icy calm voice. Barret had hinted this earlier, but for the sake of understanding Vincent merely repeated what was already obvious. "You think he rejoined ShinRa."
A nod.
Barret finally looked at Vincent. "I wouldn't put anythin' passed 'im."
"Did you tell Tifa that?"
Barret's eyes softened, as they usually did when he spoke of Tifa. "Yeah... I told her. She got angry, I knew she would, but I told her anyway. I've known her a long time, Vincent. A damn long time. He hurt her once before... and I won't let 'im hurt her again." Barret said sharply. Once Wedge glanced back at the pair, he lowered his voice. "But even though Tifa got mad at me for thinkin' that..." The big man looked terribly uncomfortable and he kept his left arm over his right, as if he expected something to happen. "I think that deep down... deep down she knows I might be right."
He stabbed a finger at Vincent, all his awkwardness of the subject seeming to melt away. "And if I'm right, you and that Cid ain't gonna be rescuing anyone. You're gonna be huntin' him instead. Got that?"
Hunting. It didn't sound right in Vincent's ears. He wasn't going after a deer; he was tracking a ghost. A damn ghost. Vincent didn't answer the big man's remarks and he found himself suddenly wondering what Tifa would think of that. But his eyes revealed nothing to Barret, and the men remained silent as they walked side by side, falling into easy step with one another.
Finally, without looking at Vincent, Barret broke the uneasy silence. "What happened to your arm?"
As if in response Vincent's left arm moved slightly, but the bounty hunter didn't speak. It was almost like he hadn't heard Barret's question. Then he smiled. He actually smiled. It was small and cynical, but it was nevertheless a smile. Barret didn't know whether to be annoyed at that or disturbed.
"What the hell's so damn funny?" Barret's brow furrowed and he glared at Vincent. "Are you gonna tell me about your arm or what?"
"I could ask the same of you."
Barret felt his own lips quirk upward. He had him there. "Hell, I should've saw that comin'..." The big man laughed, but it seemed empty and devoid of any real mirth. He glanced down at the dirt-covered ground, kicking up more dust with his foot as they walked. "I gave it up tryin' to save Marlene's father. Her real father." Barret's voice was strangely quiet and he frowned as he looked at Vincent, everything the big man felt about Marlene becoming painfully obvious in his eyes. He loved Marlene more than life itself. "She doesn't know. So keep your damn mouth closed an' don't say anything 'round her."
ShinRa had something to do with it, Vincent was certain, so he didn't bother himself with asking. Instead, he simply nodded. "That's why you fight, isn't it? You fight for her."
Barret looked away from Vincent and up towards the sky, the misty and hard to see sky, as if he wished to find some comfort there. Pipes were all he found. The holes allowed some sunlight through, but the neon signs and flashing lights hindered the heaven's natural glow. "I'm all she has..." Then his face hardened, like he thought Vincent might have meant something else by that comment. "Yeah, I fight for her. You gotta problem with that?"
"I suppose that is a good thing. When you have something to fight for..." Vincent let his words trail off, and Barret couldn't tell if it was done on purpose or because the bounty hunter simply had nothing more to say on the matter.
Barret grunted. "And?"
"And what?"
"Whatcha mean 'and what'? What happened to your damn arm?"
Vincent moved his robotic hand warily. As much as he hated it, nearly despised it some days, he had to admit that it was useful at times. He didn't know how to explain to Barret what had happened without going into a long and detailed story. The big man may have been willing to tell his tale, but Vincent... Finally, thinking of the only word that could possibly some up all of his anger and all of his despair, Vincent merely said, "Hojo."
The big man's frown deepened. What kind of explanation was that...? Hojo? Hojo... Barret knew he heard that name before, somewhere. He looked at Vincent with questioning eyes, those same eyes suddenly widening with realization. "ShinRa." He whispered.
Vincent, however, remained silent. And Barret said nothing more. Vincent's reluctance on that particular subject was easy to see, even to someone who didn't bother themselves with the details of profound emotions. While Barret's hatred dwelled more with the entire corporation of ShinRa, rather than a singular person, Vincent's lingered on one particular man. Of course Barret knew that it couldn't possibly be that simple. But rather than start an argument at a time when other people's needs came first, Barret said nothing.
"What? No smiles today?" Cid's voice ventured from somewhere behind Vincent and Barret. No doubt he had been listening to their conversation, but Vincent's mind was on something else at the moment and he barely registered Cid being there. Barret, on the other hand, grunted and frowned, but otherwise remained quiet.
Cid puffed out smoke from his cigarette and his warm breath upon the cold air made the misty cloud grow larger. "Where the hell are we going, anyway? It's too damn cold to be runnin' around like this..."
Barret turned his head toward Cid, now coming up on the other side of Vincent, and scowled again. "You gotta problem? Go back to the bar and wait there!" The big man stormed off towards Tifa and Wedge, a little further ahead.
"What's with him?" Cid took his cigarette from out his mouth, looked it over within his fingers, judged whatever was left of it and placed it back between his trembling lips. "Shit, it's cold." He shoved his hands within his pockets and hunched over slightly, as if that somehow would make him warmer. "Why did it get so cold all of a sudden? It was so damn warm the night before..." Cid looked over at his companion in wonder, bumping his shoulder into Vincent's to get his attention. "Vin?"
At the same moment Cid's shoulder grazed against him, Vincent's hands were inside his cloak, wrapped tightly around his guns, and out in the cold air of morning again. Cid didn't need a response from Vincent; the looked within the man's red eyes was enough. Vincent stopped walking and nodded to Cid wordlessly for him to go ahead to Barret and the others. Without objection Cid obeyed.
There were plenty of small streets and alleyways, curving and slinking away from the main street and walkway they were upon, hiding themselves easily in the shadows of tall and lofty buildings; simple enough for someone to disappear in without being noticed by anybody. Anybody, that is, that wasn't Vincent. By now Cid had gotten Barret, Tifa and Wedge to stop somewhere ahead of Vincent and they were in a strange sort of semi-circle, looking at Vincent with questioning eyes. He paid no attention to them. Something else of far greater importance was behind them now.
They were being followed.
Vincent smiled dryly. Bastard. Whoever he was, he had been following them for quite some time and seemed to be well skilled at keeping himself hidden. It was sheer luck that Vincent happened to see the shadowy reflection gliding across the glass of some window a few feet back. He might have seen it earlier if it was not for that conversation with Barret that had distracted him. So where was this mysterious shadow now? Vincent spun around slowly, his ears straining to hear anything out of the ordinary and his eyes picking through each indistinguishable shadow.
Nothing.
Barret inched closer to Vincent and the faint clicking of his gun-arm seemingly echoed in the street and off of the glass walls of stores. Why was it so vacant? There should have been at least a few cars and people about this morning. Tifa worked the kinks out of her neck and held up her fists, poised and ready for battle. It was the first time that Vincent noticed Tifa's actual weapon; her fingerless gloves did well in hiding the dark metal wrapped around them. Cid cursed at his lack of weapon, quickly glanced around the street and picked up one of the many metal pipes lying about. It would have to do for the moment. Wedge, however, was not quite as adept as Cid and his fellow companions. He sighed and simply stayed behind Cid.
Vincent looked away from them. This man was outnumbered by five - well, four, since Wedge was pretty much useless. The bounty hunter cursed under his breath. Wedge should have stayed at the bar. He would only get in the way here. Why did that fool have to insist on coming-?
"Vincent!"
Vincent was brought from out his musings by Tifa's urgent cry. He snapped his head around in time to see something sharp and gray whisk skillfully towards his head. Vincent jerked backwards in time to barely miss the metal object. He jumped back again, just to be sure.
"Where the hell did that come from?" Vincent scarcely heard Cid, who was now by Vincent's side, along with the rest of their faithful companions, and was holding his crude weapon like a baseball bat.
Vincent smiled slightly. What the hell was Cid going to do with that metal bat? Hit baseballs? Never mind the fact that Cid had lost his lance in some rigged game of poker against some nameless people a while back. Vincent would gladly remind Cid of that after the fight was over. More important things came first, however.
Vincent nodded to Cid, who mirrored the gesture and pulled Wedge in one direction while Vincent, Barret and Tifa went in the other. There were plenty of arched and shadowy places to hide, but just as the maze of distorted buildings aided to their protection, it also helped to hide their pursuers.
"There's more than one," Vincent said as he kneeled down behind the corner of the alleyway he and his small group of two had fled towards. He peered around the building and searched whatever area his eyes allowed him to see. "Perhaps the one following us was simply a scout."
"Yeah, and maybe you don't know what the hell you're talkin' 'bout." Barret grumbled, poking his head around the building then quickly ducking behind again with Vincent.
Vincent ignored the big man. He knew Barret would grudgingly listen, despite his reservations about him. He had no other choice, after all. "Someone's on the roof. Another is close to Cid. And if they are smart then another should be coming towards us, blocking our other escape."
Barret closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he no longer seemed as reluctant as before. "Fine. Let's say you're right. There's still more of us then them."
Is there? Vincent mused. He had no way of telling from this position.
It would be simple enough for Vincent to scale the building's wall, kill the man upon the roof, while finishing up just in time to see Cid take out the second. Then both men could meet up and easily dispose of the third without breaking a sweat. In fact, Vincent would rather have it that way. But there were other people here to think of. And sometimes strength in numbers was greatly overrated. Vincent wasn't used to working in a group of more than two and he had no idea how well or how poorly Avalanche fought. He would have to get used to them, he supposed. In the past it had taken Vincent some time to get used to Cid as well... Vincent almost smiled in remembrance of a time that seemed a lifetime ago. If Cid wasn't the most pigheaded, disrespectful -
"Hey, you listenin', bounty hunter?"
Slightly exasperated, Vincent glanced over his shoulder at the big man. Barret looked clearly ruffled about something. Of course Vincent paid him no mind. What was Barret asking about again? Being outnumbered or something? Vincent sighed. If it was simply Cid and himself Vincent was positive the battle would go smooth and clean. Tifa would listen, he was certain, but Barret was another story. And Wedge. Wedge was as useful as that big and cumbersome metal pole in Cid's hands. Cid... Where exactly was Cid and Wedge?
Before Vincent had the chance to answer Barret, if he indeed intended to, some human shaped shadow ran passed the corner of his vision, somewhere in the back of the alley where darkness was an opaque shield. Damnit... Vincent's eyes briefly scanned the alleyway, then he looked to Tifa, and their gazes locked for a moment. Did she see it, too? His scarlet orbs darted back to the shadows. It could have been anything. But knowing their luck, it was most likely another of those mysterious men. Vincent peered around the corner once again.
"Fine," he whispered, though he knew those men couldn't possibly hear him, "we'll do it your way..." Vincent nodded back to Barret. "Cover me." Barret looked to object in his usual manner, but Vincent was racing off before the big man could even open his mouth.
Vincent ran out into the street, hoping to draw the attention to him. That would give his "cover" the chance to act - and quickly. Guns in both hands and moving in a slow circle Vincent could easily count the number of men now. One on the roof; one south, down the street; two more in the opposite direction; one more slinking around in the darkness - if he was indeed correct about that shadow he had seen. Five men. Five mysterious men dressed in neatly pressed blue suites and nicely combed hair (with the exception of one, who had his head shaved).
"Turks." Vincent spat. If they were any other men Vincent would take them out easily. But the Turks were different. The ShinRa men could mirror his moves without much trouble.
The Turk with the shaved head, which was presumably the leader of this mission, turned to his fellow companion and whispered something. But by the time both of the Turks looked back to the middle of the street, Vincent was gone. The lead Turk seemed a bit surprised, but overall kept his calm demeanor; that is, until a bullet ricocheted off of the asphalt by his feet. The lead Turk yelled something and he and his companion took shelter behind a parked car. With another hand gesture from his leader, the Turk down the street disappeared as well. More bullets were let loose and Barret jumped out from behind the cover of the alleyway, screaming and firing his gun-arm. The two Turks were more than glad to return his fire once Barret stopped shooting like a madman.
"Goddamn ShinRa!" Barret growled, lowering his weapon and ducking behind the building's wall, just in time to miss the Turk's bullets.
Tifa, however, remained quiet as she quickly scanned the streets for any sign of Vincent, Cid or Wedge. She shifted on her feet impatiently. Close combat was more of her style of fighting, especially since she had no long-ranged weapon. "Where - ?"
Barret grabbed Tifa's arm forcefully and pulled her to the side; a body came tumbling down where she had once stood a few seconds earlier. Barret guessed the bullet between the dead Turk's eyes was courtesy of Vincent Valentine. His guess was proven correct when Vincent jumped down besides Barret and Tifa, one of his gun's still smoking slightly. He tucked his second gun away under his cloak, quickly checked his ammunition to the first gun and snapped everything back in place before Tifa and Barret could speak a word to him. Vincent was off again, ducking behind some parked car a little ways out from the alleyway.
"Shit..." Barret couldn't contain his smile of grudging respect for the bounty hunter. But that small grin vanished with his next words and the rather disturbing thought that soon followed, "he moves like one of them." He didn't think anymore of it, though, and followed where Vincent had went. Once the big man was crouched down behind the rusting car, and the rain of Turk bullets paused briefly, he motioned for Tifa to follow.
But before the girl could step out from the shelter of the alleyway, however, Barret was standing up again and he shouted her name. Tifa didn't get the chance to turn around to see why. The only thing she did see was Vincent's arm, and some distant part of her mind could hear the loud, throbbing noise of bullets as they whisked passed her ear. Tifa and Vincent fell into the wall together. Tifa barely had had the chance to catch her breath when Vincent's metal arm slipped around her waist and pulled her behind one of the trash cans in the alley. Two more bullets bounced off of the metal of the garbage can.
Vincent was eternally grateful for whatever the hell possessed someone to put those trash cans there.
Barret yelled something again but his voice was drowned out by his own gun-arm and the weapons of the Turks. Vincent thought he heard Cid's voice as well, but he couldn't be sure. He peered around the garbage can and ducked back quickly when another bullet pierced the ground near his boot. He glanced swiftly at Tifa and noticed her rather annoyed expression. And he had to smile, despite the fact that he knew it would only annoy her more so. Tifa could do nothing at this moment and was in the same situation as Vincent could only assume Cid and Wedge were in. With no long-ranged weapons they couldn't fight the Turks as Barret and himself could.
Vincent nodded back to the girl. "Need a gun?"
Tifa smiled slightly. "A gun? That's not a very lady-like weapon, Vincent."
When the Turk that had surprised the pair paused to reload his gun, Tifa stepped out from behind the trash cans and put one well placed foot in his gut. Then she pivoted quickly and with her other foot kicked the man in his ribs. She was rewarded with a loud cracking sound, which echoed in the small alleyway moments after, and with her metal wrapped fist Tifa dislocated the Turk's jaw. The man never saw it coming. In fact, the only thing he did see was the ground as it came rushing towards him.
"Damn!" Cid's voice could be heard as he paused by the opening of the alleyway, obviously just in time to catch Tifa's crushing blows to the unsuspecting Turk, who now lay badly mangled and unconscious on the ground. The ex-pilot smiled and looked as if he was going to comment further, but Barret's muscular arm shot out from behind the parked car and pulled Cid back, saving him from an onslaught of bullets. When Vincent looked again he saw Wedge on the other side of Barret.
Two Turks down.
"The friggin' bastard's gotta sword!" Cid spat and jumped back when one of the Turks braved Barret's gun-arm in order to cause more damage to the three Avalanche members and their bounty hunters. Cid matched the Turk's long blade with his metal pole and was able enough to parry most of the blows. The Turk, however, was unimpressed by the ex-pilots skills and was aware of his own advantage. His swings and stabs toward Cid became more wild and reckless.
Barret was too occupied by the lead Turk's firing to do anything to help Cid and he yelled out when the lead Turk's bullet grazed his lower leg, which had been peeking out from behind the parked car. Slamming his gun-arm on the vehicle, and denting the already rusty metal further, Barret ceased firing. It didn't seem to make a difference. He kept wasting bullets firing at shadows that were too quick to be hit. Better to save his ammunition for something that he could actually see. Barret peered over the car to where Cid and the Turk with the flaming red hair now were sparring. Cid looked visibly freaked and several cuts and slashes stood out upon his arms and face. Nothing too serious though.
Barret pushed the throbbing pain of his leg aside and took aim for the red-haired Turk. "Damnit, Cid. Hold 'im still!" Barret cursed when Cid suddenly swung around and obstructed the view of the Turk. Barret lowered his gun-arm. If he tried to shoot that damnable Turk, he might end up hitting Cid instead.
Noiselessly and still in the shadows of the alleyway, Vincent cocked his second gun and handed it to Tifa. Without so much as an explanation, he disappeared into the darkness of the back portion of the alley. Tifa looked at the sleek, black weapon in her hands and then glanced to Barret and Wedge, still behind the now shuddering frame of the car; so many bullet holes made the heap of metal seem useless as any form of a shield. From her position Tifa couldn't see the lead Turk, but she could make out the one fighting Cid. Biting her lower lip, Tifa took aim for the red-haired man and squeezed the trigger.
Her borrowed gun pulled slightly to the right, and instead of hitting the Turk's back, the bullet made its steady course for the red-haired Turk's leg; the man shamelessly cried out when his leg jerked out from beneath him. Cid flashed a quick smile of thanks to Tifa and raised his metal pole over his head like a bat. But before Cid could give the crushing blow to the crippled man, the Turk swept his sword upwards. Luckily for Cid, Vincent seemingly came out of nowhere once again and pushed him well across the street. Both men fell into another alley's dark embrace.
"Damn, Valentine..." Cid sat up and rubbed his head, smiling slightly. "You sure have a hellova way of saving me last minute." He chuckled and tried to stand up, but fell back down upon the cold ground. "Shit, Vin. Ya knocked the wind outta me!" He tried to laugh again and it ended in dry coughs. "Vin?"
A few feet away Vincent staggered to his feet, leaning against the wall. He looked around for his gun, but couldn't seem to find it in the darkness. Not bothering with more than a few minutes of searching, Vincent was back out of the alley again and into the hazy light. Where he had once stood a few moments earlier and splattered against the wall he had leaned upon was the startling color of red.
"Vincent, wait!" Cid immediately shot upwards and, despite the wave of dizziness threatening to overwhelm him, he raced for the street, bent over slightly and grabbing his now bruised stomach where Vincent had rammed into him. He managed to seize hold of Vincent's right arm, as feeble of an attempt as that was, and was instantly knocked back when Vincent swung around. Cid knew that look within Vincent's eyes all too well. He held his free hand up in front of himself and moved slowly towards his friend. "Hey... Don't get angry, Vin. You know what can happen."
Vincent could see Cid only as a blur of red and he immediately backed up when Cid stepped closer. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He mumbled, his voice surprisingly low.
Cid scoffed and his fingers wrapped soundly around his metal pole. "You know exactly why." He hesitated again, as if he was approaching a wounded animal that wanted nothing else but to flee. "Let's get outta here, Vin, before -"
"Get away from me." Vincent moved away again and grabbed his head. "You know what will happen if..."
"I know," Cid whispered.
"If that happens... Get them out of here." Vincent pivoted and went in the opposite direction, towards Tifa (who had been watching their conversation curiously), and he disappeared into more shadows.
"Wait!" Cid ran a few paces before he was stopped by more of the Turk's gunfire. He cursed and ducked back into the alleyway once more.
Tifa dismissed the words between her two bounty hunters. Why was Cid trying to stop Vincent? Kneeling behind the wall she aimed for the red-haired Turk again. Before she could fire her gun for a second time, she heard a sharp snapping noise echoing behind her. She swung about just in time to see Vincent's metal claw tightened around the throat of the third Turk. She had almost forgotten about the other man...
He really moves fast, she thought idly. Hadn't it been just a moment ago that Vincent was with Cid across the street? Tifa let all of her breath out in one relieved sigh. If Vincent had came but a moment later, that Turk might have fired a bullet straight through her head. Tifa shivered. Just one little metal ball and she could have been... She quickly pushed that thought aside, along with all the other unwanted ones, and was about to turn around to finish off the red-haired Turk when Vincent moaned softly. He fell to his knees and slumped over.
"Vincent?" Tifa rose up, her knees scrapped from being pressed so hard against the rough cement. From beneath her bounty hunter was a fresh pool of red. Her mouth parted slightly. At any other time Tifa might have realized how foolish she looked, gaping at Vincent like that. But she couldn't help it. Something about Vincent looked strange at that moment, and not just the blood ebbing from his chest.
"Reno!"
Tifa looked back swiftly over her shoulder. The lead Turk was getting into the passenger's side of a car and calling for the red-haired man. Limping and running awkwardly, the man the lead Turk called Reno clumsily made way for the vehicle. Barret gritted his teeth and pulled himself up over the hood of the parked car, firing at Reno, who practically dove into the open window of the back seat. Barret kept firing holes into the glossy finish of the obviously expensive car until it spun around a corner, out of his sight.
"Damnit!" Barret pounded the car again and it squeaked and shuddered its protests.
Cid, still clutching his stomach with one hand and shouldering his metal pole with the other, seemed nearly frantic as he looked around the street. "Where the hell's Vincent?"
"Tifa..." Barret stood up, cursed when the pain in his leg flared again, and fell back against the hood of the car. "Tifa!" The big man quickly turned his head in the direction of alleyway he last saw her in.
Nothing was there, save for the bodies of two Turks and smears of crimson.
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