Paper Tiger Burning

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.




“God-damn,” Reno said. He leaned closer to me and made a show of sniffing. “I kept smelling something outrageously good and it’s you.” He sniffed a third time. “What the hell is that?”

“The oil of the Holy Ones,” Tseng answered for me, pouring another round of scotch for himself and his second. “But,” he went on, meeting my eyes, “the oil as it reacts to a female; you did not put the oil on yourself.”

I lifted my glass of pomegranate juice. Keeping Tseng’s penetrating gaze, I drank. Perhaps he knew Aerith’s scent? Well, it didn’t matter. I’d kill anyone who got in between me and my flower girl. “Indeed,” I said. “The oil is second hand exposure.”

“Hanging with a Wutainian woman?” Reno smiled with what I thought to be a wistful smile. “The most beautiful women on the planet, they are.”

“If she is, she’s a rich Wutainian,” Tseng replied. “The oil of the Holy Ones starts at seven million gil a bottle.”

Reno choked on his drink. “Seven million gil?”

“Eight million,” I corrected. “Though Mitsouko will also trade in materia.”

“I know her.” Tseng grabbed a floater boy on his way through the dimly lit area. “Bring us five grams of jane,” he ordered. “And another pipe; this one isn’t drawing properly.”

Turks certainly did have large appetites for drugs. Reno had already finished a bottle of Sol rum and several joints. Tseng was only on his first bottle of liquor, but he’d already smoked one pipe of opium. Neither man exhibited any real signs of intoxication. Reno seemed freer with his mouth but not by much; Tseng’s attention seemed to want to wander a bit, though.

The seedy, smoky bar held many Turks. I knew most of them. I saw no Shin-Ra soldiers or lower personnel, just Turks and a few businessmen. None of them paid me any mind. I found that incredibly relaxing. Or maybe it was just the hash smoke Reno kept blowing in my direction, mixing with the remnants of pom-ne-kah in my blood.

“Mitsouko hasn’t commercially sold her perfume in many years,” Tseng went on.

“I purchased it during the war,” I answered, remembering the shrewd old lady’s eyes as she looked at my materia collection. To all the others she’d refused knowledge of perfume making, but I’d come to her prepared to deal. “It’s been sitting in a strong box for twenty years. I just made it a gift to a special woman.”

“A very special woman,” Tseng murmured. He took the floater boy’s burden and sent him on his way with a ten gil note. “But all women are special.”

“Listen to the romantic,” Reno said, hiccupping. “He loves women.” Another hiccup. “But so do I. So soft and curvy…”

“We’re getting off topic,” Tseng said severely. “We are supposed to be discussing Sheila and Rufus Shinra.”

“And Hojo.” Reno sat upright with effort. “He did file that report. I believed him anyway, strangely.”

“As did I,” I murmured. “What did Rufus say?”

Reno grinned as Tseng scowled.

“Rufus is very upset with his sister,” Tseng said. “He has Sheila confined to their home at the moment. Tomorrow he will want to talk to you about what happened.”

“Then he will wait,” I said. “I have unavoidable business to attend tomorrow.”

“That’s alright,” Reno drawled. “Make him squirm.”

“Reno,” Tseng said sharply. “This isn’t a joking matter.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Reno argued, still smiling. “The empire of greed is collapsing around our ears, Tseng. You know it, I know it, and Sephiroth knows it. Only Rufus and Sheila don’t know it. I’m telling you, job security has never looked so bleak. What do you think we all come in here for if not to drown our worries?” He began rolling a hash and poppy-leaf joint, his slender fingers expertly manipulating paper and content. “I got wind of some disturbing gossip on the grapevine yesterday, matter of fact. Seems there’s a scientist named Havars coming in to supplement Hojo. Now, my question is, why would the Shinra’s want Hojo to have help unless they were thinking about replacing him?”

“You would miss Hojo?” Tseng snorted. “Why is this disturbing?”

“You haven’t heard of Lucas Havars?” Reno wetted his joint and lit it. “Havars is a bio-geneticist even shadier than Hojo, believe it or not. He’s older than sin and looks about thirty five. I think he’s sold his soul to the devil.”

“Havars,” I mused aloud. “His name came up during the war with Wutai.”

“He’s from Wutai.” Reno passed his joint to Tseng, who drew heavily upon it. “Wouldn’t have thought such a provincial backwater would have a mad scientist in it, would you?”

“What is he known for? Get to the facts,” Tseng demanded, passing the cigarette to me. I took a hit and wished I hadn’t. The harshness seemed to vaporize my lungs. Reno snatched the thing from my hands.

“He likes kids.” Reno gave his supervisor a watery, red-eyed look. “He only experiments on kids.”

“Holy Da-chao,” Tseng said, grimacing.

“Yeah.” Reno coughed until he began gagging. “My point,” he gasped out. “My point is that Rufus must have some sort of plan involving kids, and I don’t want any part of that. I can’t be called out to enforce any shitty schemes against kids, sorry.”

“It’s our job to do what Rufus wants,” Tseng pointed out.

“Bosses come and go.”

“You don’t leave the Turks, Reno.”

“Tell that to Vincent Valentine,” Reno snickered. “Last I heard he was doing pretty well as an ex-Turk.”

“You haven’t been augmented like Valentine.”

“No, just given mako.” Reno sighed. “I don’t think I’d have been as well adjusted as Valentine though, you might be right. Anyone that survives being locked in a coffin for thirty years has real nerve.” He gave a short laugh. “You think if I ask Hojo he’ll fix me up the same way?”

“You want to be undead?” Tseng shuddered. “I think if you even mention Valentine to Hojo he’ll cut your ears off.”

I had no idea what they were talking about and I wanted to know more. “Hojo seems milder this last week,” I commented. “Perhaps he wouldn’t cut Reno’s ears off after all.” I delivered my tease with a knowing smile, bluffing knowledge I didn’t have.

Tseng shook his head. “You know him better than anyone,” he answered. “He’d go slap off. The last time anyone mentioned Valentine around him he trashed Storage B.”

“I remember that,” Reno said, perking up. “That was Elena’s fault.”

“As so many things are,” Tseng said darkly. “But that’s beside the point. If Hojo is acting milder, I worry. I was sort of counting on our resident alpha scientist to keep Havars in line.”

“Hey, I thought you didn’t know anything about that Havars guy,” Reno said, starting another round of hiccups.

“I didn’t say anything of the sort, you drunk,” Tseng replied, yanking the roach away from Reno. “I just let you spill what you knew and compared information for source discrepancies.”

“Why would a man specialize in children?” Reno asked the universe, looking upward.

“Because they’re vulnerable, easily separated from their families, fresh and trusting,” I answered.

Tseng gave me a sharp look. “Know this, do you?”

“It worked for Hojo,” I replied evenly. “Assuming I wasn’t born in the labs, which I’m beginning to suspect unlikely. I didn’t see the sky until I was thirteen.”

Reno blinked. “Well, what did you think when you saw it?”

“I had a psychotic episode. Hojo locked me away for a week.”

More silence.

Tseng’s eyes began to resemble the shrewd stare of Mitsouko. “Hojo raised you, didn’t he?”

“He and Gast, yes,” I answered. “Until Hojo had Gast murdered.”

Reno poured another drink for himself and Tseng. “Fuck,” he muttered. He looked at my glass of juice. “Hey,” he said, obviously trying to lighten the mood with a big voice. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

“Alcohol doesn’t agree with me,” I said. “And I hate the taste. Additionally, I’m a mean drunk.”

Reno slid the bottle closer to himself. “No offense, but that’s saying something for you, General.”

*************************************************************************************

I returned to my apartment reeking of unsavory odors. I wasted no time stripping and getting in the shower. A half hour later I emerged feeling much better. My hash buzz had worn off and I stood clear headed.

Because I wanted to feel comfortable, I put on my old leather pants

My ears picked up a startled noise from below me. I fell through the floor in an instant, coming eye to eye with the man I’d been discussing all evening, Vincent Valentine. “No!” Aerith said as her friend drew back a triple barrel gun. “No, Vincent, don’t!”

His crimson eyes regarded me with barely a flicker of emotion. Seeing I stood motionless and unarmed, he lowered his weapon. “Sephiroth,” he said. It wasn’t a greeting or a curse, but an acknowledgement. He backed toward the open window, apparently the means of his entry. Stopping short of the frame, he looked toward Aerith. “I thought Cloud might have dreamed your return,” he said in his gravely voice. “I find he is correct and that you do have another body guard.”

Aerith smiled a sad and hesitant smile. “Won’t you come in, Vincent, and have tea with Sephiroth and me?” She took two steps toward him, steps that made it seem as if she approached a stray animal that might flee from her in a moment. “I have your favorite.”

“Black tea with bergamot,” Valentine rumbled, sounding tempted. His bloody gaze cut to me. I put my hands behind my back and awaited his verdict. He interested me, this man. What did Hojo have against the ex-Turk?

“Please?” Aerith asked prettily, her green eyes shining with hope.

Valentine gave her a brief nod.

I walked past them both and into the kitchen, sitting at Aerith’s table. She followed, Valentine directly behind her. He sat opposite me while Aerith took the kettle off the stove.

I understood why Aerith treaded around him so carefully. Guilt and sorrow surrounded the man. Underneath his blank façade he carried riotous despair.

Valentine put his pistol on the table, barrel discretely pointed at me. I knew if he wanted to fire it I’d have to move extremely fast.

“When did you talk to Cloud?” Aerith asked her friend, setting tea cups before us both.

“Yesterday.” Valentine’s eyes never left me even though he talked to Aerith. “He called me.”

“You bought a cell phone?” Aerith giggled.

“This is my fourth. PHS devices don’t stand up to gunfire very well.”

At this tiny joke, Aerith smiled. She sat down at the end of the table, between us without being between us. “Well, what would you like to know? Are you like Cloud and wish to know how Sephiroth and I could be alive? Or, do you know already?”

“I know.” Valentine sipped his tea. Very, very slightly, his features softened. “Cloud wanted to discuss the fanciful nature of your return.” Still looking directly at me, he set his cup down. “I have a lot of faith in Hojo’s brilliance; it wasn’t a leap for me to believe or to understand.”

I found I liked this man. He was polite, soft spoken, intelligent and he knew not to take his eyes off a perceived threat for an instant. He was a survivor and a predator, like myself.

“I took a blood oath with Strife,’ I told him. “You can relax.”

“Your oath is noted, but you made it on the behalf of Aerith, not me.” Valentine didn’t bat an eyelid. “And it might be best not to shed blood around me, so I’ll make no blood oaths with you either.”

“I have nothing against you,” I replied.

“Then you don’t know me well enough,” Valentine said. “However, unless provoked I’ll not attack you.”

“A fair warning,” I returned. “I’m content to remain peaceful.”

“I’m glad that’s settled,” Aerith said in a sarcastic voice. “I could put both of you out of here, I hope you know.”

Valentine’s eyes went to Aerith’s platinum bracers. “I imagine you could,” he murmured. He drained his cup and stood. “But I have no time to see if you would,” he said, a faint glimmer of humor touching his red gaze. “Yuffie waits for me at our rendezvous point as we speak. I promised I would not be late again.”

Aerith grabbed his hand. “Just a moment more, Vincent, you know you need this or you wouldn’t have come to see me.”

Valentine closed his eyes. I sensed Aerith’s healing ability surging into the man, saw it warping the air around them both. A layer of his sadness simply melted away. He sighed as she released him. “You always know,” he said lowly. “And you never expect anything in return.”

“You’re my friend.” Aerith reached up on tiptoe to kiss Valentine’s marble cheek. “When you’ve stood beside someone on the battlefield you can give them whatever they need and not worry about keeping count.”

He seemed to smile but it could have been a shadow. I blinked and he was gone. I couldn’t sense a trace of him anywhere.

Aerith put her forehead in her hand and moaned. “Poor Vincent,” she whispered.

I carried her to her bed a few minutes later, as she’d fallen asleep at the table. Carefully, I put her under the covers before lying atop them beside her.

Too much. Too much had happened in this short time, and to both of us. I couldn’t see the logical procession of this mystery, I was just too close.