Sanguis Jus Soli

Vincent's Apartment
Midgar, Residential District
4 AM
3 Days until Reunion

Vincent's eyes could only be more bloodshot if he had downed a couple of Barret's famous 'whirlwind stingers'. His entire body tingled with desire to fall in the nearest convenient, or inconvenient, space on the floor and occupy it for a few hours.

The ICU had not been the best place for him. Through an entire day of surgery, Vincent Valentine waited patiently and watched Cloud's vital signs go up and down like a roller-coaster. Even now, they still had to repair the damage his bullet had done; they had only just been able to repair some of his non-functioning organs. The thing about that bullet was that it didn't kill Vincent's opposition, it sent their entire body into a coma; much like a blow to the head could send the mind into a coma.

Barret and Tifa has shooed him away from the hospital. They told him to either go grab some sleep. But he wasn't about to abandon Cloud like that, he said he might and left to go get some coffee from his place.

He guessed it would take the doctors another day or so to 'jump-start' the rest of his organs and vital processes. The time had sapped most of his energy. He had come back here to refuel and then head back to the hospital.

Growling at his grogginess, Vincent tossed his wallet out of his cloak onto the nearby table and turned on the lights. Flourescent blue lights blinked on and bathed the room in a calming sea of blue.

Staggering over to the table, he pulled out his keys from his back pocket and dropped them onto the glass surface. With the couch in plain sight Vincent felt tortured and pained that he couldn't just lay down on it for a couple of hours and wake up refreshed.

Turning to the kitchen, Vincent walked off the carpet and onto the tile floor. Looking about and trying his best to remember what he had stocked in the various cupboards and shelves he felt angry. He wanted sleep badly but there would be no rest for the nightwatch.

Opening the first revealed some packets of something, an economy-size can of tomato juice, some cereal bars that looked far past their expiration date, and a box of cereal. He closed it and moved to the next. Marshmellows, semi-sweet chocolate bars, some graham crackers, a bit of ketchup and mayonnaise. Growling now, he shut the cabinet door and moved to the next one. Opening it revealed the one thing he needed.

“Coffee.” Vincent's mouth hungrily devoured the name. Coffee could bring the most groggy soul back beyond the peak of 'aware' in Midgar. Grabbing the canister and setting it on the shelf, he scratched an itch on the back of his head.

The itch satisfied, he let his arm drop lazily to his side and hissed as it nicked his flesh. He looked down and sighed. “Have to be m're creful,” Vincent muttered as he stared at his metal prosthetic limb.

He dropped the can onto the counter and flicked the ON switch into the coffee machine. A rumble rose from the depths of the combo grinder and maker and it hummed to life. Pouring a quick amount into the coffee machine, not caring for his bit of overflow, he hit the red button and the machine began to chew the whole beans of coffee into powder. Grabbing the glass pot from its resting place, he numbly put it under the faucet and blinked twice. Sleep was slowly sneaking up on him, he realized, when his eyes snapped open as he felt the cold water curling down his arm and the machine whining.

Grumbling about his appointment as the nightwatch, he pulled the slightly heavy pot over to the machine and let it pour delicious coffee into the glass canister. Looking around, he found a few glasses by the sink and set them down next to the machine.

He smiled as the coffee began to reach the midway point and sighed happily. Soon, he would be out of his groggy, icky-feeling state and back to his alert and aware self. Licking his chapped lips he wanted nothing more than to rip the canister off the holder and gulp the whole thing down. It was starting to not matter what temperature the coffee was; he was desperate.

The machine buzzed and he spared no time in transferring the coffee to the cups he had brought next to the machine. After all six were full to the brim, he brought the first cup to his lips and drank in the smell of the freshly ground beans. With great caution he sipped the coffee, not minding in the least the bitter burning sensation in his mouth.

He set the glass down after he finished downing it and took the next and drank it. After that one, he drank the next, still no more aware than he was on the first.

By the time he had reached the last he still felt groggy and so he drank it greedily. The fire burned all the way down to his gut but he felt the warmth begin to spread elsewhere. Unsatisfied a few minutes later with the minute impact the coffee had, Vincent grabbed the coffee canister and looked inside.

With great hesitation and patience, he lowered it back to the counter. “Need coffee...” Vincent mumbled. Searching his memory, Vincent quickly pinpointed a bright store with a vibrant youth behind the counter. He recalled a coffee machine in the back which had a steaming cup by it when he had last seen it.

Snatching up his keys and wallet again, Vincent trudged out the front door, locked it, and went to the place.

It was raining outside. Not that it had any impact on his mind; he was already far too gone to care about some cold rain dripping down his head. That and also because of his natural tendency to sleep outside in a tree or a high overpass.

Then the bright neon sign appeared before him like a mirage. He read blurredly but made no connection. Sub place. Shrugging, and without but a few scraps of his memory, Vincent trudged through the rain and opened the front door.

A bell overhead pinged loudly and Vincent stood there for a moment, scanning the dark place for evidence of life. More specifically, life that could get him life-saving coffee.

“How may I help you?” A teenage youth yawned as she came down from the stairs at the far end of the store. She rubbed clean her glasses and stared blankly at the man who had just arrived.

“Coffee. Please.” Vincent said as loud and as clear as he could, given his state of mind.

She smirked and put on her glasses, “Huh. Didn't think you'd come back so quick. “
His dead eyes failed to focus and he said it again, wondering if he had said it loud enough last time, “Coffee, please!”

“Yeesh, you don't have to get rude. Comin' right up Vincent.” She walked to the back and Vincent somehow registered in his mind that she had a very tight ass.

He stood there for a moment, trying to understand just why the hell in his state he'd be concerned about the ass of the person serving him coffee. Sighing, he figured it was his libido acting up again.

The cute girl returned from the back and presented him with a mug of coffee. “Strongest in the house. Careful though, it's--”

Vincent gulped down the coffee like he needed it to live and stared at the ceramic mug for a moment.

She giggled and finished, “It's really bitter.”

He nodded, trying his best to keep down the impulse to throw up the stuff he had just drank. The stuff was bitter, bitterer than any coffee he'd ever had before. But on a positive note, he already felt his mind slowly waking up.

Looking up at her in a jerky movement he asked, “More coffee. Please.”

She shrugged and took his mug from him. “Go ahead and have a seat if you're going to be waiting a while.”

Vincent eyed the nearest couch with a discriminating eye, assessing its threat to his consciousness. It was an old wooden and cloth couch so he figured he'd just have to find a board somewhere in order to keep himself awake.

He walked over and sat, a calm feeling overwhelming him.

“Alright, this one's less potent but--” The waiter stopped mid-sentence as she realized that her patron had just passed out on her couch. Sighing, she drank a little out of the mug herself, set it on the counter, and set to work moving Vincent's heavy body upstairs.

“Why do they always pass out, anyway?” She asked herself under the heavy load as she shakily progressed on the stairs. “It's not like its an inconvenience with this one but seriously, I can't tow four hundred pound men up here.”

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Happy music lightly played in the room as Vincent's eyes groggily opened. Seeing an unfamiliar ceiling overhead, he froze all of his movements and listened to ascertain his situation.

To his right was a vibrantly humming teenager listening to some kind of pop music. He figured from the way her chair was so silently creaking she nodding along with the music. There was also a computer, monitor, and a camera uploading in the background.

Risking being found out, Vincent slowly turned his head and saw pictures of himself being uploaded to the internet with a cute little drawing on the bottom right hand corner of some anime girl sticking out her tongue and pulling down her eyelid. His eyes rose to the top of the screen which stated proudly, “Property of the Vincent Valentine Fan Club”

Resisting the urge to groan in annoyance, Vincent watched as she posted some message on some forum. His picture was attached to the message. His eyes drifted to the girl who was now sighing. The pop music stopped abruptly and Vincent froze up again.

She pulled up a program from the lower part of the screen and growled, “Damn buffer. I've got to get a better connection around here.”

The music abruptly started playing again and skipped ahead to get to where the song really was. Just as it got there, it quit again. She pressed a square button on the application and sighed.

Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the ceiling. Vincent watched her cautiously, trying to figure out her intent with him in her place. His eyes drifted down to the bedspread he laid upon, which he wholeheartedly expected to be covered in pictures of him or have some kind of overly-cute rendition of him.

He was surprised to find that it was a plain blue bedspread. Looking about the room quietly, he saw posters for some bands he had never heard of and a few wall-scrolls depicting various characters and things.

The thing that got his attention immediately laid right above his head. 'A samurai sword?' The long curve was unmistakable, it was a katana. An elaborate Katana, but a katana nonetheless.

He heard the chair creaking and snapped his eyes shut again. He tensed slightly as he heard her footsteps coming towards the bed he rested on. Suddenly, the bed's weight shifted to the right and he knew she had sat down. She sighed and placed a soft hand on his cheek.

“Poor guy. It's not his fault they're all over him, after all. He can't help it if some girls find him cute and want to start up a club. I'd bet he even believes that I really am some fangirl,” she sighed as she continued her whispered monologue, “some silly juvenile girl who thinks he's all the world. I wouldn't blame him though.” She giggled softly in spite of herself and stated, “I mean, I introduced myself as one. But I just wanted to see what a kiss from a man like him would be like.”

She pushed away some of his hair and giggled lightly, “You are cute, though, I'll give you that Vincent Valentine. Really wish you wouldn't pass out in my place though.”

The phone rang noisily in the background and the bed shifted again. The receiver beeped on and she greeted the person. “Moshi moshi?”

A pause. “No, I don't have the protection money---yes, I understand I am late---I told you last week, I need more time.” She paced around the room uncomfortably, “No, I said that I would have your money once I can get my bank's act together---no, please, listen---I know sir, I know I'm being terribly inconvenient but---yes---yes...”

She sighed and hung up the phone. “Sorry dad,” she whispered gently. She walked back to the bed and said, “I wish I could be a successful businesswoman. Successful like this guy here. But these gangs---I just can't stand up to them myself. The whole damned neighborhood's afraid.”

Her footsteps turned slow and remorseful as she walked over to his bedside. She turned and sat against the bed, “Three days---how can I get ten thousand gil in three days? Not that I have any choice in the matter.”

“Like he said, I have to pay it in three days or they'll burn this place down.” She sighed. “Dammit, I've got to find some way to pay these goons off for now. If only this guy could help us out.” She growled lightly and scolded herself, “No, I wont ask for a favor from someone who I owe my life to. Besides, he's got better things to concern himself with.”

She petted his head and tried her best to sound assuring even though he was asleep, “Don't worry about me. You go save the world while I'm gone. Please leave this place.” She leaned over and kissed him softly on the forehead, “I never got the chance to tell you in person, thanks for saving my life; I promise you I'll find some way to be strong like you guys were.”

With that, she went over to the humming computer and put it to sleep. A few moments later, her footsteps rang with the sound of heeled shoes as she left the room. She paused at the door and tried to smile widely, “You've done your part, now I'll go do mine.”

The door shut to the room and Vincent's eyes opened. He slid off the mattress and walked over to the door. Placing his ear on it, he waited until she had left the store and locked it. Scowling, he looked over to the phone. “You're going to need to ask for protection yourself, whoever you are, once I get done with you.”

He picked up the receiver and pulled up the caller ID. Finding the number that had just called, he selected it and dialed.

The line rang twice and he was greeted with, “Whaddaya want *now* bitch? You whore some rich guy and steal his wallet or somethin'?”

Vincent paused for a moment, figuring out the best combination of fierce anger and ominous death. Smiling as he found the perfect words for the situation, Vincent answered, “Yes, she definitely 'whored' a rich guy. Though she didn't steal my heart, her story did. Unfortunately, since her story stole mine I still need one to live; I think I'll steal yours. That'd solve all our problems, wouldn't it?”

The man on the other end of the line paused for a moment and then growled, “Now you listen to me, you cunt sucker, I'm the Boss around here. I can order my goons that building torched in a blink of an eye, you sure you wanna fuck around with me?”

“No, my dear donor, I'm going to cut right to the heart of the matter. Count on it.” With that, he hung up the receiver and waited for the goons to show up. They'd supply him with the information he needed to begin the hunt.

Remembering Cloud was still in the hospital and his current situation, he called the hospital and requested to speak with the people in Cloud's room. As an after-thought, he told the operator to tell them that he'd be about a few hours until he got there. A mobster picked on the wrong girl in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He hung up and heard someone break down the door to the Sub Place. Grabbing the Death Penalty off the desk, he calmly walked downstairs. “So, you're the goons?”

They sneered up until they point that they saw who they were going to 'fuck with.' Vincent smiled eerily, “Welcome to the death from which there is no escape, gentlemen. For your crimes against humanity and your—how shall we say—“unprotecting protection” I assign you the Death Penalty. Pray, to whatever gods you have.”

Rolling his head around to stretch his neck, he sneered, “And on the note of 'fucking with me,' none of you would happen to be bisexual or homosexual would you?”

The guy in the front scoffed, “We don't work with pansies like you, Vincent, and we don't deal with fags who fuck each other like animals.”

Vincent's eyes lit up as he smiled wider, showing some teeth. He was going to enjoy every moment of this. “First, that is good news. I was worried you might take pleasure from being raped by my gun here as I would rape a person who had raped my woman. Secondly, I am about to show you a nine-step process by which I take an ordinary man and make him my bitch. Don't worry about notepads either, this is a hands-on lesson.”

The door flew back onto its hinges and locked onimously. Vincent laughed as the lights shattered one by one, leaving the men in darkness. After a few seconds of silence, the leader gasped as he felt something hard against his asshole. With blood-curling happiness, Vincent asked, “Are you ready to begin your lesson?”

The leader tried not to cry as he felt a hand clamp down on his mouth and his back thrown against the wall. The gun disappeared from his ass and a few seconds later, his men screamed, one by one as he got them.

Then, a few terrifying seconds later, the leader pissed his pants as he felt the grip around his mouth. His body shook in fear as he closed his eyes. His pants were ripped off and a cool metal barrel pressed against his anus heavily. Slowly, his anus began to expand painfully and Vincent's body pressed against his. Whispering the danger into the man's ear, Vincent growled, “Step one; you want to share your darkest secrets with me right now.” The barrel pressed further into his anus and the men cried in torment from the double whammy of his pain and humiliation.

“I'm sure you don't want to know what the entire length of my gun feels like, do you? I forgot to mention that I can lengthen it at will.” The man's eyes squinted shut as Vincent moved a centimeter further in, ripping more tissue, and he sobbed loudly as he gave up.

He begged, “Please, don't do this!”

Vincent pressed further in, another centimeter of the fist sized barrel, “Tell me where your boss lives.”

“No, please, ask something else,” he cried, “Please!”

Vincent growled and this time wasn't so gentle as he pushed. The barrel slid in a bit further and the henchman howled in pain, sobbing uncontrollably now and blubbering.

“You don't quite understand. You see, the more you hold back from me, the more this is going to go in, and, by the way.” Vincent leaned closer to the man's ear and whispered with all the hate he could muster, “If you don't tell me what I want to know by the time this gun barrel is all the way in, I'm going to fire one shot. If you don't tell me then, I'll fire another. I'm sure you can figure out what happens if you don't tell me once more, right?”

The gun barrel pressed in another centimeter, its passing slicked by the blood dripping from the man's ass. He shook his head quickly, “I can't tell you!”

Vincent's mouth curled in a smile, “Do you want to know just how much of my gun is in you right now?”

The man quivered in anticipation, “H-how much?”

Vincent grinned evilly and looked down, “Well, only two centimeters. And at the rate I'm going, that's ninety-eight more to go.” Gruffly, and emphasizing each number with a push further in Vincent growled, “Ninety. Eight. More. To go.”

Petting the henchman's head, Vincent said, “Don't worry, I'm sure you'll figure it out sooner or later that it's best to tell me. It's all a matter of,” he pushed the gun in another centimeter and finished darkly, “Persuasion.”

“You don't understand!” The man cried as the barrel continued to rip his ass apart.

Vincent shook his head, “You poor fool, it is you who does not understand. Shall we proceed directly to step two then?”

The gun barrel slid out painfully and the hand vanished.

For several minutes the room was quiet and the man whispered as he shook, “What's step two?”

From the darkness, two red eyes glimmered brightly directly into his mind, “Step one; invasive persuasion. Step two; *castrating* persuasion.”

The eyes vanished and the man fell to his knees, begging to whatever gods that would listen that this was all a nightmare.

“I *am* the God of Night you piece of shit,” Vincent said as he pulled the man against the wall and against him. He placed his boot knife on the man's balls and made a slight scraping motion. “And remember, this is step two of nine; you sure you want to learn the whole nine step process?”

The man whimpered and finally said, “Anything! I'll tell you anything!!”


“Glad to see you finally came around. Now, you're going to make sure you're not lying to me right? Because you do know that you're not going anywhere when I leave this place?”

The man nodded quietly as steaming tears of pain and shame ran like rivers down his cheeks. “I wont lie.”

Vincent removed his knife from the man's crotch and shoved him to the floor. “Now, let's begin. First, where is your all high and mighty boss? I'm sure he, being a magnate of crime and evil, would *love* to learn each and every step of my nine steps to bitchdom.”