DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy VII characters belong to Square Enix. Only the ideas
contained within this story are my property. No profit is being earned from this.
Devilishly Divine
By Scilja
Chapter One
The remainder of the day following my first sketchy, albeit annoyingly interesting,
Seeker case involved the random exploration of the virtual world. As WRO's ex-info
master collector, that should not have been too hard a task to perform.
Too bad I suck at guessing.
Three hours later as I blinked away the eye strain from sitting too close to the
computer screen, I came to the conclusion that the Pavuloek talisman was either a
fictional creation or an imitation of some cheap jewelry.
By next morning, I had riffled through the contact numbers of my landlady's unique
clientele and, after a bit of prodding from Cupid Dee, walked down the streets
juggling a box of donuts in one hand while deciphering a poorly drawn napkin map
in the other.
Afternoons in Costa del Sol made you feel like cooked lobster. I adored the
mornings when the sun shone bright enough not to burn but put a spotlight on
everything. If a light shower drizzled before sunrise, you'd get a glimpse of what
heaven looks like. Sparkles galore.
It had been twenty minutes since I started my trek and I already began to feel the
heat from the waking sun. At times like these, I desperately wished I had my bike.
Well, actually ex-hover-scooter upgraded to hover bike. A scooter just doesn't cut it
for a ninja, a declaration I had whined to Cid at one point who grudgingly agreed to
take it up a notch. On the plus side, a bike meant revved up engine, and I am
practically skipping in anticipation at the mere thought of it.
I took a good look at my surroundings and my nose scrunched, not in distaste, but to
draw out my breathing. The scrap buildings and grey monotone wash brought about
an odd stench I did not bother to distinguish. It even overpowered the scent of my
freshly baked donuts.
A quick glance at the map and I realized I was a few blocks away from reaching my
destination. My pace increased, a hard feat to do as you're stilling your breath, until I
reached a concrete flat with peeling tawny paint. Bad enough the structure looked
miserable, the yellow made it look morbid.
"413 Rutter Drive," I noted, regarding the house number "43" and the address I read.
"What happened to the '1'?"
The wooden stairs creaked as I marched up to the porch. Indeed, I found myself at
413, only the "1" was etched with a thin black marker instead of resembling its
wooden partners. Behold, the economically creative.
I rang the doorbell then took a step back to avoid getting smacked when the door
swung out, a lesson I learned after being acquainted with several doors in this town.
I think the builders secretly delighted in playing some sick joke on tourists or new
faces. Costa del Sol: the hottest place to be – even our doors have attitude.
When I heard no noise from inside, I rang the bell again and accompanied it with a
couple of knocks. Nothing. I pushed the bell harder and longer so the sound droned
like a shrill trill and jabbed at it repeatedly.
My efforts proved successful from a loud thud, trailed by a combined chain of curses
and rattles. The many locks on the door clicked and opened to a lanky man, a face so
oily I almost had to squint from the light bouncing off of his forehead.
I plastered on the typical friendly-neighbor-smile. "Morning."
He leered at me behind inch thick glasses. "What's your problem?"
"Are you Wade?" I asked.
"What about it?"
"I'm told you're the guy who collects jewelry and sells them off."
Wade inhaled loudly. "Jewelry? I don't do that girly crap. I do relics and antiques."
He quirked a hairy brow at me. "You lookin' fer business?"
"Depends what you got," I said.
His eyes fixated on the box in my arms. "Donuts?"
I grinned. "Sugar frosted fruit filling jelly. Limited edition. Baker's dozen."
He gave me a long stare before finally saying, "Come in".
Junkies – the cheapest prime scout for anything you want to know about the bad, the
ugly, and the hushed.
The door closed behind me as I stepped into a dimly lit apartment decked with
furniture clearly meant only for its use and not means of decor. At least the outside
smell did not match the interior to which I gave a deep breath of much needed relief.
"Upstairs," Wade informed and led me to a bland room with a computer in one
corner, a bed, and a table littered with boxes, shipping papers, and tracking records.
On the other side of the room, I couldn't help but stare at the carefully stacked
collection of ornaments and trinkets lining the shelves.
"Nice, eh?" he said, nodding towards them. "That's just the small stuff. If you want
the bigger ones, I got 'em in another room."
Shiny things attracted me, hence my obsession with materia. The ornaments ranged in
various shapes and sizes, each one carefully polished to pristine condition and laid out
proudly in display. Each gem refracted light in an eye catching display of
multicolored prisms.
"Pretty high class," I said, impressed. "How much do these go for?"
"Twenty five to forty thousand gil."
I let out a low whistle. "I got maxxed out materia that costs less than that. Is that
why you do it? For the cash?"
"Damn right. People will pay their houses for junk like these. All I gotta do is find it,
get it, and sell it."
"How do you showcase your merchandise?"
His hand made a slap-dash gesture towards the computer. "Online auction. It's a
freakin' gold mine on there. You won't believe the crap you'll find. Most of the
stuff I find is attic junk or family heirlooms. Good thing they don't know what
they're losin'."
"You must be good at it."
"It's all about the timing. If you ain't there at the last second, poof! Goner. Gotta
act fast."
"Duly noted," I said, transfixed at a particularly round brooch with an opal in the
centre.
"So whacha lookin' for?"
The question snapped me away from the display cases and I turned to meet his eye.
"The Pavuloek talisman."
"Say what?"
"Pavuloek."
"You sure you sayin' it right?"
Miffed, I put my hands on my hips. "I didn't come here for a language lesson, I
came to see if you have it."
"Yeah, yeah, take a chill pill," Wade muttered as he walked over to his computer.
"Have you seen it before?"
"Don't recall the name. I haven't sold many talismans, three maybe. Not very
popular." His fingers flew across the keyboard and a number of clicks later, he
ushered me over. "Here, take a look."
I hunkered down to see a picture of a rhombus-shaped bronze amulet with swirls and
lines etched deeply into the metal. To the right side of the image included a detailed
description of the object, the auction specifications, and buyer information. "What is
that?"
"Ferraden amulet. Sold for 48,000 gil."
"An amulet?"
"Most talismans come in either amulet or charm form. Does it look like this?"
"More circular, I'd say."
He tapped a key. "Like this?" The next object appeared more oval than circle, amber
stones set around the border to a jade square.
"Quarduvea charm," I read through the summary and shook my head, "not it."
"Last one," he informed, popping up an aquamarine jewel atop a silver half-dome.
"Ettellos amulet."
I stilled my hands to resist the urge of pulling my hair out. It seemed dead ends
would be quite frequent in this investigation. I made a note to myself to buy the
most chocolatey, heart-attack inducing sweet from Labelle's. My Yuffie meter
needed a serious boost.
I gave a sigh as I straightened up. "Looks like you don't got it, bud. I ought to be
taking back half of those donuts and –" For some odd reason, the screen called to me
and my eyes took on a track of its own. My gaze widened upon hitting a particular
icon, causing my finger to shoot out and point wildly. "There! Go there! Click it!"
"Easy, easy!" Wade shooed away my insistent fingers and opened the file. "Paublock
pendant? That the one you want?"
What came on the screen made me too preoccupied to answer him because something
inside me jolted. Not quite like a shock of lightning, but like a smack. "Paublock," I
whispered to myself at a rhombic prism garnet so red it was almost black. Suddenly
the images I had skimmed across during my virtual search amplified in my mind and
flashed like a signal flare. Holy Shiva, I found it. I whirled to face Wade. "I want that."
"That's not a talisman," he said, brows drawn together.
"It's the Pavuloek talisman. I'm sure of it. Probably an incorrect spelling on
someone's part but that's definitely the one."
"Good news fer ya," he replied, "bad news is I don't got it no more."
My entire body came to a standstill. "You sold it?"
I felt my heart drop at his nod. "Sorry."
"To who?"
His hands made sweeping motions from side to side. "No can do. Confidential
and personal."
"I'm taking back those donuts."
"Sheesh, give a guy his balls, will 'ya?"
"All thirteen of them."
"Hey now, you listen here –"
"I'll stomp on them until the fruit squishes and the jam oozes and the white frosting
blackens."
"Check Thurr's Pawn," he surrendered with a grumble, "here's the address," he
scribbled hastily on scrap paper and shoved it into my hand, "now get, you donut
sadist."
- - - - - - -
Once Wade kicked me out of his apartment and safely guarded his precious donuts,
I decided to take the chance to check out this "Thurr's". Luckily for me, it turned out
to be just around the corner from Wade's. Junkies really know how to be resourceful
within short-range distance.
I pushed open the glass door and stepped into a shop that had more stuff than room to
move around in. Towers of household appliances, furniture and electronics surrounded
me in every direction that I had to keep my arms rigid by my side to avoid knocking
anything over while I squeezed through the narrow tiled floor, hoping to reach the
cashier or a store clerk.
The tiles eventually lead to a glass counter in the very back of the room. An empty
glass counter. I looked around for a bell or a button I could push to signal for service
when my gaze landed on a stuffed iguana sitting near the ledge.
"Wow, you don't see too much taxidermy nowadays," I said in awe, reaching out to
grasp it, "I wonder how much this cost – Yipes!"
My hand made a rapid retreat as the supposedly stuffed iguana came to life and
snapped at the air where my fingers would have been food. Two beady eyes blinked
back at me, tongue flicking out as if in a taunting gesture.
"Cheeky little bugger, this one," I muttered under my breath and sidestepped in case
the lizard would consider other parts of me edible.
"Can I help you?"
I turned to see a middle-aged woman with an odd tilt to her eyes emerge from one of
the junk heaps. "I think your lizard's hungry," I pointed out.
"Izzy is always hungry," she stated, patting the iguana on the back to which he hissed
in response. "Did you need something?"
"I'm looking for some jewelry."
"We don't carry much of those," she remarked, stooping down to open the shelves
below her. "But here are the few we do have."
The shopkeeper placed a small glass display case on the countertop. I peered down,
eyeing each jewelry in search for a certain red pendant. My shoulders slumped upon
the last piece resembling a gold leaf. "Do you have any more by any chance?"
"I told you I didn't have much." She went to return the case. "What is it you want in
particular?"
"A rhombus shaped garnet pendant."
She slowly turned to me. "How do you know about that?"
"Wade mentioned you might have it."
"That oil-slicked bum?" she scoffed, "he gave it to me because of poor online sales.
Had a hard time selling it here too. No one likes dark jewelry."
"Do you still have it?"
"Nope. Sold it to a shmuck for two hundred gil. Good thing he was so desperate to
have it. Doubled the profit."
"Lady, you have got to tell me who you sold it to," I urged. "I really, really would
like to have it."
Wrinkles ran across her forehead. "Is dark jewelry in now?" She tilt her head to the
side, making her slanted eyes more angled. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Customer
confidentiality."
Jumping Ifrit, this whole client privacy thing was driving me up the wall.
I put on my best pleading face, pouty lips and glistening eyes. "Please, my
grandmother got diagnosed with an incurable disease last week and she's only got
three, four days tops. As her final request, she asked from me a dark jewel, you
know, to go with her funeral garb. Do you want to be responsible for denying an
old woman her dying beauty wish? Can you stand the guilt?" I leaned in close
dramatically. "Can you?"
My fabulous acting proved to be working when a teary sheen glazed her eyes and she
sniffled. "I-I would if I could, but I can't. I really can't."
Huuuurraaack! Haaaaaawwwwrr!
Both the store clerk and I jumped when Izzy opened his mouth wide and started to
shriek ghastly noises. She rushed over to closely examine inside the throat of the
wheezing reptile.
"Izzy! How many times do I have to tell you not to eat grapes!" she scolded,
wrapping both arms around his belly to carry him. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to
close the shop and take him to the vet to barf it out." She gestured for me to walk
ahead of her.
I purposely slowed my walk in attempt to fit in another persuasion. "But I need to
know who you sold it to! If you do, my grandmother would recognize you as one
of her own!"
She shook her head. "Sorry, no… I'm in a hurry to go. Kindly move faster."
Reluctantly, I pushed open the door and made my way out. I whirled around to watch
her struggle with Izzy and lock the door at the same time. "Uh…need help?"
"Yes," she grunted, holding out a key to me. "Just turn it clockwise then let the
door close."
I turned clockwise. Then counterclockwise.
"Thanks," she said and dashed down the street out of sight.
"Still got it." I grinned inwardly, reopened the door and slipped inside the shop.
"Now to find the records."
I made a quick survey for any security cameras before striding to the very back.
I inspected the counter again and this time, next to the cash register, I noticed a
mini data processor.
In delight, I booted up the computer and scanned through the files for sales records.
With a few flicks of my wrists, I whispered a self-congratulatory triumph at coming
across a file named "Paublock Pendant". Once I jotted down the information on
paper, I turned off the computer, took out a handy hairpin to turn the lock, and
casually strolled out of Thurr's Pawn.
Thank goodness for dim-witted lizards, is all I can say.
The familiar afternoon heat was beginning to take its beat. Good thing my usual attire
consisted of a pair of short shorts and a tank otherwise I would have been a big
mess of Yuffie goo. I couldn't help but wonder how a certain black-clad man
would manage in this town.
Today proved to be particularly scorching as my skin took on a faint tan. I had ten
minutes to go before I reached the air-conditioned haven of my flat. What kept me
moving without groaning was the fact that I had made some leeway with the case.
My mood had shot back up knowing I could write up a report halfway.
I shielded my eyes from an unexpectedly bright gleam that made me temporarily lose
vision. The farther I walked forward sent the inside me twirling and prancing in a
maddening frenzy.
"Holy crapola, my bike!"
I scurried towards the sleek black vehicle shiningly proudly with its steering handle,
cushioned seat, three power drives, and yes, buffed turbo boost engine. The platform
glowed an iridescent blue with silver markings decorated the trim.
"I am forever in your debt, you cranky old geezer," I sputtered happily, scrambling
unto the seat. I felt my butt practically melt into the surprisingly comfortable cushion.
My hands roamed over every plane until it came across the key settled in the ignition
slot, "Show me what you got, baby," turned it and pulled on the accelerator handle.
"Waaaaaahoooooooooooo!"
Scenery whizzed by me as I vaulted high into the air and performed a celebratory
loop-de-loop. God, I missed the rush of being hurtled above the horizon, endless to
the core and utterly spine-tingling.
This bike came as the only accepted means of transportation I willingly chose to ride
because, for some reason, the motion sickness monster had no effect on me here.
Strange but true, like how some acrophobics do not mind riding roller coasters. Life
before hover-bike had never seemed so bland.
Feeling frisky, I made a slight descend until I hovered low enough to ruffle hairs but
high enough to match mid-rise buildings. Heads turned, skirts lifted, patio umbrellas
shook, and a mild heart attack hit an old woman or two.
I know. I am one bitchin' air surfer. I could start calling myself a hot biker chick and
get that sexy red leather jacket I saw on display last week, and maybe a sick tattoo
across my lower back and – Aiiiiieeeeeeeee!
My foot slammed on the brake as I gave a hard jerk on the bike handles, sending the
bike to arch upwards from jarring to a halt.
When the front of the bike swooped back down, I had Conformer ready to shave the
head of the crockpot who lacked the brains to ruin my joyride. What stopped me
short was a vision of red, black, and very distinct gold.
"Vincent!" I hollered at the man who had perched himself on top of a lamppost.
"Have you gone masochist? You're damn lucky I got ninja reflexes or you'd be one
flat vampy right now!"
Vampy merely glared at me. Boy, this sure brought back memories. If I had not been
so preoccupied with the current state, I would have thought how nice it was to be on
the receiving end of a Vincenty gaze again. Mostly revolving around me being Yuffie,
him being Vincent, and the whole messed up shebang. "Where did you go?"
"Don't tell me you've gone blind too? I've gone biking, and I still would be if you
hadn't parked yourself right there."
His glare fiercely doubled. "You have been gone for four hours."
"Doing the job you are paying me to do, no less," I countered.
"I told you I would be actively involved in this."
"Before you start getting your pants in a pinch, I did nothing but try to find a starting
point since we did not have much to begin with in the first place. Which, thanks to
my valiant efforts, turned out successful."
"Yuffie, we had a deal," he said roughly and I swore his red eyes took on an eerie
lighter shade.
"What I did was trivial," I reassured. "I promise you did not miss out on anything
big."
"No matter how insignificant it may be, I will not be exempted from it." His tone
turned low, the words more fact than an order.
I sighed. "Alright, alright, I will include you in anything and everything. But don't
go whining when we go to some gunk swamp and have to wade through fish poop."
"I hardly doubt it would come to that, Yuffie," he said dryly then made me start
when he leapt above me and sprinted across the rooftops.
"Hey!" I called out, speeding after him, "where are you going?"
"Costa Inn," he answered without slowing his pace.
"What for? I assumed you wanted to take part in the info-finding?"
"You assume correctly. However, it would be inconvenient to have to travel back
and forth frequently."
"So you're moving somewhere closer? Where?"
He shot me a glance over his shoulder, cool and stoic. "With you."
My day just keeps getting better and better.
TBC…
From the Desk of Scilja:
Hello readers and welcome to my sad attempt at Final Fantasy VII fiction. Yuffie and Vincent are dynamic characters on their own and this plot just happened to roll off my head. As for the rating - M - I'm serious about that. For explicit language, eg. Cid, and for some mature scenes later on, if you know what I mean (nudge nudge wink wink ). So be sure you can take the heat and are within the limits of the legal policies.
I hope you all enjoy this ride with me, and I'll try not to screw your mind over - mind you I can make no guarantee about the latter.
I love reviews, comments and anything you would have to say. I do read every single one of them and will respond, so send your thoughts my way. Like how Yuffie should just knock Vinnie out, tie him out, and have her exquisite way with him already.
See you at the next chapter!