Valentines

Chapter 1: Company Efficiency

By FullMentalPanic

Life was beautiful. Suns rose and set on days that were glorious and cherished. Every hour was marked by discovery; monuments that gave meaning and remembrance to her time. The joy of the moment cast into insignificance any time when she had not been happy. Everything was possible. Answers unfolded and mysteries revealed their secrets before her. She was so close, victory was a visible light on the horizon. It quickened her steps and actions until they flowed together with all the swift grace of a dance. She didn't mind when he laughed at her.

His eyes were like warmed wine, rich and red. His voice steadied her when her thoughts flew against each other in joyful confusion. When her theories bridged the gap between unlikely and utterly improbable, the compassion that curved his mouth endeared the smiles that would have been resented in another. His presence sheltered her heart and inspired her mind. When he disappeared, so did her joy.

Vincent had concluded that nothing important was being discussed. Fifteen minutes into the self-praising introduction, the president's words had turned into an incomprehensible drone in Vincent's ears. The president was speaking passionately, but just because he was passionate didn't mean he was interesting, particularly when his purling was pushing two hours. Vincent steadfastly believed that if executives wanted their employees' full attention, they wouldn't hold meetings in rooms with windows. He kept himself and his highly uncomfortably chair angled toward the earnest president, but his eyes were fixed on the blending lights and tossing leaves of the breezy world behind the speaker.

A distinct throat clearing shifted Vincent's eyes to where Mr. Shinra was looking at him with a mortally offended expression. Vincent inclined his head, and the owner of Shinra Manufacturing Works seemed mollified enough to continue on with whatever he was so excited about. He did however keep glancing back at the Turk, ensuring he had the man's attention. Vincent resettled on the hard planes of his chair, and kept his gaze on the president. The sun gushed in and jumped off the dark gloss of the conference table. The light cast upwards on the president's features, filling the lines and making his animated face look even younger than it was. He emphasized his speech with sweeping gestures like wind thrown-

A sharp, formally dressed toe jabbed Vincent's calf. Directly across from him, and making use of the thin width of the long conference table, Veld had apparently noticed his defaulting focus. Vincent nodded seriously to the presumably inconsequential point the president was making, and drove his heel down precisely on Veld's foot.

There was a stubborn tug as Veld tried to soundlessly release his foot. Vincent knew he couldn't get free without being obvious about it, and Veld was nothing if not professional. Humor sparked in Vincent's eyes, and he felt affably inclined to pay attention to the meeting. Not enough to actually follow what was being said though.

The table reflected the company, with a myriad of department heads and department head proxies, the role he and Veld were allegedly filling for the loftily titled Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department. In actuality, they were effectively the co-leaders of their department. Five days ago, they had received a memo informing them that the chief of the Turks was dead without any elaborating details.

Neither Vincent nor Veld had shed a tear over the news. Veld had been with the company for seven years, two years longer than Vincent, and neither one had ever met their department head in person. The 'chief' had kept himself so scarce that he was likely to be no more than a fabricated head the president had devised for a position that no one seemed suitable for yet. Both Vincent and Veld agreed that it was more than probable that their 'leader' had been crumpled up because Shinra had finally found someone who could actually fill that role, possibly one of them. That was news that Vincent was upset about. Being a department head would mean more of these excruciating meetings.

There was a high likelihood that the the president would reveal, or hint at, the new chief of the Turks at this very meeting; the reason that Vincent had been attentive for fifteen minutes instead of immediately looking out the window. There was a chance that Shinra would or had mentioned this singularly important piece of information somewhere in his tedious monologue. In that case, it would be up to Veld, who had an extraordinary knack for staying cognizant during the most mundane of meetings, to extract it. Vincent was convinced that Veld could look at a white-washed wall for days without blinking, if he was ordered to.

Vincent ducked his eyes over and met the periphery of Veld's oak gray gaze. They were the same age, or close enough that neither of them had bothered to haggle out the details. Since Vincent had joined Shinra, they had often been partnered on missions, usually to the benefit of nearly everybody involved, but sometimes to the personal chagrin of the two Turks. The skin around Veld's eyes was tight in annoyance and he shifted his watchfulness to view Vincent out of the corner of one eye. Vincent lifted his chin a grass blade's breadth toward the president, directing his partner to where Veld should be focusing, and quickly looked back to the president himself so he wouldn't laugh at the disgruntled flickering around Veld's mouth.

The president was still very much engaged by the sound of his own voice. Since the beginning of the meeting he hadn't sunk once into the depths of his impressive chair, the only decently cushioned one in the room. Vincent wondered if the president would notice if he ever managed to act on his long cherished dream of switching his sparsely padded chair with the president's lush one. Shinra must have shared some substantially good news because a laugh that was quickly becoming infamous boomed through the conference room.

Slate haired Martin Heidegger actually was paying attention to Shinra; leaning forward in his chair as hearty 'gya ha ha's reverberated from his throat. Previous to his recent employment with Shinra, Heidegger had been a middle-sized landowner in the mountains north of Corel with a proclivity for firearms and things that go 'boom'. A roving group of miscreants had their eye on his personal store of weaponry. When an offer of a paltry sum of gil was rejected, they came back with the rest of their group to relieve Heidegger of his effects. Heidegger wasn't feeling compliant, and detonated several homemade bombs on the path the group was taking. Any hooligan who wasn't killed in the initial blast was wiped out by the ensuing rock slide. So Heidegger claimed, there weren't any living witnesses to negate or confirm his story. After looking at the tons of rock that covered the trail, Vincent had decided to take Heidegger's word for it.

Vincent had been interested in Heidegger's actual age. In public record, if not in practice, his own Department of Administrative Research was under the newly named Department of Public Safety. Of which, Shinra had placed Heidegger as the head. Shinra had approved of Heidegger's methodology for dealing with threats, but Vincent was slightly disquieted by the man's vindictive streak that persisted even after a conflict was nullified and his penchant for explosively violent solutions. Heidegger's psyche was reminiscent of a hormone-torn adolescent, and Vincent wasn't reassured that the man was twenty-five, only a year his junior, and well into adult life.

Mr. Shinra smoothed the lapels of his coat, looking immensely pleased by Heidegger's mirth. If Heidegger had gained his post because of his hard hand with insurrection, he was going to keep it due to his enthusiastic embodiment of the role of yes-man. Even if Heidegger had been as young as he acted, Vincent doubted it would have deterred the president. Starting Shinra Manufacturing Works at eighteen, discovering Mako energy at nineteen, and riding the success of it for seventeen years and counting, Mr. Shinra was a staunch believer in the power of youth.

The president grinned and companionably held up a hand to quiet Heidegger's continuing cackle. The president addressed the table at large, Vincent still wasn't paying enough attention to listen, and then brought one hand down forcefully on the table. The president had ended a total of eight meetings this way in the past, and Vincent decided that applauding might hurry the process along. He clapped loudly and nodded with narrow eyed approval at Mr. Shinra, hoping that the man was truly finished. The rest of the room's occupants either genuinely relished Mr. Shinra's speech or were just as eager to leave as Vincent was; their clapping quickly drowned his own. The president nodded to the room, smugly gracious, and then clasped his hands behind his back. Nine times out of ten, this had been an indication that his subordinates were free to go. Vincent swiveled in his chair, using the motion to dig his heel a little more firmly into Veld's foot, and stood up. Vincent chose shoes that would service if ever he had to jump into a chocobo saddle; the heels were very pronounced.

In addition to being present at meetings to bathe themselves in the glorious words of the speaking executive, Turks were also in attendance to keep a watchful eye on all others present as well as the door. As such, they were always seated near the wall and at the foot of the table. Still, Vincent was the first one out.

Choosing a route that he'd long ago marked as the quickest for his purposes, Vincent took off at a smooth trot that brought blood singing back into his head and down to motion deprived legs. Without slowing, he pushed past glass doors and into light that no fire or Mako pulsing bulb could ever compare to. For a one deep breath he stood there, eyes closed, head tipped back, watching the living glow of his blood play across his vision. Then he lowered his face from the sun and opened his eyes.

He was in a completely enclosed courtyard, the building three stories tall around him. Out of habit, he did a quick scan of the rooftops and visible windows for possible sniper positions. There were a lot of them. However, he was in a, supposedly, Shinra secure complex and could afford to lower some of those Shinra infused cautions. He sauntered over to a low stone bench and lay down, looking up into the early spring sparse foliage of the single tree in the enclosure. He might even have an entire minute before Veld caught up with him.

"Vincent."

Or less than that.

"Veld," his face was politely expressionless, and he kept his eyes closed. If Veld wanted revenge for having his foot smashed, Vincent felt like giving him a sporting chance.

Veld only went in for company condoned violence, his own vindictive style employed different means for justice. Soft, hot breath tickled into Vincent's ear.

"Gaaaah!" Vincent jerked and slipped off the opposite side of the bench, scrabbling at his ear and glaring. He should have broken Veld's foot.

Veld straightened, and his feathery hawk-brown hair swept back into place. "You should be more attentive, Valentine."

He was talking about the meeting. Vincent exhaled through his nose and sprawled comfortably on the ground, Shinra was in a pitiable state when the chairs it produced were less accommodating than a patch of dirt. "Did Mr. Shinra name the department head?"

"You really don't recall?" Veld's voice was desert dry.

Vincent cast him a sideways look, he'd thought Veld would be used to this by now.

"The president discussed several key issues."

Vincent quirked one side of his mouth and the eyebrow above it, "Then it's undoubtedly essential that you tell me what they were." Long ago they had fallen into this pattern. Veld retained, summarized, and gave his assumptions on all relevant information from a meeting lasting hours in minutes; Vincent looked out the window. Veld fought the paradigm every single time, and then gave in without fail. "In exchange I could describe what happened outside the window. There was a bird that looked like your hair."

Veld's eyes narrowed in weary acceptance, "Your father would not be proud of your methods."

Vincent's cheek twitched with internal humor. His father probably wouldn't be proud, but he would laugh.

"My father would be disappointed if I squandered energy listening to unimportant information," said Vincent airily.

"It was important," said Veld, his eyes tracking from left to right, his equivalent of an eye roll.

"I'll never know the error of my ways unless you prove it by telling me."

Veld gave him a stoically baleful stare, then hopped over the bench and leaned against the tree next to Vincent. Even on company property, Veld was cagey with his information and played it close to the vest. Vincent sat up fractionally, Veld never went over anything that wasn't worthwhile.

"Midgar is a reality."

"But not yet completed."

"You were listening for that part?"

"No, I picked up that bit of intelligence outside conference rooms."

Veld did roll his eyes this time. "Three of the proposed eight reactors are completed. Mr. Shinra's enthusiasm for city construction indicates that the corresponding foundational structures are nearly finished and that preliminary structures for company headquarters have begun."

The president had likely spoken to the effect that the entire city would be functional in a matter of months. "Have there been any complications with the local population?" asked Vincent.

"The human locals are 'enthusiastic for the benefits the company will bring them'. The majority of them probably appreciate the industry and job opportunities the company is creating, those of them that actually live in the area. The site is rural. There have been a substantial amount of monster encounters; the Department of Public Safety is getting its chance to prove its usefulness."

"As well as show that Mr. Shinra made a commendable choice in appointing Heidegger." No wonder they'd been so chummy during the conference.

Veld didn't argue the point. "Heidegger is fond of displays of power and tends to move his forces around en mass. The monsters they encounter are overwhelmed by their concentration of fire power. It does leave large sections of the site unguarded and minimal damage to the structures has resulted. No loss of company life."

"The president has been expounding on his Midgar dream for years now," said Vincent. "Its commencement warrants a certain amount of excitement." He watched Veld with steady inquiry.

"The president was very excited," said Veld affirmatively. "He spoke with passion about the company's potential and reiterated often how 'we are on the frontier of human existence'. There has been a discovery."

Vincent stood casually and shook the sleepiness out of his left leg. Even without the height of his chocobo worthy shoes, he still had a few centimeters or so on Veld. This was even more emphasized by the slim build he'd inherited from the mother he couldn't remember. Veld was far from hulking, but he was broad enough that any ordinary opponent would give him plenty of room in a fight. Every lean muscle Vincent possessed was effectively hidden by the cut of his suit. Only a trained eye would recognize his stance and movements as those of a trained combatant. Everyone else would, and had, mistaken him for some sapling skinny weakling whose height had overshot his strength. Every impression he or Veld exuded had been utilized by the company on countless missions. Throughout their careers there was one objective that always took priority: to collect information.

"The president had no hesitation about heralding his discovery of Mako," said Veld.

"The president was nineteen. His thought processes and reasoning then can't be completely comparable to those at thirty-six."

"The president has been consistent in promoting any ways that Mako could benefit the public. So the question is this, how is this discovery different from Mako?"

"Mako encircles the entire planet. It has been located and harvested on every continent, save Wutai; it's not something that can be stolen even if its existence is widely known."

"So the discovery was singular."

Vincent nodded, and reached up to touch one of the unopened buds of the tree. "A theory, formula, or entity that can at this point be stolen. The disclosure of information about which would render it less valuable or at least less useful to the company."

"And is a step above the usual results put out by Professor Gast and company...and Dr. Valentine."

Vincent shrugged that off, his father's credibility was immovable to him, and wouldn't be affected by a casual omission of his success. On the left, the majority of the windows led to the personal offices of higher ranking executives. Vincent's sloe hair fell straight and thick on the left side of his face, giving him a screen he could utilize to disguise his profile or hide his expression from those addressing him on that side. Additionally, he knew it looked good on him. He turned slightly to his right, tossing his black locks to shield him from most of the left-hand windows, and giving Veld a full view of his face so he would know Vincent was serious.

"So he didn't name the department head?"

"Incorrigible," muttered Veld .

"Unashamedly."

"If you actually paid attention during the meetings you would have a good shot at the chair yourself. The president can tell you're not always engaged, and it's hurting your odds of a promotion."

Vincent grinned. "Excellent, my plans are coming to fruition."

Veld appealed to the sky for patience.

"You're a much better choice than I am," said Vincent guilelessly.

Veld looked at him wryly. "You're just too lazy to apply yourself."

"Shinra has ruined me. They give a surplus of information I care nothing about and no details of actual significance."

"The memos do leave something to be desired."

"I still prefer them over the meetings."

Vincent tipped his head back and breathed in, savoring the tang of salt in the air. "I'm walking into Junon tonight. Care to accompany?" The nearby fishing village was a constant draw for Vincent. The wind twisted trees on the shore and colors that swam through the sea were more enthralling than any Shinra event he'd attended.

A slow smirk spread over Veld's face. "I have plans for other company this evening."

Vincent raised his eyebrows knowingly, and headed out of the courtyard with laughter curving his mouth. Veld had made the acquaintance of a young woman of the village, and as with everything, was serious about it. Vincent stopped in his office and found one of the bare bones Shinra memos on his desk. It told him his new assignment, his time of departure, and that his father was dead.

A/N: There are sparse records on the early years of FFVII, so I've taken some license. If anything seems drastically non-canon, and you can cite why, I'll adjust it. Stay tuned for chapter two! Thanks to my sister who loved my story. No thanks to my brother who is a sourpuss, his words not mine (my words: he is awesome and a great canon consultant).