Blood: Chapter 1 - Past issues

A second project had been proposed during Midgar's construction. It was only logical that the inhabitants of Midgar would need fresh drinking water, so a proposal had been put forward to create a reservoir in the river on the other side of the Midgar range and pipe it to the city underneath the mountains. With a stamp of approval, the building work began, ending with an eighty foot dam made up of more than a thousand tonnes of concrete and steel.

Work laying the pipes had presented an unexpected hurdle. Drilling caused a significant amount of earth to fall away, leaving a large cavern underneath the mountains. The Midgar range was already known to be a rich source of Mythril, and as a consequence the cavern was lined with it. Heat produced by the drilling process melted the mythril, causing it to harden around the walls in sheets, strengthening them considerably. The new cavern was incorporated into the already existent mythril mines.

When the time came to flood the valley however, the water pooled in the cavern, leaving the valley clear.

Strange how things could veer away from the plan. This thought brought a smile to Vincent's face as he leant on the railings atop the dam, watching the water in the pool below. Record rainfall had swollen the river to twice its normal size, bursting its banks further upstream and making good the term 'flood plain'. The abundance of water reaching the dam roared over the top of it, cascading down the central ridge in jagged waves of white, crashing into the pool below and swirling the dirty yellow foam into a roiling mess.

'Not pretty on the eyes.' Vincent thought with a grimace. Suddenly impatient, he checked his watch. That man was almost an hour late. As interesting as water was, there was only so much one could take before it began to get boring. It all looked the same, the only variety arriving in the form of a lost fish, hurtling over the edge and into the pool below. That was just sad to see; poor thing, meeting such a grisly end. These were alien thoughts, Vincent wondering where they could have come from. He had seen fish meet much worse fates on the sea shore back in Wutai. He clearly remembered wandering barefoot along the sand, only to find a group of fishermen dragging their catches ashore and gutting the poor things while still alive. Humans did such terrible things to innocent creatures.

"Could at least have cudgelled the poor bastards first." He murmured into his arms, folded as they were on the rusty safety rail in front of him.

At least the rain had let up. Summer was dying slowly, that unmistakable scent of Autumn in the warm breeze. Time had gone by too quickly, Vincent unsure where the days had gone. Maybe he needed a vacation?

He started, almost leaping out of his skin at the sudden thrum of the machines in the pump house starting up. "God, what's wrong with me lately?" He asked aloud, nobody present to answer him. Of course not. If that man had turned up on time then there would have been none of this waiting around, no opportunity to startle at sudden noises. He snapped to attention, the sound of soles on gravel moving his hand inside his jacket to his cross draw.

"Sorry I'm late." Daniel apologised, checking his watch as he approached along the walkway, "I got side tracked."

"I see." Of course it did not pay to be tetchy with executives, but after such a long wait Vincent had no desire to pretend.

He stepped back, forcing his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, Daniel leaning over the railings to look down at the wall below. "Well, there it is." He pointed out the sapling clinging to the concrete for dear life. "I don't know how that little guy got there, but he can't stay." Straightening, he dusted himself down and turned to Vincent, "That is going to require a wire. Any other concerns?"

Though he knew Vincent was only there to help, Daniel stiffened as the Turk reached inside his suit jacket, visibly relaxing as he took out a folded piece of white paper. Vincent snack a look at his companion over his shades, unfolding the paper in his hands. Reputations tended to preceded you, and when your reputation branded you as 'Bloody Valentine' to your colleagues, it was no surprise that people reacted with such mistrust. 'Bloody Valentine', how distasteful. "The maintenance detail check the pump house equipment regularly, so there are no complaints there, but there is some question as to the structural integrity of the dam itself." The snort he received was enough indication of Daniel's answer to that question, the man's action demonstrating his feelings,

"Balls!" Daniel answered, hopping up and down on the walkway, "I don't see any sliding, do you?"

"No, Sir, but I have my orders as you have yours."

"Mr. Valentine, when you put as much work into a structure of this size as I have, you ensure that everything is perfect first time out. Some of the best engineers check this thing over yearly, and there's a regular maintenance detail as you yourself have said-"

"It is the President's will, Sir."

"Balls again! No disrespect, but all that man does is quibble over money and his pet projects. Us heads of department do the real work, therefore it is us that should be organising these little excursions." Sighing deeply, Daniel set his briefcase down, spinning on one heel to lean on the railings again. "I don't expect you to understand. No disrespect to yourself, Vincent, but all you do is follow orders. You Turks have very little free rein to do anything. I designed and built this dam, just as Reeve and I did Midgar, so forgive me when I say I know it inside out, literally. There is nothing wrong with this structure."

Vincent joined him at the railing, finding himself looking at that pool of foam again. 'Bile.' He took off his shades and folded them, clasping them in one hand, "I only follow orders. That is my job."

"Us creative minds have to work things out for ourselves. If we're given orders we can work with them. Rigidity isn't a part of my job, thank God."

"God forgive us all for doing our jobs." Daniel never had the chance to think about Vincent's words, the Turk grabbing him and throwing him over the railings without a second thought. Eighty feet was a long way to fall, and a slanted concrete wall was a hard thing to hit.

Vincent neglected to watch his victim fall, turning his back on the railings to lean against them. Really the man should have known that something was amiss; after all, what idiot would fool around with the President's wife?

'I would complain, if I wasn't missing the Company ball for this.'

The Company was down one head of Urban Development now, unless the President promoted Reeve. The youngster had shown potential in his designs for Midgar, and working as Daniel's assistant meant that he already knew the tricks of the trade. He had talent - any eighteen year old architect in training capable of designing something like Midgar deserved kudos. Or part of Midgar at least. He had come in with his own designs for certain areas while construction was under way. In truth it was still under way. Nobody seemed to be able to see an end to it.

Unable to stop himself, Vincent cast a glance over the railings at the pool below. Daniel was definitely dead, his lifeless body plain to see on the water's surface. At least this was a testament kill, meaning there was no need to hide it. That was good news. Vincent did not much fancy the idea of tying rocks to cadavers. Then again the alternative was to be seen at the Company ball. God, why did the President insist on these little 'get together?

At least Daniel's death had been quick. Vincent hunched his shoulders, that troublesome conscience of his guiltiness him. Why did Daniel have to be such a faultless individual? Insufferable people were always easy kills. He became aware of that sheet of paper in his hand. It was blank of course, that 'structural integrity' bullshit had been his own invention. Daniel really had no idea about the Turks if he thought following orders was all there was to it. Tonight had proved that a lot of that fine salary was for thinking on your feet. Admittedly, sleeping with the President's wife was a downright foolish thing to do, so perhaps the man did have his faults after all, but nothing that affected anybody beyond President Shinra himself.

Allowing his eyes to rove they settled on the Midgar range, standing silent in the distance under a shroud of thin mist. While they watched so quietly, Shinra tower would be abuzz with excitement; Company executives doing their level best to get in good with the President in preparation for the new financial year, the elite group of invited shareholders milling about the place, casting fearful glances at Marlon and Trey, no doubt both Turks drunk out of their minds and neglecting to check on the security crew. He allowed himself a small smile at that, remembering that it was Trey's final Shinra ball. He would be retiring in September, so would probably make a nuisance of himself somehow.

The red head had always been a bit of a firecracker in regards to his superiors, and it was no secret that he had no respect for Heidegger. Then again, none of the Turks did, not even himself. Vincent raised an eyebrow at that sudden realisation, lifting one hand to sweep his dark hair from his eyes and behind one ear. Trey's treatment of Heidegger was abominable, but, being Trey he could get away with it. Charmless as he was, Trey Henson was the type of man you had to like. At thirty-two years old, he was nowhere near retirement age, but had managed to get himself into trouble of a different nature to his usual spats. He had gone and made himself a father, so had taken it upon himself to leave the job he loved and care for his new son, alone. Far from learning his lesson, Trey continued to sleep with whatever he considered as a human female he could charm into bed. Idiot.

Still, it would be sad to see him go. Vincent leant on the concrete wall over looking the dirty brown lake, his smile broadening as he pictured Trey at the ball, setting the dance floor alight with his impressive, yet unorthodox for the occasion moves. He certainly could dance, and the way he could swing his hips was just terrifying. Had he not heard of joints? The department would not be the same without him.

Sad thoughts aside, Vincent straightened, dusting down his coat and burying his hands in his pockets. It was only right that he should make an appearance. As the only sensible Turk in the building (Veld was on vacation) it was necessary. More than that, it was expected. Richards, Evan and Morris would be waiting for him to come in and tame his unruly comrades (though taming Trey was usually out of the question), before they tried it themselves. Ugh, what a thought.

Shrugging his shoulders to settle his jacket, he started on his way along the walkway, back towards the helicopter. Above all other reasons, that pretty professor would be there to keep his mind off his intolerable, yet somewhat loveable subordinates. She was usually happy to exchange sneaky glances with him. That could be some entertainment at least.

(Note: This is a weird story for you all. It's almost more like separate stories all smushed together. Some take place in the past, some in the present. They alternate by chapter, so it shouldn't confuse. Here's a key - past is in Italics, present is not. This one is very heavy on OCs too. Enjoy.)