Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ I Know What Lies Beneath the Snowfields ❯ Chapter 18 ( Chapter 18 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

"I Know What's Beneath the Snow Fields"
Chapter 18

President ShinRa made no secret of his love for ostentatious luxury, as
could be guessed from his enormous office which occupied the entire 70th
floor.

This spacious office, bordered with glazed windows all around, betrayed
every sign of incredible wealth and comfort. The marble floor was
impeccably waxed everyday. Large, elaborate lanterns illumunated every
corner of the office, for the sole purpose of showing off the magnitude of
the room.

But most importantly, the President's impressive desk dominated the entire
front of the office. It rigidly curved into a U-shape, with all sorts of
screen monitors, buttons, and speakers adorning its interior. Many had
described this famous desk as the symbol of the vast wealth ShinRa had
accumulated in a mere three years.

Vincent marched into this office, looking as morose and serious as ever.
The ShinRa President, who was ranting angirly into the phone, beckonned for
the Turk to step forward. Vincent obediently stood infront of the large
desk, and waited for the President to address him.

Though ShinRa was around 28 years old, he looked much older. His short,
corpulent figure tended to waddle whenever he moved excitedly about the
room. His coarse, mustard-coloured hair had been forcefully combed back,
while a trim moustache outlined his upper lip. Virtually everyone agreed
ShinRa's most prominent feature was his nose. Indeed, it was a snub-shaped,
stubby nose with wide nostrils. To be blunt, he was hopelessly ugly.

Nevertheless, what ShinRa lacked in looks, he cleverly made up in style.
His smart, dark-pink suit was undoubtedly tailored in the very best of
shops. He always propped the most expensive fountain pen in his breast
pocket, even though he never used it. A magnificent moonstone ring adorned
his fat middle finger, and magically shimmered whenever his hand moved.

But his most beloved article of luxury, besides his impressive desk, was
his specially imported cigars. Vincent could not remember him without a
cigar stuck either in his mouth, or between his clumsy fingers.

When finally done heckling, President ShinRa slammed the phone shut with a
violent oath. However, on noticing the Turk, his face shifted from a scowl
to a good-natured, hideous smile. He automatically reached for a cigar.

"Ah, Vincent," he greeted as he lit the cigar, "And how is our
newly-appointed Turk doing? Enjoying your job, I hope?"

"Yes, Sir," Vincent replied coldly but respectfully.

The President huffed out three perfect circles of smoke, watching them
disappear into thin air with absurd fascination. Vincent did not flinch a
muscle. He knew the President didn't call him just for an idle chat.

"Davoren just finished his report about you, Vincent," ShinRa chattered
on, "And what a delightful report! He was really impressed with your gun
skills, obedience, and a string of other things I can't remember at the
moment. Now that's what I need, by Juniper! Good Turks who can take
orders!"

Vincent merely pushed his black hair out of his face impatiently. He
didn't find this praise very meaningful. The President began to rummage
through a stack of papers heaped on his desk, laughing as happily as ever.

"Mind you," he joked without looking up, "If Davoren himself says you're
good, then you MUST be good. It's not easy to impress that man. No! No!"

"Thank you, Sir."

"But he also said your 'sense of tactics' could use some hepl, especially
in open, all-out combat," The President remarked. He pulled out some
papers, then added playfully, "but this isn't military school, you know!
This is a company! And it's about to become a monopoly very soon."

The President suddenly pressed a button on the intercom, and ordered
sternly, "Bring him in to me now, Katya."

"Yes, Mr. President. Right away," replied a woman's voice. She sounded
very annoyed.

The President took a huge whiff at his cigar. As he puffed out an
impressive amount of smoke, he eyed the Turk very keenly. His two piggish
eyes instantly lit up with a dark, evil fire.

Vincent saw he was finally getting to the point.

"Tell me, Vincent," he said at last, "do you know who Mr. Hawking is?"

"Yes, Sir. He's the President of the Hawking Industrial Corporation of
Midgar."

"Right on the nail!" laughed ShinRa, shaking his filthy cigar in Vincent's
face, "And I made Gerald kidnap a 'bairn', to use his words. Can you guess
whoose?"

Vincent paused a moment before he answered, "I assume it is Hawking's
child, Sir."

"Very good!" he beamed delightedly.

ShinRa hopped into his dark leather chair, still puffing his cigar smugly.
He held his hand at arm's length, so as to study his beautiful moonstone
ring, then continued, "See, that Hawking geezer thinks he can stand up
against ME with his out-dated scrap of garbage he calls a 'company'. Did
you know he hired those terrorists to destroy my Reactor?"

"Yes, Sir. I did."

"Now, I suppose I could be an uncivilized ass and tell you to go shoot
him, like you did with the Mayor. On the other hand, I got this brilliant
idea to get even with him! Yup, hang me if I'm not a genius!"

Vincent hoped he wasn't expected to answer that last comment.

The President roared with laughter at his "brilliant idea" until Katya,
his secretary, stormed into his office with a sobbing young boy. The child,
no older than eight, screamed furiously as the woman dragged him forward.
He clutched at his stuffed toy as though it would somehow protect it from
these strangers.

Vincent looked askance at the small, shrieking child, then understood why
Gerald hed been so annoyed that afternoon.

"Mr. President!!" Katya declared, exasperated beyond limits, "This brat is
driving everyone nuts!! He hasn't stopped crying since he got here!! We
tried T.V, stories, even lullabies for God's sake!! He will not shut up!!!"

The angry secretary gave the poor child a violent tug, which made him
scream at the top of his lungs. Vincent fidgetted uncomfortably as the
child's shrieks hammered his ears. However, the President beckonned for
Katya to bring the boy over to him. She silently obeyed, only too glad to
rid herself of the troublesome burden.

"Hey, kiddo! Why are you giving everyone such a hard time?" the President
smiled amicably. He perched the sobbing child on his knees, then laughed,
"C'mon! Tell Uncle ShinRa why you're crying so much?"

"I wah..I WANT MY DADDY!!!" screamed the pitiful boy. He then burried his
tearful face in his stuffed toy, unable to say anymore.

"Aw! We're going to see Daddy right now!" comforted ShinRa kindly as he
stroked the little boy's hair, "We're all going to see him! C'mon, now! Big
boys never cry!"

The boy continued to sniffle loudly, but his shoulders stopped shaking.
That last piece of news had somewhat comforted him.

"Hey! I know what you really want!" the President cried happily, "Lookie!
Lookie! Candy tarts!!"

His fat hand immediately reached for the drawer, and pulled out a neat
bowl full of colourful candies. The boy marvelled at so many sweets, his
wet eyes dazzled by the bright colours. He then looked amazedly at this
ugly man.

"Well, go on! Take one. Hell, take as many as you want!" the President
laughed, "Take it all, if you can have it all! That's what I always say!"

After some hesitation, the boy snatched a handful of sweets, and stuffed
them into his mouth at once. ShinRa only redoubled his laughter at the
boy's childish greediness.

"Say! What a cute little bear!" he exclaimed as he patted the stuffed toy,
"What's his name?"

"Woody," the boy sniffled with a mouthful of sweets.

"Here you go, Woody! Have some some candy tarts too!" The President
chuckled, pretending to give the toy some sweets.

So, in a mere ten minutes, the illustrious President ShinRa had not only
silenced the sobbing child, but had also made great friends with him. The
boy sqealed with laughter, and prattled on about many things (like Woody,
his best friend Mark, and Daddy's garden). Vincent was certainly impressed.

When the President finally placed the boy back on the ground, he slowly
got up from his leather seat. He took a last whiff at his beloved cigar,
then flung it away in a silver ashtray nearby.

"Katya," he ordered sternly, "Tell Davoren to get the car ready. We leave
in fifteen minutes."

Katya, absolutely stunned by his success with the child, immediately
scurried away to fulfil his wishs. ShinRa took the boy's liitle hand in his
awkward paw, but stared straight at Vincent's face. That carefree, inane
smile had been replaced by a serious, business-like expression.

"You're coming too, Mr. Valentine," the President stated, "We're paying a
little visit to Mr. Hawking's mansion. Be sure you're downstairs on time.
Dismissed."

Vincent, aftera respectful bow, silently marched out of the luxurious
office.

The child's happy laugther still rang in hsi ears, even after he had
entered the glazed elevator and sealed himself inside. The slow elevator
steadily journeyed down to the ground floor. Vincent leaned his back
against the elevator wall with folded arms, and gazed meditatively at the
grim Midgar skyline outside. It was already pitch black outside.

He had a vague idea what the President intended to do with that child:
most probably some kind of revenge on Hawking for disrupting his Reactor.
But Vincent also strongly suspected an ulterior motive for kidnapping
Hawking's son. If not, then why didn't he order Gerald to just kill the
boy?

Thus argued Vincent in his brain, debating about what secret motive the
boy could serve. So engrossed in his private thoughts, he hardly noticed
the elevator halt momentarily to admit another person inside. His idle eyes
happened to glance at the new passenger. Much to his astonishment, it was
Lucrecia.

The woman fidgetted at the far end of the elevator, staring timidly at the
Turk from the corner of her eye. Her cheeks flushed when he had finally
noticed her, but she kept her soft eyes fixed on his face.

Vincent, of course, straightened himself up at once. He ran his fingers
through his thick, black hair as he cast his nervous eyes to the ground.
Not knowing what else to do, he thrust both hands into his pockets, and
turned away from the embarrassed young woman.

The pain of her slap prickled his cheek again. He could still recall how
badly it had stung him for a full hour afterwards; he had even considered
putting some ice on it.

Yet strange, he could not quite remember Lucrecia's actual face. In fact,
she had been severely blurred in his memory during the last three days.
Vincent glimpsed very quickly at her, but long enough to see all her face.

Gerald hadn't exaggerated one bit when he had described Lucrecia as
"beautiful". Her long, brown hair had been carefully braided behind her
head, with some loose strands dangling around her delicate face. Her gentle
eyes shone softly through her smart glasses, making her lovely face appear
even more graceful.

She wore a long, white lab coat which dismally failed to conceal the
slimness of her body. Her hands struggled vigorously to carry several files
and a large book, while at the same time balance her briefcase.

An extremely awkward silence dominated the elevator for a full minute.
Vincent lacked the courage to open his mouth for fear of angering her (or
getting slapped again). And besides, what could he possibly tell her?

Cindy's playful words floated back to his mind. It then occured to him
that *Lucrecia* had been asking about him just yesterday.

"How..how is your arm, Mr. Valentine, Sir?" Lucrecia asked all of a
sudden. She looked anxiously at his face as she pushed her glasses up her
nose.

Vincent stared blankly at her for a moment.

"My arm??" he echoed in amazement.

"Yes, Sir. The one that got shot."

"Oh! My arm!" he started, understanding her at last, "..er..it's fine,
thanks to you. you warned me just in time."

"Good...I..I'm very pleased to hear that," she faltered nervously.
Suddenly, one of her clumsy files crashed onto the ground, scattering all
its papers around the poor woman's feet. Lucrecia's cheeks flushed heavily
with complete mortification. Vincent automatically crouched down to gather
the file for her.

"NO!NO! I'll get that!!" she cried in alarm. In a flash, she bent down to
snatch the file out of his hands. Her nervous hands quickly stuffed all the
dispersed papers into the file. she sprang back up to her feet just as the
elevator door withdrew on the ground floor. After mumbling some obscure
apology, Lucrecia bolted out of the elevator in a panic.

Without another look back, she dashed through the reception hall, nearly
knocking over some employee with a stackful of papers. Lucrecia ran out the
main entrance, and Vincent saw her no more.

He followed her a couple of steps, but soon halted in the middle of the
reception hall, completely dumbstruck. He had only exchanged a few words
with her; what on earth could he have said to upset her so badly?

As he scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, his eyes caught two
yellow sheets of papers helplessly crushed underneath his foot. He picked
them up curiously.

They must have slipped out of her file, Vincent reflected.

Even though they were two sheets of ordinary paper, he flicked through
them with strange interest. Neat, tiny handwriting completely covered one
page, while the other contained a little sketch with the name "JENOVA"
scribbled underneath it. Vincent studied the sketch, trying to figure out
what it should be. Unfortunately, his shoe had dirtied it beyond
recognition.

After a moment's thought, Vincent carefully folded the two sheets and
slipped them into his breast pocket. He would return them first thing in
the morning...

But for now, he must concentrate on his job.