[Vincent recieves the bottle back. In turn, he takes a swig from it- closing his eyes and swallowing the burn of the alchohol down. It's a mid-budget brand. It doesn't have the typical battery acid burn of Veld's favoured slum hooch, but it's strong.
...Strong enough that he'd better get the other something to line his stomach with. He opens his eyes, passes the bottle back, and stands- moving to the other side of the room as his partner speaks. There's a small fridge standing against a wall. Something that's opened, and a cardboard noodle box is taken out of it. As ever, takeout. The staple of a Turk- someone who worked long, irregular hours. Someone who didn't have the time for preparing food. Someone who didn't have the inclination for anything but work. Yesterday's takeout- given a cursory sniff and then placed unto a small microwave and fired up. As the little machine whirs away...]
About him. I have an idea.
[Heidegger, that was. It's not exactly... without risk. But what was a little risk when it was a matter of days until Vincent was called to a court marshal? He was Veld's partner, after all. Guilt by association would be foisted upon him- for after all, he was just as much a target as Veld. A loose end that required snipping. Much like the rest of their office- but Vincent? Even more so.]
...I'll get myself arrested. In Junon. I'll be interrogated again. Likely charged with abetting what happened. Probably be made a spectacle of, and be executed in the same week so the public feel that something's been done. But he'll want to know what's happening. He'll be there- at least for the initial interview. Especially since you're missing.
[Ding! The microwave cheerfully finishes its task, and Vincent opens it, taking out the steaming box and opening a drawer. Chopsticks, given Veld's hand? ....No. So a fork and a plate is procured. The box is placed on the plate. The fork is placed within the box- after he's swirled the noodles within around a little. Just to remove at least some of the condensation.]
The reason why Junon is relevant is that it can be locked down. As you know- when a threat's called and the system engages, every apartment, business, and cell in there is sealed. If I can interfere with the lockdown system before being brought in, and keep it locked...
[He walks on over to the other, meeting him in the eyes.]
...Then he's trapped, same as me. And he won't be able to answer any panic button the President pushes when he sees you- let alone direct the military to assist him.
[The plate is placed, gingerly, at Veld's side. And he sits at the end of the bed.]
I can handle the infantry they'll have in there with me. But there's a problem. For this to work, it'll have to happen the same time you meet with the President. ...Which'll mean you'll have to take the transport, and meet with him, alone.
[Vincent says nothing about any additional pressure on Veld to see it through. After all, if he was in Junon or not, if Veld failed- they were both dead. It's a moot point.]
[Veld frowns but lets Vincent to continue talking. It would be risky putting Vincent probably literally in the line of fire since Heidegger had always wanted to bring down Veld and would seize on the opportunity to take that out on Vincent.
But Heidegger's arrogance was always his downfall and he would want to take the time to gloat while making his usual mistake of underestimating the Turks. He always thought that he was invincible with his army.
He knows he doesn't have to tell Vincent how many times this can go wrong and what would happen if he failed- they both had faced death many times to be afraid of it at this point.
He knew that Vincent could withstand anything that Heidegger would try since no matter how much he blustered, he didn't have the stomach or even the imagination for what Vincent and Veld did on a regular basis for the company.
His stomach turns at the smell of food but he knows that he has to eat something and keep it down to recover as much as he can in the limited time that they has before they put this plan into motion.
So he shifts on the bed, taking up the fork slowly and carefully.]
He won't be able to resist the opportunity of thinking he has you cornered.
[So it may work as Vincent suggests, Heidegger is really that predictable.]
If I fail you remember where the points are? [Places where Veld had stockpiled resources, materia, and weapons, somewhere they could hide out if needed while on missions.
They would be hunted with the full force of the company but hopefully, they could buy themselves some time to figure out a backup plan if they survived this.]
[Heidegger taking him out to get at Veld? Vincent doubted it. In Vincent's experience of the man, Heidegger didn't know what a subordinate was. He employed punching bags- and had no experience of earned authority, earned deference, or earned respect- let alone a (probably) genuine friendship. In that man's mind, a second crack at an interrogation, under his terms, would serve the purpose of finding out Veld's location- and if he was alive or not. Vincent's execution would likewise serve a singular purpose- to have the public believe that Public Security were capable of serving justice for Kalm. Nothing else. Simply because he couldn't relate.
Veld was right about everything else, though. Heidegger's arrogance- as well as the fact that Vincent would be in the line of fire. Regardless. Vincent answers.]
Yes. Assuming the cache in the miltary facility is still there. And that the usual codes are still active.
[Far be it for Veld's caches to be in open access to anyone that might blunder upon them. And if anything, they'll be handy. Vincent knew being taken in would have him stripped of everything but his suit- so extras after he's processed? Very much appreciated. He crosses one of his legs over the other, looking away in thought for a moment as Veld (gingerly) starts to poke at the noodles.
And yes. Maybe that bottle's taken back again. Another swig was required.]
You can't fail. If you do- there's no point in running. We're both dead- a few hours for me, a few weeks for you.
[Both of their lives relied upon Veld changing the President's mind. At most, Vincent was sure he could lock Junon down for an hour or two before the military engineers descrambled the lockdown system. While he was confident he could handle Heidegger and whichever unfortunate lackeys he had in the interrogation room while it was locked down- he knew, full well, that he wouldn't be able to handle the thousands of soldiers and navy stationed there. As soon as the system was turned off, they'd be on him.]
I honestly don't know. The codes are active, you'll find everything you need to get away at least.
[Veld manages to get a couple of forkfuls of noodles down without throwing it up but gives up, feeling his arm shake from how weak the muscles are from being unconscious for so long.
It doesn't help all the medication is not sitting well with him but he still holds out his hand for the bottle anyway.]
I know him better than he knows himself- at least, I did. He was once someone I sacrificed everything for, Vincent.
[The president had become someone twisted over the recent years and Veld found himself more on the outside as Hojo and the other scientists wormed their way in, promising the opportunity to build power.]
I failed him, Vincent. I should have seen the danger earlier. I should have done more to prevent Hojo from sinking his claws into him and seducing him with promises of being able to make the world his.
[Maybe that greed and evil had always been lurking and Veld had just not seen it or wanted to see it.
He hates how his voice cracks and he knows Vincent will know it's not just because of a sore throat but the emotions are there whether he likes it or not and the medication is making it difficult to control the outburst.]
Even if I get through to him, this is only the first attempt- there will be others.
[And he has to make sure that if they survive this, they will at least be able to survive the next attempt. There is no question of leaving the company whether Veld gets through to the president or not, they were bound to the company.]
[Well. Given Veld's secretive nature, It'd been some years before Vincent had even found out he had a (somewhat estranged) wife. Much less a child, tucked away in Kalm. The sacrifice he spoke of was likely to be that marriage. He couldn't relate, having nothing of the sort. But the knowledge? It was there. Sympathy, given what had just happened? Yes. ...A great deal of it.
As for the President, Vincent didn't know the man. While he could accurately read the (regrettable) personalities of the Board members thanks to the fact their protection usually fell to him, Veld's senority meant that he was the President's detail. Only he would know the nature of the man. Maybe the President had changed along the way. Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe greed and evil were just the opposite side of the coin to the President's bold and uncompromising nature. Maybe Veld only noticed when he was the target. ...He didn't know.
His eyes do raise to Veld at the cracking of his voice, though. There's emotion there. And it's pitiable. So. He takes a long inhale, leaning in to both pass the other the bottle- and to move closer. His hand hovers for a long (terse) moment- before his fingertips (tentatively) glide unto the longer section of his hair in some small degree of comfort. As the pads of his fingers move against the other man's scalp, he can't resist turning some of the auburn strands over once something catches his eye.
Is that ash, from the fire? No. Of course not. Vincent had taken the time to get him, and keep him, clean while he'd been out of it- even dragging him to the shower, unconcious, some days. And what he sees is more silvery than dull. He's going grey.
Surprising, at his age. But unsurprising, given what he'd been through.]
We've got a week. [A last week to live. Probably.] ...Starting tomorrow, We're going to have to push your recovery. [And Veld's likely going to hate him for it.] I need to know you'll be strong enough to survive the flight.
[Veld hates being so weak physically but he can recover from that, wounds and burns will heal. He doesn't care about scars and though it will take time to adjust to losing one arm since that is something that he can just overcome with enough time.
He won't give himself any other alternative. He doesn't protest when Vincent says that they will have to push Veld's recovery since he can handle that. Granted, he's never been this injured but that doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything.
But it's the emotional pain he struggles with. He learned how to compartmentalize his emotions separate from his work, even when it came to his failing marriage and not being able to spend a lot of time at home with his daughter.
His first instinct is to push Vincent away and insist he's fine to shut the emotions down deep again. But the medications and the raw pain make it impossible to push all that down when Vincent runs a hand through his hair, taking the bottle from him.
He takes a long drink, still not pulling away as he allows Vincent to run a hand through his hair. It was comforting, something he hadn't had in a long time. He had told himself that he didn't need this weakness of needing someone to let his guard down even for a bit.
He takes another drink from the bottle, taking a shaky breath. There are no tears, he's sure that he lost the ability to cry decades ago when he had to learn hard lessons decades ago in order to survive in the world.
He can't reply for a while, not trusting his voice to not break again. He doesn't notice when Vincent pauses when he sees the grey hair, still emotionally overwhelmed.
But the moment finally passes and he finally dares to say something.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
...Strong enough that he'd better get the other something to line his stomach with. He opens his eyes, passes the bottle back, and stands- moving to the other side of the room as his partner speaks. There's a small fridge standing against a wall. Something that's opened, and a cardboard noodle box is taken out of it. As ever, takeout. The staple of a Turk- someone who worked long, irregular hours. Someone who didn't have the time for preparing food. Someone who didn't have the inclination for anything but work. Yesterday's takeout- given a cursory sniff and then placed unto a small microwave and fired up. As the little machine whirs away...]
About him. I have an idea.
[Heidegger, that was. It's not exactly... without risk. But what was a little risk when it was a matter of days until Vincent was called to a court marshal? He was Veld's partner, after all. Guilt by association would be foisted upon him- for after all, he was just as much a target as Veld. A loose end that required snipping. Much like the rest of their office- but Vincent? Even more so.]
...I'll get myself arrested. In Junon. I'll be interrogated again. Likely charged with abetting what happened. Probably be made a spectacle of, and be executed in the same week so the public feel that something's been done. But he'll want to know what's happening. He'll be there- at least for the initial interview. Especially since you're missing.
[Ding! The microwave cheerfully finishes its task, and Vincent opens it, taking out the steaming box and opening a drawer. Chopsticks, given Veld's hand? ....No. So a fork and a plate is procured. The box is placed on the plate. The fork is placed within the box- after he's swirled the noodles within around a little. Just to remove at least some of the condensation.]
The reason why Junon is relevant is that it can be locked down. As you know- when a threat's called and the system engages, every apartment, business, and cell in there is sealed. If I can interfere with the lockdown system before being brought in, and keep it locked...
[He walks on over to the other, meeting him in the eyes.]
...Then he's trapped, same as me. And he won't be able to answer any panic button the President pushes when he sees you- let alone direct the military to assist him.
[The plate is placed, gingerly, at Veld's side. And he sits at the end of the bed.]
I can handle the infantry they'll have in there with me. But there's a problem. For this to work, it'll have to happen the same time you meet with the President. ...Which'll mean you'll have to take the transport, and meet with him, alone.
[Vincent says nothing about any additional pressure on Veld to see it through. After all, if he was in Junon or not, if Veld failed- they were both dead. It's a moot point.]
...Well?
no subject
But Heidegger's arrogance was always his downfall and he would want to take the time to gloat while making his usual mistake of underestimating the Turks. He always thought that he was invincible with his army.
He knows he doesn't have to tell Vincent how many times this can go wrong and what would happen if he failed- they both had faced death many times to be afraid of it at this point.
He knew that Vincent could withstand anything that Heidegger would try since no matter how much he blustered, he didn't have the stomach or even the imagination for what Vincent and Veld did on a regular basis for the company.
His stomach turns at the smell of food but he knows that he has to eat something and keep it down to recover as much as he can in the limited time that they has before they put this plan into motion.
So he shifts on the bed, taking up the fork slowly and carefully.]
He won't be able to resist the opportunity of thinking he has you cornered.
[So it may work as Vincent suggests, Heidegger is really that predictable.]
If I fail you remember where the points are? [Places where Veld had stockpiled resources, materia, and weapons, somewhere they could hide out if needed while on missions.
They would be hunted with the full force of the company but hopefully, they could buy themselves some time to figure out a backup plan if they survived this.]
no subject
Veld was right about everything else, though. Heidegger's arrogance- as well as the fact that Vincent would be in the line of fire. Regardless. Vincent answers.]
Yes. Assuming the cache in the miltary facility is still there. And that the usual codes are still active.
[Far be it for Veld's caches to be in open access to anyone that might blunder upon them. And if anything, they'll be handy. Vincent knew being taken in would have him stripped of everything but his suit- so extras after he's processed? Very much appreciated. He crosses one of his legs over the other, looking away in thought for a moment as Veld (gingerly) starts to poke at the noodles.
And yes. Maybe that bottle's taken back again. Another swig was required.]
You can't fail. If you do- there's no point in running. We're both dead- a few hours for me, a few weeks for you.
[Both of their lives relied upon Veld changing the President's mind. At most, Vincent was sure he could lock Junon down for an hour or two before the military engineers descrambled the lockdown system. While he was confident he could handle Heidegger and whichever unfortunate lackeys he had in the interrogation room while it was locked down- he knew, full well, that he wouldn't be able to handle the thousands of soldiers and navy stationed there. As soon as the system was turned off, they'd be on him.]
...So tell me. How are you playing this?
[The President, of course.]
no subject
[Veld manages to get a couple of forkfuls of noodles down without throwing it up but gives up, feeling his arm shake from how weak the muscles are from being unconscious for so long.
It doesn't help all the medication is not sitting well with him but he still holds out his hand for the bottle anyway.]
I know him better than he knows himself- at least, I did. He was once someone I sacrificed everything for, Vincent.
[The president had become someone twisted over the recent years and Veld found himself more on the outside as Hojo and the other scientists wormed their way in, promising the opportunity to build power.]
I failed him, Vincent. I should have seen the danger earlier. I should have done more to prevent Hojo from sinking his claws into him and seducing him with promises of being able to make the world his.
[Maybe that greed and evil had always been lurking and Veld had just not seen it or wanted to see it.
He hates how his voice cracks and he knows Vincent will know it's not just because of a sore throat but the emotions are there whether he likes it or not and the medication is making it difficult to control the outburst.]
Even if I get through to him, this is only the first attempt- there will be others.
[And he has to make sure that if they survive this, they will at least be able to survive the next attempt. There is no question of leaving the company whether Veld gets through to the president or not, they were bound to the company.]
We got a plan then - no going back now.
[Not that it was really an option anyway.]
no subject
[Well. Given Veld's secretive nature, It'd been some years before Vincent had even found out he had a (somewhat estranged) wife. Much less a child, tucked away in Kalm. The sacrifice he spoke of was likely to be that marriage. He couldn't relate, having nothing of the sort. But the knowledge? It was there. Sympathy, given what had just happened? Yes. ...A great deal of it.
As for the President, Vincent didn't know the man. While he could accurately read the (regrettable) personalities of the Board members thanks to the fact their protection usually fell to him, Veld's senority meant that he was the President's detail. Only he would know the nature of the man. Maybe the President had changed along the way. Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe greed and evil were just the opposite side of the coin to the President's bold and uncompromising nature. Maybe Veld only noticed when he was the target. ...He didn't know.
His eyes do raise to Veld at the cracking of his voice, though. There's emotion there. And it's pitiable. So. He takes a long inhale, leaning in to both pass the other the bottle- and to move closer. His hand hovers for a long (terse) moment- before his fingertips (tentatively) glide unto the longer section of his hair in some small degree of comfort. As the pads of his fingers move against the other man's scalp, he can't resist turning some of the auburn strands over once something catches his eye.
Is that ash, from the fire?
No. Of course not. Vincent had taken the time to get him, and keep him, clean while he'd been out of it- even dragging him to the shower, unconcious, some days. And what he sees is more silvery than dull. He's going grey.
Surprising, at his age. But unsurprising, given what he'd been through.]
We've got a week. [A last week to live. Probably.] ...Starting tomorrow, We're going to have to push your recovery. [And Veld's likely going to hate him for it.] I need to know you'll be strong enough to survive the flight.
no subject
He won't give himself any other alternative. He doesn't protest when Vincent says that they will have to push Veld's recovery since he can handle that. Granted, he's never been this injured but that doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything.
But it's the emotional pain he struggles with. He learned how to compartmentalize his emotions separate from his work, even when it came to his failing marriage and not being able to spend a lot of time at home with his daughter.
His first instinct is to push Vincent away and insist he's fine to shut the emotions down deep again. But the medications and the raw pain make it impossible to push all that down when Vincent runs a hand through his hair, taking the bottle from him.
He takes a long drink, still not pulling away as he allows Vincent to run a hand through his hair. It was comforting, something he hadn't had in a long time. He had told himself that he didn't need this weakness of needing someone to let his guard down even for a bit.
He takes another drink from the bottle, taking a shaky breath. There are no tears, he's sure that he lost the ability to cry decades ago when he had to learn hard lessons decades ago in order to survive in the world.
He can't reply for a while, not trusting his voice to not break again. He doesn't notice when Vincent pauses when he sees the grey hair, still emotionally overwhelmed.
But the moment finally passes and he finally dares to say something.]
We'll start tomorrow.