...Yes, see to it as a matter of priority. And inform the workers.
[In the middle of a dirt clearing framed by black mountains and ominously grey skies, there is a circle of houses. Nestled within these houses is a rickety timber watertower, with a man in a suit standing beside it.
Some uniformed men speed away from where he stands, in unison. Their steps are as one.
The man exhales, his brow creasing as if in thought before he folds his arms in front of him, deciding to lean against the tower. A faint creak of the aged wood is echoed in the sky- the sound of thunder approaching. He looks upward to the skies before pushing himself from the structure, dirt crunching under his shoes as he walks.
His eyes- always solemn, seem especially so now. And as he approaches the veranda he speaks- to the man that he knows awaits what he has to say.]
The schedule has changed. The directors wish to commence the journey to the reactor immediately.
[Apparently, they're bored. But that does not need to be said.]
[Ever since they first arrived Veld felt on edge and unsettled. There was something wrong about the area even though Nibelheim was just the beginning of the village it would become later. It was a sense of foreboding he couldn't quite shake. The sooner they were done with this babysitting mission the better.
He doesn't like the delight on Hojo's face when he sees the progress of the reactor's construction and he's not going to ask why Research and Development is so involved in the design and construction, he doesn't really need to.
He watches Vincent approach, already dreading the inevitable update that he has. It's going to rain soon and it's doubtful they'll make it to the reactor before the downpour starts though the idea of watching Scarlet trying to walk through the mud in those heels might make it worth getting completely soaked.]
Let's round them up then. We're probably going to have to roll Palmer up the mountain if we want to try to avoid getting caught in the storm.
That and a turn- away from the inn, (It had been fully booked up, yet who they were corralling would not be there. Veld was the only executive that chose to sleep in the same building as the salaried soldiers, assistants and Turks.) toward the manor.]
Perhaps he won't be an issue. He has greater reason than most to push through.
[Palmer's star was beginning to rise. Shinra's first reactor, Vincent suspected, was being constructed here to power the beginnings of another project over the mountain. A small town formed of worker accommodation was forming around land earmarked for a launch platform- already named Shinra number 26.]
If you'd like to liven things up by making a bet, my money's on the madam director being more of a problem.
[Those heels, of course. As well as the fact that the journey would have to be made on foot.
Vincent stops just shy of the gate, his gaze flicking beyond it, into the courtyard where small groups of people stand. The president, of course- flanked on all sides by military and company photographers. A middle-aged man. Rotund, but strong. Dashing, as the newspapers said. Heidegger- stronger. ....Rotunder. Surrounded by military men. Gast, accompanied by lesser doctors- Hojo included.
And as for Palmer, Scarlet, and the possible bet... He turns to his partner.]
[Information is their job, even the seemingly mundane details as Scarlet's new heels which probably cost more than they made in a month.
It wasn't that that bothered him but he considers the executives, especially Hojo, like snakes in the grass just waiting for their opportunity to strike. But he knew the president would just be dismissive of the danger around him if he said anything, he had his grand vision and nothing would get in the way of that.
He laughs as he looks over at the executives gathering around the president, eagerly talking among themselves. That's not going to last halfway up the mountain but their sense of optimism is hilarious.]
Alright, you're on. If it's Scarlet's new heels I'll do the mission reports for a week. But if it's Palmer who inhaled bacon and sausage for breakfast and a full lunch with fried chicken and at least a liter of coffee who breaks first it's on you.
[A couple of infantry officers were approaching them, Veld knew they were being summoned to get a move on.]
Let's do this then. The sooner we're back to Midgar the better.
[To say that Weapons Development and Public Safety worked hand-in-glove would not be groundbreaking. More like a first day on the job observation- it was common knowledge that the military needed weapons. These weapons had to be tested by the military- so cooperation was crucial for the productivity of both departments. But something seemed to have changed between the department heads. They seemed... cozy. As cozy as two vipers could be, anyway. Given Heidegger's recent departmental budget increase, warranted by the ongoing issues in the Undercity spilling onto the upper plate, this project, and Number 26...
Perhaps the shoes were another sign of that coziness. The directors were paid well (of course!) but a purchase like that... Regardless. That was a little too close to office gossip to serve much of a purpose. And Veld was too sharp to have not noticed anyway.
So onto the bet's terms.]
So he'll have an abundance of energy. Good. ...But I don't mind doing the reports. I was thinking more lunch- back in Midgar.
[It wasn't as if they hadn't been fed here. The populace was nothing short of accommodating. But this was the sticks. And unlike Palmer, Vincent found that everything was a little too... hearty and substantial for his tastes. And the portion sizes were off-puttingly colossal.
And shh, Maybe there was an ulterior motive in wanting to spend a little more time with his partner. Maybe.
He lets the offer hang in the air before he approaches the approaching officers, as if it had not even happened. A small exchange happens between them- confirmation of the route, the most gentle ascent, and...
Gya ha haaaaa!]
...!
[Oh, fuck his life. Really. For at that moment, the doors of the manor swing open, and the madam director makes herself known. From what appeared to be a makeshift carrage- a heavy, padded chair held aloft by no less than four of Heidegger's finest. A single man stands at the front of it- his whole profession seemingly being reduced to nothing but a footrest. Those shoes, the heels of which, are angled to rest against the side of the man's neck.
The turk stares at the scene before him, almost in disbelief before he approaches. Some tittering, more Gya Ha Ha'ing later, one or two Kya Ha Ha's...
And the procession is off. Although there were no monsters (as of yet...) to worry about, the very real threat of wolves warranted the turks to take point, alongside a small company of infantry.
Even with his eyes and his ears peeled, Vincent could not help but make a few glances backward to Palmer, in particular. Eyeing the already sweating director like a race chocobo.
Time to put that fried chicken, bacon, sausage, and coffee to work, Palmer. Dig deep.]
[He gives Vincent a grin before they follow the officers to where the executives are gathering, the president eager to get going before it starts to get too late.
But as soon as he starts to approach the president there Scarlet comes in all her glory and even if he's not surprised, he still has to stop and stare at that ridiculous carriage. He doesn't need to turn around to see the annoyance on Heidegger's face at his soldiers being to carry her around but he knows better than to say anything as they start the ascent.
Veld has several infantry men bring up the rear, leading the way with Vincent which makes it a bit easier to hide his amusement at hearing Palmer huffing and puffing along.
When he glances behind him he could see the sweat starting to show on that ugly mustard suit but somehow Palmer is still upright even though his steps are dragging.]
How .... [More huffing, gasping.] until we get there? It's so far!
[Veld shares a grin with Vincent, a silent I'm going to win this before he looks back at Palmer with a more professional expression.]
At this pace, most likely another hour to an hour and a half. If you look to the right you'll soon start to see the construction site.
[The sound of a mixture of dismay and despair is so satisfying as he turns back. Thankfully they seem to be lucky not to run into anything so far until finally there is a sad, pathetic voice behind them as Palmer finally admits defeat.]
[He shouldn't laugh. He really shouldn't laugh- he shouldn't grin and he definitely shouldn't smile at the head of space and aeronautics behind him suffering so. Not when the director was the reason he would lose the bet.
But as his eyes flick to his partner, he can't help but be betrayed by the smallest quirk of his lip in response to his grin. He moves his head away accordingly, reminding himself of the grim fact that as gentle as the ascent was, Palmer stood a very real chance of suffering an aneurysm before they'd even got halfway.
The president is deaf to Palmer's plea. He's striding ahead- the picture of a man in his prime- loudly declaring behind his cigar that nature meant nothing to a man on a mission- as if he were climbing the great mountains of the icicle region and not a route planned, cleared, and checked again and again to be the easiest way to the reactor- easy enough for a child to follow.
And as the president moves, so does the convoy. Palmer's lagging now- being overtaken by directors and hangers-on from each department. But perhaps something was on Palmer's side. The weather.
The sky darkens immediately before the sky itself seems to shake- and a deep, rumbling crack of thunder fills the valley. Immediately, the hiss of rain overwhelms them. It's a downpour. A heavy downpour- with thick, fat, beads of rain instantly soaking the ground and all who walked upon it. The procession makes startled sounds, and of course, umbrellas are deployed by the hangers-on, over the heads of Shinra's great and good.
...The only issue was that the downpour was so sudden, so heavy, that the ground is already muddy. Muddy enough to severely impact the efficiency of Scarlet's mode of transportation. There's a few cries as the men holding the chair slip and slide- and of course, a shriek from the woman both getting soaked by the rain, and given the fact her steeds could not hold her weight and maintain their footing in the mud- likely to end up on her face.
Vincent pauses, turning back to view the shambles behind him. Scarlet was currently kicking at every one of the men holding her upright, shrieking something about idiots and fools- as if the men around her were personally responsible for the downpour. The call to stop is sounded. A squabble begins.
At the end of it, it would appear that Palmer, Scarlet, and all of Research and Development (Except for Hojo, interestingly...) wished to turn back.
So. Behind his own sodden fringe, to Veld, and Veld only:]
Shall I run them back? I can take them back to the village, and arrange their transportation back to Midgar.
[Not the outcome he wanted. Certainly not. Splitting the directors was hardly the most secure way of watching over them. But the most capable Turk should stay with the president.]
[It's taking every bit of willpower and professionalism to not burst out laughing when he exchanges a small smirk with Vincent. But a moment later, his expression was once more professional and focused.
The president had made the decision to come out here even when Veld had warned him about the weather so he has little sympathy that the umbrellas don't seem to be doing much to prevent any of the executives from quickly getting soaked. He knows he's still going to hear a tirade later but that's not what he's focused on now.
Before he can respond to Vincent his attention is the disaster unfolding in front of them. It was inevitable- as soon as one of the men holding up Scarlet lost his footing it was all over. It was like watching a car crash - everything suddenly went into slow motion as soon as the first man lost his footing in the mud and went down face-first.
From there everything came cascading down until everyone is in the mud, including a shrieking Scarlet whose dress is definitely beyond ruined and there would be no getting the mud out of those designer shoes.
He looks at Vincent, needing a moment to compose himself before speaking so that he doesn't let out an unprofessional laugh.]
I know the president wants to continue but I don't think anyone is getting up the mountain tonight.
[The president and the scientists will be disappointed but Veld has learned how to handle the president's frustration but Veld isn't going to risk their lives just so the scientists can do whatever weird things they wanted to do in that reactor.]
I'll speak to the president if you start out with Palmer and Scarlet first before there are any further...mishaps.
[The sun was retreating over the edge of Midgar's cityscape- a dim light behind the aerial smog that permanently blanketed the upper plate. The dim outline of highrises, cranes, and the unmistakable silloutte of the sector's reactor are black monoliths against the starless night sky- and when Veld awoke, he might have noted a number of things.
One, that the bed he was within was not his own. It was something designed for single occupancy- wedged in a small space, surrounded by a number of things most would find disconcerting. Namely posters upon the walls advertising certain kinds of horror movies- from a vaguely behemoth-looking monster to a frankenstein to a masked zombie with a chainsaw dropping with blood and gore- shelving with a number of morbid decorations, from a skull-shaped ornament to a series of books that looked vaguely occultish to an ornate candlestick to a plush tonberry- it would appear that Veld's present location was vaguely unsettling. The only thing that was vaguely usual was a photo frame, holding a photograph of an older man with shoulder-length hair and blood-red eyes, a candle shaped like a ghost burning beside it.
Two, that an IV was embedded in his arm. Cleanly, of course. But somewhat haphazardly at the same time- a bag with some form of clear liquid within draped (for lack of a better location) upon the bedpost.
Three, that some TV was playing a black and white film on the other side of the room. The film is somewhat schlockish- depicting a series of women with white dresses and fangs waking up within coffins and hissing- before rising with cries of their hunger.
The fourth was likely Vincent. For a lack of space within the small apartment, he is sat upon the ledge of the window- his eyes, the same eyes as the man within the photograph, fixed upon the television. A half-eaten bowl of noodles is beside him, and his long legs are bare. A far too long back tee and shorts covers what counts however, and his hand and the cheap, wooden chopsticks within it is half-risen to his mouth, frozen in place given his intentful gaze upon the television set. The other hand is at his side. Veld's own pager is within it.
A series of shrieks come from the television set as the vampire brides feed upon the unfortunate humans trapped with them. Shrieks that make Vincent look around the room- his eyes widening only when he sees Veld.]
You're awake. It's been weeks.
[Vincent immediately moves off the windowsill, switching off the television set before he makes his way to the other man.]
[There was fire all around and the last thing he remembers is the sound of Felicia's scream as the building comes down on him and the world goes black, the sound echoing as he sinks into oblivion.
He would have thought that he had died but for the moments of intense pain that pulls him into consciousness, the world a blur around him before darkness consumes him once more. There are glimpses of light, voices, and heat surrounding him before the sweet relief of darkness finally truly consumes him.
If he's not dead, then he knows he's most likely being kept alive by Shinra's best and brightest of the dark depths of research and development. He's too much of a valuable resource to just be left alone, too much of a liability for the company and president.
But no matter how much he struggles against consciousness once more it keeps slipping away from him. He doesn't hear Hojo's triumphant laughter but it's not enough to be reassuring. If he's not going to be allowed to die, he has to fight to escape if he has to since there is no telling where he is or who is keeping him alive for what purpose.
Eventually, the darkness slowly retreats. The sound of shrieking in the movie gives him something to focus on as he slowly opens his eyes. He knows the sound of Vincent's voice, it pulls him more into the world as he can begin to see it more clearly.
The posters on the wall, and the bed he's in- it's clear that this isn't somewhere in the Shinra Building but raises further questions that he's trying to piece together through the fog in his mind.]
Weeks...
[They would be looking for him or his body. The president knew better than to assume Veld was dead without seeing his body for himself or if he was alive, Veld wouldn't be allowed out of their grasp.
Even though Vincent tells him not to move, Veld tries to anyway, weakly attempting to tear the IV out but fails since his hands are shaking. He has to get out, get away but the pain takes his breath away as soon as he tries to sit up.]
Where...how...
[He has to lay down again, focusing on Vincent as the world seems to move and lurch around every time he moves despite the overwhelming pain.]
[It's an exercise in futility, he knows. Telling a man that had been laid up for weeks not to. Not when all the parts of his body that still worked wanted nothing more than to shake themselves free of the bed that'd been a prison for the past few weeks. Let alone the psychological side of things. When the last thing Veld likely remembered was hell itself, the flames lapping at his broken body. A thousand cuts from the debris of the explosion. Smoke burning at his lungs. Of course his every instinct was to move.]
The details can wait. First, you need to drink something. Don't move- or I'll have to stitch you up again.
[He walks away- likely, given his present condition, past Veld's field of immediate view- to a remarkably shitty looking kitchenette in the same room. There's the creak of a tap. The rumbling of pipes- and water. a glass is filled and then brought over, Vincent's hand moving to the back of the other man's head to tilt it upward slightly. The cool glass would meet his cracked, charred lips, and it would be moved to them. Gently. As if not to choke him.]
You're on a lot of drugs currently. Antibiotics, anti inflammatories... Opioids, too. For the pain. I had to use the slums. One of Corneo's crew. So I've no idea what they were cut with.
[The glass is lowered. As are the covers- just to Veld's waist. Just to see if he did tear open any of his stitches. Fortunately, the bandages about his torso are clean. White. Showing no sign of blood. He then replaces them.]
So I owe you an apology for any side effects. As well as not patching you up well enough that you can move freely.
[Look. Son of a scientist and all, he knew a few things about field medicine. But his training was far from conventional.]
[This time Veld has to listen to Vincent about moving but the world seems to be almost floating, drifting in and out as he tries to focus on real things like the sound of Vincent talking.
Lots of drugs- that explains a lot like feeling he doesn't have any real anchor in reality and if he lets go, he has no idea where he's going to drift off to. Whatever Vincent got from the Don Veld is going to have to get that recipe later.
So this isn't Shinra and the company doesn't know he's here. They would be searching for him but at least he knows Vincent isn't dumb enough to go to some location in the company records but that's a lot of questions to ask while it feels like a haze still lingers over his mind.
Pain radiates and makes his breath catch as he tries to sit up to drink the water which is a welcome relief even though he hates Vincent having to help him with such a simple task.
But his body can't seem to move with any coordination or without blinding pain so all he can do is weakly allow Vincent to help him drink water which is a welcome relief to his cracked lips and dry throat. When finished, he doesn't look down when Vincent pulls away the covers.
It's not that he doesn't want to see what is there but more he knows if he moves his head too much the water will come back up, painfully. It seems it's just best not to move for a bit until the world stops spinning.]
[That's a question that evokes a long silence. A silence which is heavy, stifling. One that seems to suck all of the air out of the room. A silence which lasts only a matter of seconds but feels like minutes- until a ridiculously hammy "I vant your blood!" comes from the TV, breaking it. Vincent moves from the bed to the thing- switching it off with a click. He returns slowly. His footsteps slow. Almost unwilling. ]
The details [And who relayed the order...] still aren't known. But three weeks ago, bombers were mobilized from Junon- along with two Gelnika containing ground troops. ...The target was Kalm. There was no evacuation call. Every structure within Kalm was bombed heavily. Infantry swept the ruins afterward, ensuring none survived. [None barring Veld, of course. He'd been taken to Midgar.] The townspeople...
[A brief pause. And a heavy exhale.]
...You know how these things go.
[A mass grave. Dug deep by industrial machinery. People and animals tossed within, all sign of past life concealed and cemented over.]
I wanted to ensure there was a grave for- [Veld's wife. His child.] -You know. But you were my priority. Veld...
[He raises his head, to look him in the face.]
Public Security says the order came from your identification number. Weapons Development says it's the work of a terrorist, working from within. The President sat through a few boardrooms regarding the matter before he left for Costa del Sol. Heidegger's been tasked with settling the matter before he returns.
[He doesn't go into the rest. Of news crews practically barricading the hospital Veld was being treated. Of grunts within the army standing at the doors of Veld's hospital room and refusing to leave. Of their department itself, and all access to it from the Shinra building, being locked. Of the hours and hours he'd personally been grilled.
[Even through the haze Veld remembers putting in the order clearly. Even though he had been tired at the time, he had been up all night in meetings with the president, Veld knew he hadn't made a mistake.
But only two other people had the authorization and ability to use his identification number for anything- Heidegger and the president. But that is too much to think about when Vincent keeps talking and the words start to sink in.
His wife, Felicia-]
I thought I heard her scream.
[That he also remembers all too clearly. He hadn't always been the best father to her, working long hours and often not even able to give her a call at night before her bedtime. It had caused was now an irreparable rift between him and his wife, but it was all worth it for those brief moments with his daughter.
But he does know exactly what happens when Shinra goes scorched earth and then covers the worst of it. There would be no survivors or witnesses in Kalm but in a few months the city would be rebuilt and filled with paid Shinra residents there to act like nothing had ever happened and they had lived their entire lives there without incident.]
Why am I here?
[Because he doesn't doubt that if the president had any say in it Veld would not be here. He wouldn't be allowed to die but would it would be Hojo standing over him instead of Vincent.] ...how am I here?
[Well. That answered one of the question he'd (quietly) had. Shinra, honestly, wasn't exactly shy when it came to the scorched earth policy. Vincent himself had observed at least three towns and villages disappear in the same operations until Kalm. And he'd always wondered the same thing. Was it a sudden bright flash and nothing? Did those on the ground even know that something had happened? That they were even dead?
The fact that Veld had heard a scream is his answer. Of course they did. And their deaths were agonizing. He's silent for a while, his eyes moving to the half-empty IV bag still haphazardly tied to the bedpost. A bubble forms at the bottom, growing larger and larger before it streams toward the top and bursts.
...He then answers.]
I'm your partner, so the Company thought I would know something. I was interrogated. During it, I convinced them to tell me where you were being treated. [What could be said. Military police against a Turk? Yeah.] When I was released, I was put on leave. I called into the news networks and leaked your location. Might have even said you were a captured terrorist to get 24-hour coverage of the hospital.
[Look. It's not the kindest thing in the world to do. But it made it a damn sight harder for any assassinations to be conducted.]
...I intended to watch over you, from a distance, until you recovered. But my hand was forced. As soon as the president left the continent, [And after all, him leaving meant A Decision Had Been Made,] I stole what I could from the hospital, got what I couldn't secure there from the slums, set up fake footage of myself [A nice week-long reel of the most boring week that could have been. Sleeping, eating, reading, and more of the above pre-recorded. For when the time ever came.] at my Company apartment in case they're looking at the cameras, and...
[Well. Here they are. A brief flick of his hand to the room illustrates that well enough. He moves back to the windowsill, taking Veld's PDA from it before sitting on the edge of the bed.]
I've been pretending to be you. I've been calling in favours to your contacts. You're in Icicle. You're going to clear your name.
[A pointed Look to Veld. And he passes him the device.]
Whatever happened- you're going to clear it. The President's the answer.
[There are answers that he knows he needs to ask the president, especially if he's going to clear his name, but it's difficult to focus under the haze of the medication and pain.
Veld shifts slightly to start to reach for the device but winces, feeling pain radiating down his arm as if it's burning which makes him breathless for a moment. But when the blanket shifts as he sits up it reveals the stump of one arm.]
What the fuck-
[He tries to reach towards where his arm should be, not quite believing that there is only air then. The pain and sensations are so real, he could feel the burns that would have been on that arm from the burning building falling down on him.
He can't stop himself from trying to grab the wrist of his missing arm, trying desperately to try to get the pain to stop but the burning sensation doesn't go away.]
What the fuck am I going to do now like this?
[He hated the thought of not being able to do the things he had always done and it's so much to process as once, barely able to contain the disgust he feels for himself.]
[Leeroy. Well. An image serves as Vincent's response. A typical image- one that would be on any upright Midgar citizen's ID. He adds nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Because Veld should be able to tell that there's a similarity there, and what it means.
Both men- Leeroy and the Don- have cleft chins. It's not a certainty that they're father and son. But it's far more likely than not. Especially considering other shared traits. Male pattern baldness. Piglike blue eyes. A shit-eating grin. Looked like one Mrs. Corneo was a keeper. ...Once. But ping. Have another message.]
Turks are best suited for this job. The military don't need to be involved.
[There's kids involved in this, after all. They might be shitheads like their father. They might even grow up to be shitheads like their probable grandfather. But the last thing he wanted- anyone wanted- were more troopers going rambo. This residence is located on the upper plate too. While a few gunhappy troopers can be ignored in the slums, on the upper plate, it would have to be covered up.
...And that's even more work for the both of them. ]
I'm going to give Heidegger a distraction and something to keep the troopers occupied.
[This is why he allows for a few anti-Shinra groups to run around - they have their purposes sometimes.
Corneo or not, it's not ideal to drag the kids into things as collateral, but they can't afford to let themselves get sentimental on the job. The Turks were there to do the things that no one else would have the stomach or lack of morals to.]
We'll probably have to break him of the idea that he's more clever than he is, which will take some time.
[Like suspected father, like son no doubt but everyone has their breaking point.]
Even he will be able to understand that we have his family within reach and understand what's in his, and their, best interest.
[Screw the kids, then. They, and the wife, are getting picked up too. It's... fine. He knows, of course he knows, that their job isn't clean. And he also knows that he's done far worse. (The worst he's done was solved easily enough. Some PTO, lots of booze, and elvira reruns.) So... fine. They're collatoral. He's not arguing.
Part of him wants to respond with something wry. About how he should have given Veld the news about the restaurant after the news about work. But he doesn't. While he can dismiss the murkier elements of the job, he'd never be one to joke about them.]
If he's stupider than we thought?
[If he runs to Corneo, for instance? The chances are slim. Any idiot knows that the don only operates thanks to supplying information to Shinra. But he suspects the answer. Kill them all. He just needs confirmation.]
[It was a risky decision to potentially antagonize Corneo too much, but Veld assumes that the Don is at least smart enough to know that he has no direct recourse against the company.]
But make sure we have a souvenir we can gift to Corneo if necessary.
[Leeroy was born under an unlucky star, indeed. And knowing the Corneo family smarts, he'll probably be buried under one. Vincent's objective, this time, was making sure that didn't happen. Normally, Veld's a solid partner. He's never had to be skirted around, and never had to have been handled.
But the demise of Da Chao Down changes things. Vincent's keenly aware that his partner's pissed. And that might come out in the way Leeroy and his family are treated. Vincent's objective is just as much tempering Veld as it is doing his job- and it's not out of sympathy for the family.
It's more like Leeroy staying alive- terrified, but alive- is the best shot they have at getting intel on Corneo's non-company sanctioned endeavours, and given that Vincent had already seen almost a year's worth of surveillance go up in smoke tonight with the kickoff at the Honeybee, he knew that anything else going wrong would jeopardize the entire thing.
So.
As Veld pulls up to the residential building, Vincent gets out of his own car, briskly crossing the street to get into Veld's own. A small glance comes to the backup Turks likely in the back seat. Then to Veld. And:]
There's an anti-Shinra protest near the university in Sector 2 that's going to get out of hand when some of the protesters start throwing things at the troopers acting as crowd control.
[There is no reason to leave things to chance about how events are going to unfold when Veld has some operatives in various anti-Shinra groups who make themselves useful at times like this when they need cover.
He lights a cigarette, blowing smoke into the chill air out the car window. The news of his beloved take out restaurant day couldn't have come at a worse time, further evidence that the world as he knew it was slipping through his fingers. That morning, he had watched the President's expression light up as Hojo presented proposals for some more gruesome experiments, Scarlet practically salivating over the new weapons in development.
And now Da Chao Down was lost to time. Leeroy was about to have an unpleasant night, especially if he decided to try to act like some kind of tough guy which, given Corneo family tradition, was likely.]
We'll bring him in as if this is a one way trip- no need to bother with questions right now, for him he will assume that he's facing execution. If he's anything like we suspect it won't take long for him to break from desperation and fear.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
† veld
→ nibelheim
[In the middle of a dirt clearing framed by black mountains and ominously grey skies, there is a circle of houses. Nestled within these houses is a rickety timber watertower, with a man in a suit standing beside it.
Some uniformed men speed away from where he stands, in unison. Their steps are as one.
The man exhales, his brow creasing as if in thought before he folds his arms in front of him, deciding to lean against the tower. A faint creak of the aged wood is echoed in the sky- the sound of thunder approaching. He looks upward to the skies before pushing himself from the structure, dirt crunching under his shoes as he walks.
His eyes- always solemn, seem especially so now. And as he approaches the veranda he speaks- to the man that he knows awaits what he has to say.]
The schedule has changed. The directors wish to commence the journey to the reactor immediately.
[Apparently, they're bored. But that does not need to be said.]
no subject
He doesn't like the delight on Hojo's face when he sees the progress of the reactor's construction and he's not going to ask why Research and Development is so involved in the design and construction, he doesn't really need to.
He watches Vincent approach, already dreading the inevitable update that he has. It's going to rain soon and it's doubtful they'll make it to the reactor before the downpour starts though the idea of watching Scarlet trying to walk through the mud in those heels might make it worth getting completely soaked.]
Let's round them up then. We're probably going to have to roll Palmer up the mountain if we want to try to avoid getting caught in the storm.
no subject
That and a turn- away from the inn, (It had been fully booked up, yet who they were corralling would not be there. Veld was the only executive that chose to sleep in the same building as the salaried soldiers, assistants and Turks.) toward the manor.]
Perhaps he won't be an issue. He has greater reason than most to push through.
[Palmer's star was beginning to rise. Shinra's first reactor, Vincent suspected, was being constructed here to power the beginnings of another project over the mountain. A small town formed of worker accommodation was forming around land earmarked for a launch platform- already named Shinra number 26.]
If you'd like to liven things up by making a bet, my money's on the madam director being more of a problem.
[Those heels, of course. As well as the fact that the journey would have to be made on foot.
Vincent stops just shy of the gate, his gaze flicking beyond it, into the courtyard where small groups of people stand. The president, of course- flanked on all sides by military and company photographers. A middle-aged man. Rotund, but strong. Dashing, as the newspapers said. Heidegger- stronger. ....Rotunder. Surrounded by military men. Gast, accompanied by lesser doctors- Hojo included.
And as for Palmer, Scarlet, and the possible bet...
He turns to his partner.]
Well?
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[Information is their job, even the seemingly mundane details as Scarlet's new heels which probably cost more than they made in a month.
It wasn't that that bothered him but he considers the executives, especially Hojo, like snakes in the grass just waiting for their opportunity to strike. But he knew the president would just be dismissive of the danger around him if he said anything, he had his grand vision and nothing would get in the way of that.
He laughs as he looks over at the executives gathering around the president, eagerly talking among themselves. That's not going to last halfway up the mountain but their sense of optimism is hilarious.]
Alright, you're on. If it's Scarlet's new heels I'll do the mission reports for a week. But if it's Palmer who inhaled bacon and sausage for breakfast and a full lunch with fried chicken and at least a liter of coffee who breaks first it's on you.
[A couple of infantry officers were approaching them, Veld knew they were being summoned to get a move on.]
Let's do this then. The sooner we're back to Midgar the better.
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[To say that Weapons Development and Public Safety worked hand-in-glove would not be groundbreaking. More like a first day on the job observation- it was common knowledge that the military needed weapons. These weapons had to be tested by the military- so cooperation was crucial for the productivity of both departments. But something seemed to have changed between the department heads. They seemed... cozy. As cozy as two vipers could be, anyway. Given Heidegger's recent departmental budget increase, warranted by the ongoing issues in the Undercity spilling onto the upper plate, this project, and Number 26...
Perhaps the shoes were another sign of that coziness. The directors were paid well (of course!) but a purchase like that... Regardless. That was a little too close to office gossip to serve much of a purpose. And Veld was too sharp to have not noticed anyway.
So onto the bet's terms.]
So he'll have an abundance of energy. Good.
...But I don't mind doing the reports. I was thinking more lunch- back in Midgar.
[It wasn't as if they hadn't been fed here. The populace was nothing short of accommodating. But this was the sticks. And unlike Palmer, Vincent found that everything was a little too... hearty and substantial for his tastes. And the portion sizes were off-puttingly colossal.
And shh, Maybe there was an ulterior motive in wanting to spend a little more time with his partner. Maybe.
He lets the offer hang in the air before he approaches the approaching officers, as if it had not even happened. A small exchange happens between them- confirmation of the route, the most gentle ascent, and...
Gya ha haaaaa!]
...!
[Oh, fuck his life. Really. For at that moment, the doors of the manor swing open, and the madam director makes herself known. From what appeared to be a makeshift carrage- a heavy, padded chair held aloft by no less than four of Heidegger's finest. A single man stands at the front of it- his whole profession seemingly being reduced to nothing but a footrest. Those shoes, the heels of which, are angled to rest against the side of the man's neck.
The turk stares at the scene before him, almost in disbelief before he approaches. Some tittering, more Gya Ha Ha'ing later, one or two Kya Ha Ha's...
And the procession is off. Although there were no monsters (as of yet...) to worry about, the very real threat of wolves warranted the turks to take point, alongside a small company of infantry.
Even with his eyes and his ears peeled, Vincent could not help but make a few glances backward to Palmer, in particular. Eyeing the already sweating director like a race chocobo.
Time to put that fried chicken, bacon, sausage, and coffee to work, Palmer. Dig deep.]
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[He gives Vincent a grin before they follow the officers to where the executives are gathering, the president eager to get going before it starts to get too late.
But as soon as he starts to approach the president there Scarlet comes in all her glory and even if he's not surprised, he still has to stop and stare at that ridiculous carriage. He doesn't need to turn around to see the annoyance on Heidegger's face at his soldiers being to carry her around but he knows better than to say anything as they start the ascent.
Veld has several infantry men bring up the rear, leading the way with Vincent which makes it a bit easier to hide his amusement at hearing Palmer huffing and puffing along.
When he glances behind him he could see the sweat starting to show on that ugly mustard suit but somehow Palmer is still upright even though his steps are dragging.]
How .... [More huffing, gasping.] until we get there? It's so far!
[Veld shares a grin with Vincent, a silent I'm going to win this before he looks back at Palmer with a more professional expression.]
At this pace, most likely another hour to an hour and a half. If you look to the right you'll soon start to see the construction site.
[The sound of a mixture of dismay and despair is so satisfying as he turns back. Thankfully they seem to be lucky not to run into anything so far until finally there is a sad, pathetic voice behind them as Palmer finally admits defeat.]
Please, rest! Cannot...another step.
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But as his eyes flick to his partner, he can't help but be betrayed by the smallest quirk of his lip in response to his grin. He moves his head away accordingly, reminding himself of the grim fact that as gentle as the ascent was, Palmer stood a very real chance of suffering an aneurysm before they'd even got halfway.
The president is deaf to Palmer's plea. He's striding ahead- the picture of a man in his prime- loudly declaring behind his cigar that nature meant nothing to a man on a mission- as if he were climbing the great mountains of the icicle region and not a route planned, cleared, and checked again and again to be the easiest way to the reactor- easy enough for a child to follow.
And as the president moves, so does the convoy. Palmer's lagging now- being overtaken by directors and hangers-on from each department. But perhaps something was on Palmer's side. The weather.
The sky darkens immediately before the sky itself seems to shake- and a deep, rumbling crack of thunder fills the valley. Immediately, the hiss of rain overwhelms them. It's a downpour. A heavy downpour- with thick, fat, beads of rain instantly soaking the ground and all who walked upon it. The procession makes startled sounds, and of course, umbrellas are deployed by the hangers-on, over the heads of Shinra's great and good.
...The only issue was that the downpour was so sudden, so heavy, that the ground is already muddy. Muddy enough to severely impact the efficiency of Scarlet's mode of transportation. There's a few cries as the men holding the chair slip and slide- and of course, a shriek from the woman both getting soaked by the rain, and given the fact her steeds could not hold her weight and maintain their footing in the mud- likely to end up on her face.
Vincent pauses, turning back to view the shambles behind him. Scarlet was currently kicking at every one of the men holding her upright, shrieking something about idiots and fools- as if the men around her were personally responsible for the downpour. The call to stop is sounded. A squabble begins.
At the end of it, it would appear that Palmer, Scarlet, and all of Research and Development (Except for Hojo, interestingly...) wished to turn back.
So. Behind his own sodden fringe, to Veld, and Veld only:]
Shall I run them back? I can take them back to the village, and arrange their transportation back to Midgar.
[Not the outcome he wanted. Certainly not. Splitting the directors was hardly the most secure way of watching over them. But the most capable Turk should stay with the president.]
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The president had made the decision to come out here even when Veld had warned him about the weather so he has little sympathy that the umbrellas don't seem to be doing much to prevent any of the executives from quickly getting soaked. He knows he's still going to hear a tirade later but that's not what he's focused on now.
Before he can respond to Vincent his attention is the disaster unfolding in front of them. It was inevitable- as soon as one of the men holding up Scarlet lost his footing it was all over. It was like watching a car crash - everything suddenly went into slow motion as soon as the first man lost his footing in the mud and went down face-first.
From there everything came cascading down until everyone is in the mud, including a shrieking Scarlet whose dress is definitely beyond ruined and there would be no getting the mud out of those designer shoes.
He looks at Vincent, needing a moment to compose himself before speaking so that he doesn't let out an unprofessional laugh.]
I know the president wants to continue but I don't think anyone is getting up the mountain tonight.
[The president and the scientists will be disappointed but Veld has learned how to handle the president's frustration but Veld isn't going to risk their lives just so the scientists can do whatever weird things they wanted to do in that reactor.]
I'll speak to the president if you start out with Palmer and Scarlet first before there are any further...mishaps.
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→ h/c
One, that the bed he was within was not his own. It was something designed for single occupancy- wedged in a small space, surrounded by a number of things most would find disconcerting. Namely posters upon the walls advertising certain kinds of horror movies- from a vaguely behemoth-looking monster to a frankenstein to a masked zombie with a chainsaw dropping with blood and gore- shelving with a number of morbid decorations, from a skull-shaped ornament to a series of books that looked vaguely occultish to an ornate candlestick to a plush tonberry- it would appear that Veld's present location was vaguely unsettling. The only thing that was vaguely usual was a photo frame, holding a photograph of an older man with shoulder-length hair and blood-red eyes, a candle shaped like a ghost burning beside it.
Two, that an IV was embedded in his arm. Cleanly, of course. But somewhat haphazardly at the same time- a bag with some form of clear liquid within draped (for lack of a better location) upon the bedpost.
Three, that some TV was playing a black and white film on the other side of the room. The film is somewhat schlockish- depicting a series of women with white dresses and fangs waking up within coffins and hissing- before rising with cries of their hunger.
The fourth was likely Vincent. For a lack of space within the small apartment, he is sat upon the ledge of the window- his eyes, the same eyes as the man within the photograph, fixed upon the television. A half-eaten bowl of noodles is beside him, and his long legs are bare. A far too long back tee and shorts covers what counts however, and his hand and the cheap, wooden chopsticks within it is half-risen to his mouth, frozen in place given his intentful gaze upon the television set. The other hand is at his side. Veld's own pager is within it.
A series of shrieks come from the television set as the vampire brides feed upon the unfortunate humans trapped with them. Shrieks that make Vincent look around the room- his eyes widening only when he sees Veld.]
You're awake. It's been weeks.
[Vincent immediately moves off the windowsill, switching off the television set before he makes his way to the other man.]
Don't move. It'll hurt too much.
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He would have thought that he had died but for the moments of intense pain that pulls him into consciousness, the world a blur around him before darkness consumes him once more. There are glimpses of light, voices, and heat surrounding him before the sweet relief of darkness finally truly consumes him.
If he's not dead, then he knows he's most likely being kept alive by Shinra's best and brightest of the dark depths of research and development. He's too much of a valuable resource to just be left alone, too much of a liability for the company and president.
But no matter how much he struggles against consciousness once more it keeps slipping away from him. He doesn't hear Hojo's triumphant laughter but it's not enough to be reassuring. If he's not going to be allowed to die, he has to fight to escape if he has to since there is no telling where he is or who is keeping him alive for what purpose.
Eventually, the darkness slowly retreats. The sound of shrieking in the movie gives him something to focus on as he slowly opens his eyes. He knows the sound of Vincent's voice, it pulls him more into the world as he can begin to see it more clearly.
The posters on the wall, and the bed he's in- it's clear that this isn't somewhere in the Shinra Building but raises further questions that he's trying to piece together through the fog in his mind.]
Weeks...
[They would be looking for him or his body. The president knew better than to assume Veld was dead without seeing his body for himself or if he was alive, Veld wouldn't be allowed out of their grasp.
Even though Vincent tells him not to move, Veld tries to anyway, weakly attempting to tear the IV out but fails since his hands are shaking. He has to get out, get away but the pain takes his breath away as soon as he tries to sit up.]
Where...how...
[He has to lay down again, focusing on Vincent as the world seems to move and lurch around every time he moves despite the overwhelming pain.]
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[It's an exercise in futility, he knows. Telling a man that had been laid up for weeks not to. Not when all the parts of his body that still worked wanted nothing more than to shake themselves free of the bed that'd been a prison for the past few weeks. Let alone the psychological side of things. When the last thing Veld likely remembered was hell itself, the flames lapping at his broken body. A thousand cuts from the debris of the explosion. Smoke burning at his lungs. Of course his every instinct was to move.]
The details can wait. First, you need to drink something. Don't move- or I'll have to stitch you up again.
[He walks away- likely, given his present condition, past Veld's field of immediate view- to a remarkably shitty looking kitchenette in the same room. There's the creak of a tap. The rumbling of pipes- and water. a glass is filled and then brought over, Vincent's hand moving to the back of the other man's head to tilt it upward slightly. The cool glass would meet his cracked, charred lips, and it would be moved to them. Gently. As if not to choke him.]
You're on a lot of drugs currently. Antibiotics, anti inflammatories... Opioids, too. For the pain. I had to use the slums. One of Corneo's crew. So I've no idea what they were cut with.
[The glass is lowered. As are the covers- just to Veld's waist. Just to see if he did tear open any of his stitches. Fortunately, the bandages about his torso are clean. White. Showing no sign of blood. He then replaces them.]
So I owe you an apology for any side effects. As well as not patching you up well enough that you can move freely.
[Look. Son of a scientist and all, he knew a few things about field medicine. But his training was far from conventional.]
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Lots of drugs- that explains a lot like feeling he doesn't have any real anchor in reality and if he lets go, he has no idea where he's going to drift off to. Whatever Vincent got from the Don Veld is going to have to get that recipe later.
So this isn't Shinra and the company doesn't know he's here. They would be searching for him but at least he knows Vincent isn't dumb enough to go to some location in the company records but that's a lot of questions to ask while it feels like a haze still lingers over his mind.
Pain radiates and makes his breath catch as he tries to sit up to drink the water which is a welcome relief even though he hates Vincent having to help him with such a simple task.
But his body can't seem to move with any coordination or without blinding pain so all he can do is weakly allow Vincent to help him drink water which is a welcome relief to his cracked lips and dry throat. When finished, he doesn't look down when Vincent pulls away the covers.
It's not that he doesn't want to see what is there but more he knows if he moves his head too much the water will come back up, painfully. It seems it's just best not to move for a bit until the world stops spinning.]
What happened?
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The details [And who relayed the order...] still aren't known. But three weeks ago, bombers were mobilized from Junon- along with two Gelnika containing ground troops. ...The target was Kalm. There was no evacuation call. Every structure within Kalm was bombed heavily. Infantry swept the ruins afterward, ensuring none survived. [None barring Veld, of course. He'd been taken to Midgar.] The townspeople...
[A brief pause. And a heavy exhale.]
...You know how these things go.
[A mass grave. Dug deep by industrial machinery. People and animals tossed within, all sign of past life concealed and cemented over.]
I wanted to ensure there was a grave for- [Veld's wife. His child.] -You know. But you were my priority. Veld...
[He raises his head, to look him in the face.]
Public Security says the order came from your identification number. Weapons Development says it's the work of a terrorist, working from within. The President sat through a few boardrooms regarding the matter before he left for Costa del Sol. Heidegger's been tasked with settling the matter before he returns.
[He doesn't go into the rest. Of news crews practically barricading the hospital Veld was being treated. Of grunts within the army standing at the doors of Veld's hospital room and refusing to leave. Of their department itself, and all access to it from the Shinra building, being locked. Of the hours and hours he'd personally been grilled.
All the mattered was a simple fact:]
You're an island.
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[Even through the haze Veld remembers putting in the order clearly. Even though he had been tired at the time, he had been up all night in meetings with the president, Veld knew he hadn't made a mistake.
But only two other people had the authorization and ability to use his identification number for anything- Heidegger and the president. But that is too much to think about when Vincent keeps talking and the words start to sink in.
His wife, Felicia-]
I thought I heard her scream.
[That he also remembers all too clearly. He hadn't always been the best father to her, working long hours and often not even able to give her a call at night before her bedtime. It had caused was now an irreparable rift between him and his wife, but it was all worth it for those brief moments with his daughter.
But he does know exactly what happens when Shinra goes scorched earth and then covers the worst of it. There would be no survivors or witnesses in Kalm but in a few months the city would be rebuilt and filled with paid Shinra residents there to act like nothing had ever happened and they had lived their entire lives there without incident.]
Why am I here?
[Because he doesn't doubt that if the president had any say in it Veld would not be here. He wouldn't be allowed to die but would it would be Hojo standing over him instead of Vincent.] ...how am I here?
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[Well. That answered one of the question he'd (quietly) had. Shinra, honestly, wasn't exactly shy when it came to the scorched earth policy. Vincent himself had observed at least three towns and villages disappear in the same operations until Kalm. And he'd always wondered the same thing. Was it a sudden bright flash and nothing? Did those on the ground even know that something had happened? That they were even dead?
The fact that Veld had heard a scream is his answer. Of course they did. And their deaths were agonizing. He's silent for a while, his eyes moving to the half-empty IV bag still haphazardly tied to the bedpost. A bubble forms at the bottom, growing larger and larger before it streams toward the top and bursts.
...He then answers.]
I'm your partner, so the Company thought I would know something. I was interrogated. During it, I convinced them to tell me where you were being treated. [What could be said. Military police against a Turk? Yeah.] When I was released, I was put on leave. I called into the news networks and leaked your location. Might have even said you were a captured terrorist to get 24-hour coverage of the hospital.
[Look. It's not the kindest thing in the world to do. But it made it a damn sight harder for any assassinations to be conducted.]
...I intended to watch over you, from a distance, until you recovered. But my hand was forced. As soon as the president left the continent, [And after all, him leaving meant A Decision Had Been Made,] I stole what I could from the hospital, got what I couldn't secure there from the slums, set up fake footage of myself [A nice week-long reel of the most boring week that could have been. Sleeping, eating, reading, and more of the above pre-recorded. For when the time ever came.] at my Company apartment in case they're looking at the cameras, and...
[Well. Here they are. A brief flick of his hand to the room illustrates that well enough. He moves back to the windowsill, taking Veld's PDA from it before sitting on the edge of the bed.]
I've been pretending to be you. I've been calling in favours to your contacts. You're in Icicle. You're going to clear your name.
[A pointed Look to Veld. And he passes him the device.]
Whatever happened- you're going to clear it. The President's the answer.
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Veld shifts slightly to start to reach for the device but winces, feeling pain radiating down his arm as if it's burning which makes him breathless for a moment. But when the blanket shifts as he sits up it reveals the stump of one arm.]
What the fuck-
[He tries to reach towards where his arm should be, not quite believing that there is only air then. The pain and sensations are so real, he could feel the burns that would have been on that arm from the burning building falling down on him.
He can't stop himself from trying to grab the wrist of his missing arm, trying desperately to try to get the pain to stop but the burning sensation doesn't go away.]
What the fuck am I going to do now like this?
[He hated the thought of not being able to do the things he had always done and it's so much to process as once, barely able to contain the disgust he feels for himself.]
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→ sunday txts
[Leeroy. Well. An image serves as Vincent's response. A typical image- one that would be on any upright Midgar citizen's ID. He adds nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Because Veld should be able to tell that there's a similarity there, and what it means.
Both men- Leeroy and the Don- have cleft chins.
It's not a certainty that they're father and son. But it's far more likely than not. Especially considering other shared traits. Male pattern baldness. Piglike blue eyes. A shit-eating grin. Looked like one Mrs. Corneo was a keeper. ...Once. But ping. Have another message.]
Turks are best suited for this job. The military don't need to be involved.
[There's kids involved in this, after all. They might be shitheads like their father. They might even grow up to be shitheads like their probable grandfather. But the last thing he wanted- anyone wanted- were more troopers going rambo. This residence is located on the upper plate too. While a few gunhappy troopers can be ignored in the slums, on the upper plate, it would have to be covered up.
...And that's even more work for the both of them. ]
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[This is why he allows for a few anti-Shinra groups to run around - they have their purposes sometimes.
Corneo or not, it's not ideal to drag the kids into things as collateral, but they can't afford to let themselves get sentimental on the job. The Turks were there to do the things that no one else would have the stomach or lack of morals to.]
We'll probably have to break him of the idea that he's more clever than he is, which will take some time.
[Like suspected father, like son no doubt but everyone has their breaking point.]
Even he will be able to understand that we have his family within reach and understand what's in his, and their, best interest.
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[Screw the kids, then. They, and the wife, are getting picked up too. It's... fine. He knows, of course he knows, that their job isn't clean. And he also knows that he's done far worse. (The worst he's done was solved easily enough. Some PTO, lots of booze, and elvira reruns.) So... fine. They're collatoral. He's not arguing.
Part of him wants to respond with something wry. About how he should have given Veld the news about the restaurant after the news about work. But he doesn't. While he can dismiss the murkier elements of the job, he'd never be one to joke about them.]
If he's stupider than we thought?
[If he runs to Corneo, for instance? The chances are slim. Any idiot knows that the don only operates thanks to supplying information to Shinra. But he suspects the answer. Kill them all. He just needs confirmation.]
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[It was a risky decision to potentially antagonize Corneo too much, but Veld assumes that the Don is at least smart enough to know that he has no direct recourse against the company.]
But make sure we have a souvenir we can gift to Corneo if necessary.
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[He can think of a few souvenirs as well. Leeroy's going to have a bad time.]
Will you be coming to this one, or shall I meet you at the company building?
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I'm coming- with any luck he'll make some bad life choices when we grab him and make things interesting.
[Tough luck for Leeroy, Veld is in a mood with this tragic news he's going to need time to recovery from.]
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But the demise of Da Chao Down changes things. Vincent's keenly aware that his partner's pissed. And that might come out in the way Leeroy and his family are treated. Vincent's objective is just as much tempering Veld as it is doing his job- and it's not out of sympathy for the family.
It's more like Leeroy staying alive- terrified, but alive- is the best shot they have at getting intel on Corneo's non-company sanctioned endeavours, and given that Vincent had already seen almost a year's worth of surveillance go up in smoke tonight with the kickoff at the Honeybee, he knew that anything else going wrong would jeopardize the entire thing.
So.
As Veld pulls up to the residential building, Vincent gets out of his own car, briskly crossing the street to get into Veld's own. A small glance comes to the backup Turks likely in the back seat. Then to Veld. And:]
I assume the distraction's set?
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[There is no reason to leave things to chance about how events are going to unfold when Veld has some operatives in various anti-Shinra groups who make themselves useful at times like this when they need cover.
He lights a cigarette, blowing smoke into the chill air out the car window. The news of his beloved take out restaurant day couldn't have come at a worse time, further evidence that the world as he knew it was slipping through his fingers. That morning, he had watched the President's expression light up as Hojo presented proposals for some more gruesome experiments, Scarlet practically salivating over the new weapons in development.
And now Da Chao Down was lost to time. Leeroy was about to have an unpleasant night, especially if he decided to try to act like some kind of tough guy which, given Corneo family tradition, was likely.]
We'll bring him in as if this is a one way trip- no need to bother with questions right now, for him he will assume that he's facing execution. If he's anything like we suspect it won't take long for him to break from desperation and fear.
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