...Yes. You've got no choice in the matter... So we're getting to work.
[It's too early for any form of flippancy. But Veld... was a scary bastard. And a proud piece of work besides. The arm was what, 10% of him. at 90%, he still had the edge over a talentless sycophant like Heidegger. Eventually, Vincent relaxes his hold upon the other man's chest- taking his weight off him to shift to the side- picking up the PDA once again and settling beside him on the bed, so the other could see the screen.
...It's... a bit of a squeeze, given the fact that the bed was designed for single occupancy and Veld had quite a few drips attached to him, and Vincent gives the other man a small glimpse just to ensure he had no complaint. Should he not...]
I've been steering clear of the military, and talking to people that owe you favours. Mostly secretaries. The President's in particular, since you and her have history.
[Said history being the birth of one Lazard Deusericus- an extra-martial endeavour on the President's part. The secretary owed Veld for one thing. Firstly, that she survived motherhood, given that Mrs. Shinra still did not know. Second, that her son was provided for. That he would have the best schooling. That he would become an executive one day. He would have a future- even if not as a Shinra. All of such was Veld's doing. Something that he had justified, at least to Vincent, as a precaution in case anything happened to Rufus. Something Vincent had suspected was because of Veld's own bias.
He scrolls down the messages- all of which indicate the secretary's regret that the President had washed his hands of the matter. That he did not care about a public execution for the perpetrator. That he did not care who the perpretrator even was. That he merely wanted the entire matter swept under the rug ASAP. More messages follow: of the President's itinerary- of a long, extended break in Costa del Sol while the matter was dealt with. Increased mako rates to cover the cost of rebuilding.]
Scarlet's secretary might be your way to a meeting with the President.
[A flick to more messages. Longwinded negotiations- the secretary outright having what seemed like a nervous breakdown via message at one point, at all they had to go through in their position working for her. Of countless indignity, disrespect, and misfortune being put upon them in their role- one message outright saying that they'd do anything to be transferred to another department. ]
A transport of weapons to the Corel region leaves in a week. I've neotiated our places on it- which'll drop us close enough to Costa del Sol so you can meet with him. But you need to think of what to say. How you can get him [The President,] to reconsider his stance.
[A small pause.]
...I know some part of you likely wants nothing to do with the Company any longer.
[Why not? Kalm's destruction had took everything from him.]
But you have to understand- Without the president, there's no way we can find out what really happened. Or... even get past this, actually. Without the President, we're dead.
[Veld doesn't complain as Vincent shifts to the side, only wincing at feeling the bandages move across burnt skin. It would be nice to have something to dull the pain but he has to keep a clear mind and not be tempted to let that haze settle over him once more.
He focuses on reading the messages, taking it all in. He had learned early on that the secretaries were the key to almost everything- they were the ones who made departments run, the ones who went unnoticed during meetings, and handled confidential documents and the such.
Veld spent years building a rapport with them, especially the secretaries in the President's office. They were often his eyes and ears, passing along information in return for protection or in the case of the President's secretaries, making sure they would have the necessary support for any children who may come in useful in the future.
We will never be free of the company.
[With how much Veld and Vincent did for Shinra and the dark secrets they knew, the only 'retirement' plan was death but even though Veld felt on the edge of stepping over that edge there were things he had to know and that meant surviving.
But even with all that aside, Veld knew that personally, he could never be free of that man. He wasn't sure what he was going to say but at least he had a week to figure that out.]
Just have to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do with one arm.
[Veld had survived a lot of things that would have probably killed most other people but he had always been too stubborn to die, there was no time for that shit.
So that was what he was going to do now, survive.]
Well, if I'm not dying then I think I need something to drink.
[That's not water, something like cheap whisky that will wake him up more. And probably something to eat but he feels too nauseous to even think about that right now.]
[That statement, that a company life meant a company death, wasn't news to Vincent. But he can't help but be brought to silence anyway, his eyes turning that much more morose at hearing the words uttered aloud. He doesn't comment- instead turning his eyes back to the device and flicking through a few more messages- turning his attention to what Veld says next.]
My advice is to keep it clean. Don't leave your stump in water too long, it'll prune. And use moisturiser on it.
[Too soon for banter? Maybe. But maybe not. Veld... wasn't over it. That was obvious. And expected. How could anyone be over something like this, ever? But Veld was starting to plan. That was an encouraging enough sign.
...And asking for booze. Which... He glances to the picture of the red-eyed man on the dresser. If his father was alive, he'd kill him- giving alcohol to a man with this many drugs in his system. But he rises anyway- putting the device next to the other and sitting up in a fluid motion before barefootedly making his way to the other side of the (small) room- fishing about in some rickety looking cupboards before procuring a bottle. He then returns with it. It's distinctly middle-of-the-shelf. Probably higher class than what Veld wanted from his well drinks. But all he had. He removes the lid before passing it to him.]
Here. And just so you know- you're sharing that.
[He moves to sit on the edge of the bed then, looking over the other man.]
You also need to think of what you're going to say to the President. I'm no expert-
[What could be said. Veld, as the head of the department, dealt with him. Vincent was background, often assigned to other heads.]
- But I'd consider blackmail. The company's running stories it was the work of Republic of Junon ships with long-range cannons. Proving it was an airstrike- by the company's own aircraft- is plausible.
["No expert" indeed. Vincent's inexperience with dealing with the President was showing. Even suggesting something like that, to that man, would be suicide. President Shinra was bold. Stubborn. Rash. Fearless- and neither shame, nor public opinion, was any kind of motivator for him.
The only feasible way forward would be to convince the President to see the merit in pinning the error to someone else within the company.]
[Veld gives Vincent a flat look at the instructions, rolling his eyes.
He was not at all squeamish when it came to blood and injuries- he's removed limbs from bodies more than a few times since it made disposal easier and he knew how motivating removing a hand was to make someone more willing to share information.
But this was different- he knew that he couldn't avoid thinking about this new reality but it was a weakness that was difficult to face and accept. He would find a way to adjust and overcome but it was a lot to think about with everything else that happened.
Everything felt raw, mentally and physically and he took the bottle from Vincent gratefully. Drinking wasn't the best way to cope with any of this but he doesn't care. It doesn't even matter that what Vincent gave him was at least middle shelf but perhaps that was for the best with all the medications still in his system.
He takes another long drink, allowing the warmth to spread through his body though he fights the urge to allow it to pull him under that haze again as he had the bottle back to Vincent begrudgingly.]
I always told him that if he wanted to kill me or make an example of me to make sure to finish the job.
[For obvious reasons. President Shinra was feared by many but Veld was not one of those people, not even in the slightest.
Focusing on Vincent helped him start putting pieces together in his mind, trying to slowly put together what has to be done. There was so much to come to terms with and putting things together was helping him make some sense of this new realty even if he felt as if this was some horrible hallucination.]
Heidegger will have to be dealt with as well. He's a coward and if he's behind this, a bigger idiot than I thought he was already.
Either way, he's going to be smelling the blood in the water.
[Veld frowns, letting out a breath as he tries not to move since every time the bandages shifted against burnt skin the pain radiated and interrupted his thoughts.]
Neutralize Heidegger first- I don't want him to think he can make the most of this opportunity. He's stupid enough to try something and I don't want him in the way.
[It was a pity they couldn't handle Heidegger what they typically did to suspects and anyone who worked against Shinra. It would have been so satisfying to break him.]
[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
[It's too early for any form of flippancy. But Veld... was a scary bastard. And a proud piece of work besides. The arm was what, 10% of him. at 90%, he still had the edge over a talentless sycophant like Heidegger. Eventually, Vincent relaxes his hold upon the other man's chest- taking his weight off him to shift to the side- picking up the PDA once again and settling beside him on the bed, so the other could see the screen.
...It's... a bit of a squeeze, given the fact that the bed was designed for single occupancy and Veld had quite a few drips attached to him, and Vincent gives the other man a small glimpse just to ensure he had no complaint. Should he not...]
I've been steering clear of the military, and talking to people that owe you favours. Mostly secretaries. The President's in particular, since you and her have history.
[Said history being the birth of one Lazard Deusericus- an extra-martial endeavour on the President's part. The secretary owed Veld for one thing. Firstly, that she survived motherhood, given that Mrs. Shinra still did not know. Second, that her son was provided for. That he would have the best schooling. That he would become an executive one day. He would have a future- even if not as a Shinra. All of such was Veld's doing. Something that he had justified, at least to Vincent, as a precaution in case anything happened to Rufus. Something Vincent had suspected was because of Veld's own bias.
He scrolls down the messages- all of which indicate the secretary's regret that the President had washed his hands of the matter. That he did not care about a public execution for the perpetrator. That he did not care who the perpretrator even was. That he merely wanted the entire matter swept under the rug ASAP. More messages follow: of the President's itinerary- of a long, extended break in Costa del Sol while the matter was dealt with. Increased mako rates to cover the cost of rebuilding.]
Scarlet's secretary might be your way to a meeting with the President.
[A flick to more messages. Longwinded negotiations- the secretary outright having what seemed like a nervous breakdown via message at one point, at all they had to go through in their position working for her. Of countless indignity, disrespect, and misfortune being put upon them in their role- one message outright saying that they'd do anything to be transferred to another department. ]
A transport of weapons to the Corel region leaves in a week. I've neotiated our places on it- which'll drop us close enough to Costa del Sol so you can meet with him. But you need to think of what to say. How you can get him [The President,] to reconsider his stance.
[A small pause.]
...I know some part of you likely wants nothing to do with the Company any longer.
[Why not? Kalm's destruction had took everything from him.]
But you have to understand- Without the president, there's no way we can find out what really happened. Or... even get past this, actually. Without the President, we're dead.
no subject
He focuses on reading the messages, taking it all in. He had learned early on that the secretaries were the key to almost everything- they were the ones who made departments run, the ones who went unnoticed during meetings, and handled confidential documents and the such.
Veld spent years building a rapport with them, especially the secretaries in the President's office. They were often his eyes and ears, passing along information in return for protection or in the case of the President's secretaries, making sure they would have the necessary support for any children who may come in useful in the future.
We will never be free of the company.
[With how much Veld and Vincent did for Shinra and the dark secrets they knew, the only 'retirement' plan was death but even though Veld felt on the edge of stepping over that edge there were things he had to know and that meant surviving.
But even with all that aside, Veld knew that personally, he could never be free of that man. He wasn't sure what he was going to say but at least he had a week to figure that out.]
Just have to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do with one arm.
[Veld had survived a lot of things that would have probably killed most other people but he had always been too stubborn to die, there was no time for that shit.
So that was what he was going to do now, survive.]
Well, if I'm not dying then I think I need something to drink.
[That's not water, something like cheap whisky that will wake him up more. And probably something to eat but he feels too nauseous to even think about that right now.]
no subject
[That statement, that a company life meant a company death, wasn't news to Vincent. But he can't help but be brought to silence anyway, his eyes turning that much more morose at hearing the words uttered aloud. He doesn't comment- instead turning his eyes back to the device and flicking through a few more messages- turning his attention to what Veld says next.]
My advice is to keep it clean. Don't leave your stump in water too long, it'll prune. And use moisturiser on it.
[Too soon for banter? Maybe. But maybe not. Veld... wasn't over it. That was obvious. And expected. How could anyone be over something like this, ever? But Veld was starting to plan. That was an encouraging enough sign.
...And asking for booze. Which...
He glances to the picture of the red-eyed man on the dresser. If his father was alive, he'd kill him- giving alcohol to a man with this many drugs in his system. But he rises anyway- putting the device next to the other and sitting up in a fluid motion before barefootedly making his way to the other side of the (small) room- fishing about in some rickety looking cupboards before procuring a bottle. He then returns with it. It's distinctly middle-of-the-shelf. Probably higher class than what Veld wanted from his well drinks. But all he had. He removes the lid before passing it to him.]
Here. And just so you know- you're sharing that.
[He moves to sit on the edge of the bed then, looking over the other man.]
You also need to think of what you're going to say to the President. I'm no expert-
[What could be said. Veld, as the head of the department, dealt with him. Vincent was background, often assigned to other heads.]
- But I'd consider blackmail. The company's running stories it was the work of Republic of Junon ships with long-range cannons. Proving it was an airstrike- by the company's own aircraft- is plausible.
["No expert" indeed. Vincent's inexperience with dealing with the President was showing. Even suggesting something like that, to that man, would be suicide. President Shinra was bold. Stubborn. Rash. Fearless- and neither shame, nor public opinion, was any kind of motivator for him.
The only feasible way forward would be to convince the President to see the merit in pinning the error to someone else within the company.]
no subject
He was not at all squeamish when it came to blood and injuries- he's removed limbs from bodies more than a few times since it made disposal easier and he knew how motivating removing a hand was to make someone more willing to share information.
But this was different- he knew that he couldn't avoid thinking about this new reality but it was a weakness that was difficult to face and accept. He would find a way to adjust and overcome but it was a lot to think about with everything else that happened.
Everything felt raw, mentally and physically and he took the bottle from Vincent gratefully. Drinking wasn't the best way to cope with any of this but he doesn't care. It doesn't even matter that what Vincent gave him was at least middle shelf but perhaps that was for the best with all the medications still in his system.
He takes another long drink, allowing the warmth to spread through his body though he fights the urge to allow it to pull him under that haze again as he had the bottle back to Vincent begrudgingly.]
I always told him that if he wanted to kill me or make an example of me to make sure to finish the job.
[For obvious reasons. President Shinra was feared by many but Veld was not one of those people, not even in the slightest.
Focusing on Vincent helped him start putting pieces together in his mind, trying to slowly put together what has to be done. There was so much to come to terms with and putting things together was helping him make some sense of this new realty even if he felt as if this was some horrible hallucination.]
Heidegger will have to be dealt with as well. He's a coward and if he's behind this, a bigger idiot than I thought he was already.
Either way, he's going to be smelling the blood in the water.
[Veld frowns, letting out a breath as he tries not to move since every time the bandages shifted against burnt skin the pain radiated and interrupted his thoughts.]
Neutralize Heidegger first- I don't want him to think he can make the most of this opportunity. He's stupid enough to try something and I don't want him in the way.
[It was a pity they couldn't handle Heidegger what they typically did to suspects and anyone who worked against Shinra. It would have been so satisfying to break him.]
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.]
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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.]
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[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.]
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[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.
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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.