literature

Vincent's Turk Days: Beginning

Deviation Actions

way2thedawn's avatar
By
Published:
1.8K Views

Literature Text

(I've come to a conclusion that instead of making this a long chapter fic, that it'll just be a series of short stories... more than likely not one-shots though.  It just seems easier that way.  Plus i may actually get it done... enjoy then)

##
Grimoire was sitting at the table in the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the diploma in his hands. The ShinRa insignia continued to catch his attention from the corner of the parchment. He could still feel that sink in his heart as his son’s name was called, and announced that he would be joining the Turks, after graduation. Proud, yes, but sad all the same. He and Vincent had been all alone since he was young. His son was his whole world and now he was leaving. Who knew what would be held in the future for such a dangerous career? It’d started as just a childhood dream, one Grimoire never expected the bright-eyed boy to follow through with.

He heard footsteps on the other side of the wall, and shook his head. “Seems I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.”

Vincent was behind him, and laughed a bit at the situation. “Although I suppose it’s not for the same reason.”

Grimoire sighed deeply. “That’s for sure.”

The slender boy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, glancing down at the certificate in his hands. “Does it worry you that much?”

“Of course. You can’t blame me for worrying.”

Vincent slid into the seat next to him.

“You’re only seventeen, Vincent. Do you really think it’s a good idea to be getting into this at such a young age?”

Vincent laughed lightly. “It’s a little late now, Dad. I’m leaving tomorrow for training.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“It seems I have to, or you won’t take me.”

“See. You still need your father to drive you around, you don’t need to be getting yourself into this.” Grimoire protested, trying not to crush the diploma, in his hands.

Vincent shook his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I have every right to be. It's my job to protect you, and any cost. Even if it means you think I'm and idiot.”

Vincent rolled his head over to send a cock-eyed look towards his father. “But, they said I’ve got real talent; that I could be great. Do you really want to hinder me?”

Grimoire groaned, slamming the diploma closed. “I suppose not.” He rubbed his eyes in frustrated exhaustion. “But I also don’t want to lose my only son.”

“You won’t lose me. Besides, they assign partners, so I won’t be alone.”

“I know.”

Vincent smiled, leaning over the table, “Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem.” He yawned, “the hoblem ih da I yahha”…. He was still yawning

Blank stare.

“You heard me.”

“Are you tired?” Vincent asked in a bemused sarcasm.

“No, but you are. Now get to bed. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Vincent rubbed a chill from his bare arm. “I was just finishing up my packing. Thought I could use a break, then I saw the light.”

“Oh…… well finish up and get some sleep. Can’t have you tired for training, now can we?”

“I suppose not.” He smiled slightly, looking down. “Guess I’d better finish then.” Vincent stood sliding on arm around his father’s neck, who in turn wrapped his around his son’s head. “Good-night, Dad”

“Night, Vincent.”

Vincent left, heading on upstairs to his room. Grimoire groaned, scratching his head. He still vividly remembered the day Vincent told him he wanted to join the Turks. He was so young, that Grimoire had hoped Vincent would have forgotten about it, by the time he was old enough. Guess that ship had sailed. Grimoire dropped his head onto the table, propped up by his arm. “Why me?”

xXx

After having to rush out, from over sleeping, Vincent and Grimoire arrived at the train station in Midgar, preparing to depart. Vincent grabbed his bags, and slammed the trunk closed, taking off.

“VINCENT, WAIT!”

He spun back, “What? The trains about to leave.”

Grimoire zipped up the duffel bag in his hands and slid it onto his son’s shoulder.

“Oh, thanks.”

Grimoire threw his arms around his son, squeezing him tightly. Vincent hugged him back, figuring it’d be better not to point out that there wasn’t time.

“I love you, son.”

“I love you too, dad.”

Grimoire pushed him back, squeezing his shoulder. “You take care of yourself, now”

“I will.”

Grimoire hugged him again, trying not to cry. He sniffed, finally letting him go. “Alright, get outta here.”

“Ok” Vincent spun around, and took off, waving back to his father. “BYE, DAD. SEE YOU AT CHRISTMAS.”

Grimoire waved back, his heart shattering. “BYE VINCENT.” He swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his eyes actually starting to tear up. “Be safe.”

Vincent threw his bags into the luggage racks, boarding the train. He took his seat, waving to his father once more, as the train pulled out of the station. Grimoire took a deep breath, watching the train retreat into the distance. He was so excited for all of this. That boy had no idea what he was getting into.

xXx

The train ride was uneventful, Vincent’s mind racing with thoughts of what was ahead. Adrenaline building till he was, finally, able to get off. They gathered for some kind of orientation, before all new recruits were dismissed.

All new recruits were assigned to small dorm-like rooms, until they were full-fledged Turks. Vincent slid the card-key into the door, and entered. There was already someone in the room. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, next to the far wall, was a guy fiddling with a bunch of wires and some metal contraption. He had wild, orange hair, and brown eyes, which followed him to the other bed, before returning to the odd object in his hands. Vincent placed his duffel bag on the bed, proceeding to open it.

“What’s your name?”

He jumped with hearing the other man speak. “Er, uh V-Vincent. Vincent Valentine.”

He waved a half-assed salute. “Charmed.”

Vincent thought to ask his name, but a more impending inquiry pressed on his mind. “How did you get up here so fast?”

The man's eyebrows arched up slightly, but his eyes stayed fixed on his work. “Huh? Whatcha mean? I’ve been here since noon.”

Vincent stared at him puzzled. “The Train arrived at noon. What about orientation?”

He bit at one of the wires, lodging it in place. “Didn’t go.”

“What?” Vincent sat on the bed. “But we’re supposed to go.”

“Eh, I've already been.” He waved a hand at him. “Plus, my big bro’s been a Turk for 3 years now. I already know all the rules.”

“… I suppose that makes sense. What are you working on?”

He grinned, holding it up proudly. “It’s a bomb.”

Vincent went pale. “Bomb?”

“Yea. Strike brought it back, from a mission, for me to play with. I’ve always liked tinkering with stuff like this.” He saw his roommate’s expression and laughed. “Calm down. I disarmed the detonator way before you came in.”

So many more questions ran through Vincent's brain, but the one to come out was, “Is Strike your brother?”

“Yup.” There was a small spark as one of the wire sprang out. “Crap.”

Vincent smirked. “So, what's your name?”

The red-haired man's brows lowered in confusion. “Didn't I say?”

“I don't think so.”

“Oh.” He wiped the grease off on his pants, holding the hand out to Vincent. “Shane Ruma.”

“I see.” Vincent moved from the bed and shook his hand. “Good to meet you Shane.” He promptly had to wipe off some residual grease that had transferred to his own hand.

“Back at cha.”

Vincent couldn't help but smile. He had such a strange speech pattern. Vincent folded his legs onto the bed, starting to unpack his bag.

“You a good shot with that?”

Vincent glanced up, from his bag. How did he know he had a gun strapped to his back. It was hidden under his jacket. He technically wasn't supposed to have any weapons at orientation, but his father insisted he carry a pistol at all times, and showed him ways to hide it.

Shane smirked. “Don't look so surprised. My bro's partner's a sharp shooter. I know how to spot a harness, even when it's hidden.”

Vincent's eyes lowered a touch. “I'd say I'm pretty good. My father started teaching me to shoot, when I was seven.”

Shane nodded, his lips taking a sort of bemused/impressed formation. “Wow, that's pretty young.”

“Well, I wanted to join the Turks, ever since I was little.” Vincent sighed. “I think he was hoping I would forget. Either way, he figured it'd be a good skill for me to learn.”

“Your dad a good shot?”

A swell of pride flowed through Vincent. “One of the best. He can hit a fly right out of the air, at 20 yards.”

“That seems kind of mean. Why shoot a poor fly?”

Vincent paused. That wasn't the response he was expecting. His face flushed lightly. “I didn't say he does, just said he could.”

“Well, how do ya know he can, if he never has?”

Vincent thought on that, for a bit. “He threw a rock at a bee once, that was going to sting me.”

Even the sounds of tinkering stopped in a brief silence. Shortly, Shane started laughing. “I suppose that's pretty cool.” After looking around a bit Shane kicked his feet over the side of the bed, to retrieve a tool that had fallen onto the ground. He propped a hand on his hip, turning to Vincent, still chuckling. “Well, if you're half as good as your old man, I'd say you're gonna be just fine, Vince.”

Vincent's face lowered. “It’s Vincent.”

Shane groaned, flopping back down onto the bed. “Oh no, you’re one of those.”

xXx

He wasn't technically a rookie yet. More like a 'Rookie-in-Training' at this stage in his career. The next few weeks, was the start of their training to try and see who was worthy of being called a Rookie-Turk. An elimination round, no matter how you look at it. In just a few short months, the dozens of recruits would be gone, weeding out the best of the best for even the honor to be called 'rookie'.

It was no easy task to deal with some of these trials and courses. Even our golden boy, Vincent, was having a hard time getting through. His practical scores were top notch, but when it came to actually implementing them, he greatly lacked in both skill and precision. The trainers were strict, and constantly yelling at recruits for screwing up. A couple of them even broke down into tears. They must have quit, because no one saw them again after that.

Vincent knew it was going to be difficult, but he wasn't expecting this. His grades in the classes was one of the main things saving him now. That, and one other skill he was never worried about – Marksmanship.

Even though most chose not to use it, every Turk was required to at least know how to handle a gun. Some could even excel at such a feat. They called back the targets, and Vincent couldn’t help but be proud when he did. One scraping the center, three more around the center ring, and two looping each other on the inner edge of the third.

“You’d think the son of Dr. Valentine would have better aim.” A man with long black hair, pulled back in some kinda cloth, set up a target next to him. Some blonde guy, on the other side of Vincent, seemed to take more offense to this than he did. “What are you talking about? Vincent’s amazing.” The man turned to him, revealing some kind of black diamond marking on either side of his right eye, making its slate blueish-grey color stand out. “So you're Vincent?”

“Yes sir.” He recognized him as being one of the superior members. It also seemed as though he knew him from somewhere else... but where? “How did you know who my father was?”

“You look just like him.” He held out a hand, for Vincent to give him the gun. The senior Turk re-loaded the chamber, and fired off 6 rounds at the target. “Too bad you can’t shoot like him.” The target returned, and he handed it, and the gun, back to Vincent. “If you want to learn how to aim properly, look me up.”

He turned and marched off, down the sidelines, scooping out some of the other shooters. The blonde guy (He believed was named Terry) looked down at the target, and scoffed. “What’s he acting so high and mighty about? He only hit the target one time. Who cares if it was dead center?”

Vincent glanced down at the paper, to see what he was talking about, only to have his breath freeze in his chest. Indeed, there was only one hole, but that didn’t mean anything. The hole was singed, more than usual. It was bigger than the size of bullets that gun held.

He had hit the exact same place each time.

Vincent looked up again, but the Turk was gone.

xXx

“You do know who that was, right?” Shane was standing on top of his bed, putting stuff up on the top of the closet.


Vincent was sitting down, on his bed, the target in his hand. That was the biggest thing that was bugging him. He did know how from somewhere, but couldn't remember how. “Not really. Who is he?”
Shane laughed, bouncing off the bed. “His name’s Renuichi Jonas. Tho most people just call him Ren. He’s my brother’s partner. A bit crazy.” He stopped, looking up towards the ceiling. “No, not crazy... he's 'eccentric'.” Shane even had to do the air quotes. “but he's a nice guy.”

Vincent glanced down at the target, before laying it down on the dresser. He definitely got a good dose of humble pie. “He's pretty good.”


“Good? Dude, Ren’s one of the best. It’s something that he even noticed you.”

Vincent flushed, pulling out the still half-unpacked duffel bag. “I suppose.” He started to pull the items out, putting them away in drawers.

Shane folded his legs, almost in mid-air, falling down onto his bed. “So you’re Doctor V’s kid, huh?”


Vincent stopped, then shifted his eyes over towards him. “Dr. V?” He'd never heard anyone refer to his father that way. “How do you know my father?”


“I don't.” He stated off-handedly, rubbing his chin. “How did I not see that?”

Vincent rolled his eyes back to his bag, until his hand found something he didn't remember packing. “What’s this?” Vincent picked up a small red box, with a bow, from a mix the rubble of his bag.

Shane’s curiosity was sparked, and he leapt off the bed, flopping down on Vincent’s. “What’s what?”
“Must be from my father.” He opened the box, to find another box inside. This one had a black, velvet casein.

Shane tried to restrain a laugh. “Daddy got ya a ring?”

Vincent just stared for a brief moment. “He didn’t.” He opened the case, a brief silence followed, then broke with an uproar of laughter.

Shane leapt from the bed, caught off guard by his roommate’s hysteria.

(Flashback xXx Time)

“Hey, Vincent.” Grimoire called, crossing into the room, where his son was reading through The Outsiders. (It was technically an assigned reading for class, but he actually enjoyed the story, so decided to read on ahead of the class.) “What's your favorite animal?”

“I don't know.” Vincent answered, with a shrug, not even bothering to look up from his book. “Dogs are pretty cool.” In between flipping pages, his free hand lazily stroked Keri's ear; the black lab, that was laying her head on his knee. Keri seemed to understand what he'd said, and pushed her head up into his hand, with a small ruff.

“Dogs, huh?” Grimoire strolled over and sat down in the chair, scribbling something into a notebook.

Vincent took a second to find his place on the page, then forgot about it, looking up towards his father. “Why do you ask?”

Grimoire shrugged. “I was just thinking.” He seemed a bit lost in what he was doing.

“About what?”

“Well.” He flipped through the small notebook, in his hands. “I got a letter from the president the other day.”

Vincent closed the book, feeling slightly worried. “Anything wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing's wrong. Just the normal bulletins and crap I really don't care about. Anyway, I was staring at the envelope; you know, how they seal it with a wax imprint of the ShinRa logo, and was thinking that we should have a family crest.”

Vincent wasn't fully sure how to register this information. He stared blankly, at his father, giving him a slow blink. “Why?”

“Why not?”

Vincent sighed, laying the book against his lap. Keri realized he'd stopped petting her, and lifted her head up to look at him. “Aren't family crests something that important families have?”

“There's nothing that says this is true. Besides, who's to say, we're not important?”

“Well, for one thing, the Valentine blood line isn't of noble birth.”

“We are as noble as we need to be.”

Vincent's eyes narrowed slightly. “There's only two of us.”

“Every family starts somewhere. When you have kids, the line will surely continue until our names go down in history. “ He held out a hand, as if making a proclamations. “You'll see.”

Deciding that he'd get back to petting her eventually, Keri settled her head into Vincent's lap again.

Vincent rolled his eyes back to his book, scanning the page again to find where he had left off. “It's pointless.”

Grimoire shrugged. “I'm still going to design one. Then we can be fancy, when we write letters to each other too.”

Vincent was trying very hard not to shake his head at his father's absurdity.

(xXx)

Five years later, Vincent was staring down at the ring glinting back at him, from the black box. The face of it had an almond shaped stone; a deep red garnet, which Vincent assumed was to represent the trait of their blood line being their red eyes. The bezel connected to a cast of what looked like a three headed dog, made in silver, stretched over the deep set stone. It had a fairly wide band, with a large V engraved into both sides.

There was a small note that came out as he plucked the ring from its box:

“I know Cerberus is supposed to protect the underworld, but maybe he can protect you too. If nothing else, he can kick you out, if you try to die on me. Take care of yourself, and call me, when you can. Good luck.

Love, Dad.”

Vincent detached the note, sliding the ring onto the middle finger, of his right hand. It actually fit pretty securely, not interfering with any motion as he flexed his fingers. (How his father knew his ring size, was up for debate.) Vincent smiled, shaking his head slowly. “Sometimes, I can't believe the things my father will do.”
HA bet you though it was Shane that was laughing. hey, this is before Vincent goes all angsty on us... and yes, the rookie Turks live a lot like collage students... i'm not creative enough to think of anything more. fyi i'm sorta picturing the rooms from Towers at my school. and i need to learn more about guns before i get too far into this... i just know the basics.

one more note of amusement i wanted to mention, when i type, a lot of times i say some lines aloud. the part in the first scene (where Grimoire tries to talk while he's yawning) i actually started yawning when i said that, and just figured i'd type it up like that. he was trying to say "the problem is i don't want you to get hurt"... but whutever


in case NEone's interested, this is the first story in my series. (before Learning the Truth way2thedawn.deviantart.com/art… and Forgiveness way2thedawn.deviantart.com/art… .i'm actually gonna write all three at once, so i can get them all over with. it's not the kinda thing that'll cause spoilers, (well, maybe, but not big ones) so i don't care. i'm just writing them so nobody will have questions on where i stand on all the confusing theories flying around on Vincent.

I'm gonna try to keep these in order, but some topics interest me more than others, so it might not happen.

Other stories in the timeline (This list, at least, will be in order)
Mentor: way2thedawn.deviantart.com/art…
Training: way2thedawn.deviantart.com/art…

(c) Square-Enix
© 2008 - 2024 way2thedawn
Comments53
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
DarkRedTigr's avatar
I featured this in my journal.