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Fandom: FF7:BC
Characters/Pairings: Vincent, Veld, with an appearance by an OC, Tally
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing mostly, else it'd be PG)
Summary: Vincent, Veld, and troubles with locks.
Notes: I got locked out of my house and I complained about how it was like a Turk mission gone wrong trying to break in. So I wrote this because the idea was funny. XD Not serious at all, so if you were looking for dark gritty Turk fic, this is so not it. I also haven't tried Veld's dignity in a while and missed that. XD
"What do you MEAN you forgot the glass cutter?"
Not only were he and Valentine in the middle of nowhere--he couldn't even recall the name of the town without referring to the mission briefs--they were locked out. It was supposed to be something simple, just break in, grab some files, put some double dealing businessman into the harsh light of wrath. At least that was the plan. But this particular scum was the paranoid type and had every door of his vacation house securely deadbolted. So when he asked Valentine for a means to break in, he rather expected that it would be simple.
"Well you said this would be easy," Valentine replied, shrugging, as if it was nothing. But it made things more difficult.
"You did bring a lock pick at least?"
"...No."
"What the hell DID you bring?"
"Some gum. And a comb."
Veld wanted to slap him, or beat his head against the wall. His partner was usually far less useless. In fact, he was usually far less useless, maybe he'd come to rely too much on the tools they'd been given. He could break in the old fashioned way.
"Hand me your ID card, Valentine."
"...Why?"
"So I can pick the lock! What kind of a punk are you if you don't know THAT?"
He sighed, in an exaggerated long suffering way and handed the card over. Veld took the card with a glare and proceeded to pick at the lock, which was proving to be a little more difficult than it should have been.
"Ah... Veld?"
"What."
"Maybe you should look a bit closer at the door."
"I'll look at the door when I--" Veld stopped and realized he'd forgotten the deadbolt. Oh that paranoid shit. He regretted the fact they hadn't been sent to kill the bastard.
Valentine, for his part, smirked. And continued to be useless. Veld thought about pulling rank and using him as a battering ram, but the kid was heavy for a skinny punk. He wanted to say he knew this fact because of some daring rescue that would make the smug asshole beholden to him, but really, Valentine had thought it funny to sit on him once. And Veld hadn't quite gotten back at him yet for that.
"Alright, Valentine, you go left, and I'll go right, and we'll see if there are any windows unlatched."
"Aye, sir," and Valentine gave that lazy salute. If only the kid had come from military, like he had, and not just running away from college like an idiot. Discipline was hard to pound into the heads of the intelligent and highly unmotivated. Considering Valentine's fondness for that bastard salute, Veld maybe shouldn't have mentioned that bit about his background.
Not the time to be thinking about that. Especially considering they were supposed to be in this house an hour ago and already heading back with the documents on hand. He didn't understand why Tally had to send both of them either. This job probably would have gone far better if he'd been sent alone--he'd have not been distracted by the damn kid's rambling on and would have been equipped right. It was commonly believed that Valentine was intense and barely talked, and Veld knew that it was an outright cover. The kid never seemed able to shut up sometimes.
Right, he was looking for an unlatched window.
"Veld, I think I found one." Valentine came loping around the corner and waved him over. Well, at least he was being useful. Veld could almost feel like he was in a good mood. Almost.
That quickly disintegrated when Valentine pointed to a window on the second floor.
"You are aware that even you aren't tall enough to reach that?"
"That was why I was going to give you a boost."
Veld wasn't really sensitive about his height. Not really. He wasn't actually short; he still stood a good couple of inches over the average Wutain. No, the problem was that Valentine was unnaturally tall and liked to point out that fact every chance he got. And it was there, in the slight smile of his expression as he said the word 'boost'.
"Like hell. I'm sure there's something on this floor."
"And I'm sure there's not."
But just to make absolutely sure, Veld circled the building a few times. Nope, the kid was right. Dammit.
"Just how much of a boost."
Valentine seemed to consider that, making a rectangle with his fingers and looking through it with one eye, as if he could measure the distance by sight alone. Then he turned to Veld and sized him up.
"Well, I think you'll have to sit on my shoulders."
"Fine. Anyone hears about this--"
"You'll give me so much paperwork I'll be shitting pulp for a week, I know."
Clearly he'd used that threat one too many times. Veld would change it up next time.
"Right. Let's get this done with."
Luckily this was a somewhat secluded vacation home, for if this where in an Sector neighborhood they surely would have been stopped by a police officer or old lady. Veld tried not to think about how comical they must have looked, but he certainly took note of the fact that he was glad he'd gotten into the Turks, for a career in the circus would have only ended in tragedy. After a few tries, he was well balanced and reached the window easily.
"There's a screen, Valentine."
"Well rip through it or something."
If he were on the ground, he would be able to grab the knife strapped to his ankle. But he was about six feet in the air and they had already had an awkward tumble or two. Veld knew he should have put on his sleeve sheath, despite it seeming a bit much for what was really a glorified robbery. So he had to make do with his hands. And screens were sharp when ripped.
"I got the screen!"
"Good, now get your ass up there, you gain weight or something?"
"You're just weak."
"Hardly."
He hefted himself up there, and was glad to be on something solid. Well, more solid than Valentine at least. This feeling was quickly replaced by a bit of vertigo, though, as pulling the lower half of his body through the window was a little difficult.
"You stuck?"
"Go downstairs and wait by a door, Valentine!"
"But the view is so nice from here."
He was going to shoot that kid one of these days, and write up a nice report explaining how they'd been ambushed and there was simply nothing he could do to save him... A little wriggling and he fell into the room and hit the floor with a thud. On his shoulder. Ow.
"I'm in!" And he was a little out of breath. Veld needed to do more pushups, clearly.
He dusted himself off--the dark blue was great for hiding blood but terrible for hiding dirt--and made his way downstairs. Pulling the gun out was second nature. After making sure the rooms were clear he nearly jumped when he saw Valentine standing in the living room.
"What are you doing in here?!"
"The back door was unlocked."
"...What?"
"Uh, yeah. Guess I missed that one."
Veld pinched the bridge of his nose and recited his mantra in his head. Tally will yell at you if you misplace your partner, Tally will...
"Let's just get those files and get the hell out of here and back in civilization."
---
Tally heard an argument and some scuffling outside her door, which usually meant Vincent and Veld were back from a mission. They liked to think that no one heard them bickering, or whatever it was, but she could almost set her watch by it. Given that she'd sent them on a half a day travel job, it must have been almost time to go. Veld would insult Vincent's mother and then come walking in...
"Chief, I have the documents you requested, and the report."
...right about now.
"Very good, was there any trouble?"
"None more than usual, ma'am."
She glanced through the folders he had handed her and noticed that his hands were bandaged up. She ought to tell them to be a little less rough with each other, even if Veld tended to heal quickly. Part of her wanted to ruffle his hair, considering that serious expression he was giving her. He was only twenty-four, he needn't look so serious.
"There anything else?"
He looked down for a moment and then back up again. "I put in a proposal for another training exercise. This mission put into relief some amount of unpreparedness."
She would have to ask Vincent later what had happened. His retellings were usually hilarious, especially considering that he did a good impression of Veld. Voice and expressions; it was uncanny.
"I'll be sure to look at it. Take some time off, you look frazzled."
"Ah, certainly, ma'am."
She waited until he closed the door to snicker. Maybe she was getting a little soft, but the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, really. And not thirty seconds had passed and they were bickering again, which could be clearly heard through the door.
"I could have come in there with you. Tally likes me."
"She's simply a good person, it has nothing to do with your charming personality."
"Better than a stuffy personality."
"Bah."
"Cranky brown sheep!"
Oh she hoped they both lived for a long long time. God help the company if something happened to one of them, the other would be insufferable.
Characters/Pairings: Vincent, Veld, with an appearance by an OC, Tally
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing mostly, else it'd be PG)
Summary: Vincent, Veld, and troubles with locks.
Notes: I got locked out of my house and I complained about how it was like a Turk mission gone wrong trying to break in. So I wrote this because the idea was funny. XD Not serious at all, so if you were looking for dark gritty Turk fic, this is so not it. I also haven't tried Veld's dignity in a while and missed that. XD
"What do you MEAN you forgot the glass cutter?"
Not only were he and Valentine in the middle of nowhere--he couldn't even recall the name of the town without referring to the mission briefs--they were locked out. It was supposed to be something simple, just break in, grab some files, put some double dealing businessman into the harsh light of wrath. At least that was the plan. But this particular scum was the paranoid type and had every door of his vacation house securely deadbolted. So when he asked Valentine for a means to break in, he rather expected that it would be simple.
"Well you said this would be easy," Valentine replied, shrugging, as if it was nothing. But it made things more difficult.
"You did bring a lock pick at least?"
"...No."
"What the hell DID you bring?"
"Some gum. And a comb."
Veld wanted to slap him, or beat his head against the wall. His partner was usually far less useless. In fact, he was usually far less useless, maybe he'd come to rely too much on the tools they'd been given. He could break in the old fashioned way.
"Hand me your ID card, Valentine."
"...Why?"
"So I can pick the lock! What kind of a punk are you if you don't know THAT?"
He sighed, in an exaggerated long suffering way and handed the card over. Veld took the card with a glare and proceeded to pick at the lock, which was proving to be a little more difficult than it should have been.
"Ah... Veld?"
"What."
"Maybe you should look a bit closer at the door."
"I'll look at the door when I--" Veld stopped and realized he'd forgotten the deadbolt. Oh that paranoid shit. He regretted the fact they hadn't been sent to kill the bastard.
Valentine, for his part, smirked. And continued to be useless. Veld thought about pulling rank and using him as a battering ram, but the kid was heavy for a skinny punk. He wanted to say he knew this fact because of some daring rescue that would make the smug asshole beholden to him, but really, Valentine had thought it funny to sit on him once. And Veld hadn't quite gotten back at him yet for that.
"Alright, Valentine, you go left, and I'll go right, and we'll see if there are any windows unlatched."
"Aye, sir," and Valentine gave that lazy salute. If only the kid had come from military, like he had, and not just running away from college like an idiot. Discipline was hard to pound into the heads of the intelligent and highly unmotivated. Considering Valentine's fondness for that bastard salute, Veld maybe shouldn't have mentioned that bit about his background.
Not the time to be thinking about that. Especially considering they were supposed to be in this house an hour ago and already heading back with the documents on hand. He didn't understand why Tally had to send both of them either. This job probably would have gone far better if he'd been sent alone--he'd have not been distracted by the damn kid's rambling on and would have been equipped right. It was commonly believed that Valentine was intense and barely talked, and Veld knew that it was an outright cover. The kid never seemed able to shut up sometimes.
Right, he was looking for an unlatched window.
"Veld, I think I found one." Valentine came loping around the corner and waved him over. Well, at least he was being useful. Veld could almost feel like he was in a good mood. Almost.
That quickly disintegrated when Valentine pointed to a window on the second floor.
"You are aware that even you aren't tall enough to reach that?"
"That was why I was going to give you a boost."
Veld wasn't really sensitive about his height. Not really. He wasn't actually short; he still stood a good couple of inches over the average Wutain. No, the problem was that Valentine was unnaturally tall and liked to point out that fact every chance he got. And it was there, in the slight smile of his expression as he said the word 'boost'.
"Like hell. I'm sure there's something on this floor."
"And I'm sure there's not."
But just to make absolutely sure, Veld circled the building a few times. Nope, the kid was right. Dammit.
"Just how much of a boost."
Valentine seemed to consider that, making a rectangle with his fingers and looking through it with one eye, as if he could measure the distance by sight alone. Then he turned to Veld and sized him up.
"Well, I think you'll have to sit on my shoulders."
"Fine. Anyone hears about this--"
"You'll give me so much paperwork I'll be shitting pulp for a week, I know."
Clearly he'd used that threat one too many times. Veld would change it up next time.
"Right. Let's get this done with."
Luckily this was a somewhat secluded vacation home, for if this where in an Sector neighborhood they surely would have been stopped by a police officer or old lady. Veld tried not to think about how comical they must have looked, but he certainly took note of the fact that he was glad he'd gotten into the Turks, for a career in the circus would have only ended in tragedy. After a few tries, he was well balanced and reached the window easily.
"There's a screen, Valentine."
"Well rip through it or something."
If he were on the ground, he would be able to grab the knife strapped to his ankle. But he was about six feet in the air and they had already had an awkward tumble or two. Veld knew he should have put on his sleeve sheath, despite it seeming a bit much for what was really a glorified robbery. So he had to make do with his hands. And screens were sharp when ripped.
"I got the screen!"
"Good, now get your ass up there, you gain weight or something?"
"You're just weak."
"Hardly."
He hefted himself up there, and was glad to be on something solid. Well, more solid than Valentine at least. This feeling was quickly replaced by a bit of vertigo, though, as pulling the lower half of his body through the window was a little difficult.
"You stuck?"
"Go downstairs and wait by a door, Valentine!"
"But the view is so nice from here."
He was going to shoot that kid one of these days, and write up a nice report explaining how they'd been ambushed and there was simply nothing he could do to save him... A little wriggling and he fell into the room and hit the floor with a thud. On his shoulder. Ow.
"I'm in!" And he was a little out of breath. Veld needed to do more pushups, clearly.
He dusted himself off--the dark blue was great for hiding blood but terrible for hiding dirt--and made his way downstairs. Pulling the gun out was second nature. After making sure the rooms were clear he nearly jumped when he saw Valentine standing in the living room.
"What are you doing in here?!"
"The back door was unlocked."
"...What?"
"Uh, yeah. Guess I missed that one."
Veld pinched the bridge of his nose and recited his mantra in his head. Tally will yell at you if you misplace your partner, Tally will...
"Let's just get those files and get the hell out of here and back in civilization."
---
Tally heard an argument and some scuffling outside her door, which usually meant Vincent and Veld were back from a mission. They liked to think that no one heard them bickering, or whatever it was, but she could almost set her watch by it. Given that she'd sent them on a half a day travel job, it must have been almost time to go. Veld would insult Vincent's mother and then come walking in...
"Chief, I have the documents you requested, and the report."
...right about now.
"Very good, was there any trouble?"
"None more than usual, ma'am."
She glanced through the folders he had handed her and noticed that his hands were bandaged up. She ought to tell them to be a little less rough with each other, even if Veld tended to heal quickly. Part of her wanted to ruffle his hair, considering that serious expression he was giving her. He was only twenty-four, he needn't look so serious.
"There anything else?"
He looked down for a moment and then back up again. "I put in a proposal for another training exercise. This mission put into relief some amount of unpreparedness."
She would have to ask Vincent later what had happened. His retellings were usually hilarious, especially considering that he did a good impression of Veld. Voice and expressions; it was uncanny.
"I'll be sure to look at it. Take some time off, you look frazzled."
"Ah, certainly, ma'am."
She waited until he closed the door to snicker. Maybe she was getting a little soft, but the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, really. And not thirty seconds had passed and they were bickering again, which could be clearly heard through the door.
"I could have come in there with you. Tally likes me."
"She's simply a good person, it has nothing to do with your charming personality."
"Better than a stuffy personality."
"Bah."
"Cranky brown sheep!"
Oh she hoped they both lived for a long long time. God help the company if something happened to one of them, the other would be insufferable.