Ivory and Ebony
Chapter one: Start of the road
By Auburn Angel 101
"...The hell...!"
The figure spun around to face the computer bank, which had begun to shriek out an alarm signal. Frantically, he began to deactivate the system, hoping beyond hope that perhaps, this time, he'd be fast enough...
Not likely.
"VINCENT JAMES VALENTINE YOU STUPID BLOODY..." Came the roar from down the hall, quickly followed by footsteps as Vincent's father rattled towards the stairs to the attic, which was where Vincent spent most of his time. As the footsteps -and the verbal abuse- came closer, Vincent finally shut off the alarm he'd accidentally tripped and turned to face the door, his face displaying a calmness that he wasn't honestly feeling. Moments later, the door slammed back on it's hinges as Simon Valentine burst into the room, towering a good six inches over his fourteen-year-old son. The older man glared for a moment, took a deep breath as though about to yell so loud Vincent's eardrums would burst. Instead, as Vincent carefully backed away, he spoke softly, calmly almost.
"Vincent, that is the fourth time that alarm has gone off in under twenty-four hours. It can be heard all over the house. It is three AM. Explain. Fast." Vincent swallowed hard.
"I-I'm trying to deactivate it, father, but the software isn't responding. I think there's something wrong with the microchip driving the-the linkup on..." Vincent stuttered off into silence as he saw the look of incomprehension on the other's face. "Basically, it's screwed and I don't know what the hell to do, so I'm messing with it." The incomprehension on Simon's face gave way to fury.
"D'you mean to tell me that you've built this power-guzzling monstrosity and now it's bust and there's nothing you can even DO about it, you braindead geek?!" Vincent flinched at the look of rage on the older man's face, remembering the beating he'd taken last time one of his computers got in his father's way.
"I'm sorry father, honestly I am, I'll sort it out I promi-" The rest of the sentence choked off as Vincent's father grabbed him by the collar and shook him before punching him hard in the face and stomach. Vincent stumbled against the wall, wrenching his ankle, as the older man closed in again. The teenager made no attempt to block, knowing from experience that to do so would only get him hospitalised again. And his father knew the local doctors, so nobody would ask, or wonder, or even really care how the frail boy had come by the remarkably fist-shaped bruises, the welts on his back, the cigarette burns.
Nevertheless, Vincent reflected as the older man's fists slammed into him again, he'd lucked out. At least this time the guy wasn't drunk off his ass, so maybe he'd get off lighter. Maybe he'd get knocked out faster, maybe he wouldn't break any ribs... drink always made the old git's bloodlust worse.
The lights in the room spiralled in front of his eyes as he heard more than felt another blow. And another. The light drained away, someone was shaking him, he didn't want to wake up, darkness clouding his vision the world was fading. Another punch, then he was on the floor, he could feel the floorboards on his cheek, hear footsteps walking away fading spinning lights slamming door the alarm went on and on and....
The lights went out.
***
Vincent woke up, snapping into consciousness sharply, yet without moving a muscle, not even opening his eyes. It was a trick he'd taught himself over a number of years, and it took some doing. It had saved Vincent's skin on several occasions, enabling him to fool his father or his father's friends into thinking that he was unconscious, saving him from their little 'games' -that bunch of bloody sadists, his sister called them. And what his brother called them wasn't repeatable. Vincent never called them anything, just kept out of their way, it was easier.
The boy spent a few moments concentrating on what he could hear...no, not a thing. At least nobody was around. He sat up, blinking in the harsh sunlight from the room's one, barred, window. His head spun, but he forced himself upright, grunting with the effort.
The house was silent, and so was the street outside- not unusual, considering that the Junon slums had become almost deserted since ShinRa built the Junon plate, when Vincent was six. Vincent's father, then head of a wealthy fishing company, went bankrupt. Then Vincent's mother, Marie Valentine, became addicted to heroin and died. His father never recovered, became an alcoholic, and as far as Vincent and his two younger siblings were concerned things simply went from bad to worse. Vincent took the worst of it- Oldest son and all that crap, and his brother Daniel took some hard hits as well. The old man left their sister Miriam alone most of the time, unless he was so drunk he couldn't tell the difference bnnetween them. Maybe it was because she was a girl, or because she was the youngest- Vincent and the thirteen-year-old Daniel didn't much care, so long as they didn't have to worry about protecting her as well as themselves.
Vincent got unsteadily to his feet -nothing appeared to be broken- and crossed the dusty room to his computer. Well, almost a computer. It looked like a junk heap and used more power than it really should, but it worked and that was what mattered. Vincent looked at it proudly. He honestly didn't care how bad it looked, or how expensive it was, or if the neighbourhood gangs picked on him as 'That skinny little computer nerd'. It didn't matter, not at all. Computers were the future, anyone with a brain knew that. And people who could build a working mainframe age fourteen had to be pretty rare. Vincent smiled, despite the pain from his latest set of bruises.This was his ticket outta this hellhole, he knew it. You could get away from the slums two ways- Fight your way out, or think your way out.
Vincent knew he was no fighter. Too small, too thin, too pale, too weedy. Never mind that he could shoot a gun better than half of SOLDIER- Nobody would take him seriously. They never had. Well, maybe things would have to change. Maybe.
If that bloody alarm doesn't go off and get me beaten to death first.
***
Vincent flinched at the abrupt sound of a door slamming downstairs. He turned over in bed until he was lying flat on his back, staring up through the skylight. Moonlight shone down on him, the peace of the dark broken only by muffled thuds and intermittant swearing as the boy lay there, surrounded by bits and pieces of machinery, bits and pieces of his dreams. He could hear his father groaning his way up the stairs now, probably going to sleep. Vincent wished him every nightmare the world had to offer. He'd wished the old man that every night for as long as he could remember. Vincent remembered, vaguely, his mother telling him that bad wishes always come back in the end, that it was fate. Well, to hell with that. There was no way he was going to let fate push him around. The teenager figured he'd already let enough people push him around, starting and ending with his father.
And it was because he'd let his father push him around too much that his most prized possession -his only prized possession, the only thing that was truly his- was lying on the floor around his bed in the attic, no longer anything more to anyone than a heap of computer parts that looked as though someone had taken to them with a hammer.
Someone had.
Vincent absently reached down and picked up a mis-shapen, dented piece of metal. Although no-one would be able to tell by looking at it, it was the alarm that had finally enraged Simon Valentine to the point of utterly destroying the machine that his eldest son had spent four years working on. And just as it was operational too! Vincent sighed. He should get over it, he knew. It had been in pieces for nearly a year and a half now, and the boy still hadn't even cleared it up. He didn't see the point, and besides, it seemed like sacrilege somehow...
Sitting up sharply, Vincent drew back his arm and threw the disfunctional alarm across the room, hard. It clattered against the opposite wall, which dented slightly. Vincent allowed himself a grim smile. If he could do nothing else in this world, hell! He could always just break things. He'd be sixteen in just a few weeks more, and when he was, he was gonna be out of this hellhole so fast...
The boy smiled to himself and closed his eyes. Just a few more weeks...a few more...
The moonlight shone onto his face as it relaxed in sleep, pale skin in sharp contrast with fine, jet-black hair. The moonlight highlighted the contrasted, as though sealing the image in ivory and ebony. And fate, in which the young man did not believe, watched him sleep.
Hi, this is Auburn. Please let me know if you loved/hated this fanfic so far. Flame me if you wish. If you want to guess the plot, feel free - I might steal your ideas though, so be warned! Vincent Valentine, Junon, Final Fantasy VII and anything associated with them are the property of Squaresoft, so don't sue me! Thankyou for bothering to read this, there will be more chapters soon, honest. L8R!
AUBURN. VERBALLY ABUSE ME HERE
