Chapter 4: Rose

The next day Willy had all but forgotten the disturbing prediction from the night before. With grim determination she faced the battle-ground that was their kitchen, clinging to her courage. She rolled up her sleeves and began her assault on the ever-growing force of dirty dishes.

By the time Tyser pulled himself out of bed a breakfast of friend eggs and slightly burned toast awaited him at the table. He thanked her through mouthfuls. "What’s the occasion?"

"We’re meeting Gavin today," she replied enthusiastically. Her eyes clearly displayed a glimmer of mischief. "I don’t mind being insulted in front of him, as long as it’s not my cooking."

"Husband-hunting today?"

"Always." She set out two more plates. "But a passionate, three-month purely physical affair would suit me fine."

Tactfully, her friend declined comment. It was then that Korben joined them, puzzled that a meal had been prepared for him. "I was planning on orange juice," he said, staring at his plate.

"And I was planning on beer," replied Tyser, "but when Willy’s in heat, we all come off good."

Willy promptly smacked him in the back of his head, muttering, "You’re just jealous." But she was still smiling and in a good mood, and he motioned behind her back as if to say he’d been correct. Korben shook his head and finally accepted the free food.

Willy glanced about curiously. "Hey, where’s Vinnie? Isn’t he eating?"

"He left over an hour ago on assignment," Korben answered.

"Oh well. His loss. Did you tell him where we were going?"

"I told him to meet us in Rolligm for lunch."

"Good." She finished her own breakfast quickly, and collected their dishes to be cleaned. "That’s the last time I cook for a while, unless Gavin stays for dinner. I hope you enjoyed it."

Tyser laughed. "Anything’s better than ol’ Jack ‘o Spades’s cooking."

"That wasn’t much of a compliment."

The trio laughed together, then separated to complete their morning rituals. Willy was the first ready, and she ushered her companions swiftly out the door. They took the train to Sector Four—few people still referred to the sector by its original name, Rolligm. As the plate in that Sector had not yet been completed, stray sunlight filtered lazily through the construction beams and gave light to the streets. Willy couldn’t help but smile as she disembarked from the train; Rolligm was far more pleasant than the shadowed, polluted, and desolate Sector Seven. The crime was relatively low, and moral was high. Unfortunately, her occupation wasn’t in this place, keeping her from enjoying one of Midgar’s last bearable districts.

Gavin Frekes was waiting for them in the schoolyard, balanced on top of a child’s climbing structure. He was a well-built man in his mid-twenties, though a bit slimmer than others of his age and position. As a member of SOLDIER, Third Class, he was able to hold his lofty perch with absolute stillness and little effort, testimony to his training of only two years.

Willy, however, was more interested in his slender, boyish good looks. His features were smooth and his dusty-brown hair slicked back. His eyes, once hazel, now gleamed like amber with the effects of his SOLDIER treatments, giving his entire face a kind of cheerful glow. Willy nearly skipped into the playground, grinning as one of the students might have. "Hello!" she called brightly.

Gavin smiled at her approach, leaping from the structure with perfect grace. He braced himself as the woman lunged, her arms wrapping around his neck. He grunted with the impact. "You’re in a good mood," he observed.

"Only because you have the day off," she replied, always quick on the wit. Her eyes sparked mischievously. "And the night."

"We’ll see." He raised his attention to the pair trailing behind. "Hey Tyser, Jay."

Korben snorted—Gavin was the only person he knew that called him by his last name. "Hey, Ace!" Tyser greeted heartily in his stead, using his card nick name, as was only ordinary for him. "They feeding you okay?

Gavin laughed, clapping the man’s back. Tyser never allowed him to forget that the Turks were responsible for his quick enrollment in Shinra’s most elite troops. "Yeah, Tyser. They’re taking care of me."

"Good. Let’s go shoot some hoops."

Vincent leaned his back against the glass of the elevator. In his earlier years he’d spent these moments near the door, watching the view of the city as he slowly rose above it. It was almost mystifying, knowing that only a layer of glass separated him from a nearly forty-story drop. Such thoughts motivated most visitors to keep their distance. But now Vincent trusted the smooth surface against his back, even if it was a bit spooky.

The job of the Turks was to find and suggest candidates for Shinra’s SOLDIER, a group of the strongest men in the world. At least, that was their official job. Within this truth lay another, deeper duty: reconnaissance, assassination, and kidnapping missions also found their way onto their leader’s voice mail. But Vincent was on a different kind of assignment. Every time a new employee was raised to a position of power, a Turk was sent to make a report. Besides the usual history and personal files on each of Shinra’s worker, there was another evaluation. It would be seen only by the Turks for their own purposes. The reason for this was that though Shinra was the largest, most powerful company known to the planet, employee loyalty wasn’t very high. Every so often someone would gain too much power too quickly—as the gun shop owner had—and try to set out alone. That was when the Turks stepped in. It was Tyser’s earlier report on the gun shop owner from the night before that had aided them in tracking and eliminating the man.

But such unlimited power within the company came with a price. Turk selection was very meticulous, given the amount of classified information at their disposal. No more than five existed at a time. And if one of them were to turn in the direction of their subjects, the punishments were severe.

The elevator halted, and Vincent stepped out onto the Science Offices floor. According to his superior, Professor Gast of the Science Department had hired a new research assistant, Dr. Karlauv, and he was to write up his report. The addition was in preparation for a very large, very expensive project that would have to be carefully monitored, especially by Turks. The President never overlooked the potentially dangerous power of knowledge.

In other words, Vincent was about to begin a long day of questioning and observation. With a sigh he entered the office newly labeled "Karlauv," and there received his first view of his new responsibility.

He admitted that it wasn’t a very flattering first impression.

Dr. Lucretia Karlauv was on her hands and knees, having crawled under her desk to retrieve some lost article. He couldn’t make out much about her initially, save that she was wearing a knee-length, white office skirt. Her quickly averted his eyes from the first of her observed attributes—one that would not be going on his report. He cleared his throat loudly.

The woman jumped and, as he should have anticipated, hit her head on the underside of the desk. After a moment of moaning over her injury she called, "Just a moment." She backed out from under the desk and glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"

Vincent was momentarily taken aback. The scientist was a woman in her mid-twenties with wide-set brown eyes and soft, attractive features. Her long brunette hair was tied in a high pony-tail that trailed down her neck and back with light curls. Her bright, curious manner seemed out of place among the harsh, iridescent office lights.

The Turk mentally shook himself. "You’re Dr. Karlauv, aren’t you? Professor Gast’s new assistant?"

"Yes." She glanced back at the desk with a disgruntled frown. "I must look rather foolish, crawling about like that, but I think I dropped my pen. The rest are in a box somewhere." She gestured to the dozen cardboard boxes and crates that were strewn about the small office, some open and spewing their contents onto the floor. The room was in quite a state of disarray. She climbed to her feet.

Vincent approached, reaching for her face. Lucretia was a bit startled, and was about to recoil when he plucked something from behind her ear. She laughed when she saw it was her missing pen. "Oh, of course. I’m usually not this scatter-brained—only when I’m excited." She retrieved the pen and moved back to her desk, filling out her papers while using the largest crate as a chair. "Can I help you? Mr.…."

"Valentine. Vincent Valentine." He pulled out a small notepad and pencil from his coat. "It’s procedure that I ask you some questions, as you are a new employee to this department."

"I filled out all the forms, and submitted my personal file and transcript to Professor Gast."

"Yes, but this is somewhat different." As there were no chairs, he chose to stand against the wall near her. "I’m going to as you some personal questions."

Lucretia glanced up from her work, looking him over for the first time. "Oh, that’s right. You’re a Turk, aren’t you? Professor Gast mentioned that you’d come." She returned to her papers. "Can I work while we do this? I’m already behind."

Vincent frowned. He didn’t like his subjects to be busy while he interviewed them, as it hampered his ability to judge their responses. When he looked at the condition of her office, however, he sympathized with her situation. "As long as you can pay attention and answer truthfully, that’s fine. This may take quite a while."

"Of course. Go ahead."

"Let’s start with some basic information." He suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he were about to do something wrong. "Please feel free to talk all you like. Don’t skip any details and don’t exaggerate. And nothing you say will leave this room; this report is only for the Turks."

She hummed agreement, seeming to consider what he’d said. "We’ll, I’m Lucretia Elaine Karlauv," she began cheerfully. "My parents are Samuel and Alexandria Karlauv, and I have three younger brothers." She glanced at him. "Is this the kind of information you want?"

"Yes. Please continue."

Willy looked the court over critically. It was a caged area not much larger than an alley, as it belonged to the junior high in the area and wasn’t well taken-care off. The basket hung on one side was askew. "Someone should fix that," she mused aloud. "It doesn’t look to hard to fix."

"I’ll boost you up." Tyser crouched down by the wall. "Climb up on my shoulders."

"Thanks." She did, and was lifted up to the level of the hoop. "This’ll just take a second. Feel free to cheek out my ass while you’re down there, Gavin."

Gavin rolled his eyes. "Sure, Willy. Take your time."

Willy giggled wickedly, and set to fixing the hoop. It was only a matter of repositioning it and tightening the bolts. Remembering that morning, Tyser commented, "Yea, Queenie’s really good at fixin’ stuff. She’s our tech expert, ya’ know. But her cooking sucks." She stomped on his shoulder. "Hey—what?"

"She cooks fine," Korben spoke up in her defense. "In fact, she made us breakfast this morning."

"That’s because she’s in he—ow!" She stomped on Tyser again before he could finish, then leapt gracefully off his shoulders. She made a face at him; he shrugged. "Kidding, kidding."

"We’ll play two on two, obviously," Willy said, taking charge. "Me and Korben vs. Tyser and Gavin, since he’s the only one that respects me."

Korben looked puzzled. "I thought you’d want to be on Gavin’s team."

"Well, this way I can guard him."

"Or body check him," Tyser added, taking the ball from Gavin. He made a shot, grinning as it slipped through the new with satisfying swish. "We’ll start with the ball."

All that morning they played, daring and shooting, passing and blocking. Willy didn’t leave Gavin for an instant, and he complained about not being able to receive a pass. "I can’t pass if you’re not open," Tyser reasoned. "Get away from her."

"I’m trying." Gavin cut left and right, doing everything he could think of to escape, but she was always there, laughing.

"I am the one that taught you those moves," she reminded, slapping him lightly on the rear. "No chance."

"Gavin’s got no game," Korben added, "and neither does Tyser." He tipped the ball out of his friend’s hand and scored a three-point shot. "That’s twenty-one. We win."

Willy jumped up and down, and then leapt onto Gavin’s back with a cheer. "We win, we win!" Gavin grunted, staggering a bit with the added weight, but he remained upright. "You owe us lunch!"

"Not me," Tyser protested. "I’m broke."

"Nice try—we just got a raise!"

The group left the school yard, as the children were being let out for recess and they didn’t want to be in the way. Laughing and joking, they made their way to a small shop called "Mindy’s Café." Korben led them to a table near the back. "This is where I told Vincent to meet us. I know the owner of this place: Mindy Monroe, formerly Mindy Cruthers. She has an interesting night life, but she serves good drinks."

They ordered their drinks, and it was then that Vincent entered. He was still dressed in his Turks suit. They waved him over. "We ordered you some lemonade," said Willy, winking as he took a seat beside her. She puckered her lips to imitate the sour flavor, which she never had liked.

"Thank you." Vincent looked out of place among the others with his navy suit; his expression betrayed soon enough that something other than his outfit separated him further from the group. "I met someone today."

"Oh, that’s right—you were on assignment." Tyser took a long gulp of his drink. "I remember when Raile took me to interview that guy Hojo—what a shit-head prick he was! I couldn’t stand it!"

"All the scientists are like that," said Gavin. "They treat you like pieces of meat."

Vincent folded his hands on the table, not meeting any of his friend’s curious gazes. "It was a woman."

Willy was about to lung when the waiter came back and asked for their lunch orders. Korben took the initiative. "Please, allow me." He pointed to each in turn. "The big blonde guy will have a double cheeseburger with bacon, lettuce, and pickles—dill pickles. And a side of fries. Gavin’s bulking up for SOLDIER, so he’ll have a double order of pasta with meat sauce, a baked potato, and a Caesar salad. The little lady’s dieting, but she doesn’t want her obsession to know, so she’ll have a tuna salad sandwich."

Willy kicked him under the table. He continued without falter. "I’ll have a deli-style chicken sandwich with mayonnaise. And potato chips. And our handsome friend Vincent here will have a ham and cheese sandwich, with a half-size salad with blue cheese."

"And a milkshake," Vincent added quietly. "Strawberry."

Everyone at the table stopped—except for Gavin, who couldn’t grasp the significance of a strawberry milkshake. They exchanged glances, then turned to stare at Vincent. He was still sitting with his hands folded on the table, head slightly bowed so that dark bangs fell over his face. The waiter regarded them indifferently, asked if that was all, and then left.

"This is really serious, isn’t it?" Gavin asked, looking from person to person in bewilderment. "I mean, can someone explain what’s going on?"

Tyser leaned over in the silence. "Spades only drinks strawberry milkshakes when there’s something big on his mind. The fruit helps him think." Despite the ridiculousness of what he was saying, Gavin was humbled by his grave tone.

Willy clasped Vincent’s wrist, her manner suddenly serious. "She didn’t take advantage of you, did she? Because if she—"

"Of course not." He flicked his head to clear the hair from his eyes. Faced with his friends, his repose began to lift. "Nothing like that."

"So spit it out," said Tyser. "Who is this chick?"

"Wait." Korben signaled for them to hold the conversation for him. He stood up from the table and moved purposefully across the room to a door labeled "Mindy’s Room," in fluorescent spray paint. He entered, and after a moment—and the sound of a brief argument—he emerged once more and retook his seat. "What’s the girl’s name?" he asked deliberately.

Vincent blinked, clearly puzzled. "She’s Professor Gast’s new assistant—Lucretia Karlauv. She—"

Korben held up the instant-developing camera he’d taken from Mindy’s back room, interrupting Vincent with a click, a flash, and the whirl of a tiny motor. Everyone turned to glare at him as he plucked the picture out of the device, and shook it to develop the image. "Sorry," he apologized. "You were blushing, and I wanted proof."

Vincent’s milkshake arrived, and he sipped from it with embarrassment as Willy kicked their companion under the table again. "C’mon, Korben. Leave Vince alone. He doesn’t get lucky often, ya’ know, even if he has a play-boy face."

Vincent continued to drink through the straw without comment.

"Yes, I know. But then, there’s always Rose."

Vincent stopped, his attention regained at the mentioning of the card from the night before. Korben received several pairs of sharp eyes on him, as well as another kick. "You know," he said calmly, "you’re leaving a sizable bruise on my shin."

"Then stop being an ass," Willy snapped, giving him one more good strike. They were all surprised by her sudden vehemence. "We don’t need to hear more about your damn cards."

"Cards?" as Gavin, his eyebrows raising curiously. "What kind of cards?"

"These." Korben produced the deck from his coat pocket and slid them across the table. Before Willy could protest he’d picked them up and was flipping through them. "They’re not tarot cards—they’re my own creation. They don’t answer questions. They tell fortunes."

Tyser made a slightly uncomfortable face. "You keep those with you?"

He nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Or course. It works better if they’re with me all the time." Willy muttered something under her breath and turned away.

But Gavin was the very picture of interest. "These are amazing," he said, studying each card carefully. "My grandmother had a set of tarot cards when I was younger, but they weren’t half as good as these. You drew them yourself?"

"Yeah. Not bad, huh?"

"They’re damn good." He paused. "Is this the one?" He held up the card with the scarlet-clad woman: Rose.

"Korben read my fortune last night," Vincent explained with a nod. "That was my first card. He predicted I would fall in love with someone untouchable."

The cards’ creator grinned ironically. "And now we learn that he’s just met a lovely new upper-staff member. Coincidence?"

"Could be," answered Tyser. "I mean, not everything you said was exactly believable."

Korben shrugged. "Oh well. Fate doesn’t care if you believe in it or not."

Willy was tempted to kick him again, but he wrapped his legs around his chair; out of her reach. Instead she turned to Gavin, trying to keep her manner light. "You don’t really believe in this stuff, do ya’ Gavin?"

"Actually, I do." Gavin passed the cards back to their owner. "Tell my fortune."

"No," Willy said immediately. She struggled to correct her tone. "That’s stuff’s just a lot of crap. And our food’s coming."

The waiter arrived and passed their dishes out, but only Tyser began to eat. "If it’s crap," Gavin argued without the slightest reservation, "then there shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, you don’t believe it anyway."

"If you don’t believe," Korben interjected, "then it won’t work."

"Oh, I believe." The SOLDIER member grinned, and took only a moment in helping himself to a mouthful of pasta. "Come one; you know you’re curious."

Korben admitted that he had a point. He began to shuffle, and because his subject appeared genuinely interested, he explained the action. "Normal tarot cards have a supposed power inherent in the symbols and arrangements themselves. Your believing in them make them work. My cards work because I make them work" He handed the deck to Gavin.

"So, you’re the one who can read the future, not the cards," said Gavin, still grinning as he shuffled. "Your ability reads my future, then affects me when I shuffle. Each card I pull is my future, as seen by your psychic power."

Korben couldn’t help but return the man’s grin, very pleased. "Impressive. Sounds like you study this."

"A bit," he admitted, setting the cards down once more. "SOLDIER members have to know a bit of everything." He set his hand on the deck, preparing to flip the fist card.

"Wait," said Willy, placing her hand over his. "You don’t have to do this. It’s—"

"You don’t have to be scared," Gavin assured, confused by the look of fear on her face.

"My cards don’t predict time," Korben added. He wasn’t trying to comfort his friends as much as convincing them to let him continue without impediment. "Even if he pulls the Lifestream card it could mean he lives for another twenty years without doing anything especially interesting."

Willy withdrew reluctantly, and Gavin turned the first card. It was a picture of a woman, much like Rose, but this one was taller, skinnier, and was surrounded in black lace that didn’t cover her very well. "Korben laughed out loud." Nice pull," he congratulated dryly. "That’s Mindy, the very picture of lust. A goddess of sex, if you will."

Willy’s eyes grew wide, locking on the man at her side with a sickening grin. Gavin blushed, and his friends laughed, grateful for the relief in the tension. "But, isn’t Mindy the name of this café?" Vincent asked.

"Actually, yes." He chuckled, as if savoring some private joke. "Anyway, Gavin’s gonna get lucky, With who is still up to debate, but you can give the rag a rest for a while." He flinched just barely, indicating another blow to his leg. But the strike never hit his ego. "Next, please."

Shaking his head, Gavin turned the next two cards. The first was a young boy dressed in purple sitting on a darkened, cobweb-covered thrown. He was holding a golden crown in outstretched hands. The second was Twin Dragons Mreg and Germ again. Korben nodded, satisfied with what he was seeing. "The boy is Claee, King of the Slums. He grants rewards and payments—you’re about to pay off big time." He lifted an eyebrow. "Maybe even a promotion to Second Class. You’re scoring points all over, Freak."

"Doing better than Jack," Tyser added. "But isn’t that dragon card something bad?"

"Maybe. Mreg and Germ represent conflict. Maybe Second Class will be too much for him."

Gavin laughed. "Yeah, right. I’ve been training long enough."

"Right, right," Willy said enthusiastically. Her grin was stretched from ear to ear, squinting her eyes from below. Her change in mood, though sudden, was understandable.

"You’re not drooling, are you?" Vincent asked at her side. He wasn’t as successful as Korben in concealing a grimace as her heel came down on his foot.

Careless and amused as they were, none in the group anticipated Gavin’s next card. Korben was readying an insult at Willy, and at first he didn’t notice the wide, gruesome, red-eyed face laid on the table. When finally he cast his eyes down to check, a look of shock came over his face, and he leapt to his feet. The sound of his chair clattering alerted his friends’ attentions as well as that of the surrounding customers. "What is it?" asked Gavin, perhaps not as surprised as he should have been. "Did I—"

"That is not possible!" Korben nearly shouted, jabbing an accusing finger at Chaos. His eyes were wild with anger, bewilderment, shock, and fear. "You don’t know how severe that card is—no one has turned it in years. Years! And now, twice in twelve hours!"

"Korben calm down." Vincent stood, attempting to ease the man back into his seat. "Just because—"

"Don’t touch me!" he snapped, shaking the man off. "You don’t understand! When I made that card I knew it’d never show up—that’s a fate worse than death, worse than slavery! Worse than anything!"

By now everyone in the café was watching them, and the owner—Mindy, dressed only in a red bathrobe—was standing just outside her door with a scowl. Korben’s friends remained in their seats, knowing that when he realized he was making a scene, he’d join them. But he didn’t calm, and he didn’t sit. He only stared at Chaos with a haunted look. It was Gavin who spoke at last. "Is that my death?" he asked, for the fist time n any of their memories his voice clear and serious. "I’m going to die in some horrible way? As a member of SOLDIER, I’m not afraid."

"You will be," Korben murmured in reply. "You still don’t get it."

Glaring at him defiantly, Gavin turned the next card. He ignored Willy, who was gripping his sleeve. The picture was that of a woman’s upper torso, painted like Earth viewed from afar with oceans and clouds. Her arms curled as if holding something precious to her chest. "What does this card mean?" he asked with quiet firmness.

Korben seemed to relax, and slowly he righted his chair and sank into it. "It’s Gaea," he replied, running his shaking hand through his hair. "Earth Mother. Redemption."

"So whatever fate Chaos is, Gaea will cancel it out anyway?"

"…Yes."

"Fine." Gavin gathered up the four cards and placed them back in the deck, then handed it back to the owner. "Thank you, Jay, for reading my fortune. You okay?"

"Yeah. I’ll be…okay."

"Good. I’ve lost my appetite, so I hope you guys don’t mind if I leave you all." He dropped some money on the table and stood. Everyone in the café went back to their own meals.

"Gavin, wait." Willy stood up and took his arm. "I’ll come, too."

He glanced at her and smiled, gradually easing the tension that had surrounded them. "Are you watching out for me, as usual?"

She didn’t want to admit to her anxiety, and sputtered on a response. "Well, if you’re going to have some kind of sexual explosion, I want to be there."

Gavin’s good humor returned, and he laughed. "Alright—let’s take a walk. I haven’t been around Rolligm for a while." With one last glance at Korben, the pair left arm in arm. Tyser shifted in his seat, wishing he had an excuse to leave as well. He looked to Vincent, and shrugged helplessly.

Vincent silently decided that, as a senior Turk, the situation was his responsibility. He set his hand on Korben’s shoulder. "I’ll take you back to the apartment."

"I don’t want to go back yet." He stuffed the cards in his jacket, then produced several folded bills to pay for his meal. "I’m going to take a walk. Don’t wait up." He stood.

"Hey, Korben." Tyser stood as well. "Don’t let it get to you. You’re a good Turk."

"Yeah." Korben didn’t look at him and began to head for the door. Neither of the two men made a move to stop him.

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