Loveless: Ato 1 – Cena 9

Mais uma parte de Loveless.

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Act I: The Ruby Dragon

Scene Nine

Reno eased himself into a sitting position, pushing the weight of his body against his elbows. His recovery was going well, due largely to the materia-based treatments he was receiving. Outside, day was breaking, but with the thick mass of gray clouds that blanketed the city, it was hard to tell that without knowing the time.
A brief succession of knocks sounded on the door; upon hearing them, Reno allowed a small smile to cross his face. He recognized his visitor by the staccato rhythm of his knuckles against the wood; it was someone who had promised to see him before he left town.
“Come in, Reeve.”
The executive, casually dressed in a white polo shirt and khakis, opened the door and walked in. After setting his work satchel and small suitcase on a chair, he came to Reno’s bedside. He stood there in silence, staring at Reno.
“You’re not going to sit down?” asked the Turk.
Reeve shook his head. “I can’t stay for very long. How have you been?”
“Not bad. Doctors are saying I can go home within a week.”
“Glad to hear it,” Reeve answered, smiling for the first time since he entered.
“And how are you? Looks like you’re all ready to go.”
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to seeing Costa del Sol again.”
“Have you and Kramler figured out what to do about that snitch?”
“Not yet,” Reeve murmured. “I can’t talk about that here anyway. I’ll tell you what went down when I get back.”
“Right. Tell Kramler I said hi.”
“Of course, and I’ll see if I can pick you up a little— something while I’m there.”
Reno’s eyes lit up. “Really? Just make sure it’s none of that Bone Village—”
“—hippie shit. I know, I know,” Reeve finished, smirking.
Reno returned Reeve’s smirk. The executive seemed a bit more relaxed than he had been these past few days.
“So, nothing else going on?”
“You’ve probably heard about President Shinra’s funeral, already.”
“Tseng told me about it last night.”
“The next big event coming up is that celebration of Rufus’ presidency.”
“Funny… I didn’t hear about that.”
“Not many have; Rufus told me about it just this morning. I went into the office to leave some last-minute instructions for my secretary and happened to run into him. He wanted my opinion on some banner designs before I left.”
“Where’s he having this thing?”
“Junon, a couple of weeks from now. Don’t think I’ll be able to make it, though.”
Reno nodded. He wanted to ask more about Rufus, but he wasn’t aware of how much Reeve knew of the young Shinra’s infatuation with him, and thought it better to leave the topic untouched. Somehow, thinking of Rufus made him think of Elena. She had called Reno last night, telling him of her acceptance into the Turks. He was happy for her, but sensed by her tone that there was something bugging her. He asked Elena if anything was wrong, and was met with a brief silence, interrupted by a, “No, nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?” Reno chose to wave off the topic and steer the conversation in another direction, but in a different manner than he was doing now.
“Reeve, can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
Reno stared at his hands, resting palms-up in his lap. He looked up again. “Why have you decided to go skirt-chasing now, after all this time?”
Reeve sat down in a chair close to the head of the bed. The Turk raised an eyebrow.
“What did she tell you this time?” Reeve asked.
“She didn’t say anything when she called yesterday, but I could tell that something was up.”
“I’m only trying to take some advice a friend gave me… back when Scarlet first betrayed my trust.”
“Touché,” Reno countered. “All right man, do what you want with her.”
“Are you sure this doesn’t bother you? I mean, considering how you feel about me…”
“And how is that?”
“You know. It’s a way that you shouldn’t feel.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Reeve said as he got up. “you’ll only get yourself hurt. I have to go. I’m scheduled to meet the Highwind on the outskirts of the city a half-hour from now.”
“Reeve.”
“Yes?”
“I’m… not afraid of pain, you know.”
Reeve turned around and looked at Reno, who wore a determined expression. The executive gave a small affirmative nod, then picked up his things and started for the door.
“Reno,” he replied, “it’s not you that I’m worried about. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay…” Reno said, pondering Reeve’s words. “Have a good trip.”
Reeve nodded and left the room.

*****

Tseng spotted Elena walking toward the Sector Five gate only a few minutes before their scheduled meeting time. She stopped in front of him and saluted. “Reporting for duty, sir!”
Tseng and Rude exchanged glances before the former turned back to Elena. “No need for formalities here. We’re Turks, meaning that we operate according to our own rules. I can already see that you have much to learn.”
Elena didn’t reply as he turned his back to her and pulled out his Sector Five keycard. Tseng tried not to let Elena’s inexperience get to him, but she was somewhat green, and as such, would have to be lavished with extra attention. Her crush on him, which he was well aware of, would only make things even more difficult. Thank goodness Rude would be with them for this first job.
The Sector Five gate slid open, revealing four yellow chocobos chained to stakes, patiently waiting for them. As Rude and Elena loaded their bags and supplies onto the back of one of the birds, Tseng drew out a slip of paper with some numbers scribbled on it and undid the combination locks that kept the chocobos secure.
“How did these chocobos get here?” Elena asked.
“I had some MPs arrange them for our use,” Tseng replied. “I would’ve preferred black ones, which are faster and a bit more reliable, but these were the best they could do on such short notice.”
“So where are we going first?”
“Toward Kalm. It’s quite the rumor mill; a great place for gathering information. There’s a very good chance we can find out something about Sephiroth there.”
“What about AVALANCHE?”
“What about AVALANCHE?”
“Well… what if we run into them on the way? They’re wanted criminals as well.”
Tseng paused. “Our priority is Sephiroth. Understood?”
“…Understood.”
“Excellent,” Tseng replied as he mounted his chocobo. Rude and Elena followed suit, and soon, they were riding away from Midgar.

Early that afternoon, Kalm drew near; already, the Turks could see the parapets of the old castle walls that surrounded most of the town. Tseng cast a sidelong glance at Elena; as he had expected, there was a smile on her face upon seeing her hometown. He wondered if Kalm’s penchant for Shinra-influenced rumor-monging had rubbed off on her, then remembered what she had said about the Sector Seven plate. In Midgar, even the lowly slum dwellers had suspected Shinra of being behind the plate’s felling, but the “official” rumor that had been circulated was that AVALANCHE did the deed. He gazed back over the fields and let out a tired sigh. Elena was a Kalm girl at heart.
As their chocobos continued galloping across the meadows, the Turks came upon flocks of grazing sheep. Many yards away, a lone shepherd sat on a gray boulder, reading a book. The sheep didn’t pay any attention to the chocobos as they walked through the flocks. Then, all of a sudden, many of the sheep started bleating and running in all different directions. The Turks looked around them and saw packs of mutant wolves with indigo fur, running across the fields to attack the flock. Elena turned to Tseng, distraught.
“We should do something!”
Tseng said nothing. He looked at the scattered sheep, then at the frantic shepherd who had climbed on top of the rock to escape the wolves, which the locals called “Kalm fangs”. A small, ponderous smile crossed Tseng’s face.
“Yes. We should, shouldn’t we?”
As Tseng drew his pistol from out of the folds of his coat, Rude jumped off of his chocobo and ran toward the nearest fangs, pummeling them with his fists. Elena drew a small device from her coat pocket, which Tseng caught sight of out of the corner of his eye.
“What’s that?”
“A grenade. Scarlet supplied me with a few of them before I left headquarters this morning,” she said as she hooked her thumb in the pin to pull it.
Tseng reached over and clamped his hand over hers. “Do you want to blow up the sheep as well? I suggest you use something else—perhaps your gun or some materia.”
Elena bowed her head. “Sorry, sir.”
“It’s okay,” Tseng said as he removed his hands. “Now let’s get rid of these wolves.”
“Right!”
Tseng galloped off toward one pack of fangs, while Elena went after another. As his chocobo ran across the hilly field, Tseng drew his pistol and shot three of the wolves, catching one right in the skull. He maimed or killed another six in this manner, then rode back to his companions as the remaining fangs started to retreat. Rude stood by a small pile of bludgeoned wolves, while Elena cast a mid-level ice spell on one fang that had refused to run away with his brethren. She dusted her hands off as Tseng approached.
“Looks like we haven’t lost many sheep, sir!”
Tseng nodded as he looked away beyond her. “The shepherd’s coming this way. Let me do all the talking.”
“Y—yes sir.”
The shepherd stopped before the Turks and bowed. “Thank you ever so much for getting rid of those nasty fangs!” She turned to Elena. “Miss Elena, it is good to see you again!”
Elena smiled, and was about to reply when Tseng broke in, “I’m afraid we’re short on time. We’re the Shinra Turks, and we’re in pursuit of a man with grayish-white hair, dressed mostly in black. Our sources indicate that he was headed in this direction.”
The shepherd’s face froze as she whispered, “Is it true that such a man killed President Shinra?”
“Have you seen him or not?”
“I did yesterday. He gave me and my sheep quite a fright, but he just walked past as though he didn’t notice us.”
“In which direction did he go?”
“Toward Kalm, where I live. Funny thing is, once I got back into town yesterday, I didn’t see him at all. Maybe he had left by then.”
Tseng furrowed his brows. “I see. Well, thank you for your time.”
As Rude walked back to retrieve the pack chocobo as well as the one he had been riding, Tseng and Elena rode a little ways ahead toward Kalm.
“We Turks never, ever do things without a reason,” Tseng lectured. “We try to employ reciprocity whenever possible. As you just saw, our driving away of those Kalm fangs helped us gain a bit of valuable information. We must never overlook such opportunities.”
“Sir, why is that?” Elena asked.
“Because not everyone trusts Shinra,” answered Tseng. “Not even in Kalm.”
Elena nodded. Tseng wondered if it was because she understood, or because she was agreeing with him.
“Kindness is more persuasive than force,” Tseng continued, “and if we can temper the force of Shinra with a deliberate bit of kindness, all the better for us.”
Elena bowed her head. “Sir… but what if… I mean… can we ever do things out of our own kindness, without expecting something in return?”
Tseng turned to face her, a little bit shocked. He had not been expecting a question like this. As she met his gaze, he found himself troubled; not by her innocence, or her idealism, but by her naiveté. The world was a very complex place, and true heroism was far more trouble than it was worth. This he knew from experience. He was deeply saddened by her question, but tried not to let it show.
“We aren’t allowed to be heroes, Elena. That’s not our job.”

*****

Even though it had been well over a year since she had last visited her hometown, Kalm hadn’t changed much. It was still the same small, quiet village it had always been. As the Turks dismounted from their steeds and secured their reigns on a railing near the town’s wall, Tseng addressed his subordinates.
“Now listen: we’re here for information on ‘the man in black’, so don’t get too distracted by anything else. Most of the people here are supportive of Shinra, but there are a few who aren’t, so be tactful in your inquiries and don’t say any more than you have to.”
Rude and Elena nodded, then the three went their separate ways.

Elena’s first stop was the local tavern; she knew that at this time of day, there would be a good number of people about. As she entered, she was surprised to find that most of the crowd consisted of miners. Kalm’s biggest export was mythrill, dug out from the mountain caves beyond the Midgar Swamp; the miners had a camp there, and were usually away from town for months at a time. Just then, she spotted her half-brother, Steve, sitting at the counter, and snuck up behind him. She tapped him on the shoulder and he whirled around, almost falling off of his stool once they had come face to face.
“Elena! What on earth are you doing here?” He got to his feet and looked her up and down. “Don’t tell me. You made it, right? You’re a Turk?”
“That I am!” she answered, clasping her hands behind her back. “I’m on my first mission as we speak!”
“Congratulations! Are the other Turks with you?”
“Yeah, they’re around. We split up to gather information.”
“Information? About what?”
“A man wearing a black cloak. You seen him?”
A shudder visibly ran down Steve’s spine. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve seen him. Got long silvery hair and a big-ass sword, right?”
“That’s him.”
“I saw a guy like that earlier this morning. He was walking east, toward the Chocobo Farm. He looked really scary… Who is he, anyway?”
“He’s Sephi—”
Elena found her reply cut off by a hand clapped over her mouth. The hand was smooth, yet firm, and smelled faintly of gun metal. She tilted her eyes upward and found that her captor was Tseng.
“Elena, remember what I said about tactfulness. Say only what you have to.”
Steve looked up at the stern Turk leader. “Is that your boss?” he asked, pointing to Tseng.
Elena nodded through Tseng’s grip; he let her go and she turned to face him.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered.
“Do you know what for?”
“For saying more than was necessary.”
“Just don’t let it happen again.” He looked over at Steve, who had come to Elena’s side. “And who are you, sir?”
“Me? Oh, I’m Elena’s brother, Steve.”
Tseng eyed Steve’s hazel eyes, identical to Elena’s own, and his reddish-orange hair, which wasn’t.
“Her brother?”
“Well, half-brother, actually,” Elena explained. “We both have the same father.”
“I see,” said Tseng. “Elena, come to the inn when you have a chance. There’s something I want to show you. And remember, watch your tongue.”
The Turk leader turned to leave, then looked back.
“By the way, thanks for the information, Steve.”
Tseng left the tavern.
Elena sighed and climbed up on a bar stool. Steve sat on the one right next to her.
“So that’s your boss, huh? Seems like a real hardass.”
“No, I deserved that,” Elena muttered. “I’m still new to this job. I don’t know all the protocols yet.”
“Don’t they teach you that stuff as a Turk trainee?”
“Not all of it…” Elena was about to tell him the circumstances surrounding her quick hiring, but thought better of it. Instead, she took another look around the bar. “Hey Steve? Why are all these miners here? Why aren’t they at the camps?”
“I guess you haven’t heard. Monsters have been showing up in those parts lately. They say the biggest one is a serpent that measures thirty feet long.”
“Where did they come from?”
“No one knows. There’s a rumor going around that Shinra secretly makes them in their mako reactors. I don’t believe a word of it, myself.”
Elena just nodded, wondering to herself if this was true. She glanced at her watch.
“Oh! It’s getting late. Sorry Steve, but I really have to go.”
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re on a mission, right?”
“Yeah,” Elena said as she slid off the stool. She gave her brother a tight hug, then started toward the door. “Say hi to Dad for me, will you?”
“Sure thing! Good luck on your mission!”
“Thanks!”
Elena waved goodbye, then ran off toward the inn.

As she entered the front lobby of the Kalm Inn, Tseng and Rude rose from their chairs and walked over to her. Tseng motioned to the vacant front desk.
“There’s something in the register I thought you should see.”
Elena walked up to the desk and read the book. The most recently written pair of names were Tifa Lockheart and Barret Wallace. She looked back up at the two men wearing a quizzical expression.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Barret Wallace is the leader of AVALANCHE,” Rude answered. “They were here last night.”
“Who is this ‘Tifa’, then?”
The bald man furrowed his brows. “The last member of AVALANCHE.”
“Back when I was doing my research, I thought it strange that I could find record of neither her nor Cloud,” Tseng said, “but after what Rude told me, it all made sense.”
“What did?”
“Their records were erased,” Rude replied as he started for the door, “Not only because they are natives of Nibelheim, but they also had the bad luck of being in Nibelheim five years ago, when the incident occurred…”
Elena watched Rude go, gaping into the small crack where his past could just barely be seen. Tseng crossed his arms.
“After I left you at the tavern, he told me the story of how he came to know Tifa. He spent the first seven years of his life in Nibelheim before his family moved to the Junon area. Tifa was an acquaintance from those days.”
“What about the ‘incident’ that he mentioned?”
“That’s an even longer story, but one I’m not qualified to tell.”
Elena nodded, wondering what Tseng meant by this. “So anyway, where are we headed next?”
“The Chocobo Farm, of course. Didn’t your brother say something about Sephiroth heading in that direction?”
“Oh, right,” she said, sheepishly scratching the back of her head.
“On chocobo-back, it’s only a few days’ travel from here. If we’re unable to find Sephiroth there, we’ll stay at the farmhouse for the night, then set out again the following morning with whatever new leads we’re able to pick up. I’ve already called Choco Bill to arrange for him to take care of our birds should we have to cross the Midgar Swamp.”
Tseng turned and left the inn. Elena followed him, and saw that Rude was busy securing the bags on the pack chocobo. The bald man furrowed his brows thoughtfully.
“Hey, Tseng,” he muttered. “Do you think Tifa and her friends are chasing after Sephiroth as well?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ll call the President once we’re on our way to the Chocobo Farm and let him know they were here. Considering the nature of our previous encounters, I hope they don’t try to interfere with our work.” Tseng mounted his chocobo. “Let’s get going. Is everyone ready?”
Rude mounted his own bird and nodded an affirmative; Elena followed suit. As they left Kalm, she thought about the conversation they had just had. Tseng didn’t seem too concerned about AVALANCHE being on Sephiroth’s trail. Didn’t he want to get back at them for all the mayhem they’d caused? And what about what they’d done to poor Reno?
As they galloped toward the eastern grasslands, Elena thought about Tseng; more than ever, she wanted to get to know him.

*****

A soft cooing drew Zack out of his dreamless sleep. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, and was startled to see a large yellow and orange face staring at him. The frightened young chocobo screeched loudly and ran off.
Zack pulled himself up to the top of the rock against which he had fallen asleep and looked out over the green meadows, softly lit by the rising sun. Nearly a week had passed since he, guided by Jenova’s will, killed President Shinra and left Midgar. He was not sure why Jenova had wanted him to take this journey, nor where her ultimate destination was. Figuring that nothing worse could happen to him at this point, he let his will go, free for Jenova to control. She was his arms, his legs, his voice. However, even though she held dominion over his tongue, she could not completely disable his thoughts.
“Jenova, where do we go from here?”
“We must make our way across the wetlands,” she answered, her voice ringing in his ear, melodic in a minor key. “There is a military base on the other side, where we will find passage across the sea.”
Zack understood; their next stop was to be Junon. He stood up, brushing his long black coat free of the grass and dirt that had accumulated on it. As he took his gray hair and tied it into a ponytail, he stared down at the slender blade leaning against the rock, its tip digging into the dirt. It was not the Masamune; rather, it was a replica made from Jenova’s own flesh and bearing the sword’s aura. Like his Sephiroth-self, this mock-Masamune was merely camouflage for Jenova’s true form. He picked up the blade and began walking.
Less than a mile ahead of him, a ranch came into view. With the outer pen empty of animals, the place was fairly quiet. An old man sat on a folding chair in front of the closest building, a farmhouse, smoking a long pipe. Silently, Zack walked past the pen, then headed southward toward the stagnant waters of the Midgar Swamp.
“Hey!”
The voice came from behind him. He turned around to see the old man standing up, his hands cupped around his mouth.
“You aren’t gonna cross the swamp on foot, are you?”
“I was planning on it…”
The man started walking closer, obviously in an effort to save himself the trouble of yelling.
“You’d better catch a chocobo to help get you across. There’s a huge monster that lurks in these waters—scared off all of Kalm’s miners, it did.”
“A monster, you say?”
“Yeah. A big water snake called the Midgar Zolom. It moves faster than most people can run. You’ll definitely need the speedy legs of a chocobo.”
Zack’s Sephiroth-self smiled cryptically. “I think I’ll take my chances.” He turned around and continued his trek toward the swamp. As he walked, he heard the old man sigh.
“He probably thinks that I’m crazy,” Zack thought. “What if this monster of his is really as dangerous as he’s making it out to be?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jenova replied. “If we do run across this beast, we’ll take care of it.”

Deep in the swamp, with the Mythrill Mines just starting to come into view, Zack waded through knee-high water, thankful that Sephiroth always wore such tall boots. The bog was thick with algae, sawgrass, and mosquitos, but curiously free of wading-birds, lizards, and any other wildlife that would be typical for this environment. Zack thought that this may have been because of the Midgar Zolom. He wondered about all the monsters he had slain since leaving Midgar. In the past, the world wasn’t as populated with such malicious beasts. Where had they all come from?
A sharp pain hit his skull as this last thought materialized. He knew the answer—or at least, he should know. Someone had shown him something a long time ago… in Nibelheim. He fell to his knees, the pain overwhelming any control that Jenova had over him at that moment.
“Get up,” she demanded.
Zack shook his head furiously. “I can’t. It’s my memory that’s doing this to me.”
“Your memory?”
“Missing… something’s missing…”
“Ahh…yes,” Jenova replied after a brief pause, a sharper edge to her voice. “Of course.”
Zack leaned over, holding his head in pain. As he was about to topple into the water, he pushed his hands down beneath the surface and gripped at the mud and clay. He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths. The bog fell deathly silent; not even a ripple could be heard. Finally, he stood up, algae clinging to his gloves and armlets, and looked straight ahead. As he started to take a step forward, he was pulled back into the water, then whipped high into the air.
His left leg was held in a tight grip by the forked, scaly tail of a massive beast. It was, like the old man had described, an enormous snake. The Midgar Zolom flicked out its purple tongue and flung Zack back into the water, where he quickly got back onto his feet, drawing his sword as he did so. Not bothering to wait for the Zolom’s next move, he stepped forward, swinging the Masamune in a wide arc. The Zolom’s grayish-green scales were barely scratched.
“This beast is tougher than I anticipated,” Jenova admitted. “I will need you in a more powerful form…”
Suddenly, Zack felt a strange sensation running through his body. Two large things burst from his back as his feet left the ground. His right arm turned into a pinkish-purple tentacle, and his left gripped the Masamune’s hilt tighter than before. He hovered before the Zolom as it drew itself to its full height, its forked tail twitching rapidly. Zack swooped forward, slashing at the Zolom’s head in a move that was more powerful than his first, before Jenova’s added mutations. The sword caught the Zolom in the eye; blood squirted out in a flailing stream, hitting Zack as the screaming serpent thrashed from side to side. With his adversary’s blood dripping from his hair and chin, Zack plunged the blade into the torn eye, straight through to the creature’s brain.
“Incredible…” Zack thought as he felt the beast’s final struggles through the vibrations of his sword.
“I see you are in awe of my power.”
“I must admit… it is certainly something.”
For a moment, Zack thought he could sense Jenova smile. “Now, puppet,” she answered. “Let us be rid of this nuisance and continue on our way.”
Still floating in mid-air, Zack twisted around the dead Zolom and dragged the beast behind him with the lodged Masamune. The waters of the Midgar Swamp began to recede as they neared the Mines, replaced by solid ground dotted here and there by the skeletal forms of leafless trees. Zack stopped before the first one they came to.
“We will leave the beast here,” Jenova whispered. “It will doubtless serve as a warning to all those who dare stand in our—”
“What?” Zack interrupted. “You mean someone is after us?”
“I have sensed two groups through my other puppets… A trio in dark blue suits, and those that you saw in the cells before you freed me.”
Zack nodded to himself as he impaled the dead Zolom on the chosen tree. The Turks—the “trio in blue suits”—he could understand. Doubtless, they were on a mission to catch the President’s killer. Why Cloud, Aeris, and their friends would be following him, he wasn’t sure.
As usual, Jenova was reading his mind. “Your friends from the laboratory… they do have their reasons. You will discover them for yourself once your memory is recovered.”
“You mean my memories will come back to me?” he asked as he wrested the Masamune free from the Zolom’s head.
“In due time, puppet. Just trust in me…”
Zack sighed as his body floated to solid ground. As his feet touched the soil, he felt Jenova’s “wings” retreat into his body and the tentacle reform itself into a human arm. He stared into the dark cave opening that lay a few yards ahead of him.
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Loveless: Ato 1 – Cena 8

Finalmente, depois de tanto tempo, lhes trago a cena oito de Loveless. ._.’

———-

Act I: The Ruby Dragon

Scene Eight

The Shinra Building never slept. Tseng kept this fact well in mind as he and Rude tried to come up with a plan for springing Aeris. They knew exactly where she was being held, so finding her would pose no problem. The real trick lay in getting there without drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. They needed an excuse for being in the Science Department cellblock, and a damned good one at that. Tseng leaned back into his swivel chair and meditated, hoping that by clearing his mind, an inspiration would come to him. Rude lowered his head and furrowed his brows, apparently focused on his own thoughts. The seconds ticked away on the wall clock.
Tseng’s PHS rang, but he didn’t shift from his meditative position. The phone ended up ringing six times before he picked it up from his desk and flipped it open. Whoever’s calling me at this time of night better have something really important to discuss, Tseng thought.
“Tseng Kawaguchi speaking.”
“Tseng! T-this is Palmer. President Shinra’s dead!”
“Where are you?”
“In his office. Please, come quick!”
Tseng grunted an affirmative and hung up. He stood up and leaned over his desk to shake Rude’s shoulder. The bald man looked up and asked, “What happened?”
Tseng walked over to the coat rack and removed his jacket and shoulder holster. “That’s what we’re going to find out. Make sure you’re well-equipped,” he said as he checked his pistol. “It seems that the President is dead.”
“What?”
“Looks like we have to put our current plans on hold,” Tseng said as he shrugged into his coat.

The twin stenches of fresh blood and flesh struck their noses as the two Turks stepped out of the elevator at the 69th Floor—the lower lobby of the President’s office. They walked over to the receptionist’s area and gasped in horror.
In his five years as a Turk, not once had Tseng seen a sight as gruesome as the one he now encountered. The clawed, mangled bodies of about a dozen or so secretaries, assistants, and other executive personnel were strewn about the wet floor. Mixed in with the puddles of blood were bits of organ tissue and bone; large red splatter marks defiled the smooth metal walls.
Tseng glanced at Rude. “We should head upstairs.” Rude silently nodded. The two Turks ascended to President Shinra’s chambers.
They were among the first to arrive in the 70th Floor office that night. Palmer stood before the President’s desk, where the impaled corpse still sat. Rude removed his shades and stared at the Masamune, eyes wide. Tseng himself was quite stunned; he knew for a fact that there were very few people capable of wielding that blade. As Rude walked closer to the desk to get a better look, the other executives trickled in, along with some paramedics. Scarlet and Heidegger were both dressed as they had been during the day, but Reeve, who had arrived just ahead of them, was a bit more disheveled, and his tie had evidently been left at home. The latter walked up to Tseng and asked what had happened.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” replied the Turk.
As the medical crew began to remove President Shinra’s body, a bright light shone in through the floor-length windows. It was Rufus’ private helicopter, coming in for a landing. Soon, Rufus himself walked into the office, holding his shotgun in one hand and Dark Nation’s empty leash in the other. He looked around the room and saw the four executives and the two Turks staring back at him. Upon first glance, Tseng could see that Rufus’ expression was stern and serious, but behind this mask, the redness lining his eyes was just barely showing through.
“Where’s Hojo?” Rufus asked Palmer. The Space Program chairman shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know. I tried calling his office, but I couldn’t get through.”
Rufus sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He waited for the medical crew to leave with his father’s body, then turned his attention to the executives and Turks.
“Now that we’re all present—well, almost all of us—here’s what happened. According to Palmer, Sephiroth came in here and had a brief altercation with my father. As you have seen, the results of that argument…” Rufus trailed off as he looked back at the desk and now-empty swivel chair. He ran a hand down his face and exhaled wearily.
“Sir—” Tseng started, but was stopped by the young Shinra’s raised hand.
“There’s more,” Rufus continued, “If there are to be no more interruptions, Tseng.”
Tseng deadpanned, “Of course not, sir.”
“Now, after Sephiroth’s intrusion, AVALANCHE somehow escaped and came up to this office. I fought against one of them, the ex-SOLDIER to be exact, and sent out some of our troops and mecha to take care of the rest. The entire group is being pursued on one of the Upper City’s highways as we speak.”
Tseng was somewhat relieved upon hearing this bit of news, but did not show it.
Scarlet folded her arms and asked, “You sent mecha? May I ask which kind?”
“The Motor Ball. It was the best thing I could get ahold of on such short notice.”
“So you sent a prototype.”
“Is there something wrong with that?” Rufus asked, glaring at the Weapons Dev. Chair. “It was my decision as President and Chief Executive Officer, and I believe it was the best one under the circumstances.”
There must’ve been something about his confident tone of voice, because she then shrunk back and replied, “Of course. Whatever you think is best, sir.”
Rufus nodded and quickly glanced at Reeve. Meanwhile, Tseng kept his watchful eye on the new President.
“If I may ask, sir,” the head Turk cut in, “what happened to Dark Nation?”
“She died defending me.”
“I see. Well then, if you don’t have any further announcements or orders for us, I will be going.”
“Just one order, Tseng. I want the Turks to track down my father’s killer.”
Tseng raised an eyebrow. “Track Sephiroth?”
“Yes. And I want all three of you for this job.”
“In that case, we have a problem. Reno’s wounds from the Sector Seven plate incident are a bit more severe than you might realize. He’s currently not able to travel, much less fight.”
“I suppose you’ll have to hire another Turk, then.”
Tseng stepped forward. “With the recent AVALANCHE bombings, I have considered such measures recently, but I keep asking myself: what will happen when Reno does recover, which he most certainly will? There can be no more than three Turks in service at one time—never has been, and never will be.”
“There’s more than enough money in the budget to support a fourth Turk.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Having more than three active Turks is a bad omen.”
Rufus folded his arms decisively. “I want three Turks for this job. If Reno is unable to work, as you say, then you will have to hire someone else to replace him. Whatever happens after Reno’s recovery is up to you.”
Tseng stood there, staring at Rufus and pondering his words. He didn’t like the idea very much, but realized the precarious position he would be in were he to defy the President’s orders.
“…I’ll see what I can do, sir.”
Rufus gave Tseng a curt nod and turned to the others. “I want funeral arrangements to be made as soon as possible. Also, my personal staff needs to be transferred to the President’s office. Of course, this mess—as well as the ones on the 67th and 68th floors—must be taken care of at once. I am requesting the cooperation of the Company’s executives in these matters, which we will discuss at length in a meeting tomorrow morning, nine AM sharp. Other than that, I have no immediate orders, nor anything else to say. You are all dismissed.”
As Scarlet, Palmer, Heidegger, Rude, and Tseng turned to leave, Reeve continued standing where he was. Tseng stopped at the top of the stairs and called over to him.
“You heard the President. Let’s get going.”
Reeve walked over to Tseng and replied, “But I can’t just leave him like this.”
“Trust me, it’s for the better if you do.”
Reeve stared at Tseng, his eyes slightly widened. “How can you say that?” he whispered as he came closer to the Turk. “Listen, you of all people must know the sort of pain he’s going through—”
Tseng could feel the executive’s stare burn into him as he hissed, “Yes, Reeve. Yes I do. I know it very well. And that’s precisely why I want nothing to do with Rufus right now.”
Without waiting for Reeve’s reply, Tseng sharply turned away and marched downstairs.

*****

As the executives and Turks trailed downstairs, Rufus turned to gaze out of the window of his new office. The lifeless body of his father having been removed, he felt a wave of serenity wash over him. After taking a deep breath and turning away from the window, he was surprised to see Reeve still standing in the otherwise vacant expanse. Rufus watched as Reeve walked toward him, the muffled clop of his leather shoes echoing across the marble floor. A small, weary smile crossed the President’s lips.
“You don’t have to stay here, you know. You’re free to go back home.”
Reeve stopped in front of the younger man. “I know, but… how can I put this?” he said, scratching his head. “I just felt like I should. I lost my own parents three years ago.”
Rufus lowered his eyes. “Yes, I remember. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” Reeve answered, placing a hand on Rufus’ shoulder. “There was nothing that could’ve been done at the time.”
Rufus simply nodded. Reeve’s hand slid off of his shoulder.
“Listen,” Reeve said, looking Rufus in the eye. “Is there anything I can do for you?
Rufus shuffled closer to Reeve and placed his forehead against his shoulder, and his hands on his back. After a moment, he felt Reeve’s arms encircle him. Rufus turned his head, where he got a glimpse of Reeve’s neck and the side of his face. Reeve’s expression was stoic as he turned an eye toward Rufus, eyebrow raised.
“Not quite what I was expecting, but I understand.”
“Well, you did offer…”
“True.”
They stood in silence for a while, holding each other. As the tears began to flow down his cheeks, Rufus kept himself fully conscious of Reeve’s presence, taking in his bodily warmth, the evenly paced rhythm of his breathing, and the rich, musky odor that clung to him. However, he knew that the only reason he was experiencing this at all was because his father had been killed. With this thought, Rufus found himself locked in between a personal heaven and hell, and wasn’t sure whether he wanted to stay there, or escape from it altogether.
“Hey, Reeve.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this. Being President, I mean.”
“Nonsense. You’ll do a fine job.”
“You think so?”
Reeve pulled away from Rufus. “Yes, I do… Are you going to be all right?”
Rufus shook his head. “Honestly, no. Not for a little while, at any rate.”
“Didn’t think so. Listen, I’m really sorry but I have to go soon. I’m leaving on a trip shortly and I haven’t gotten any packing done.”
“Vacation?”
“Yes.”
“You aren’t going to be here for my father’s funeral?”
“Well, I was just getting to that. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to delay my trip so I can pay my respects to your father.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ll look into getting all the necessary paperwork done.”
“Thank you, Rufus.”
“My pleasure,” he said, smiling. You know I’d do just about anything for you…
Reeve smiled back, a smile that quickly morphed into a grimly thoughtful expression. He bowed his head momentarily, then looked back up to Rufus. “I have a bit of a personal question, if you don’t mind.”
Rufus tilted his head and gave Reeve a slightly quizzical look. “I don’t mind. What is it?”
“Well, it’s just… what’s going on between you and Tseng?”
Rufus’ expression flattened. “What do you mean?”
“I get the impression that there’s some bad blood between you two.”
“I… don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s okay. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Reeve said. “I’ll be going home now. You should as well.”
“Reeve—” Rufus said softly, grabbing his arm as he started to leave. “Thank you.”
Reeve turned to look at him. Once again, Rufus was stuck by the darkness of his eyes; to him, it seemed to be a restless darkness that wanted to absorb everything around it, but was forcefully restrained from doing so.
“It was nothing,” Reeve replied, giving Rufus a small smile. “See you in the morning.”
Rufus released him and watched as he turned toward the stairs. After Reeve had left, Rufus paced around the empty office. He looked back at the massive desk, his mind a whirlwind of thought. He was intimidated by this new task of filling his father’s shoes, yet excited over all the possibilities it contained. The Shinra Electric Power Company was his now, and as such, he was free to mould it to his personal vision. He thought about the exchange that had just occurred between him and Reeve—handsome, wonderful, sensuous Reeve—and concluded that things were definitely looking up. There was just one thing that bothered him:
What’s going on between with you and Tseng?
Rufus made a mental note to make sure that Reeve never found out.

*****

Rude was impressed with the precision of Rufus’ arrangements for President Roland Shinra’s funeral. Surely, he thought, this new President doesn’t waste any time in getting things done. In a mere two days after the President’s assassination, Rufus had arranged a dignified memorial service for his departed father.
As the midday sun struggled to shine out from beneath the heavy mass of clouds, Rude left the Shinra Building with Tseng, both of them dressed in crisp black suits. They walked toward a Shinra motorcar parked nearby.
Tseng took the driver’s seat and inserted the key into the ignition. The car roared out into the streets of the Sector Four plate.
“Nice of the company to loan us these cars for the procession,” Rude said.
“Well, President Shinra was always preoccupied with showing off the Company’s technology. For him, a funeral procession with Shinra motorcars looks better—and says more about him—than one with, say, chocobos.”
“That’s true,” Rude glanced out his side window. The streets were bustling with people, many of them onlookers on their way to the same church where the Turks were heading. “By the way, have you heard anything about Aeris since AVALANCHE’s latest escape?”
“Nothing. Scarlet’s pissed about the loss of the Motor Ball, to say the least.”
“Are you worried about her?”
“Who, Aeris?”
“Yes.”
Tseng didn’t answer right away. After a brief pause, he said, “A little. Maybe not as much as I ought to be, but enough so that I don’t stop wondering about her. That’s part of the reason why I’m looking forward to this next mission; I’m hoping we’ll run into her while we’re tracking Sephiroth.”
“Speaking of the next mission,” Rude put in, “you still haven’t told me who Reno’s replacement is.”
“Fair enough. It’s Elena Terry.”
Rude sharply drew in a breath upon hearing that name. For some reason, he honestly didn’t believe she’d make the cut, though he secretly wished that she somehow would. He looked at Tseng, who himself turned an eye away from the traffic for a moment to give his subordinate one of his rare genuine smiles.
“I thought you’d be pleased to hear that.”
Rude cleared his throat. “What makes you say that? And what about you?”
Tseng once again focused on the traffic, his countenance businesslike once more. “She’s the most qualified candidate for the job. That’s why I’m hiring her. Realize that both you and her have to put your respective feelings aside in order to do your job.”
“I’m well aware of that, but what I want to know is if you’re capable of doing the same, what with Aeris gone and Rufus the new President.”
A new expression formed on Tseng’s face. Rude recognized it as his most dangerous one; the one he would wear right before killing a man in cold blood. They drove on in silence, and Tseng’s hardened look eventually toned down. As they pulled up to the front of the church, Rude asked, “So when’s the initiation?”
“Tonight, seeing as how we must leave Midgar early tomorrow morning. By the way, I’m sorry for my reaction back there. Your observation was a fair one… As your leader, I should set an example.”
Rude nodded, not saying another word.

After the main ceremony, the public procession through the upper sectors, and the private burial service at Shinra’s military cemetery near the coastline, Tseng and Rude drove back into Midgar. They made a brief stop at the Shinra Building to change back into their Turk uniforms and pick up some supplies, then took the train into Sector Two and entered Elena’s apartment building.
“Do you think she’ll be home?” Rude asked as they got off the elevator.
“Well, we’re about to find out.”
Tseng knocked on the door. After two rounds of knocking, it finally swung open. On the other side stood Elena in a t-shirt and sweatpants, a towel draped around her neck. Her hair was dripping wet, and her eyes were wide.
“Oh! Tseng, sir. What brings you here?”
“Official business. May we come in?”
“Yes, yes of course.”
Tseng walked past Elena and into her living room. Rude nodded a hello to Elena, and she politely returned the nod before turning her attention back to Tseng. Rude pretended not to notice as he walked into the apartment, clutching onto the small suitcase he held in his right hand. He set it on the floor and sat down on the couch, next to Tseng. After closing her door, Elena came into the room and stood before them.
“C—can I get you guys anything?”
“No thank you,” Tseng replied. “Please sit down.”
Elena promptly sat in an adjacent armchair.
“Now, I know you are aware of many of the problems which have befallen the Shinra Corporation as of late, the most recent being the President’s assassination. Did you see the procession?”
“Yes,” Elena replied. “I was able to see it.”
Tseng nodded. “The new President, Rufus Shinra, has charged us Turks with a very important mission. However, the nature of this job is such that it requires three Turks, not two. Our associate Reno, as you are well aware, is still recovering from his injuries.”
Elena said nothing, but Rude could sense the anticipation in her silence.
Tseng continued, “As you may or may not be aware, the ways of the Turks are to have no more than three active at any given time. Since Reno is currently unable to work, I would like to promote you, Elena Terry, to the title of Turk, provided that you accept all of the rights and responsibilities that come with this title. However, please be aware that we may pull you from service at any time, especially once Reno recovers.”
Despite these cautionary words, Elena grinned from ear to ear. Rude looked over at Tseng, who maintained his stoic expression. He wasn’t entirely sure if this decision of Tseng’s was right, but if not, there was no turning back now.
After a moment’s elation, Elena settled back down and faced Tseng. “I accept.”
“Are you certain? I highly recommend that you think this over some more.”
“Yes, I’m absolutely sure. There’s nothing else that I ever wanted so badly in my life than to be accepted into the Turks.”
Rude frowned. I could think of a few things…
“Very well,” Tseng said as he stood up. “Let us commence with the initiation.”
“I—initiation?”
“Of course. It’s a little ritual, required of all inductees, which is specifically designed to ensure loyalty and fellowship among Turks.”
“All right…”
Tseng nodded to Rude; the latter drew the suitcase in front of him and opened it, pulling out two small knives. He removed the sheath from one of them, revealing an opaque blade made of green materia. Tseng unsheathed the other knife, which also had a green materia blade, and addressed Elena.
“According to tradition, a Turk initiate receives two scars from the current Turks, in order to bind them into the brotherhood– or siblinghood, in this case. Where these scars are placed depends on the location and date of birth of the initiate.”
“So those scars below Reno’s eyes… they’re from his initiation?”
“Yes. Mine are just below my clavicles. Rude’s are by his ankles.”
“Where will mine be?”
“Well, going by the biographical information I have gathered from your files, and in line with our procedures, Rude and I will place the scars on your lower back.”
Rude tried not to let the blood rush to his face, and could see Elena was having the same dilemma. They happened to glance at each other at the same time, and she smiled nervously at him. Rude quickly diverted his eyes from behind his dark shades.
“Now,” Tseng continued, “let me tell you about these knives. One of them has a blade made from mastered destruct materia, which, as you may know, is capable of casting Death upon its target. The other blade consists of mastered revive materia, which, of course, has the opposite effect. As you can see, these two blades look exactly alike. There is no way to tell who is holding which blade until we actually use them. The Knives of Eternity and Mortality, as they have been called, represent the strength of the bond between Turks. When we use these knives to cut your scars, we will be doing so simultaneously, so the effects of each other’s spells will cancel out. A mantra of the Turks is that we live and die simultaneously. We must accept this concept as a condition of our status as Turks, and keep it in mind at all times, whether we are helping others or hurting them. That is the meaning behind the initiation. Elena, are you ready?”
Elena nodded solemnly.
“Very well. We’ll need you to lay down on the floor.”
Rude moved some of Elena’s furniture out of the way and stood off to the side. Elena kneeled on the floor and looked up at Tseng quizzically.
“Shouldn’t we put something down first, like a towel?”
“No, since there won’t be much bleeding.”
“Oh,” Elena replied as she nervously lay down, face first. “All right.”
Tseng looked at Rude and nodded. They kneeled on either side of Elena and glanced at her. Tseng leaned over and whispered, “Are you going to be all right? I know you’ve never performed the initiation from this side, as a Turk.”
“I’ll be fine,” Rude answered. “I remember everything you showed me yesterday.”
“All right. I’m counting on you.”
Rude nodded. He knew the potential risks of screwing this up, which included accidentally killing the initiate with a poorly-timed cut from the Knife of Mortality, but he put all such thoughts away as Tseng lifted up Elena’s shirt, exposing her back.
“So where do they go?” Rude murmured.
Tseng seemed to examine her lightly freckled skin as though the small brown dots were legible text. “A little lower,” he concluded, pulling the waistband of Elena’s sweatpants down to the small of her back. Elena lay rigid on the floor.
“Breathe normally,” Rude told her, in the most reassuring tone he could muster. Elena took a few deep breaths and noticably relaxed.
Tseng licked the tip of his index finger and, with his fingernail, lightly scratched two symmetrical, slightly bent lines on either side of Elena’s spine. He looked up at Rude.
“Are you ready?”
Rude took the knife in his hand and held it over the top of the line he was to cut. “Yes.”
Tseng nodded and picked up his own knife. “On the count of three. One… two… three.”
Rude and Tseng plunged the knives into the marks the latter had made on Elena’s back, pulling them down and across at a steady, even rate. Small gasps could be heard coming from Elena as the wounds opened; a black, festering scar on Tseng’s side, and a white, sizzling scar on Rude’s. So, Rude thought. I have the Knife of Eternity. He recalled his own initiation as he and Tseng sealed the scars; the indescribable pain, coupled with an equally indescribable vigor, he had felt when his own scars were cut in. It was the strangest, and also the most life-affirming, experience he had ever had.
Tseng and Rude finished off Elena’s branding by touching their blades to the others’ fresh incisions. The black mass in Tseng’s cut faded to a solid, fleshy red as Rude’s blade made contact; likewise with the hot white lava that had bubbled up from Rude’s mark. The two Turks stood up and sheathed the blades, then they looked down upon newest comrade.
“It is over, Elena, and your marks have begun healing,” Tseng said. “You may get up now if you wish.”
Elena continued to lay prone for a moment, then slowly edged up on her knees, followed by her feet. She smoothed her shirt down and shook her head as if trying to recover from vertigo.
“Wow,” she gasped. “That was unbelievable…”
Tseng glanced over to Rude, and they shared a smile before turning their attentions back to Elena.
“Elena Terry,” Tseng said, “welcome to the Turks.”

*****

Elena was too excited to do anything the rest of that night. She stared at the uniform Tseng and Rude had left her, along with a week’s supply of shirts and socks, gloves, shoes, a bulletproof vest, a pistol, spare ammunition, and a shoulder holster. Her first mission was tomorrow morning; she was to accompany Tseng and Rude to the Kalm area, where President Shinra’s alleged killer—the long-missing Sephiroth—was last seen. Even though she had to be up early that next morning, she just knew that she wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. Adventure was just on the horizon, and she was going to face it as a fully-fledged Turk.
Just then, Elena heard the elevator doors opening, followed by some footsteps and a jangling of keys. She immediately recognized these sounds as the distinct trademarks of Reeve, and ran out into the hallway to greet him. Stopping right in front of him as he found the key that opened his apartment door, she held her arms behind her back and said hello.
“Oh, hey Elena.” She was at once struck by the weary expression on his face; then she remembered the funeral.
“I’m sorry for rushing out here like this! I’m sure you must have a lot on your mind right now,” Elena said sheepishly. “Thing is, I had to tell you about what happened today.”
“I heard,” Reeve said with a smirk. “So you’re a Turk now, huh?”
“Sure am!”
Reeve leaned over and, before she could do anything about it, gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Elena was taken aback; her eyes widened and her cheeks grew warm.
“Congratulations, Elena. Wish I could take you out to celebrate, but I really need some sleep, and I’m sure you do as well. Good luck on your mission tomorrow.”
Without looking back at Reeve, she quietly replied with a “Thanks”, and retreated to her own apartment. She shut her door, then walked over to the living room window and gazed out at the bright lights of Midgar. Perhaps getting out of the city for awhile with Tseng and Rude would be good for her; besides giving her a chance to get to know her fellow Turks a bit better, the fresh air might help to clear her troubled mind.