Ausência minha. ._.

Well, faz muito tempo que eu não posto nada no blog, e que até mesmo nem entro na internet, no máximo para olhar e-mails, e isso devido à uns probleminhas com a escola técnicos. Agora que voltei, só poso entrar fins de semana e no máximo dia de seana à noite, não sei se vai dar pra mantar o blog sempre atualizado (Tenho umas 4 ou 5 notícias em arquivo. -_-), mas sempre que puder eu vou continuar colocando mais coisas. o/

Abração. o/

Loveless: Ato 1 – Cena 9

Mais uma parte de Loveless.

———-

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.

Guitarrista mais rápido do mundo é Brasileiro

O___O

Isso mesmo que vocês veem na imagem, o cara vaiatés 320 bpm. ._.

Esse camarada tá no guiness. ê_e

Agora simplesmente vejam o vídeo. .-.

Loveless: Ato 1 – Cena 7

Act I: The Ruby Dragon

Scene Seven

Reno stared at the blank wall in front of him, bored out of his mind; he was tired, but not enough to fall asleep. His eyes gravitated toward the clock. It was only a quarter past seven. With a sigh, he shifted his head around, causing his neck to crack out of its stiffness.
A soft knock came at the door. “Yeah?” replied Reno.
The door opened and Reeve poked his head into the room. “Thought you might’ve been asleep. May I come in?”
“Sure.”
Reeve promptly entered the room and closed the door behind him. He walked over and sat in the same chair he had occupied that afternoon. Reno turned his head to face him, eyelids heavy with exhaustion.
“How are you doing?” Reeve asked. “Not in too much pain, I hope.”
“Nah, ‘cept that the stitches are still a little itchy. But enough about me—you just coming back from work?”
Reeve nodded. “We had a meeting about Sector Seven. It didn’t exactly go the way I would’ve liked it to.”
Reno examined Reeve’s face. Since Reno had last seen him earlier that day, Reeve had been in a state of numbness. Apparently, it hadn’t completely worn off yet.
“What happened at the meeting?” Reno inquired.
“For starters, Shinra isn’t going to rebuild Sector Seven.”
“Why not? Would it be too expensive?”
Reeve chuckled ruefully and shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Now that the Company finally has the Ancient back in their custody, they’re restarting the Neo-Midgar project.”
Reno’s eyebrows raised for a moment as he processed Reeve’s words. “They’re going to go out looking for the Promised Land?”
“Yes. Of course, provided that they actually find it, it’ll be a great opportunity for me and my department. They’re even raising the mako rates to help fund the project.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen percent.”
“Oy, that’s a bit steep.”
“Tell me about it. I tried to argue against the rate hike, but President Shinra simply ignored me. I pretty much gave up after that.”
Silence filled the room. Reno lowered his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry about the plate,” he said, echoing words that he said to Reeve that afternoon.
“It’s not your fault,” Reeve said, waving it off. “You were just doing your job.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that I had to like it. You think Tseng liked the mission he had today?”
“Heh, not one bit.”
“You know, most of the time I don’t mind my work, but then there’s days like today where being a Turk just plain sucks.”
Reeve nodded. “I think I know what you mean.”
“I don’t know, man. At least you execs get a great deal of power and influence. We Turks don’t have any, not where it counts, anyway.”
“I have power and influence? With the way things have been going today, I’m starting to doubt that…”
Reno shrugged. Reeve stared at the Turk’s bandages.
“Listen,” the executive said. “I’m going to take a short vacation. With everything that’s been going on, I need to get out of the city for awhile.”
“Yeah, you look really beat. When was the last time you took a few days off?”
“About a year ago.”
Reno froze, staring at his friend. Reeve’s expression didn’t change, nor did his eyes divert from the bandages.
“I’d like to visit Costa del Sol this time,” continued Reeve.
“Going by yourself?”
“I was planning on it.”
“Gonna visit your buddy Kramler?”
“Probably. Which reminds me, I got a call from him today.”
“Oh yeah? What’s he up to?”
Reeve leaned in close to Reno’s ear. “Some of his in-laws found the guy who snitched me out to Scarlet.”
“Glad to hear it. So what happens now?”
“Not sure yet… we’ll see,” Reeve answered as he got up from his chair. “I should get going. Tomorrow’s my last full day of work before I leave and I need to start packing. I’ll try to drop by sometime tomorrow.”
Reno nodded and watched his friend as he walked toward the door. “Okay. Oh, and one last thing…”
“Yeah?”
“How’d your lunch with Elena go?”
Reno said this very straightforwardly, trying to make it seem nothing more than a harmless question. Still, there must have been some accusatory tone in his voice that he hadn’t intended, one that Reeve happened to notice, because then the executive averted his gaze from him.
“She tell you about it?”
“Called me from work a few hours ago.”
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t know how to take your advances. You know, the whole playing footsie thing.”
Reeve turned to face Reno once more. “She wanted your advice?”
“I told her I had none to give her.”
“I see. Listen, Reno. I have to tell you something… some advice of my own, if you will.”
“What, to stay out of your business?”
Reeve scratched his head. “Exactly.”
“All right. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Hey Reno,” Reeve muttered.
“What?”
The executive’s dark brown eyes flitted away again. “Nothing. Just… take care of yourself, all right? I have to go.”
Confused, Reno replied, “Okay. Good night, Reeve.”
“Good night, Reno.”

Only about an hour after Reeve had left, Reno was startled by another knock at his door. “Come in,” Reno called.
Tseng strode into the room, closing the door behind him as swiftly and silently as he had opened it. “Hello, Reno. I trust you’re doing well?”
“For the most part. The stitches are still itchy as hell.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tseng said as he walked up to the side of the bed opposite of the one where Reeve had been.
As he had done before with Reeve, Reno quickly changed the subject. “So, anything new and exciting happen at the Shinra Building?”
“The surviving members of AVALANCHE came to rescue Aeris,” Tseng reported, quietly adding, “as I thought they would.”
“So what happened? Did they get away?”
“No. Rude and I were ordered to stop them. All of them, including a lab specimen which lent its assistance, are now imprisoned on the 67th floor.”
Reno’s face drained of all its color. He motioned for Tseng to lean in closer, which the head Turk did.
“They were your only hope as far as freeing Aeris goes, right?”
“Yes, they were. Rude and I are meeting later tonight to discuss what we should do.”
“Wish I could help out.”
“I know, and I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Unfortunately, we have little control over circumstances the way they are now.”
“You aren’t just talking about my injury, are you Tseng.”
The head Turk shook his head and smiled. “Is it that obvious?”
Reno managed a smirk. “It was just in the way you phrased it, that’s all.”
“I’ve taught you well, Reno. You’ll make a fine head Turk when the time comes.”
“Heh, when would that be?” Reno replied, still smirking. “We both know it’ll be a long time before that happens!”
Tseng simply returned the smirk, not saying another word.

*****

A few minutes past midnight, Zack crept out of the Shinra Building’s main fire escape stairwell into the 59th floor lobby. He moved amidst the shadows toward the elevators for the upper levels, being careful not to set off the motion-detectors of the various Shinra mecha that patrolled this floor. As he entered an elevator, he took out a keycard that he had happened to find in the stairwell and swiped it through the elevator controls’ card reader. The device identified the card, authorizing Zack to take the elevator as far as the 69th floor. On a screen just above the card reader, a description of the chosen floor scrolled on.
“The lower lobby of the President’s office, huh? Might as well start there and work my way down. I’m sure I’ll find out where Aeris is eventually.”
He pressed the button for the 69th floor.

After he made a thorough search of the 69th and 68th floors, Zack took the stairs down to the 67th. Upon leaving the stairwell, he looked around, surprised at what he saw. This floor was more dimly-lit than the others, and overhead, he could see exposed pipes and wiring. Much to his surprise, a familiar voice whispered in his ear, louder than ever.
“Turn right, and walk down this corridor.”
“You!” Zack whispered. “But how are you speaking to me? There’s no wind in here!”
“Never mind that. Just do as I say.”
Zack sighed and followed the directions, soon finding himself at one end of a long hallway. At the other end stood a lone MP.
“At the end of this hall are a number of cells. You will find your friend there… but first, you will need to take care of the guard.”
“Agreed. What do you suggest?”
“Go into that room just up ahead, to your right.”
Zack sneaked further down the corridor and inside the room. It was the Sample Maintenance office, and it was currently unoccupied. From the neighboring storage area, low hissing sounds and the rattling of cage bars could be heard. Zack grinned.
“I get it. We unleash the lab’s specimens on the guards, then slip down there home free.”
The voice didn’t reply as Zack fiddled with the computers, in an attempt to unlock the cages. He succeeded, and soon, many genetically-mutated monsters were roaming about the floor, preying on the 67th floor’s unsuspecting workers. After waiting a few minutes, Zack walked out into the main corridor again, back toward the hallway that led to the cells. He passed the freshly-killed guard and examined the set of doors in front of him. There were small slits near the top of each door. Zack peered through the first one and gasped.
There she was, sound asleep; his girl Aeris.
Suddenly, he felt himself pushed up against the opposite wall by an invisible force.
“I have found her for you… but, dear boy, you have yet to fulfill your end of the bargain.”
“You know, you’ve never told me exactly what this deal entails.”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Now, take the keycards from the guard.”
Zack picked up the guard’s keyring and walked back toward the cell doors. He was startled when his feet carried him, not to Aeris’ cell, but to the one next to it. With the quick glance through the slit that had been afforded him, he was able to see an attractive young woman sleeping on the bunk; opposite of her was a guy with spiky blond hair fast asleep on the floor. Zack recognized the latter immediately.
“Cloud!” he whispered.
Controlled by the unknown force, Zack pushed one of the guard’s keycards into the electronic lock on Cloud’s door and swiped downward. There was a low electronic hum as the door swished open. The keycard was pulled out again, and the keyring placed back onto the dead guard’s belt. Zack’s mind overflowed with angry thoughts as the voice told him, “Come to the storage area. Don’t worry about your friends…”
The deadpan voice reverberated in his mind as his feet—which were no longer his own—walked toward the storage area.
“After I see what this is all about, I’m coming back here.”
“If you so will it…”

Zack walked back down the hallway and to the right, past the Sample Maintenance room to where a vast storage area lay. Amidst all of the crates and scientific equipment, there was a large, round containment unit, with numerous pipes emanating from it. Welded into this unit was a solid mythrill door with a steel nameplate that read “JENOVA”. Inexplicably, Zack found himself drawn to this door, especially the small window located just above the nameplate. Peering inside, he could see what appeared to be the headless body of a woman, albeit one who was terribly deformed, with bizarre-looking wings protruding from her back and an eyeball lodged into her right breast. Zack pinched his eyes shut as a terrible stabbing pain penetrated his skull. He fell to his knees, grabbing his head with both hands, the high-pitched sound from before flooding his ears louder than ever. He tried to scream, but nothing came out of his mouth. The only sound he could hear was the beating of his own heart.
“Zack… free me…”
“Wha—what is this thing?” Zack thought to himself. “Have I seen it before?”
“Don’t concern yourself with my identity now. Just free me…”
“You can read minds…” Zack thought again.
“Yes. Now free me, my puppet. I’m growing impatient.”
“Puppet?”
As Zack thought this, a will stronger than his own made him stand up and grip either side of the door with his hands, pulling at the hinges and locks.
“What are you doing to me?”
“I need you. More specifically, I need your body.”
“Listen, I have no time to deal with headless perverted freaks!”
The voice, who he now recognized as the thoughts of this “Jenova”, explained, “Your physical being is no longer your own, ever since Hojo made you a part of me. As you can clearly see, you are my slave, created to do my bidding.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Zack fumed as his arms yanked the door off of the containment unit. Inside, Jenova floated limply in a smelly gelatinous substance. Zack picked up the strange body, pulling it loose of the various tubes and cords that were connected to it. From these reopened orifices, blood began to drip out.
Dragging Jenova behind his back, Zack started walking toward the freight elevator. Just then, from directly behind him, he heard a man’s voice.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “You’re the one who let the Zenenes and Vargids loose, aren’t you?”
Zack, his body completely under Jenova’s control, whirled around to face the man, a grey-suited lab assistant who was busy entering a security code into his PHS. Zack rushed toward the man and punched him hard in the chest. His fist came out through the other side, splattered with blood and pieces of flesh and bone. In his mind, Zack was completely horrified. Ignoring Zack’s reaction, Jenova directed, “Now, to the freight elevator. We haven’t much time…”

Much to Zack’s dismay, he killed numerous people on his way back up to the 69th floor. Executive assistants and receptionists fell like flies as Jenova guided her puppet through the upper floors. Finally, after the last employee collapsed, Zack’s head swiveled to a display case shadowed by one of the massive staircases that led up to the marble-floored office of President Shinra. Walking closer, he could see that it contained a long sword, forged in the Wutaiese tradition. Without reading the brass nameplate that accompanied it, Zack knew what the sword was, and whom it once belonged to. It was the Masamune, the legendary blade of Sephiroth, Shinra’s greatest warrior. Zack turned to wondering what had become of Sephiroth, when he felt his fist break through the glass, and his hand clench the sword’s hilt. Sirens immediately started to go off, but with the guidance of Jenova, Zack was able to quickly locate and slice through the alarm system’s wiring.
“My puppet, you are probably wondering what this is all about. This sword, which I have just given to you, is only a part of the answer.”
“How do you have any right to give me this sword? It doesn’t belong to you, it belongs to Sephiroth!”
“Yes… yes it does. Sephiroth, the greatest, most powerful slave to my manifest destiny. Come, let us assume a new identity…”
A bright light surrounded Zack and Jenova. Zack felt a searing heat in his back, as though something was melding into his body. When the light subsided, he felt the weight of Jenova gone, and in its place, an unbelievable strength. His feet began ascending the stairs.
“Jenova, where are we going?”
Jenova didn’t answer. Even though he could no longer feel her physical weight on his back, he felt that somehow she was still with him. His swiftly moving feet, dashing toward President Shinra’s desk, were proof of that.
“No, Jenova… you can’t make me…” thought Zack as he realized what her plans were. “I won’t—”
Unfortunately, his defiance was to be in vain. Zack leapt high into the air, landing on top of the President’s desk. A fat executive in a brown suit started running for the nearest exit, pulling out his PHS as he did so. Zack pointed the Masamune toward the fat man and said, in a voice that wasn’t his, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The executive whimpered and edged closer to the desk, finally choosing to hide behind a pillar.
President Shinra spoke. “What is the meaning of this? You disappeared five years ago and have finally returned only to barge in here like some crazed maniac! What’s gotten into you?”
Zack bent down and held the sharp edge of the blade to the President’s neck. “You want the Promised Land… and I can’t have that. I will do everything in my power to keep it out of your hands.” He pulled the sword away and leapt off of the President’s desk; in his mind, he was feeling utterly confused by the goings-on.
“Sorry, but I’ve committed my resources to finding the Promised Land and establishing Neo-Midgar. You honestly don’t think that you…”
President Shinra trailed off as Zack walked around the desk, behind the President’s chair, and jumped up into the air. He kicked the President’s head forward, then plunged the Masamune sword deep into his back, which is where he held it. Looking over to the terrified brown-suited executive, he smiled wickedly and pulled something loose from the sword. He couldn’t see it… but he could feel it.
“What’s happening to the sword?”
“We are leaving the physical form of the Masamune with Shinra, but the sword’s spirit will need to come with us. That is what you pulled out of the Masamune. Now, we must leave. The Reunion will begin soon… and it will not benefit us to stay any longer.”
“You’ve mentioned this ‘Reunion’ earlier… What is it?”
“You will find out before long, puppet. Now, to the roof.”
Zack walked out to the rooftop patio. He wasn’t sure what Jenova was up to, but it was undoubtedly evil… and he was entirely helpless to stop it. As he walked over to a parked helicopter, he happened to turn and glance at his reflection in the plate glass window. What he saw took him completely by surprise. He had long silver hair, eyes turquoise like Junon’s Dolphin Bay, and incredibly taut and sculpted muscles. The black outfit that he now wore was all too familiar.
“I’m… Sephiroth?“
Jenova didn’t reply, but in her silence was all that he needed to know.

Loveless: Ato 1 – Cena 6

Act I: The Ruby Dragon

Scene Six

The little Cait Sith prototype sat in the empty hot tub in the Lover’s Room of the Honeybee Inn, not paying much attention to its elderly roommates. They were the grandparents of some Shinra department manager who had apparently deluded them into thinking that the Inn was a high-class hotel. Keeping to themselves, the old couple didn’t think anything of the toy’s presence; they just accepted it as one of the quirkier aspects of the room’s decor.
Suddenly, the dim yellow light that streamed through the keyhole was cut off. The toy’s optical lenses zoomed in at the keyhole and saw an eye on the other side. It was a stern, serious-looking eye, with a blue iris tinged with mako green. The prototype started bouncing in place to get a better look from over the side of the hot tub.
A few miles away, in a nondescript apartment building on the Sector Five plate, Tseng sat at his home computer, examining the stills he had captured with the prototype’s camera. After using an iris identification program to compare these images to the security camera stills of Cloud, he found that the eyes matched. For some reason, Cloud was in the Honeybee Inn and had happened to take a peek inside this room. Tseng keyed in the command that turned off the Cait Sith prototype, then shut down his computer. He started walking toward the front door, picking up his coat from the back of the couch along the way. He sighed as he left his apartment; finally, it was time for him to carry out his assigned mission. Having spied on Aeris’ home earlier that night, he happened to see Cloud’s silhouette in one of the windows. Knowing Aeris, he thought, she took him in for the night because she didn’t want him traveling home by himself. Tseng glanced at his watch. It was 1:32 AM. It looked like Cloud had sneaked out.
Tseng took the train down to the Sector Six slums, watchful for the rogue SOLDIER. He had to establish that Cloud was alone before continuing on to Aeris’ house. Then, he spotted Cloud coming out of the materia shop and hid between two nearby shacks. As Cloud passed, Tseng noticed that the blond’s face was made up with lipstick, mascara, and eye shadow, but what was even more shocking was seeing Aeris following him from behind, quietly chuckling to herself.
“Damn,” Tseng exclaimed under his breath. In order to bring Aeris to Hojo, he had to get that spiky-haired kid out of the way. But how? Tseng decided to trail them and wait for an opportunity.

A few hours later, Tseng had wandered into Sector Seven, having lost Cloud’s trail once he and Aeris entered Don Corneo’s mansion. Doubtless they’d learn there what would happen to the plate, and would come to this sector to warn everyone. The streets were quiet and dark, save for the soft neon glow of the sign over the Seventh Heaven bar. At first surprised that even a place like this was open so late, Tseng walked inside and sat at a table. The only other person in the room was a girl with light brown hair, who was standing behind the counter. She paused in her work upon seeing the lone customer. After a moment, she approached Tseng’s table carrying a small pad of paper and a pen and asked, “Can I get you anything?”
“Coffee.”
“Sir, I’m afraid we don’t serve—”
Tseng looked her straight in the eye, giving her his best murderous glare. “Coffee.“
“…Cream, milk, sugar?”
“Black.”
Tseng rested an elbow on the table and followed her with narrowed eyes, well aware of whom she was: Jessie Kaufman, former Shinra technician turned terrorist bomb builder. So, he wondered, is this AVALANCHE’s hideout? Suddenly, as if on cue, the bar’s pinball machine descended into the floor. Tseng raised an eyebrow and looked over to Jessie, who had anxiety written all over her face. A large black man with a gun-arm and two others popped up from the hole in the floor where the pinball machine used to be. Just as the black man began to speak, Jessie pointed out the Turk.
“Just got a call from Tifa, we gotta head out to—What th’—Shinra!“
Tseng’s face remained stoic. “Barret Wallace, I presume?”
“How do you—”
“Know your name? It’s simple, really. Just did a bit of research once I’d gotten security images of you and your AVALANCHE friends, including Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie, here. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any records of the others—Cloud and that girl with the dark hair.”
Barret clenched his hand into a fist and shook it at the Turk. “I just found out what you Shinra got planned, and we’re gonna put a stop to it!”
“Is that so. Well, I suppose I should let you all go, though your efforts will be in vain.”
“Why you goddamn motherfuckin’…”
Tseng looked pointedly at his watch and smiled. “You’re running out of time. My associate Reno should already be at the top of the pillar.”
Barret looked toward the door, then Tseng, then back at the door. “Shit. We gotta go.” He fired a few rounds from his gun-arm at Tseng’s feet. “You get the hell outta here. Now!”
Tseng deftly jumped out of the bullets’ way, his lips twisting up into a snide curl. “As you wish.” He strode over to the saloon doors and pushed them open, calmly walking out into the streets as Barret and his friends raced past him, toward the Sector Seven pillar.

As Tseng left Sector Seven, he glanced at his watch; if all went according to plan, the charge would go off at 7 AM, a little less than two hours from then. He returned to Sector Six and idled in the playground to kill time. Just as he was about to leave, Aeris walked out from the Sector Seven entrance, struggling with a sleeping toddler in her arms. Tseng strode up to her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Bowing her head, she said nothing and continued walking.
“Aeris, what’s going on?”
“You know about it, don’t you,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “The plate…”
Tseng shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes… I know. Who’s this child?”
“A friend’s daughter.”
“Here, let me help you with her,” he said, taking the little girl from Aeris.
“Thanks Tseng.”
Tseng felt a sharp pang in his chest upon seeing Aeris’ grateful smile. Turning away from his friend, he started to walk toward Wall Market. “Hojo knew I couldn’t catch you. I just hope that this girl will be a suitable substitute.”
“What?“
He swiveled back to face Aeris. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be. Either you come with me to the lab, or I take this girl in your place.” Quietly, he added, “I wasn’t given much of a choice… I must not fail this time.”
Aeris nodded solemnly. “All right. I’ll go with you. But first, I promised that I’d take Marlene somewhere safe.”
“We can leave her with your mother, just as long as you come with me to the lab. Agreed?”
Aeris hesitated. “He… Hojo isn’t going to do anything to me, will he?”
Tseng whispered. “I’ll do my best to see to it that he doesn’t. Now let’s get going. We’re short on time as it is.”

Tseng and Aeris returned to Sector Seven a little while later, after leaving Marlene with Elmyra, Aeris’ foster mother. They heard the sound of gunfire reverberating from up above as they reached Reno’s helicopter, which was parked just outside the fence surrounding the Sector Seven pillar. Tseng climbed into the pilot’s seat, telling Aeris to get in. Without another word, she did so, and the helicopter took off.
As it was rising, Tseng spotted Reno jumping over the side of the railing of the pillar’s uppermost platform, only to catch on to the staircase railing with one arm, over which he unsuccessfully struggled to pull himself. Tseng maneuvered the helicopter toward his second-in-command and called out to him.
“Get in, or you won’t make it out of this sector in time!”
Reno grunted an affirmative and leaped onto the small metal platform that was attached to the side of the helicopter. He struggled to stand, yelling over the whirring blades, “What the hell’d you go and take my chopper for?”
Tseng yelled back, “Just get in here! I want you to pilot this thing!”
Reno started moving toward the cockpit door. It was then that Tseng noticed for the first time that Reno was clutching one side of his body, where his coat was stained dark with blood. “Tseng, I don’t know if I can…”
“It will only be for a minute. There’s something I need to do.”
Reno nodded and climbed into the pilot’s seat. Tseng moved out onto the helicopter’s platform, dragging Aeris along with him. Still putting pressure on his wound with one hand, Reno pulled the collective stick with the other and the chopper ascended. He stopped it when it was just above the pillar’s uppermost platform, leaving it to hover. Tseng looked down on the AVALANCHE members who had fought Reno. He quickly thought up a brief speech, secretly hoping that it would motivate them to do the one thing he was no longer able to do: save Aeris from Hojo.

Tseng watched the angered and stunned looks on the AVALANCHE members’ faces as the helicopter flew off toward the outermost edge of Sector Seven. He smiled thinly as he escorted Aeris inside the chopper.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll come to rescue you.”
“Is that why you presented me to them as a hostage?”
“Ahh, you know me too well.”
As the helicopter left the sector, Tseng could hear the sound of an explosion, followed by creaking metal above them; sitting in the back seat next to him, Aeris’ skin had paled, and she wore a blank expression on her face. As they came out from under the plate’s shadow, shortly before it fell to the ground in an ear-splitting boom, Reno’s wavering voice broke in from the cockpit. “Excuse me Tseng, when are you gonna take over the piloting? That kid Cloud cut me pretty deeply.”
“Land over there,” Tseng said, pointing to a bare, rocky plain just outside of Midgar, “and I’ll take a look at you.”
Reno did as Tseng instructed, enabling him to take his left hand off of the controls to join his bloodstained right, still clutching his wounded side. Tseng went outside and opened the pilot’s door, activating a Cure Materia slotted onto his Dragon Armlet. He gently pulled Reno’s hands away, then placed his own, glowing with green curative magic, over Reno’s wound. The redheaded Turk closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles, taking deep, slow breaths as the bleeding stopped. However, once the spell’s effects had ended, Reno howled and gripped his side even tighter than before. His blood resumed its slow trickle from between his fingers.
“Oh goddamn it, it hurts!“
“I know, I know…” Tseng said, his forehead breaking out into a sweat. “I’m doing the best I can. It’s a pretty bad gash…”
“Maybe Aeris can help?”
“I’d rather she didn’t. If any evidence of her particular healing magic is found on you—”
At that moment, Tseng noticed Aeris out of the corner of his eye. She was standing next to the helicopter with her arms at her sides, eyes fixed upon the huge dust cloud where Sector Seven once was. Reno twisted his head to get a look at the city himself, joining Aeris in her silent staring; likewise, Tseng followed their lead. After several minutes had passed, Tseng broke his gaze from the ruined sector and motioned to Reno that he should climb out of the pilot’s seat.
“We have to get back, and more importantly, get you to the military hospital.”
Reno nodded and carefully climbed into the back seat, where he was soon joined by Aeris. Doing his best to ignore the small puddle of blood that had collected onto the pilot’s seat, Tseng took the controls and lifted off, guiding the helicopter back toward Midgar.
After placing a quick call to the hospital, he heard Reno ask Aeris, “When Tseng gave his whole spiel to AVALANCHE… he didn’t really slap you, did he?”
“Yes, but it was very slight. He just made it look worse than it actually was.”
“A stage combat technique I learned a long time ago,” Tseng cut in, “back when I was studying acting.”
“Oh… that’s cool… never knew that you were an actor,” Reno replied, his voice growing heavier. “Hey man… I think I’m gonna pass out.”
Tseng tried to keep focused on his driving, pushing back all thoughts of what would happen to Aeris if AVALANCHE hadn’t escaped from Sector Seven in time, and fighting the urge to look into the back seat to make sure that Reno didn’t die on him. As Shinra’s military hospital came into view, Tseng guided the helicopter toward the rooftop’s landing platform, where a stretcher and a team of paramedics were waiting for them.

*****

It was Reeve who had told her about Reno’s injury. He was calling from the hospital, having rushed there since receiving the news from Tseng. She replied that she’d stop by in a few minutes, after wrapping up her report for Heidegger.
Elena walked out of the Shinra Building and toward the military hospital, which was only a few blocks away in Sector Four. The receptionist gave her directions to the room, adding that Reno had just gotten out of surgery only a couple of hours ago. Tseng, sitting in a chair across from Reno’s bed, gave her a welcoming nod as she came into the room. Rude leaned against the wall next to the bed, and Reeve was busy staring out the window. Both men turned and said hello.
She returned their greetings and looked at the pale figure of Reno in the hospital bed. An IV was connected to one arm, and his torso was wrapped in bloodstained bandages. He opened his eyes partway as she came to the side of his bed.
“Hey Elena… glad you could make it.”
Her eyes wide with shock and worry, she replied, “Are you all right? What happened?”
“Looks pretty bad, eh? It’s a wound from a Buster sword, courtesy of that renegade SOLDIER who’s in AVALANCHE.”
Tseng explained, “Reno was on a top-secret mission and ran into some trouble with them.”
Elena nodded. “Did it have anything to do with the Sector Seven plate? I heard that AVALANCHE destroyed the pillar that held it up.”
Reeve turned away from the window to glance at Reno, but didn’t say a word. Reno watched him for a moment, then replied, “Yeah… it had something to do with that. Fortunately I got out in time.”
“Well, as long as you’re going to be all right.”
“I’ll be fine. Just give it a few weeks and this sucker’ll be healed right up.”
“Bet it’ll leave a nasty scar, though.”
Reno’s eyes traveled back to Reeve, who had resumed gazing out of the window. “Yeah, well… doesn’t make much of a difference to me. I already have some old scars in that area.”
“Reno’s a tough one,” Tseng cut in. “I anticipate he’ll be back at work within a month.” Rude nodded in agreement. Reeve shifted his weight to his other foot and let out a tired sigh, not taking his eyes from the window once.
Tseng stood up and addressed the other Turks. “Rude and I should get back to the Shinra building. Reno, I’ll give your proposal some consideration.”
Reno nodded a reply as Elena pondered the meaning behind Tseng’s words. Tseng turned to Elena.
“Will you be coming with us?”
“I think I’ll stick around here a little longer.”
“Are you sure?” Rude asked.
Elena nodded hesitantly, wondering if there was something strange about her staying. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
After a moment, Tseng replied, “Very well. See you around.”
Tseng and Rude left the room. When Elena turned back to face Reno, she was startled to see that Reeve had moved away from the window, and was now in a chair beside Reno’s bed. The two men talked to each other in low tones. Reno’s eyes shifted toward Elena, causing Reeve’s head to do the same. After an awkward moment of silence, Elena said, “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”
Reeve shook his head. “No, not at all. To tell you the truth, I was just about to leave myself. Reno’s been up all night on this AVALANCHE business, and has barely had any sleep.”
Reno confirmed this with a small yawn.
“You should get going as well,” Reeve told Elena.
“I guess so. Still, I can’t help but feel bad for you, Reno. You’re going to be left all alone!”
Reno replied, “Ahh, don’t worry about it. I’ll be all right by myself.”
Reeve stood up and walked toward the door, mouthing some sort of message to Reno as he stood in the doorframe. He then turned to Elena.
“C’mon. We should let Reno get some rest.”
Elena nodded and followed Reeve out of the room. The executive closed the door behind them.

“You hungry at all?”
“A little. I haven’t had lunch yet.”
“Neither have I,” Reeve replied. He and Elena were walking through Sector Four, toward the Shinra Building. “There’s a diner on the next block… haven’t been there in awhile. Would you be up for something like that?”
Elena shrugged. “Sure, sounds fine to me. Is it good?”
“Yes, it’s a nice place. The food is all right—better than what they have in the company cafeteria, anyway.”
They reached the restaurant, Burman’s Diner, a few minutes later. After being seated, Reeve lit himself a cigarette and scanned the menu. Elena turned to her own menu, and after making up her mind as to what she wanted, set it back down, only to notice that Reeve was now staring at her from across the booth with his weary, reddened eyes. She raised her eyebrows.
“Hmm?” Reeve replied.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“I see.” Reeve took a long drag and knocked the resulting ashes into a glass ashtray. “Got a lot on my mind these days…”
“I can imagine.”
“I’m not sure if you can. I’m really stressed out.”
Elena just nodded.
“I mean,” Reeve continued, “it’s bad enough with all this shit happening to Midgar, but now Reno gets hurt, and who knows if AVALANCHE got away again. Maybe President Shinra was right… maybe I do need to take a few days off and get away from this mess, if only to clear my mind a little.”
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to do here.” Reeve shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
At that moment, the waitress came and took their orders. Elena stared out the window at the drab streets.
“Hey, Reeve?” she asked tentatively. “Tseng mentioned something to Reno about a proposal. What was that about?”
The executive smirked at her. “You’re being awfully nosy.”
“I’m just curious!”
Reeve’s expression grew dark as he murmured, “Curiosity can be dangerous.”
“Really.”
“But anyway, the Turks were discussing the possibility of a temporary replacement for Reno while he’s in the hospital. Tseng doesn’t see a real need for it right now, but he said he’d give the idea some consideration regardless.”
Elena broke out into a small smile as she felt the anticipation welling up inside of her. Reeve pressed out the end of his spent cigarette.
“Don’t get too excited. Tseng hasn’t decided anything yet.”
Elena nodded. “That’s true. Is this what you mean by curiosity being dangerous?”
“Sort of. Still, I can’t blame you that you couldn’t help yourself. Like any other being on this planet, you have to harbor at least a little bit of curiosity…”
At that moment, Elena felt one of Reeve’s leather shoes brush up against her foot. She froze. Reeve looked her straight in the eye and continued, his voice having taken on a considerably different tone.
“Curiosity can be dangerous, but depending on the circumstances, it can also be beneficial.” His foot lightly caressed her ankle. He smiled; a little nervously, she thought. “Know what I mean?”
Without a word, Elena stared down at the table for a couple of minutes, mulling over Reeve’s words and actions. Finally, she shifted further into the booth, away from Reeve’s wandering foot. She felt a slight warmth in her cheeks; from embarrassment or something else, she wasn’t sure.
She felt the presence of his foot recede as he took out another cigarette. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“No, no… that’s all right. It wasn’t—” Elena paused.
“It wasn’t what?”
“…Nothing.” She raised her head to face Reeve once more. The kind expression on his face only filled her with more confusion. She found him to be a generally nice guy, but there was something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe it had to do with the wedding band on his right ring finger, or the fact that he was about ten years older than her, or something else entirely. All she knew was that there was this tiny little voice in the back of her mind, filled with doubt, and next to it was another, whispering Tseng’s name.

*****

Zack slowly walked toward the massive expanse of Midgar, still feeling a bit disoriented on account of his recent resurrection. He pushed away all thoughts of the mysterious voice who had summoned him and dug into his memories, in an attempt to recall how he got here. He remembered that he was in a coma for a few years, and that once his friend Cloud had awakened, they started planning their escape. They broke out of two large tubes in the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim, and had managed to get pretty far away. They even made plans to become mercenaries once they arrived in Midgar. However, upon reaching the city’s outskirts, they were attacked by MPs, and Zack was shot. He fell unconscious and somehow, his Buster sword went missing. He had no idea what had become of it, or of Cloud.
But the real question was, why was he in a coma to begin with? He knew that he had been traveling to Nibelheim for some mission, but couldn’t remember any details of the trip. Zack concentrated, digging into his memories even further. He had been stationed in the Midgar region throughout much of the Wutai War. While there, he met a pretty girl named Aeris Gainsborough. He dated her for a while before being promoted to First Class and receiving orders to go to Nibelheim with Commander Sephiroth and a couple of MPs. He remembered the trip on the ferry from Junon, where he befriended one of the MPs, a kid named Cloud who desperately wanted to be accepted into the ranks of SOLDIER. He couldn’t recall a damn thing that happened after that.
There was something about this gap in his memory that troubled him. He was certain that this was not mere amnesia. He felt that he ought to know even the most vague details of what happened in Nibelheim all those years ago, that whatever happened there was something of extreme importance, the kind of experience that one would never forget. So why couldn’t he remember?
Zack stopped mulling over his memories and looked up; he now stood before the Sector Five gate. Digging around in his pocket for his standard-issue gate key, the thought struck him that perhaps these memories were being shielded from him on purpose. Or maybe someone physically took these memories away from him, like they might have taken his Buster sword. He shook his head, realizing how ridiculous this last theory sounded, and unlocked the Sector Five gate.

Midgar had changed a lot from the last time Zack had been here, back when half of the plates and reactors were still under construction. He thought of the tales he and Cloud had heard from various Easterners while they were on the road, about how the metropolis was near completion. Now he was seeing it for himself; with the exception of the urban infrastructure of Sector Six’s Upper Plate, Midgar was now a full circle of eight sectors.
He walked past the old abandoned church, trying to remember the way to Aeris’ house, when the wind picked up and that familiar voice whistled in his ears.
“The one you are looking for… she is not there.”
Trying not to draw attention to himself, Zack whispered back, “Are you sure? I should at least see her mother.”
“There is no time. Besides, I know where she is.”
“And where would that be?”
“Men from Shinra have her held captive. She is in their headquarters.”
Zack was startled by these words. He knew that the Shinra had long been after Aeris, for reasons unknown to him. However, he never thought that they would actually catch her. “What? How?”
“The one named Yoshiro, son of Tseng, who has appropriated his father’s name and inherited his position.”
This was getting to be too much. It was through Aeris that Zack first met Yoshiro, whom she introduced as her oldest friend. He couldn’t believe that Yoshiro would ever betray her, not even if he did become a Turk like his father wished.
“How can I be sure you’re telling the truth?”
The voice on the wind whispered, “I know all, and see all, even in my current state of confinement. Penetrate the headquarters of Shinra and you will find that I do not lie.”
“You’ll guide me to her?”
After a brief pause, the voice answered, “Yes… I will show you the way.”
Zack walked on. By this time, he had reached a densely populated part of the Sector Five slums. As he passed a large drainage pipe, he thought he saw someone sitting inside. Upon walking closer, Zack saw that it was a man, and he was nodding as though he had severe Mako sickness; the pipe appeared to be his home. As Zack’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he examined the man. There was something familiar about him, but Zack couldn’t remember where he’d seen him before. Maybe, he thought cynically, he’s a part of that lost gap in my memory. Zack was about to turn and leave, when he caught a glimpse of the man’s right hand. Tattooed on the back of it was a large Roman numeral II.
Suddenly, Zack felt a sharp stabbing pain strike his skull, while a high-pitched tone filled his ears. He gripped the side of his head and pinched his eyes shut. A blurry vision filled his mind: there was something large… sculptural… pipes… wings…
The vision disappeared as abruptly as the pain did. Zack opened his eyes and scanned the man’s living quarters. He needed to conceal his identity if he was going to sneak into Shinra’s headquarters. He found a roll of black canvas in a pile of junk behind the man’s television and tore off a large sheet with little effort. After wrapping the canvas over his head and shoulders as an impromptu cloak, Zack left the pipe and followed the direction of the wind to Sector Six, where he would find an accessible route to the upper plate, and the Shinra Building.

Garoto Índigo(Interessante)

Em 11 de Janeiro de 1996, uma criança incomum nasceu na cidade de Volzhsky, na região de Volgograd, Rússia. Sua mãe, Nadezhda Kipriyanovich, descreve o trabalho de parto: ‘Foi muito rápido e não senti nenhuma dor. Quando me mostraram o bebê, ele me olhava fixamente com seus grandes olhos castanhos. Como médica, eu sei que não é habitual entre naciturnos esse olhar concentrado. Exceto esse fato ele parecia um bebê normal.’
Quando saiu da maternidade, de volta ao lar, Nadezhda começou a perceber que o menino, chamado Boris, tinha um comportamento singular: raramente chorava e nunca solicitava qualquer alimento. Ele crescia como as outras crianças, mas começou a falar frases inteiras aos oito meses. Com um ano e meio, lia jornais. Os pais deram a ele um jogo de peças para montar figuras e ele começou a elaborar peças geométricas combinando diferentes partes com precisão. ‘Eu tinha a impressão de que nós éramos como aliens para ele, aliens com os quais ele estava tentando se comunicar’ – disse a mãe de Boris ou Boriska, como é chamado pela família.
Boriska começou a desenhar figuras que, à primeira vista, eram abstrações nas quais se misturavam tons de azul e violeta. Quando psicólogos examinaram os desenhos, disseram que o garoto estava, provavelmente, tentando representar a aura das pessoas que via ao seu redor. Aos três anos, Boris começou a conversar com seus pais sobre o Universo. Ele sabia nomear todos os planetas do Sistema Solar e seus respectivos satélites. Ele falava também nomes e número de Galáxias. Isso pareceu assustador e a mãe pensou que seu filho estava fantasiando; por isso, resolveu conferir se aqueles nomes realmente existiam. Consultou livros de astronomia e ficou chocada ao constatar que Boris, de fato, sabia muito sobre aquela ciência.
O menino sofre com o conhecimento prévio de desastres naturais ou sociais: durante a crise do Beslan, recusou-se a ir à escola enquanto durou o ataque. ‘Eu sabia que o caso todo teria um final terrível’ – disse Boriska.

Sobre o futuro do planeta, ele adverte que a Terra passará por duas situações muito perigosas nos anos de 2009 e 2013, com a ocorrência de catástrofes relacionadas à água.

Especialistas dos Instituto de Estudos do Magnetismo Terrestre e Ondas de Rádio da Academia Russa de Ciências (Institute of Earth Magnetism and Radio-waves of the Russian Academy of Sciences) fotografaram a aura de Boriska que mostrou-se forte, nítida de modo incomum. O professor Vladislav Lugovenko analisa: ‘Ele apresenta um espectograma laranja, O que significa que é uma pessoa alegre, positiva, com um intelecto muito poderoso.
Cientistas de todo o mundo têm-se se empenhado na pesquisa desses fenômenos a fim de revelar o mistério destas crianças extraordinárias, como o garoto Boris. Um dado interessante é que nos últimos 20 anos, bebês dotados de habilidades incomuns têm nascido em todos os continentes.

Os especialistas chamam estas crianças de ‘indigo children’ ou’crianças azuis’, possivelmente uma referência ao avatar indiano Khrisna (figura ao lado) que, segundo a lenda, era azul. ‘Boriska é uma dessas crianças.
Aparentemente, as ‘crianças azuis’ tem a missão especial de promover mudanças em nosso planeta. Muitas delas têm as espirais do DNA notavelmente perfeitas, o que lhes confere uma inacreditável resistência do sistema imunológico capaz de neutralizar a ação do vírus da AIDS.
Boriska, aos nove anos, relata aos seus parentes e amigos tudo o que sabe sobre a civilização marciana, informações que ele recorda de uma vida passada.
ENTREVISTADOR – Boriska, você realmente viveu em Marte como dizem as pessoas da vizinhança?
BORISKA – Sim, eu vivi, é verdade. Eu tinha 14 ou 15 anos. Os marcianos faziam guerra todo o tempo e eu tinha de participar daquilo. Eu podia viajar no tempo e no espaço, podia voar em naves espaciais e também pude observar a vida no planeta Terra. As naves marcianas são muito complexas e podem se deslocar pelo Universo.

ENTREVISTADOR – Existe vida em Marte atualmente?
BORISKA – Sim, existe, mas o planeta perdeu sua atmosfera muitos anos atrás, como resultado de uma catástrofe global. O povo marciano ainda vive em cidade nos subterrâneos. Eles respiram gás carbônico.

ENTREVISTADOR – Qual é a aparência dos marcianos?
BORISKA – Eles são muito altos, uma altura média de sete metros. Eles possuem capacidades inacreditáveis. Boriska fala de Marte mas também tem lembranças de suas observações sobre Terra naquela existência passada: ele foi testemunha da destruição da lendária civilização da Lemúria, ‘a maior catástrofe que já aconteceu neste planeta. Um continente gigante foi engolido por terríveis tempestades oceânicas. Eu tinha um amigo lemuriano que morreu na minha frente esmagado por uma rocha. Não pude fazer nada. Nós estamos destinados a nos reencontrar em algum momento desta vida.’ Sobre o Egito, Boriska diz que existe um conhecimento precioso oculto sob uma
pirâmide que ainda não foi descoberta: ‘A vida vai mudar quando a
Esfinge for aberta. A Esfinge tem um mecanismo que aciona uma abertura secreta. O mecanismo está atrás da orelha.’

Quanto ao aumento de nascimentos de crianças especialmente
dotadas, o garoto informa que isto é decorrência do fato de que ‘chegou a época’ propícia para que elas venham à Terra porque o ‘renascimento do planeta se aproxima… Eles estão nascendo e estarão preparados para ajudar as pessoas… Amar seus inimigos, essa é a Lei.
A URL desta reportagem, no site em inglês do Jornal PRAVDA, Rússia:
http://english.pravda.ru/science/19/94/378/16387_Boriska.html

Outra reportagem sobre Boriska pode ser vista na seguinta URL:
http://english.pravda.ru/science/19/94/377/12257_Martian.html

Bem…isso é realmente, no mínimo interessante. o.o

Tem algumas coisas nas quais não acredito, mas tem outras que não devem ser rejeitadas. /hmm

E você, acredita? :O

Loveless: Ato 1 – Cena 5

Desculpem a demora, tive que me ausentar durante esse fim de semana, daí não pude postar nada. >___<

Pois bem, voltei, e aí vai mais uma parte de Loveless.

——————–

Act I: The Ruby Dragon

Scene Five

About an hour before sunrise, Elena strode through the quiet corridors of Reactor #5, her black military boots giving off a muted clop with each step. She was dressed entirely in black; her black vest and black fatigues accented with a shoulder holster, and her black canvas bag filled with all manner of tools. She looked around her as she walked, on guard for any suspicious activity, but everything seemed normal. Finally, she reached a narrow, T-shaped catwalk, which crossed over the front of the reactor. Ahead of her was an intersection leading into the core, and at the opposite end was a doorway, in front of which two uniformed figures were standing.
Elena walked toward these two MPs and nodded. She followed them through the doorway, down a long corridor and to a large room. This was the router control center, where the flow of the reactor’s output was divvied up. It was filled with at least a dozen technicians in white coats, all scrambling around in an effort to divert the outgoing routes to Midgar’s other mako reactors. In one corner of the room, a tired-looking Reeve furiously typed into his jacked-in laptop. Standing in another corner was Heidegger, who turned his attention to the new arrival.
“Gya ha ha! So you must be Elena! Glad to see you could make it!”
Reeve looked up, craning his neck to get a better view from behind the computer consoles. He and Elena exchanged nods before she turned back to Heidegger and he to his work.
“Is there anything I should know before starting my mission, sir?” Elena asked Heidegger.
“The plan has gone unchanged since yesterday. Let’s go over it again, shall we?”
“Yes sir.”
“On my mark, you are to conceal yourself within the reactor’s core. After AVALANCHE plants the bomb and leaves, you will then approach and disarm it. Their previous bomb came with a twenty-minute timer, so keep that in mind.”
“Yes sir.”
“Oh, and one more thing. Those two grunts standing behind you,” Heidegger said, indicating the MPs, “will be your escorts. They are trained to provide you with whatever assistance you may need. Also, there will be a meeting in the main control room later this morning, which you are expected to attend. In the meantime, you’ll want to get yourself acquainted with the central mako chamber.”
Elena took a quick glance back at the MPs and nodded. “Understood. I’ll go check out my post now.”
“Just a second, Elena.”
She turned to the corner from which Reeve had addressed her. He was now standing up, stretching his legs as he did so. Reeve continued, “You might want to pick up a headset on your way out. It’s so we can check in on your mission, and, of course, be in touch with each other in case of an emergency. Be sure to test it while you’re checking out the core. The star channel’s set to the PHS conference signals of all of the executives.”
“What about the Turks? Are they going to be a part of this mission?”
“I’m afraid not. They all had other assignments today.”
Taking a PHS headset unit from one of the workers, Elena replied, “Okay. Thanks, Reeve.”
As she left the room, this time with the two MPs following her, she heard Heidegger’s sneer, “Friend of yours?”
Reeve deadpanned, “So what if she is?” shortly before Elena moved out of earshot.

In the reactor’s main control room a few hours later, Rufus, Scarlet, Heidegger, Reeve, and Elena all watched the images being patched through from the Midgar Railway’s security cameras. A group of about a half-dozen people had set off the train’s security system with false ID cards. Among these people were a large, dark-skinned man with a gun attachment where his right hand should’ve been, a girl in a tank top and short skirt, and another girl wearing a red bandanna. Scarlet recognized the latter immediately.
“So Jessie is involved with AVALANCHE,” the Weapons Dev. chair mused.
The other figures included two rebellious-looking young men, one fat and one thin, and a third young man, who had spiky blond hair and wore a SOLDIER uniform.
“And that’s our renegade SOLDIER,” Rufus said, tapping on one of the monitors. “Doesn’t look familiar, though.”
“The Turks might know who he is,” Reeve offered. “Too bad we can’t get a clear shot of his eyes to scan for mako infusion.”
Heidegger shook his head. “I doubt he’s a SOLDIER. He’s too short and wiry. And I don’t recognize him either.”
The figures were seen rushing through the cars; three of them even stole other passengers’ clothes to wear as disguises. Shortly after, the other three jumped off the train. “They’re in the tunnels, on their way here,” Rufus said, turning away from the monitors. “Reeve, is the reactor ready to go offline?”
“Yes it is. And Scarlet’s Airbuster is in position. Speaking of which, I should get back to router control before our guests arrive. Excuse me.”
Rufus watched as Reeve left the room, then turned to Scarlet and Heidegger. “We should start heading back to the Shinra Building. Between Reeve, this technician Elena, and my father, I’m sure the reactor’s in capable hands.”
“Your father? What’s President Shinra got planned?” Scarlet asked.
“Something special,” Rufus replied with a sly grin. “I wish I could stick around to see the looks on those AVALANCHE goons’ faces when he arrives.”
Elena wondered about Rufus’ last statement as Heidegger ordered her to her post. She did a quick check of her supplies and left the room to rendezvous with her MP escorts, who were waiting for her elsewhere inside the reactor.

As the tense minutes passed while waiting for AVALANCHE to arrive, Elena stood perched on the outer railing of a high, shadow-drenched catwalk in Reactor #5’s central mako chamber. The grappling hook that wound out from her belt was attached to a nearby rail post, and her most important tools were stuffed into her vest pockets. With the two MPs standing guard on either side of the railing, Elena watched as three figures far below entered the chamber and approached the main valve. Suddenly, the blond one in the middle collapsed to the ground, gripping his head as though a spike was being driven into it. Elena’s gaped at the strange scene, while the taller MP quietly leaned over to get a better look. Their catwalk creaked slightly, and they all froze in place. Fortunately, the three intruders down below did not so much as notice, as the loud hum of the reactor overwhelmed any sounds Elena and the MPs made.
The first intruder, the girl in the short skirt, pulled a device out of her satchel and affixed it to the main valve. She pressed a few buttons then signaled to her companions, whereupon they all immediately began to retreat. Elena watched the three of them exit, then waited until she could no longer hear their footsteps before lowering herself to the main catwalk, while her MP escorts took the long way down, via a set of stairs hidden behind a large bank of pipes.
She landed softly, cut the line from her belt, and crouched before the bomb, thoroughly analyzing it with her eyes. Elena smiled to herself as she drew a pair of needlenose pliers from one pocket and a socket wrench from another. Piece of cake, she thought. I’ll have this thing disarmed in no time.

Five minutes later, Elena was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Although she had managed to disable the bomb’s Shiva charge, she could not figure out how to deactivate the Fire one. There were five types of wires used in the bomb’s configuration instead of the standard three, and—worse yet—all of these wires were the same color. She looked down at the bomb’s still-ticking clock. Twelve minutes, twenty-three seconds and counting. Elena reached in her pocket and pressed the star key on her PHS. Almost simultaneously, two voices cut in.
“Left server storage, President here.”
“Router control. Urban Dev. speaking.”
“Sirs! This is Unit 01 in the central core,” Elena said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I can’t disarm the bomb!”
“What?” exclaimed Reeve and President Shinra.
“Shiva’s out, but fire’s loaded!”
“Unit 01, are you sure—” Reeve started, before being interrupted by the President.
“Unit 01, can you get that thing out of there to a place where it would do less damage?”
“Yes sir—I’ll do my best!”
“Excellent.”
Elena disconnected and picked up the bomb, running past the two MPs as they came down the catwalk to meet her. They froze for a minute and looked in her direction. In the back of her mind, she was sure that beneath their helmets, their eyes were bulging in shock. She glanced over her shoulder to look at them.
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Elena ran down the hallways of the reactor, sending the MPs on ahead to open any locked doors that were on the way to the main outer catwalk. Reaching in her left trouser pocket, she again pressed the star key.
“Router control, Urban Dev.”
“Unit 01 here! Where’s President Shinra?”
“Boarding a helicopter. The Airbuster has intercepted AVALANCHE. Where are you?”
“Sector 24G.”
“Right. I’ll have all personnel evacuated from that area. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Elena hung up and entered the last room before the outer catwalk. She looked down at the bomb tucked under her right arm. The digital timer read three minutes, zero seconds and counting. Elena took the bomb into her hands and tossed it across the floor, where it bumped up against some water pipes. Then she turned back to the doorway from which she came, signaling to the two MPs that they should follow her. The three of them ran back inside the reactor, aiming to get as far away from the bomb as they could in those three minutes. As they made their way up a set of stairs, a loud explosion shook the air, and they all gripped tightly to the railing as the shockwave passed over them.
Once everything became still again, Elena opened her eyes. On the lower steps, the MPs had already stood up and were dusting off their uniforms. She sat on the stairs and looked down at them.
“Well, do you guys think I’m so crazy now?”
The MPs looked at each other before turning back to her. Finally, the taller one said, “It takes guts to be that crazy.” The other MP nodded.
Elena froze, suddenly sensing that there was something strange about these two.
“Who are you?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.
The taller MP took off his helmet, revealing a bald scalp, cobalt blue eyes, and a left ear with one too many piercings. Elena gasped.
Rude turned to the second MP. “How about it, Tseng? Think she’s cut out to be a Turk?”
As he pulled off his own helmet, Tseng’s hair flowed out from beneath it in one large wave. He smoothed some stray black strands from his face. “Perhaps. I admit that it would be interesting to have an explosives specialist on the team.” He looked at Elena with his usual stoic expression; she simply stared and hoped that her blushing wasn’t too obvious in the cold light of the reactor. Finally, Tseng turned away.
“Elena, I hope we didn’t give you too much of a shock. I know that this may seem like an unconventional way to monitor you on a mission, but we need some idea of how you might do in the field if you are to become a Turk.”
“S—so you guys do this sort of thing all the time?”
“Only for our top candidates,” Rude replied.
Tseng nodded. “That’s right. Besides, Reno thought you might do well as a Turk, and I trust his judgment.”
Elena lowered her head, trying to keep herself from grinning too hard. “So what happens now?”
“We go over your records again and make our final review,” Tseng replied. “However, there’s something I must tell you right now, that you have to keep in mind.”
“What’s that?” Elena asked, looking up.
“Unless one of us happens to be taken out of service for some reason, there are currently no open positions in the Turks.”
Elena’s smile evaporated. “I understand.”
Tseng nodded once. “Now, we should get out of here, before they have to come looking for us.”
Elena stood up and started to follow the two Turks back down the stairs. Along the way, she asked Tseng, “Excuse me, sir? Where’s Reno today?”
Tseng replied, “He’s on a mission for the Science Department. I’m afraid I can’t give you any details other than those. This assignment of his is strictly classified.”

*****

Rufus stared at his watch. When for once he had managed to arrive early to an executive meeting, leave it to his father and Reeve to run late. As President Shinra finally entered the room, he announced, “My apologies for the delay. I just got a call from Reeve, who’s still at Reactor #5. Something went wrong with the bomb deactivation, and he insisted on staying behind to assist with the cleanup effort. Therefore, he won’t be able to make it to this meeting.”
Scarlet asked, “What happened?”
“Only half of the bomb’s materia charges could be disarmed, so the entire device was moved as far away from the core as possible before it exploded. Reeve says the reactor’s damaged, but operational, and that he personally witnessed one of the terrorists fall, while the other two escaped.”
Rufus pondered, “So, AVALANCHE is still at large…”
President Shinra nodded solemnly as he walked to his chair at the head of the table. Heidegger rubbed his chin.
“Well Mr. President, I have some information that will make our next move a bit easier.”
The President looked over at his Peace Preservation chairman. “And that would be…?”
“I had a contact of mine in Wall Market find out where AVALANCHE is headquartered.”
“And?”
“One of his men discovered their base of operations: a small bar in the Sector Seven slums. Now, I thought about this piece of information, and came up with an idea.”
Everyone in the conference room focused on Heidegger. Rufus said, “Well, let’s have it, then.”
“Gya ha ha… very well. My idea is this: we drop the Sector Seven plate, and blame the deed on AVALANCHE! Not only will we destroy the group itself, but we will also crush the growing wave of sentiment toward them.”
President Shinra leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, his head slightly lowered and hands folded before his chin. Finally, he burst out laughing.
“What a brilliant idea! I wonder why I didn’t think of it myself! Excellent… how soon can we carry out with this plan?”
“Tomorrow morning, sir, if that’s not too early.”
“No, no. Considering the timing of AVALANCHE’s actions up until now, that will be perfect. Just make sure that word of this plan doesn’t travel too far. We don’t want to have to deal with any saboteurs.”
Rufus leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps we should consult with the Urban Development Chair before going ahead with this. After all, this is a matter which concerns the city’s infrastructure.”
The President turned to his son. “I’m well aware of that, but we’re short on time and resources as it is. The longer we wait, the more opportunities we’d be giving to AVALANCHE to wreak havoc on Midgar.”
Rufus looked into his father’s eyes. It appeared that he was dead set on Heidegger’s plan; any efforts to convince him to use an alternative measure would be fruitless at this point.
“Very well,” the Vice President sighed. “It looks like we’ll be going with this plan.”

Long after the meeting had ended, Rufus made his way to the central control room of Reactor #5. Finding the door left ajar, he quietly slipped in. The room was filled with technicians and plant managers, all trying to restore the damaged reactor to some semblance of normalcy. In the middle of it all was Reeve, serving as a processor for the information that the various men and women fired at him. He knew more about Shinra’s mako reactors than nearly anyone else, and in this time of emergency, his knowledge and expertise were needed more than ever.
A few minutes had passed before Reeve caught sight of Rufus standing near the doorway. The Urban Dev. chair did a double take.
“Vice President!” he exclaimed. “What brings you here?”
“Since you couldn’t make it to the meeting, I came to tell you the information that was discussed there.”
Reeve walked over to Rufus and escorted him toward a small office in the back. He closed the door behind them as Rufus settled into a chair.
“Rufus, you didn’t have to come all this way just for that,” Reeve replied, sitting at the desk. “You could’ve called, or told me about the meeting once I returned to headquarters.”
“I had some spare time,” Rufus said carelessly, running his hand back through his hair. “But first, how did things go here? I heard you had some problems.”
“Yes, well… apparently the bomb had been designed so as to make it impossible to disable the fire materia charge. Your father ordered Elena to get it away from the core, so she brought it to the area near the main outer catwalk.”
Rufus nodded. “I saw the scoring marks from my helicopter.”
“You should’ve seen your old man, though. After AVALANCHE had been cornered, he just calmly walked out before them… they were shocked, to say the least. He gave quite a performance.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“So, what happened at the meeting? Did you all discuss another plan to stop AVALANCHE?”
“You could say that. Actually, the President went with one that Heidegger proposed.”
“Heidegger…”
“I swear he looked a little disappointed when my father announced that you wouldn’t be able to make it to the meeting. Almost like he wanted to see the look on your face when he revealed his plan.”
“Rufus, what is this plan?”
The Vice President stood and looked around the empty room. He leaned across the desk and motioned for Reeve to do the same. Their faces came to within a few inches of each other. Captivated, Rufus examined Reeve’s eyes, his cheeks, his nose, his lips. He was well aware of the sound of his own heart, pounding, beating with great urgency. It was almost too much to bear.
“Rufus?”
“Essentially,” Rufus said in a conspiratorial tone, having momentarily snapped out of his trance, “the plan is to drop the Sector Seven plate, and blame AVALANCHE for the deed.”
“Shinra is going to drop the plate for Sector Seven of their own city, and point fingers at a small terrorist group.”
“Yes. The group is based in the Sector Seven slums, so bringing that segment of the plate down would destroy them as–”
“Rufus,” Reeve growled, “there are only a half-dozen individuals confirmed to be in AVALANCHE, with practically no indicators that there are any more. The entire population of the Sector Seven slums is in the range of forty thousand. Forty-fucking-thousand people. And that’s not even taking into account all those who live on top of the plate. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Although Rufus found Reeve’s physical proximity to be a most welcome distraction, he did his best to keep focused on their conversation. The Vice President nodded. “Yes, I understand. All those people…”
“Yes. All those people are going to be murdered by the very company they’ve had to trust—but they’re not going to know that. No. History will dictate that Shinra is a great benefactor that would never condone such acts. I suppose the President intends to send out rescue crews after the plate falls?”
“He will indeed. It’s all part of the plan.”
“Thought so. He wants to make Shinra look as good as possible in the eyes of the masses.”
“Reeve, I asked my father to consult you on this matter before he decided on anything, but he wouldn’t listen. When he’s set on a plan, nothing can sway him.”
Reeve leaned back in his chair and muttered, “If only we didn’t have to deal with this AVALANCHE bullshit in the first place, none of this would be happening.”
“Still, AVALANCHE is terrorizing Midgar and we must deal with them.”
“Rufus, you know something?” Reeve said, looking directly into the Vice President’s eyes. Rufus noted that Reeve had deep, concealing eyes, but not without a bright spark of passion. “I really hate those bastards. Those fucking bastards, sabotaging my reactors and forcing the further destruction of my city.”
Rufus smiled and shook his head. He wanted to move closer to Reeve, to encircle him with his arms and soothe his rage, but he knew that the timing would be all wrong. “You’re quite attached to this city you helped construct.”
“Damned right I am.”
“There’s still time, you know. The plate hasn’t fallen yet.”
“Is your father in his office now?”
“He’s in meetings for the rest of the day, I’m afraid, but he’ll be in early tomorrow.”
“To oversee the event as it unfolds.”
Rufus nodded affirmatively.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk him out of it,” Reeve said, “but I must at least make an attempt.” He pulled out his PHS and called the President’s secretary, to make an appointment with him for the following morning.

*****

In the Turks’ Audio/Visual lab, Tseng watched the Midgar Railway and Reactor #5 security tapes over and over. There was something familiar about one of the people in the video—specifically, the young man with the spiky blond hair—that Tseng couldn’t quite place a finger on. It wasn’t just the SOLDIER uniform or the Mako glow of his eyes, though those things made it seem all the more ironic. It was in his stance, his mannerisms, and the way he spoke.
As Tseng scanned through a piece of footage that had been taken in the reactor’s central core, a knock came from the open door, causing the Turk leader to look up from his work. It was Reno.
“Hello, Reno. How’d it go with Aeris?”
“Actually,” he replied, closing the door behind him, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Tseng froze. “What happened?”
“Don’t worry, she escaped, but something unexpected happened. You see, there was someone with her when me and the troops arrived. He helped her get away.”
“Was it anyone we’d know about?”
“That’s the thing—I’d never seen him before in my life, and yet, I felt like I knew him from somewhere. Hey… wait a minute…”
The redhead leaned in to get a better look at the still image the security video was paused on, finally pointing at one of the figures on the screen.
“That’s the guy I saw. Goes by ‘Cloud’. Don’t tell me he’s in AVALANCHE…”
Tseng nodded. “Yes he is. In fact, he’s the traitorous SOLDIER that I suspected earlier.” He paused, then turned to look at the video again. “He… didn’t do anything to hurt Aeris, did he?”
“Nope,” Reno replied. “In fact, she was downright sweet with him.”
Tseng swiveled around in his chair to face Reno, hands folded and with a flat expression on his face. “Oh, really. Well, I’m sure she knew what she was getting into. Besides, she’s always been a bit flirtatious.”
“There’s more to it than that. Not only did I see him, he came up and spoke to me. He acted a little bit loopy, but other than that, the way he talked and moved reminded me a helluva lot of Zack.”
Silence. Tseng lowered his eyes.
“Zack disappeared five years ago during the Nibelheim incident, along with Sephiroth and a couple of MPs. No one has either seen or heard from him since.” He swiveled back to look at the video monitor. “That can’t possibly be Zack. He looks a little too young, for one thing.”
“I don’t think it is either. But I swear, when I was in the church, the resemblance was definitely there.”
Tseng stood up and asked, “Have you reported back to Hojo?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. I’ll go in your place. Heidegger wants you for a special mission for early tomorrow morning, so you should see him, then go home and get some sleep. I think you’re going to need the rest.”
“You know anything about this mission of Heidegger’s?”
“I know that it’ll be better if he tells you the details himself.”
Reno sighed and scratched the back of his head. “That bad, eh?”
The Turk leader simply nodded and walked toward the door.

Tseng was not at all surprised to see that look on Hojo’s face once he strode into the Science Department’s main lab on the 68th floor; after all, he was walking in there empty-handed, with nary an Ancient in sight. Hojo pushed his glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose and came before Tseng.
“What’s wrong? Reno couldn’t report here himself?”
Tseng cleared his throat. “I’m afraid not, Professor. Chairman Heidegger wanted to see Reno immediately, concerning tomorrow’s mission in Sector Seven.”
“Ah yes, the dropping of the plate,” Hojo mused. “A frivolous waste of time if I do say so myself, chasing after these AVALANCHE fools.”
“Yes, well, I’m here in his place to report that—”
“You didn’t capture the Ancient. No surprise there.”
“Professor, once we have this AVALANCHE crisis out of the way, the Turks and I—”
“Enough!” Hojo snapped, cutting Tseng off with a sharp wave of his hand. “I have had enough of you Turks and your lame excuses! What could possibly be so difficult about capturing one young woman? I don’t understand it—even the elder Tseng never had this much trouble, and he never captured her either!”
Tseng was silent. On the one hand, he was glad that Hojo hadn’t managed to see through to his ulterior motive of protecting his dearest friend; on the other, this criticism of his job performance really stung, especially with the scientist comparing him to his deceased father. Shifting his gaze away from Hojo for a moment, Tseng happened to see a new specimen laying in the laboratory’s main observation enclosure. It was a reddish-orange beast, something like a cross between a large wildcat and a wolf; the end of its tail was aflame and there was a large scar where its right eye should have been.
Hojo began to pace about the floor. “And why are you using AVALANCHE as an excuse? It isn’t like all of you are working on that case all the time! So who else is going on this mission of Heidegger’s?”
“Out of the Turks, I believe its just Reno. If you want to send someone else after the Ancient, Rude should be avail—”
“Actually, I want you to go out and capture her.”
Tseng paused. He had not been expecting this. “Me, Professor?”
Hojo looked up at the Turk with one eyebrow raised. “You sound surprised by this request.”
“I hardly ever do this type of field work anymore, Professor. You are aware of that.”
“Yes I am, but that’s not what I was getting at. At any rate, you will retrieve the Ancient for me, and if you fail, I won’t merely overlook it as I have done in the past. I’ll see to it that the President has you demoted.”
Tseng clenched his teeth. Even though he knew the demotion of a Turk was next to impossible, he nevertheless wanted to grab Hojo by his coat collar and watch the skinny scientist’s Adam’s apple bob in a gulp as he hissed into his glasses, The hell you will; but he couldn’t, and didn’t. Instead, he merely muttered, “Very well,” then calmly started to leave, but not without taking another look at the beast in the enclosure. What Tseng found the most curious about it was neither the tail nor the scar, but its tattoos; aside from the Roman numeral XIII that Hojo had obviously given it, its markings were similar to the tattoos that Reno had. Is this beast from Cosmo Canyon, then? Tseng wondered. Suddenly, the beast opened its good eye and looked at Tseng. The Turk was struck by the tired, unhappy expression the eye conveyed.
“Will you please stop staring at Red XIII?” Hojo snapped from behind the Turk. “The last things my specimens need are distractions!” With Hojo’s back facing it, the beast glared at the scientist before closing its eye again.
Without another word, Tseng turned away from the enclosure and shoved his hands in his pockets, trying his best to keep his cool as he finally left the lab.
Walking down the halls toward the stairwell, Tseng steered his thoughts back to the information that Reno had given him earlier. Aeris had befriended Cloud, a member of AVALANCHE. Shinra was dropping the Sector Seven plate tomorrow morning; AVALANCHE would be bound to find out about it before then. It was highly likely that Cloud would be with them at the time… Aeris might be as well. Tseng continued to think about all of this long after he left the 68th floor.

Now back in the Turks’ office, Tseng pulled a key from one of his trouser pockets and unlocked a large drawer on the right side of his desk. From this drawer, he drew out a small toy: a miniature giant moogle with a crowned and caped cat perched up behind its head. He set the toy on the floor and turned his desktop computer on. After opening a certain program on the computer, the toy started to move across the floor, sending real-time video signals back to the program. Tseng maneuvered the toy all over the room, sometimes making it punch an imaginary foe, or roll a pair of dice, or change the amount of zoom on the moogle’s tiny hidden camera. He smiled as he manipulated the device; with each new addition, this toy, the prototype for a life-size model called Cait Sith, was one step closer to perfection. Tseng guided the toy back to the side of the desk and quit the program. He felt that the time was right for a field test, and he knew just the place: the Honeybee Inn, the Wall Market “gentlemen’s club” owned by Heidegger’s favorite informant, Don Corneo.

*****

On a rocky hillside a few miles outside of Midgar, the sun shone down on the prone body of a SOLDIER. Shot to death by the Shinra only a couple of weeks before, this young man had been en route to the city, hoping to make a living as a mercenary. Now he was nothing more than a corpse, albeit one that refused to decompose. His body bore the evidence of experimentation– bandages, needle marks, and the like– and on the back of his exposed left hand was a tattoo of the Roman numeral I. Indeed, he had escaped from a lab, where he had been injected with all kinds of strange chemicals and biological materials. It was a secret lab located in an old mansion in Nibelheim, the mountainside village on the Great Continent this young SOLDIER had once traveled to, on a mission with Commander Sephiroth.
The wind blew over his long black hair in a whisper. It had come from the direction of Midgar, and whistled right past his ears. It seemed to be saying something.
“My body… is trapped. My cells… are scattered. I must become whole… as I once was… before his discovery.”
The SOLDIER’s body didn’t stir.
“The Reunion begins with you. Your dear friends, residing in this great city… do you wish to see them?”
For the first time in weeks, the SOLDIER’s lips moved, but no sound came from them. Still, the voice carried on the wind seemed to understand him.
“With the sliver of my power that has been placed inside of you, I will grant you life so that you may see your friends. In return, you must do something for me.”
“…Yes…” he whispered in a tiny speck of a voice.
“Very well. I will assist you, guide you in your every move. Now, rise once more.”
Almost instantly, the wind shifted in a different direction. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath of polluted air. The SOLDIER, Zack, was alive.

“O RPG arruinou a minha vida…” Desabafo de um jogador.

Já que os preconceituosos aceitam apenas isso como verdade, vamos lá. Contarei aqui como esse jogo arruinou minha vida.

O RPG arruinou meus estudos!

Antes eu estudava algumas horas por dia, para conseguir notas como 5 e 6 na escola. Assistia às aulas de má vontade, não encontrava motivações para permanecer estudando.

Depois que comecei a jogar RPG, percebi que seria mais fácil e divertido inventar histórias se tivesse conhecimento para tanto. Queria entender Política para escrever sobre tratados entre reinos, Biologia para imaginar monstros plausíveis, Geografia para traçar mapas, Inglês para ter acesso à jogos importantes. Queria saber História, Física, Matemática, Química, Literatura…

Passei à ler livros de historiadores e cientistas, me esforçando para aprender tudo. Queria estar ciente das coisas, por isso parei de estudar com o intuito de passar de ano e passei a estudar para me divertir. Li dezenas de livros para vestibular, que muitos jovens de hoje torcem o nariz, estudei com gosto, entendendo a serventia de todas as matérias.

Agora estudo para me divertir. Como resultado, passei nos melhores vestibulares do país nas primeiras posições, e hoje sou um dos melhores alunos de meu curso.

O RPG arruinou meus estudos. O jogo me fez pegar gosto por leitura e por aprender, algo inconcebível! Talvez eu devesse largar minhas altas notas e o jogo, para voltar às intermináveis horas de estudo sem vontade e notas medíocres. Meus pais ficariam orgulhosos.

O RPG criou-me um problema com álcool!

Antes de jogar RPG, divertia-me saindo com os amigos, bebendo até cair nas boates e recuperando o dinheiro de todas as festas em cerveja. Arriscava minha vida e de outros, dirigindo alcoolizado, e toda semana tinha um bafão. Ficava fora a noite toda, deixava meus pais aflitos por hora (ou dias), sem saber quando voltaria, e se eu estava bem.

Depois que comecei jogar RPG, passei a rejeitar o álcool. É impossível jogar sem estar com a mente limpa e ativa, uma vez que o jogo é um exercício de inteligência e imaginação. O jogo me ensinou ser possível se divertir e socializar sem estar sob efeito de nenhum tipo de droga, mesmo algo ‘inocente’ como o álcool.

O RPG criou-me um problema com o álcool. Agora não bebo e suponho que isso seja um problema para a indústria de bebidas. Um jovem consciente e inteligente não deveria ficar em casa, rolando dados com amigos, sem causar preocupações aos pais ou evitar dirigir alcoolizado, sem colocar em risco as vidas das pessoas.

Não! Ele deveria se embebedar e sair por aí cometendo barbaridades.

O RPG arruinou minha religião!

Antes de jogar RPG, eu odiava religião, blasfemava como um jovem revoltado. Achava um tédio mortal qualquer tipo de cerimônia religiosa, sequer tinha idéia do que era a Bíblia. Taxava como idiotas e ignorantes todos que acreditavam.

Depois que comecei a jogar RPG, me interessei por religião, pois meus personagens favoritos em jogos eram clérigos. Passei a perguntar sobre o assunto para pessoas entendidas, acabei me sentindo motivado a ler o Livro Sagrado, bem como assistir cerimônias religiosas para entender seu funcionamento. Nunca mais blasfemei, agora me sinto uma pessoa mais culta.

O RPG arruinou minha religião. Isto é, deve ser bem mais saudável rejeitar a fé alheia, hostilizar devotos e blasfemar contra aquilo que não se entende, em vez de procurar aprender, respeitar e até mesmo se interessar por seus credos. Obviamente, interesse por religião é algo profano – afinal, os Livros Sagrados estão repletos de citações à demônios, assim como muitos manuais de RPG! Não é possível, portanto, que tragam qualquer ensinamento santo!

O RPG me mostrou a violência!

Antes de jogar RPG, eu testemunhava todos tipos de violência na TV e cinema, e achava tudo bastante normal. Praticava maldades infantis com animais, brigava muito na escola, mesmo sem motivo. Às vezes discutia com as pessoas por nada, buscando pretexto para violência. Em baladas e estádios de futebol, era sempre o primeiro a começar um tumulto.

Depois que comecei a jogar RPG, passei a pensar mais nos fatos do dia a dia e conclui quão grave é a violência no mundo. O jogo me mostrou algo que a TV não conseguia – a diferença entre violência real e ficcional. Passei a fazer partes de movimentos pela paz. Hoje prefiro dialogar, mesmo que sendo ofendido e não compreendido, do que partir para a ignorância.

Não vejo muitos filmes de ação, por considerá-los pouco profundos em história, apenas pretexto para sangue e morte.

O RPG me mostrou a violência. Com certeza, em vez de apenas fingir matar orcs e dragões, eu deveria praticar violência real como fazem tantos outros jovens. Deveria ser influenciado pela mídia e quem sabe cometer algum crime? Ser pacifista e prezar pela vida é, com certeza, um defeito que este jogo me causou.

O RPG destruiu minha vida social!

Antes de jogar RPG, eu participava de festas e encontros em que as pessoas degradavam umas às outras, bêbadas e drogadas, encenando um eterno teatro de falsidade. Muitas vezes fazíamos coisas dignas de bandidos – sempre prontos à humilhar e hostilizar aqueles diferentes de nós. Preconceito era meu nome do meio.

Eu era aficionado por estar sempre na moda, beber mais que os outros, ter o melhor carro, ver todos os programas da TV, tirar notas baixas na escola, apostar rachas. O tipo de coisa que os jovens fazem em suas vidas sociais.

Depois que comecei a jogar RPG, passei a ver quão infantil e idiota era meu antigo comportamento – porque o jogo é povoado de seres diferentes da raça humana, como elfos, anões e goblins, podendo ser todos bons ou maus. Seus atos não sua aparência, dizem que você é.

Passei a encontrar-me com amigos mais saudáveis – não para beber e ficar, mas para conversar amigavelmente, aumentar meus horizontes, me sentir menos enganado. Passei a conhecer as pessoas pelo que elas realmente são, nunca mais fui levado por aparência ou preconceitos. Tenho uma vida social mais ativa e estável, tenho a amizade de pessoas que pensam como eu e não me desejam mal.

O RPG destruiu minha vida social. É indiscutível que as barbaridades sexistas das festas, o consumo pesado de drogas e a pronta capacidade de humilhar alguém é algo totalmente necessário para a formação de um indivíduo íntegro. Pessoas que preferem encontrar os amigos em cinemas, livrarias ou restaurantes – ao invés de boates, clubes e botecos – com certeza são a escória da sociedade.

Divertir-se lendo livros, onde já se viu? Jogar RPG contribui para tornar um adolescente revoltado em um adulto estudioso, esforçado, amistoso e aberto à novas idéias. É um jogo sobre grupos de amigos colaborando para realizar um grande objetivo, um jogo sobre heróis sacrificando-se pelo bem de outros. É sobre tolerância à outras raças e crenças. Sobre trabalho de equipe, confiança, amizade e justiça.

Obviamente, tudo isso é um grande problema. Como uma pessoa íntegra poderia ser útil no mundo de hoje?

Bem amigos, pela minha história de vida, que acredito ser semelhante à de muitos de vocês, eu acredito: se um jogo de RPG foi responsável por tudo isso, com certeza deveria ser proibido.

‘Claro, a menos que você não entenda ironia…’

Assinado: Um RPGista (ou todos).

O relato não é meu. ‘-’

Loveless: Ato 1 – Cena 4

Act I: The Ruby Dragon

Scene Four

It all started when Reeve first found out about Scarlet’s affair. Hanging out on Reactor #6’s small outer platform, he recounted the incident to Reno the very evening that it happened.
“It was getting late, and the last thing I had to do before heading home was drop off some blueprints to Scarlet. Weapons Dev. was working on the North Corel reactor’s security system, and they wanted their floor-mounted rifles to blend in with the architecture. So I headed to Scarlet’s office, a document tube under my arm. As I approached her door, I heard some… moaning sounds. There was definitely something going on in there.
“Carefully, I took off my shoes and sneaked up to the door. I opened it a crack to see Scarlet in Heidegger’s lap… err, having… They were…”
Reno’s facial expression contorted. “Say no more. I’m getting all these disturbing mental images now.”
Reeve clenched his hands into fists, in an apparent attempt to contain his anger. “At least you weren’t there.”
The Turk didn’t know what else to say. Obviously, he had never been in this situation himself, and therefore felt that he couldn’t fully understand what his friend was going through. He took his arm and placed it across Reeve’s shoulders. To his surprise, Reeve leaned into the impromptu hug, moving closer to Reno.
“C’mon, Reeve. Can’t be moping around here all night. Let’s go hit a bar or something… work it out of your system.”
The executive shook his head. “No, not tonight. Thanks for being here for me, though.”
Reno smiled. “Sure thing. What’re friends for, right?”
Moving out of Reno’s grip, Reeve rubbed his eyes with his palms and leaned his back against the flat metal of the Reactor’s outer wall. He closed his eyes, taking deep, evenly-paced breaths as he fished around in his coat pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. A tired, sad smile was on his face; his eyes were red and moist.
Reeve wedged a cigarette between his lips and lit it before handing the goods to Reno. “I’m glad I have a friend like you.”
“Really?” Reno replied as he lit his own.
“Yeah. You’re a real good friend.”
“Thanks.”

That all happened late on a Monday night. The rest of the week rolled on without incident. The few times he saw Reeve on that Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, their conversations were limited to Shinra business and small talk. Then on Friday morning, just as Reno was getting dressed, a knock came at his apartment door. Yawning, he buttoned his shirt as he trudged toward it. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Reeve standing there, in his regular blue suit and red tie, a suitcase in one hand and a briefcase in the other.
“Reeve! What the hell are you doing here?”
The executive smirked. “What, no ‘good morning’?”
“All right. ‘Good morning’,” Reno said, rolling his eyes.
“Good morning, Reno. I’m here to give you an assignment. I’ve already cleared it with Tseng, so don’t worry about that end of things.”
“What? I’m going to be working for you?” Although the Turks were generally at the disposal of all of the department heads, Reeve utilized their services very rarely, if ever.
“Depends on your definition of ‘work’,” Reeve replied. “May I come in?”
Seated across from each other at Reno’s kitchen table, Reeve revealed his plan: a weekend trip for the both of them to the Gold Saucer, and he’d pick up the tab. He explained that he really needed to get out of Midgar for awhile, especially after what had happened on Monday. He was taking today off as a personal day, and had no pressing obligations for the weekend. He invited Reno, he said, because he didn’t want to go alone. Misery loves company, after all. The situation had been explained to Tseng, and the head Turk made arrangements for Reno to be “assigned” to Reeve for the next few days; Tseng had also helped Reeve secure passage on the long-range airship over the weekend. All of this information left Reno’s head spinning.
“Wait a minute. So what you’re saying is you want me to leave for the Gold Saucer. With you. Right now.”
“Yes.”
Reno looked into Reeve’s eyes. He was serious. After a moment, the Turk answered, “Give me a few minutes to get packed.”

Their helicopter landed at Junon Airport a few hours later. Stepping out onto the runway, both of them stared up at the elegant airship Highwind, hovering over the deck with its rope ladder dangling. They heard a gruff-sounding voice address them from behind.
“I guess you’re the guys who want to go to the Great Continent?”
They turned around to see a pilot with dirty blond hair and a cigarette firmly wedged between his lips. He was Cid Highwind, the captain of the airship as well as its namesake. Behind him were a small group of crewmen in blue coveralls, who immediately picked up Reeve and Reno’s bags and started carrying them toward the ship. After examining the paperwork that Reeve handed him, Cid finished his cigarette and immediately lit another.
“All right then, let’s get going. Haven’t got all fuckin’ day.”
Reeve and Reno followed Cid to the airship. Soon, they were flying high over the ocean. During the journey, Reno noticed that Cid seemed to be upset about something. What that was, the captain didn’t say, and neither Reeve nor Reno bothered to ask.

After Cid dropped them off in Costa del Sol, Reeve and Reno split up to gather some “supplies” for their trip to the Gold Saucer. Reeve left for a nearby chocobo stable, while Reno headed for Bar del Sol. It was still fairly early in the day, and the lunchtime crowd was only just starting to trickle in. The Turk gazed around the barroom for a moment, a hardened look on his face, when he spotted the person he was looking for, cowering in the corner.
Reno walked over to the man, whose expression grew even more fearful as the Turk came closer. Stuttering, the man said, “Goo—good morning, sir! M—m—may I help you today?”
Forcefully grabbing him by the shirt collar, Reno hissed, “Didn’t think I’d see you again, scumbag. You know, if any of the Shinra brass were here, they’d skin me for letting a notorious dealer like yourself go free.”
“R—Reno, I—”
“Can it, Mikey. Consider yourself lucky, since I’m not going to kill you today. That is, if you help me out.”
“A—and if I d—d—don’t?’
“Well then, I’d just have to send you where I sent your partner three years ago—on a one way trip, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
“F—fine. Let’s go to my room upstairs.”
“All right. I’ll take you there, since I don’t want you pulling anything funny.”
Reno dragged Mikey to the back stairs and up to a small room, where their deal took place. The Turk watched as Mikey presented his wares—narcotics in all forms and potencies—and explained each one. Reno examined, sniffed, and even tasted some of the drugs, before settling on some white powder and some dried, crumpled leaves. He circled a small bag filled with these leaves under his nose, testing its aroma.
“You sure this is Goblin Island zeio?” Reno asked. “I don’t want none of that Bone Village hippie shit. I know how similar those leaves smell.”
“It’s Goblin, all right. P—please trust me on this.”
Reno nodded. “It’ll do. And as for the ‘white materia’…” he said, pointing at the powder, “…gimme five measures of it.”
“Just five?”
“You’re pressing your luck today, you know that?”
“All right,” Mikey answered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Five it is.”
Reno watched carefully as the dealer measured out the white materia into a bag. The Turk took this bag and, along with the zeio, tucked it into an inner pocket in his suit coat. His hand came back out with a wad of bills; cash Reeve had given him. “One last thing. Got any rolling papers?”
“I—I’ll throw them in for free.”
The Turk grinned wickedly as he counted the money. “Good boy. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
A little while later, Reno rejoined Reeve at the edge of town. Reeve had managed to score a pair of gold chocobos for their trip south, and had also gotten the latest tips on the Chocobo Racing odds at the Gold Saucer. Reno and Reeve secured their bags to the birds before riding away from Costa del Sol. Some time later, when there was nothing behind them but fields, and nothing ahead save for mountains, Reeve asked Reno how the deal went.
“Pretty smoothly, I must say.”
“You didn’t have to threaten the poor guy, did you?”
Reno gave Reeve one of his custom sidelong glances and smirked. “Naaaah.“
Both of them burst out laughing. Reno looked over at his friend, and noticed his smile. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that… He snapped out of his trance when Reeve caught him staring.
“You’re probably wondering about the white, right?” the executive asked.
Reno blinked. “Uhh… yeah, I was.” Actually, now that Reeve had brought it up, his initial request for white materia did seem a bit odd…
“I haven’t done the stuff in years. Not since college.”
“What, you run with some kind of hardcore party crowd back then?”
“Not quite, but some of the people I did hang out with were into that stuff.”
“What kinds of people would those be?”
“Del Sol University business majors.”
Reno laughed, knowing exactly what Reeve was talking about. “Yeah, I can kind of see that.”
“I was never quite as into it as those guys were.”
The Turk felt a bit relieved upon hearing this. He’d only touched white twice in his entire life—it was an incredibly potent, and dangerous, drug. “So why are you doing this stuff again now?”
“What other reason is there, Reno? Think about the old legend it was named after. White materia has the power to make all bad things disappear.”
Reno smiled thinly and nodded. He’s taking Scarlet’s affair a lot harder than I thought…

When they arrived at North Corel’s Ropeway Station late in the afternoon, a bellhop and a chocobo handler were already waiting for them. The handler took Reeve and Reno’s birds away, while the bellhop took their bags. The three of them rode the ropeway up to the Gold Saucer, then took a back elevator up to the lavish Executive Suite. After the bellhop dropped their bags off and left, Reeve disappeared into one of the suite’s rooms with the bag of white, while Reno surveyed their surroundings. The suite consisted of five rooms; a living room, two bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom, all of which were large and luxuriant. After having a look around, Reno sat on the sofa, taking out the bag of Zeio and the rolling papers. Around that time, Reeve came back into the living room, wiping away stray white particles from his mustache with the back of his hand, just as Reno started preparing himself a joint. Grinning, the Turk said, “Now this is a pimpin’ pad if I ever saw one! Maybe we should go to Event Square tonight and scout out some curvaceous young chickens.”
Reeve, who started taking off his shoes and his jacket, smirked and answered, “You can pluck all the chicks you want, Reno. I’m not so sure about myself.”
“What do you mean? I thought that was part of the reason why you came here.”
“Perhaps initially, but now that I think about it, there’s something nagging in the back of my mind, and I know it’s going to pester me all weekend.”
“Fuck that! Let’s just have some fun, okay?”
Reeve shrugged. “We’ll see. Besides, it’s not like I said something wasn’t going to happen.”
“Well, that’s good.” Reno paused for a minute. Wait a minute… what exactly did he mean by that? He turned to look at Reeve, who was walking toward the couch, undoing the knot in his tie.
Oh shit…
“You almost done rolling that joint?”
“Oh—yeah.” Reno licked the edge of the paper and sealed it, then twisted the ends. He took out his lighter and held it and the joint out to Reeve. “Here. Since you’re paying for this little vacation, you take the first hit.”
Reeve waved them away. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Reno nodded and lit the joint, his hands trembling nervously as, a few feet away from him, Reeve turned his attention to the buttons on his shirt. The Turk breathed in deeply, prompting a small coughing fit.
“Damn you, Mikey!”
“Something wrong with the zeio?”
“I told him not to give me the Bone Village hippie shit!”
“He gave you Lunar Harp instead of Goblin?”
Reno shook his head. “Yeah. I suppose it’ll have to do. Lunar’s not all that bad, but it’s not the best.”
“You’re so picky,” Reeve snickered.
“Heh,” Reno replied. “Do me a favor, will you? Remind me to kill him next time I’m in Costa del Sol.”
“Will do,” Reeve said as he pulled off his shirt. Reno raised an eyebrow upon seeing his friend’s bare chest; feeling the hastened pounding within his own, he made a conscious effort to maintain his casual exterior.
“Been working out?”
“A little.” After taking a hit from Reno’s joint, Reeve started for the master bedroom. “I’m going to finish changing, then soak in the hot tub for awhile… try and get rid of some of this tension that’s built up inside of me.”
Tension…
“You’re welcome to join me, of course,” Reeve continued.
“I didn’t know there was a hot tub in the bathroom.”
“What did you expect? This is the Executive Suite.”
Reno took another hit and nodded. “True. Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be joining you. I just want to sit here for awhile… to think about things.”
“Suit yourself,” Reeve said as he entered the bedroom and closed the door. Reno stared at that door for a long time.

The following afternoon, the two of them headed down to Battle Square, where Reeve, armed with his materia and a borrowed sword, took out his frustrations on the monsters in the Arena. As Reno watched from the surrounding amphitheater, a man with slicked back hair and a sophisticated demeanor sat down next to him. Despite the whitish-grey color of his hair, he looked to be around Reeve’s age. The Turk took a couple of glances at the man before turning back to the match.
“He a friend of yours?” the man said, pointing to Reeve, who was lunging his Murasame at a Ho-Chu.
“Yeah. My best friend.”
“Good luck to him, though I know he doesn’t need it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Reeve’s just lucky like that.”
Reno raised both his eyebrows. “You know him?”
“Yeah. Went to school with him. Oh, my apologies. I haven’t introduced myself,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m E.G. Kramler—just call me Kramler.”
“Reno Cerise,” replied the redhead, completing the handshake. “Just Reno’s fine.”
“Reno… you’re one of the Shinra Corporation’s Turks, right?”
“That’s right. What do you do?”
“I don’t think you need to concern yourself with that…” Kramler answered, a thin smile on his lips.
Narrowing his eyes at the man, Reno replied, “Don’t press your luck.”
The ending bell rang out from the Battle Arena, when Reeve had voluntarily ended the match. It wasn’t long before he was able to rejoin Reno at the Arena’s entrance, with Kramler following the Turk from close behind. The light armor Reeve had worn in the Arena was gone, replaced with a maroon suit and black shirt with the top three buttons undone. Reno slid on the jacket for his own white suit, the tails of his turquoise shirt left casually untucked. Kramler, sharply dressed in a black suit and black shirt, grinned at Reeve as the executive caught sight of him.
“Been a long time.”
Reeve’s jaw dropped. “Kramler?” He immediately rushed up to the man and greeted him. Suddenly, Kramler drew Reeve aside, just enough so Reno couldn’t overhear anything they said. A moment later, they came back.
“You guys hungry at all?” Kramler asked.
“Well, we haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Reeve replied. “How about we go to the restaurant in Chocobo Square, maybe lay down some money on the birds while we’re at it.”
Reno shrugged. “Fine with me.”
“All right,” said Kramler. “It’s decided then.”
Reeve and Reno walked behind Kramler as they left the Battle Arena. While they were walking down the steps, Reno whispered to Reeve, “What were you guys talking about when he pulled you aside?”
“He wanted to verify that you were cool… that he won’t have any problems with you.”
“Who is he, really?”
Reeve leaned a little closer to Reno’s ear, his voice lowered conspiratorially. “Ever hear of the Gabbiani family?”
Reno had. Taking another look at Kramler’s slick mode of dress, he wasn’t a bit surprised.
They finally reached the bottom of the steps. One by one, they entered the chute that led to Chocobo Square; the Turk, the executive, and the mobster.

While waiting for their chocobo steaks to arrive, Reno idly watched the races while Reeve and Edgar Gabbiani-Kramler carried on a lively conversation, discussing old times in Costa del Sol– back when Reeve was studying architecture and engineering and Kramler accounting– as well as their lives since then. Catching snippets of their banter here and there, Reno learned that Kramler had known the Gabbianis for a while, and eventually married the Don’s niece, but didn’t consider himself to be a part of the mob. Rather, he dabbled extensively in investing, and playing the Great Continent’s emerging money markets. Entrepreneurship was more prevalent on the Great Continent that it was on the Shinra-dominated East Continent, and Kramler had wanted a piece of the action. On his side of things, Reeve told Kramler about his crumbling marriage and his job and responsibilities at Shinra. At one point, the conversation took a different turn.
“So how did you guys get here anyway? By sea? Air?”
“Took the airship Highwind,” Reeve answered, cutting into his chocobo steak. “We executives have that kind of access.”
“Who was piloting, may I ask?”
Reeve gave Kramler a strange look. “Who else? Cid Highwind.”
Kramler took a sip of wine and pondered for a moment. “You know, they’re taking the airship away from him.”
At this point, Reno felt compelled to cut in. “They can’t do that. Cid owns that ship.”
“I know,” Kramler replied. “I helped him finance the building of it.”
Reno and Reeve both paused in their eating to glance at Kramler.
“He called me last week,” the grey-haired man continued. “Said that the Shinra wasn’t satisfied with merely leasing the airship and they forced him to sell it. Didn’t say how they forced him; I’m guessing they made him some sort of deal where they breathe new life into the Space Program.”
“The Company’s not really interested in that sort of thing these days,” said Reeve.
“I figured as much. At any rate, it’s a done deal. Starting next week, I’ll be receiving the Highwind’s loan payments from the Shinra, not from Cid.”
“No wonder he looked so pissed off during our flight,” Reno mused.
“You better watch out, Reeve,” Kramler continued. “I hear you own something like a third of this place, correct?”
Reeve nodded. “That’s right. Dio and Shinra split the other two-thirds. The Gold Saucer was something of a pet project of mine. My share of it cost me a lot of money, and Scarlet was against my financing such a large portion, but I’m happy I did it.”
“With the kind of gil this place generates, the Shinra’s going to want to buy your percentage off of you. Just like they bought the Highwind off of Cid.”
“We’ll see what happens when the time comes—that is, if it comes.”
Reno turned to Reeve. “You mean you’d actually consider selling your part of the Saucer?”
“Honestly, that’s one of the last things I’d want to do, but you know me. I’m not the type to speculate.”
Kramler said to Reno, “He’s probably also told you he doesn’t believe in luck, right?”
“Numerous times,” the Turk replied with a smile.
At that moment, the fanfare sounded on the racetrack. A black chocobo by the name of Teioh had come in first. Reeve flashed his winning ticket.
“Teioh and his jockey Joe are rising stars on the Chocobo Racing circuit. I’ve been watching them for awhile now.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Kramler replied. “So I should bet on them now while the winning’s good, eh?”
Reeve nodded. “Definitely.”
Reno smirked at Reeve, then caught Kramler looking at them from his side of the table, arms folded.
“I should get going now,” he said. “I have to be in North Corel early tomorrow morning. Got some business to take care of there.” Standing up, he extended his hand out to Reeve, who promptly shook it.
“Reeve, be sure to get in touch with my office once you get back to Midgar. I’d like to introduce you to the markets over here. Reno,” Kramler said, his hand moving toward the Turk. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Take care of Lucky for me, all right?” he said with a wink.
Reno shook Kramler’s hand and nodded. “Sure thing.” He looked over at Reeve. “‘Lucky’, eh? An old nickname of yours?”
“Unfortunately,” the executive sighed.

On Sunday, their last night together on this mini-vacation, Reeve and Reno came into their room after a long, eventful day of enjoying the Saucer’s amusements. Both were a little bit drunk, but by this time, they were to the point that the alcohol was just starting to wear off. After making himself a drink, Reeve prepared a line of white materia on the glass coffee table. He offered some to Reno; he declined, and instead pulled the small bag of zeio and rolling papers out from under his jacket. Using a rolled-up thousand-gil note, Reeve snorted the white powder up one of his nostrils and looked up to Reno, his eyes catching sight of the zeio.
“Where’ve you been hiding that stuff? I didn’t know you still had some.”
Reno spread a silly grin across his face and stuck his tongue out at Reeve.
“Fine, be that way.” Reeve took off his jacket, undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt, picked up his vodka martini from the coffee table, and plopped down on the couch. Trying not to stare at Reeve’s exposed chest, Reno walked over to the bar. Reeve gave his friend a funny look.
“I thought you weren’t going to drink any more tonight.”
Reno didn’t answer, didn’t want to tell him that he needed a drink. Instead, he took a swig of brandy, straight from the bottle, and said, “We should get some girls up here tonight, this being our last real chance to do so.”
“What are you implying?” Reeve asked. Reno knew perfectly well that Reeve knew what he was implying.
“C’mon. Neither of us has gotten any all weekend.”
“Well, you had your chance. As for me, I know I’d just feel like a total hypocrite afterwards.”
“Yeah, whatever. Are you absolutely sure about this? C’mon, man, think it over.”
“I’m too busy getting fucked up to think anything over, Reno. The answer’s no. No girls.”
Reno took a couple of hits from the zeio joint before parking it in a nearby ashtray. He then drew both hands to his shirt buttons and struck a mock-sexy pose, flicking the buttons loose of their eyelets one by one.
“C’mon. We’ll get some hot tanned bitch from Costa del Sol, have her perform a little striptease for us…” Reno said, slowly pulling off his shirt, as Reeve chuckled at his parody. Two bracelet-style tribal tattoos ringed the upper part of Reno’s right arm, dark patterns against his otherwise pale skin.
“And then, one at a time, she’ll come on to us, slide on top of our laps…” Reno continued, perching himself on the edge of the couch, and slowly leaning in over Reeve. Their eyes were locked, and Reno noticed a certain dullness in his friend’s irises. No doubt from the white, he thought.
“…and do what-ever-the-fuck-we-want-her-to-do…” Reno finished, his voice simmering down to a whisper as his face leaned in closer to Reeve’s. The older man blinked as Reno, who was now entirely aware of the dry and lonely surface of his own lips, felt his heart race with an intensity that he had previously only imagined.
“Reno… what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The redhead’s bottom lip trembled as he tentatively leaned in closer. Reeve turned his head to one side as Reno’s lips dove for his. They met his cheek instead.
“Get off of me. What the fuck’s gotten into you?”
Reno didn’t answer, and instead pressed his chest against Reeve’s, sliding his legs onto the couch as he did so. Not caring about having missed his initial target, he closed his eyes and moved his mouth up to Reeve’s ear, tracing the inner curve of it with his tongue and teeth, his heavy, lustful breathing against Reeve’s ear.
“That’s it,” Reeve said, before forcefully pushing Reno off of him and into the glass coffee table. Without another word, Reeve stood and stomped off to his bedroom. He not once stopped to look back at the shattered table while Reno quietly slipped into unconsciousness, a pool of blood slowly collecting beneath him.

A few hours later, Reno awoke to find himself laying in a completely different room from the one he had passed out in. All he could see above him was a bright fluorescent light. His body was bare, save for bandages around his torso, left shoulder, and head, as well as white sheets covering him up to his waist. He heard a small gasp, then saw the silhouette of a man looming over him. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the figure became recognizable to Reno, and he suddenly became very tense. It was Reeve, completely sober, his face was wracked with… worry? Remorse? Exhaustion? Reno couldn’t really tell.
After a long silence, Reeve finally said, “Just so you know… they aren’t serious. Your injuries, I mean.”
“My injuries…”
“You—The doctors said you’d be out for awhile, though.”
“Oh well. Where exactly am I, anyway?”
“The infirmary in Battle Square.”
“Okay.”
“Fortunately they didn’t ask too many questions about how you got injured. Don’t know how we’re going to explain this to Tseng, though…”
“Eh? Explai—ahh…”
Reno replayed the evening’s events in his mind as best as he could, finally lowering his eyes when he realized the mistake he had made.
“Listen,” Reeve started, “I’m very sorry I did that. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength. Still, you know how my temper can get… and you were crossing certain lines…”
Reno tried to nod, but found he lacked the strength. “I know, but deep in my heart I was hoping– there isn’t anyone else here, is there?”
Reeve shook his head. Reno continued.
“Well, anyway, I was hoping that you would go along…”
Reeve looked away from Reno and idly scratched the back of his neck. “No. That… would not have been possible.”
“I understand that now.”
There was a long silence. Reeve pulled up a chair from somewhere in the room and sat down next to Reno’s bed.
“Obviously there’s been some sort of miscommunication that’s been going on between us.”
“Reeve, no, that wasn’t it. You’ve been such a good friend to me. I just wanted you to be something more. It’s my fault. I was foisting my own desires onto you–”
“And now you’ve discovered that I can’t be your ’something more’.”
Another long silence. Finally, Reno asked, “How do you feel about me? How do you see our relationship?”
After a small hesitation, Reeve answered, “Reno, you… you’re my best friend.”
“Even now?”
“…Yes. Even now. Even through all this bullshit. Reno, why did you do it?”
“I had to. I couldn’t keep my feelings bottled up anymore. Besides, I didn’t think you’d mind… since you like to take chances and all.”
Reeve shook his head. “Not those kind of chances. Evidently, we don’t know each other as well as we think we do. In my case, I certainly didn’t expect you to… well, you know…”
Reno nodded, and lowered his eyes. “What time is it, anyway? Don’t we have to fly back to Midgar tomorrow?”
“Don’t worry about it. Both of us will be staying here for another couple of days.”
“You’re staying too? But why?”
“To take care of you, obviously,” Reeve said. “I do have to look out for you, you know.”
Reno smiled, “Of course. What are best friends for?”
In return, a small smile broke out from Reeve’s concerned face. “Exactly. Now get some rest. I’ll be back later.”
Reeve stood up and turned out the light as Reno let his head sink deeper into the pillow. The last thing Reno heard before falling asleep was the door closing behind Reeve as he left the room.

The Highwind came to pick them on Wednesday morning, landing in the grassy valley near North Corel. Cid was piloting, and with him was a woman in a long white coat, who he introduced to Reno and Reeve as his assistant Shera. During their journey across the ocean, Cid and Shera spent very little time on the bridge; instead, they wandered all over the airship, apparently savoring the trip while it lasted. When they arrived at Junon’s airport, Reeve shook the pilot’s hand and said, “I met a mutual friend of ours while I was at the Saucer. He told me about the Highwind. I’m sorry you’re being forced to let her go.”
Cid gave him a strange look. “Funny. Never thought I’d hear that from a goddamned Shinra executive, of all people. But yeah… this was my last official trip aboard Lady Luck. Now all I have left is her,” he said, thumbing back to a small seaplane parked near the hangers. “That’s the Tiny Bronco. Shera flew ‘er here so we’d have some way to get home.”
“Well, at least you still have something, right?”
“Ain’t the Highwind, though. It’s like they say, ‘You never know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone’. Words to live by if I ever heard ‘em.”
Reeve nodded. “We should get going. Thanks again for the ride.”
Cid said nothing. As Reeve and Reno walked to the Airport’s platform elevator, the latter looked back at where Cid and Shera were standing. Cid gripped on to Shera tightly, his head leaning against hers and his sky-blue eyes focused on the hovering Highwind.

In the months that followed, Kramler’s prediction came true, in a manner of speaking: Reeve was made a proposal by the Shinra to sell a part of his share of the Gold Saucer. After two months of negotiations, Reeve sold a part of his stake to the Shinra Electric Power Company, giving them a fifty percent majority share of the Saucer’s ownership. In the meantime, Reeve had also begun his business affiliation with Kramler, investing in promising companies located on the Great Continent and making a good deal on the returns.
As for Cid, the manned rocket Shinra No. 26 finally received a launch date, with him as the astronaut, as had been planned from the start. However, the disastrous combination of a rushed schedule and a prolonged safety check led to the launch being aborted at the last minute; afterwards, a proposed relaunch was postponed indefinately.
Finally, in all those months, up until their most recent meeting the day after the Reactor #1 bombing, neither Reeve nor Reno so much as mentioned that trip of theirs to the Gold Saucer.