So… The FFVII Remake is a thing. A glorious thing. In honor of it being officially announced, I am dusting off my ancient fanfic, 'Break'—only.. not. The major plot points will stay the same, but I have decided to add the Advent Children storyline to the universe (I know, I know..) and some minor stuff from Crisis Core. Also, the name of this store is now 'Breaking Point.' ~Please enjoy.
On a side note, I am likely going to be concentrating on this right now. So "Series…" and "Whipping…" are on the back burner at the moment (don't want to say 'hiatus'… but… yeah). Also: #UNBETA'D
1.
He held the photograph out, between forefinger and thumb.
Vincent had not exactly been surprised by the summons. Once his name had been brought to the new regime's attention, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he was contacted. It would have been an easy thing for Tseng, as the new department head, to look him up. Even if there had been a cover-up, the statute of limitations would have passed by now. During his tenure as a TURK, the limit on high-security sealed documents was thirty years—after that, it was considered too old to be dangerous.
He feels like there should be some irony there, but right now he's too numb to be amused by it.
At first the photo merely looked old, but holding it in his hand reveals its true age—and its poor quality. It's a surveillance still from a modern camera but with all the inherent defects found in its predecessors. Despite the grainy image and bad lighting, the person in the picture is unmistakable. The location, however, is not.
"Where was this taken?"
Rufus Shin-Ra might be holding the pieces of a ruined empire but hold them he does, and close to the chest. Vincent knows that anything after the photograph will come at a cost. He is prepared to negotiate.
"So you recognize the subject?"
If it's tit-for-tat, Vincent will be generous. His information is decades too old to carry any real weight, but just old enough to have chronological value, assuming most of the physical records from that time were destroyed along with most of Midgar.
"It's him. –But you knew that already or I wouldn't be here."
There's a file on the desk. Rufus taps it idly; bringing his attention to the fact that there is more to this than what he's holding.
"Maybe we just needed confirmation. There's no one left from that particular time period. Not even a janitor. –We've looked."
He doesn't doubt it. However, if confirmation is all he wanted, Rufus Shin-Ra is going to be very disappointed. –It's a good bluff, delivered by a man who has been under Tseng's careful tutelage, but Vincent knows better.
"Perhaps. But enough of you knew the man, saw him every day that you could have made a sound guess based on what he currently looked like without taking the trouble to bring me in on this."
Tseng shifts slightly from his parade rest; a subtle reminder of his presence. Which isn't necessary. There's no need for unspoken threats; not when it's overshadowed by this potential danger pinched innocuously between his fingers.
Suddenly this dance they are doing becomes tedious. He's too old, too bitter and far too pragmatic. He tosses the photo onto the file.
"What do you need of me?"
Rufus blinks at him for a minute before looking to Tseng, revealing the mastermind behind this little meeting. It's a rookie mistake, but if Tseng is annoyed by it, he makes no indication. Without missing a beat, he takes the reigns.
"We need more than just a picture. We need to know who this man is."
Vincent frowns. Liking that implication far less than the original. The enemy you know is far better than the enemy you don't—especially if it wears the same, albeit younger, skin.
"What more confirmation do you need? You already know-"
Tseng interrupts, playing a card that Vincent had no idea he even had.
"-What I know is that when a man with his sort of clearance dies under… questionable circumstances, his body is seen to with the same care and discretion as afforded by his position. Personally. -By a senior member of staff."
Even though Tseng's being purposely vague, he is familiar with that particular tenet. Thankfully he'd never had to sort that one out himself, though he'd have done so without a second thought. He can easily guess how the body was 'seen to'. Probably into the nearest medical incinerator.
His silence must be taken as doubt, because Tseng continues.
"I oversaw the operation personally. There is no doubt as to what we were dealing with. What is not clear is who or what this is now. Because it cannot be him. A brother, a son or… something else perhaps. But not him."
Vincent contemplates that. He can't fault their reasoning for contacting him. He is the logical choice. And it just so happens they want the same thing. For now. This is still Shin-Ra, however so first—ground rules.
"Very well. If we are to do this, then you need to understand that this is a mutual exchange of information. I do not answer to you, and I reserve the right to bring in others as necessary. -I trust I won't need to worry about the safety of those individuals from your end."
Rufus frowns but Tseng simply nods. They have no real power here, beyond expediency. He wants to know what's they've gathered so far, but he's not going to roll over for it. And at some point he's going to have to tell Cloud.
"That is acceptable, so long as anyone you bring in understands that this is a Shin-Ra matter and will be dealt with as such. No interference will be tolerated once we have decided upon a plan of action. However we will be grateful for your input in the interim."
Typical. They want him to do the foot-work, but whatever he finds out may not even matter when it's all said and done. Still, in the small chance this person is not who they think he is, then interference or no, Vincent will not let an innocent be swept away by something so base as corporate espionage decades in the making.
He reaches out and taps the desk.
"Agreed."
Rufus slides over the folder and sits back, giving him the opportunity to thumb through it. The picture has already been slipped back into its clip. Vincent stares at it for a few moments before concentrating on the text.
And the slim hope that this is a case of mistaken identity eventually becomes very slim indeed.
There!
The barest hint of shifting leaves and they're almost on top of her. Almost. This place, this forest, was her hunting ground and she knows every branch, every bush and every bit of open ground. Eluding her attackers is still a careful dance, but considering there's three of them and one of her—
Wait. Three?
The fourth is suddenly in her path, hands glowing pale green. It won't be anything fatal she knows, but it will be a huge set-back if she's taken. She throws her shuriken, mostly as a distraction, and he drops the spell with a yelp as he evades.
"Princess! Princess, please come back!"
She knows that voice. She knows them all. Of course her father would send them. His four loyal dogs.
She doesn't waste her breath, and concentrates on her escape. It's the only reason she'd been able to avoid them this long. It rankles, because she's defeated them. Seen them bow to her in defeat. But it's one thing to fight one after the other and another entirely to take on all four, together.
There's pride and there's stupidity and Yuffie has no room for either right now.
If they've found her out here, they'll find her anywhere. Staying off the grid is no longer an option. Yuffie has favors to call in, but that kind of protection has an expiration date and she has no idea how long it will take for her father to come to his senses, or at the very least take her threats seriously. No, she needs something deeper. Personal. A friend.
But which one?
She does some quick math and cocks her head to the side to avoid the whisper of drug-tipped darts. Geographically speaking, there's only one place for her to go. It's a ways off; she'll likely need to try and catch a chocobo along the way or she'll be too tired to keep ahead of her pursuers—but once she makes it there, she'll be home free. –At least for a while.
There's a loud snap and a shriek and she almost falters because there is defiance and then there is death until she remembers: Oh. The traps.
Nothing deadly, but more than enough to give her a generous lead. She grins, giving a silent thanks to her paranoid sixteen-year old self, and keeps running.
Somewhere, no too far from the Mythil Mines, a small group convened.
Once the home of a transient miner, the space was just barely big enough for the three of them. Far from ideal, but they had little choice in the matter. Shin-Ra was even harder to hide from now that it had fractured into smaller constituents. Beyond the WRO, Shin-Ra was practically invisible, though they still had their fingers in a number of pots. Along with eyes and ears.
"Sturm. We're starting."
After giving the outside one last glance, the large man left his post and took his place in their rough circle. The ground between them was covered in lines—with markers made of pebbles and other debris. The one called Sturm looked over the assembled 'map' with a critical eye.
"How accurate is this?"
It's a valid concern but the evidence of their accuracy is lying on the floor behind them in various states of unravel. Plans, survey photos and various other bits including a stolen fire exit diagram litter the floor of the small cave.
"It's as accurate as we can get. We know his comings and goings. It will be enough."
Sturm does not look impressed, but offers no complaint. He knows just how hard it was to get the scraps of information they've amassed. He only askes because he also knows they only have one shot at this. They have to get it right.
"So. We are all aware of our roles? This is our last chance for questions, ideas and last-minute concerns."
The three look to each other. It is a heavy burden they bear, but each has committed to this act drawn before them and each has nothing but determination in their gaze. If they do not succeed, then their friends and loved ones will go unavenged and those who ravaged the planet will be free to do so again.
They are the last. AVALANCHE is no more save for the bodies in this dank cavern.
"No? Very well. This time tomorrow, we will have the last of the Shin-Ra in our grasp. Once we do, we shall make him atone for his sins against the Planet. The ruins of Midgar will be his tomb—a fitting epitaph for those who would repeat his mistakes. –For the Planet."
"For the Planet."
"For the Planet."
After they intone the locution, they move to make ready for the morning and the task that looms before them. Rufus Shin-Ra might have survived the destruction of Meteor and ravages of Geostigma, but he could not be allowed to survive this.
For there is no forgiveness without sacrifice. No favor without tribute. For the sake of all his sins and theirs, Rufus Shin-Ra must die.