"You know something... The business wasn't always like this. I mean, sure, it always involved a little immorality here and there but not to the point it is now. It's gotten to the point in our society that it's all becoming too easy. Now, don't get me wrong. In our business it's good for it to be easy. Difficult is not how you want everything that God throws at you. However, the problem is, the business has ceased to be hard. There's no skill in it anymore. That's why I don't like being in this business. I'm constantly paranoid I am just some figurehead with no skills. That's why this business is such a dangerous business. You never really know what's going on. Maybe paranoia could become a good thing. Who knows? All I knows is that I don't like the current direction of my organization. And, it's not as much that I want out... It's more along the lines of I want to stop being a meaningless figurehead. I want to get in on the ground floor and taste the goods. My business isn't my business. It's somebody else's business. I want my business... to be my business."
Rufus gave his speech to his reflection in the mirror. He was working on combing out his blond hair as he spoke.
"No... that's a little too straight forward..." Rufus muttered in reference to his practice speech.
Finally he finished everything he had to do in the bathroom and walked over to his closet. He pulled out his suit and slipped it on, all the while contemplating his words. He had to be cautious about them, for they could get him killed. He picked up a book off his bedside table and tossed it aside to reveal a pack of cigarettes. He snatched one from the box and lit it with a lighter that sat next to the pack. He then just sat on the edge of his bed blowing smoke rings.
Rufus's apartment was a pretty nice place. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, full kitchen. It was a nice place. Sadly, Rufus was one of those people known not to ever be content with anything. He wanted more... and he knew there was more out there. His father, the President of his family's corporation, had houses from Midgar to Wutai and he had them all fully furnished. His father had a good business going both over the table and under the table. Rufus, despite being the president's son, wasn't quite respected. He was known through the organization as a hotheaded guy. The president, though he loved Rufus, knew that he was not one to be trusted with powerful business ventures and put him rather low on the totem pole. All the while, Rufus thought he was in when reality... He was out. Lately he began to notice the deception going on all around him. He wanted what was coming to him. He glanced at his watch. It was about nine o' clock. It was time to go pick up his father.
"Good morning Midgar! It's eight o'clock and going to be another miserable one today! Again, cloudy and a chance of rain for the afternoon. Hopefully we'll have a nice cold front come through by the end of the week but I'm not promising anything, folks."
President Shinra opened his heavy eyelids. He had stayed out all night working. It wasn't good to get up this early in the morning. He pulled the checkered covers over his head before extending his arm and slamming the radio with his fist. He tried to escape back to the paradise of sleep but was soon interrupted once again by the sounds of monotony.
"Sharon! C'mon, honey, you're gonna' be late!"
"Mom, have you seen my earrings?"
"Hey, mom."
"Paul, you're awake. Sit down, I just made breakfast."
The president flung the covers off his head and looked at the wall with a scowl on his face. God how he loathed his mornings.
President Shinra had shaved, brushed his teeth, and taken a shower before he finally emerged into the kitchen downstairs in his business clothes: a dress shirt and some slacks. He strolled over to his spot at the kitchen table where his daughter, Sharon, was quickly eating her eggs. She was all dolled up and ready for school in a skirt that was too short and shirt that was too low. However, he knew better than to object. He wasn't in the mood for such a fight with his young blond daughter this morning.
"Slow down, you'll get a stomach ache." He remarked as he patted her on the head She just glowered back at him as a response. He just shook his head and snatched his newspaper off the table. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the other girl in the house walk through the door.
"Hun, you're up... finally." His wife, Jean, mocked with a smile
She flicked her brown hair back from in front of her eyes as she opened the refrigerator door to fetch the milk
"Hey, we're all entitled to our beauty sleep." Her husband fired back, leaning back in his chair
"Really, Vincent, coming in at those late hours is killing you in the mornings."
"I was busy." Was all Vincent, the President of Shinra, could say as he read his paper
"Busy with what?" Sharon inquired
"Business. Don't you have school to get to?" Vincent changed the subject quickly
"Yes..." she rolled her eyes
She then got up and grabbed her backpack and purse off a chair by the doorway. She then proceeded out the front door. Vincent heard the door close and threw the paper on the table.
"Business, eh?" Jean raised an eyebrow
Vincent nodded as if he had an illusion that his wife didn't know what was going on.
"Business." He repeated
A toilet flushed behind Vincent. He turned around in his chair slowly to look at the door of the bathroom adjacent to the kitchen. He saw the door open and a young man step out, combing back his brown hair. The man's eyes turned to Vincent and he just nodded. Vincent did the same.
"When did you get here?" Vincent asked
"Last night." The man said
"He showed up last night while you were conducting your business, Vincent. He thought that it might be good for him to come down and spend some time with the family." Jean lightened the mood a bit
Vincent just stared at the man with a forced smile.
"You didn't call or anything? I could have made arrangements." Vincent said, faking hospitality
"I thought it would be a good surprise... You know... for Sharon."
"I'm sure it was, Paul." Vincent turned back to his paper
And then there was a moment of silence.
"Oh, I have to get something out of my car. I'll be right back." Paul informed them
"Alright." Vincent muttered
For the second time that morning Vincent heard the front door close.
"You let him stay here!?" Vincent suppressed his anger
"He's our son, Vincent! It's the least we can do!" Jean spoke firmly
"He is our son that as soon as we told him about my work he goes off to collage and after that zoom. Straight into the Feds. It's like he hates me. What did I do wrong?"
"That's something you and him are going to have to straighten out Vincent."
Another door opened. This time, the back door.
"Hey, dad, you up yet?" a voice called out
"In here Rufus."
Rufus walked into the kitchen where his parents were staring each other down with force. They each had problems with Paul coming to stay with them. But, unfortunately, Jean was able to look past them.
"Uh... is there a problem?" Rufus questioned
The front door opened. The problem just walked through the door.
"Damn, they weren't in my car... Did I leave my sunglasses in here?" Paul questioned without seeing the newest person in the kitchen
Rufus just looked at him with distain.
"Oh, Rufus. Hi..." Paul spoke warily
"How ya' doin'?" Rufus answered
"Fine."
"Good...," a pause, "Well, Dad we better get outta' here."
"Yeah, sure Rufus. Hold on a sec, will you?" Vincent strolled into the bathroom
He opened up the mirrored medicine cabinet and took out a small bottle of Tylenol. Vincent got regular headaches. He took two with water and walked back out to the kitchen.
"Let's go." Vincent tapped Rufus on the shoulder as he walked to the door Rufus hugged his mother and gave a final nod to Paul. He then followed his father out of the house and closed the door.
"So what was he doing home?" Rufus broke the silence
Rufus and his father had been riding in the car for about fifteen minutes until the quietness of Vincent's anger became too much.
"Fuck if I know. He thinks it's still his house or something... I got news for him! I don't want him in my house. I don't want him near my daughter." Vincent burst out
"Maybe you should just listen to whatever it is he has to say." Rufus turned the wheel of the car as he made the suggestion
Vincent just stared at his son for a moment.
"Listen to him? I listened to him for years. How crime was wrong and he was going to make it his sworn duty to clean the fucking streets. Who do you think he was talking about? What did I do as a father to make him hate me so much?"
"Maybe he really just hates crime."
"Well, I don't see why. My organization financed his schooling. I got that brat whatever he wanted when he was a kid. I paid for his collage. I made him the head agent at whatever branch of the Feds he works for!"
"Well... Paul always has been... ya' know... independent."
"What do you mean?" Vincent inquired
"Maybe he resents the fact he was brought up on crime, the very thing he loathes."
Vincent just stared at his son again.
"What are you? A fucking physiatrist now?"
Rufus turned his attention away from his angry father and concentrated on driving once more. When they came to another stoplight Rufus tapped his fingers on the wheel. He then remembered what he wanted to talk to his father about.
"Hey... Dad..." Rufus started
"What?" Vincent spat back
"Well... er... uh..." Rufus had trouble forming the way he wanted to say it
The light turned green and once again, they were off.
"Well?" his father asked impatiently
"I'm a figurehead." Rufus said plainly
Vincent raised one eyebrow, "What?"
"What I mean is... I have skill."
"Okay..."
"But... being skilled is easy..."
"God damn it, Rufus, if you don't stop being so cryptic about this shit I'm gonna' knock you on your ass."
"What I mean is... in this business the people in charge aren't in charge. And... the people that are in training to be in charge... are never gonna' be in charge."
"You have skills to drive a car, right?" Vincent asked
"What? Yeah, of course." Rufus replied still looking at his father
"Then use those skills."
"What?" Rufus questioned as he turned his head back to the road
He saw, looming in front of him, a line of cars stopped at a stoplight. Reacting quickly he slammed on the breaks and the car stopped with an amazing screech. Rufus grasp his wheel, knuckles white with fear while his father took a cigarette from his inside coat pocket and lit it. He took a drag before he spoke again.
"This business is a lot like driving. You should only concentrate at one thing at a time." Vincent remarked
Rufus wasn't sure if his father had somehow sieved through his gibberish and found what he was trying to say. He wasn't about to press the subject either. He was still recovering from his near accident.