The Edge of the Coin
Chapter One: The Explosion

Reeve kept his eyes on the computer monitor as he fumbled for his soda can. He was sitting on the carpeted floor of his apartment of top-side Sector Four, programming furiously an artificial personality for his newest robot.

Robots were a passion of his, and always had been; they were the main reason he had pursued engineering to begin with, and it was a relief to be able to come home to a pile of scrap metal, a motherboard, and a screwdriver. There was something comforting in creating an artificial being who served only the purpose that he himself gave it. Automatons were so much better behaved than employees, although in all honesty the men that worked under him in the urban development branch of Shinra, Inc. were good, intelligent men with an eye for architecture and sound ideas about how a city should be run.

Technically, Midgar had a mayor, but Domino was little more than a figurehead, and Reeve and his underlings were the real driving force behind the city. It was the up to the ambitious executive alone to decide which buildings could be constructed and where, to decide how much funding the military police force received, and how much funding went to road repairs or to the fire department. Reeve really was the one who did all of the mayoral duties for the city, but he was happy with the responsibility for he loved Midgar and cared for the city as he would care for a son.

Unfortunately, while he did love most aspects of his job, there was quite a bit of pressure from the president of the huge company to make sure that he was doing everything properly, punctually, and meeting all the budget requirements. His days were full of stress, and there were times when the man felt as if his shoulders would be permanently stiff and his stomach permanently knotted. So, he needed a hobby, and building robots for no purpose other than sheer entertainment was Reeve's.

This particular robot was a cat. It had mostly black fur, although it had some white too, for the underbelly, a triangular white slash across the face, the tips of ears and tail. It wore white gloves, a crimson cape, matching boots and a golden crown. It looked comical, and Reeve couldn't help but grin every time he looked at it. He had named it already, called it Cait Sith after the large black and white cats of stories he'd once heard, but as he had come closer and closer to a final product, modeled the creature more after Puss in Boots. Either way, he was fond of it, found it delightfully goofy, and was excited that he was almost done programming it with an AI that could actually learn as it went. It had started out as just a fortune telling machine, predicting one's future love-life, or perhaps predicting where a lost object might turn up. But as code flowed from his brain to his fingers to his laptop, Reeve had gotten caught up in the joy and challenge, and the project had become so much more. He had high hopes for Cait Sith, and imagined it taking on human attributes such as mimicking emotions, responding to stimuli, holding actual primitive conversations. Programming, however, was thirsty work.

His questing fingers finally found the soda can and as he brought it to his lips, a resounding boom filled the air and the whole world seemed to shake. "The hell!" Reeve jolted, dropping the can of soda, which spilled on his pants and carpet, but Reeve didn't notice as he was running to the window, looking for the source of the noise. He saw nothing, cursed again, and headed back to his working space. He turned on his TV, flipped to the Shinra Information Network, and stared in horror at the screen. Taking in the images of a burnt-out reactor, rubble, fires, and carnage, the announcer's words barely registered in Reeve's brain.

"...destroying the Sector One reactor. Witnesses claim seeing a wild-haired blond man being confronted by MPs, but the man fled the scene before he could be apprehended. There is speculation that this is the work of the terrorist organization AVALANCHE who first made themselves known..."

Vaguely, he heard his cell phone ring and he scrambled to the kitchen area, picking the phone up off the table and answering. "Richard Reeve."

"There's been an explosion." It was the voice of Tseng, the leader of the Turks. Reeve was actually a bit surprised to hear the Wutaian voice on the other end, although he conceded to himself after a moment's deliberation that if the explosion was indeed caused by terrorists, it would be the duty of the Peacekeeping department – the SOLDIERS and the Turks – to squelch the problem.

Reeve nodded dumbly, and although the Wutaiain man surely could not see his nod, he continued then as if he had received the cue. "The Sector One reactor's been sabotaged and nearly completely reduced to rubble. The cause was a bomb set by terrorists; surely the group Avalanche. The area is secure, but you should probably come down here: the whole place stinks of mako."

Lips pursed thoughtfully. If Tseng could smell the mako in an open-air environment, there must be one hell of a leak. That would need to be dealt with, and hopefully there was still enough operational equipment on site to deal with the problem quickly; if citizens were exposed to mako for a prolonged period of time...

Reeve wanted to throw up, wanted to curl into a ball and make someone else deal with the problem. He was thirty-seven years old, but suddenly felt like his body was twice that age, tired and aching. Deferring responsibility to someone else was impossible, and really, he wouldn't trust an operation as important as dealing with a mako leak to anyone else anyway. "I'll be right over. Get people out of the area, tend those wounded from the blast, and take stock of the damages and casualty count. I'll require those upon my arrival." He hung up. It didn't feel right, ordering a Turk around, but he needed that information, and he was theoretically Tseng's superior. Also, Turks were technically the Department of Administrative Research, so let him do some information-gathering.

Without thinking, he was already dialing on his phone, listening to the sound of it ringing, willing his assistant to pick up. When he heard Simon pick up, he began talking, his voice already hoarse in growing worry. "It's Rich. I don't know if you caught it on the news, but the Sector One reactor was just blown up by terrorists. I need you to get in touch with the night crews, as well as some men in the department that are reliable. We're going to need to increase the output of reactors two and eight to provide power for Sector One. The backup generator for emergency systems should have kicked in by now, but it can't last forever, so put priority on providing the hospitals, fire, police, water, and gas places with power. I'm headed down to reactor one now; there's a mako leak. I need the night crews down there ASAP. I'm leaving you in charge of getting everyone where they're supposed to be and diverting power to One." And he hung up, trusting his assisstant implicitly to do as he was told.

Quickly, Reeve threw a jacket on, grabbed his car keys, and exited, forgetting to lock the door in his haste.

Smoke was still pouring from the blast site when Reeve arrived, and he forced his harried self through the crowd of spectators and media persons, both strapping an air filter about his head and seeking Tseng of the Turks or at the very least any other Shinra employee. He did spot the Turk, though, who was also wearing a face mask to help prevent too much mako inhilation and hastened to his side, looking up at the other man, surprised again as he always was with the Wutaian's height. "Did you get the figures I asked for?"

Tseng considered Reeve thoughtfully for a few pregnant moments before he nodded. His facial expression never changed, but Reeve felt that he could see a hint of amusement appearing in the dark man's eyes as he was appraised. There was a faint flicker of an eyebrow when Tseng saw the spot on Reeve's pants from his soda earlier, but Reeve was far too frustrated and nervous to care about his appearance right now. "The damages you can see for yourself. I cleared away the survivors as well as I could. As for casualties, I haven't a complete count yet, but we suspect we lost 78 employees. The other 13 who were scheduled at the time were wounded and already shipped off to the hospital. If there are other survivors in the wreckage. . ." he trailed off, his gaze sweeping over the hollow remains of the Sector One reactor.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, the head of urban development filled in the rest of that sentence in his head. If there were survivors in the wreckage, they were in pain, would probably die there, and even if we managed to pull them out, they'd be suffering from a case of mako poisoning. Suddenly, the thought of those seventy-eight employees being immolated by a fireball seemed quick, humane, and preferable to survival. He nodded, a decisive action that spurred the rest of his body into movement as well. He was already headed toward the reactor when the words came from his mouth. "This place does reek of mako; I'll have to see if the leak is anywhere we have easy access to it because if it's not we'll need to evacuate this whole area."

He had the feeling that Tseng wasn't listening, but did not particularly care. There was quite a bit that needed to be done, and it would be hours, days perhaps, before Reeve would get a moment's rest. Brazenly, he pushed through some of the wreckage, trying to survey the area and find out where the mako was leaking from, where they could still safely move equipment, where they could access the valve system to shut off the mako flow manually – something that was not quite safe to do without preparing the rest of the reactor, but still the easiest method to solve a leak problem.

His thoughts were slipping to the terrorists though. How could people do this? He could understand how people hated Shinra. He'd heard the arguments that mako energy was destroying the world; foolish nonsense, really, mako was perhaps a non-renewable resource, but that's all it was, a resource of the Planet that needed to be harnessed for human use and consumption. He could even almost respect those who felt so strongly against the Shinra empire to smuggle firearms and try to raise hell. Not that it was fair to the MPs who were injured or even killed in such riots, but a military power such as Shinra could only expect opposition of a militant nature.

However, this was inexcusable. The men and women killed tonight were not responsible for any decisions Shinra made. Some of them were probably concerned about the same sorts of things that the rebels were concerned with. They were just people, trying to earn a living, trying to raise families. Hell, he knew what they were paid, and it was probably barely enough to pay for rent in the slums. These people were not warriors, were not decision makers. They were innocent victims.

The figures he had, the tallies his frantic mind was keeping were exclusive to Shinra. He hadn't even begun to factor in the damage done to nearby buildings, the citizens that happened to be nearby during the blast, the many that would suffer mako poisoning even from minimal exposure to diluted forms of the substance.

It was also fortunate that hospitals and emergency facilities had backup power supplies, or there would have been even more casualties. It was one thing to hate Shinra, to sabotage something of Shinra's to spite the company, one thing to pick on SOLDIERs who could at least defend themselves, but this was sabotage of the entire city. This was nearly an act of war, utterly despicable and inexcusable. Reeve faintly tasted bile in the back of his mouth.

He pushed thoughts of the terrorists aside, knowing that the rage they induced in him was counter-productive, would only make his task harder. After looking around, he moved back to the outside of the blast radius, planning out where he'd move machines and people, how he could most easily stop the flow of mako, and so engrossed in his thoughts was he that he almost didn't notice when the night crews arrived, but suddenly there were others, and a blessed man was putting a hardhat on Reeve's head and handing him a megaphone.

The rest of the night was spent barking orders into the megaphone. He couldn't remember later what he had said, what he had ordered, who had done what; his mind was numb and his body had acted on autopilot. He didn't even remember getting to the office that morning, or sitting at his desk. But suddenly he had been there, and the adrenaline was winding down and he felt sick and then he threw up.

-

He looked up blearily, and Tseng was standing over him, still looking amused for some reason. Didn't the bastard have any compassion for those who had lost their lives? "What?" he croaked.

Tseng shrugged, placing a manila folder onto Reeve's desk. "A report on damages to non-company property as well as injuries and deaths of civilians."

Reeve stared blankly. He hadn't asked for those figures; he didn't even want to consider them right now! But of course Tseng had known he'd require that information eventually, and the sooner he looked at it and processed it, the sooner he could make some speech to the media to make Shinra look good, the sooner he could figure out what sorts of costs Shinra was looking at when it made the bold PR move to donate gil to those who had lost homes or businesses or loved ones in the incident. Because Shinra cares.

Really.

He nodded blankly, pulling the folder closer to him and wondered when he heard the accented voice talking again. "...where they will strike next, but most likely the target will be another reactor. We can assume it won't be reactor two as that would be obvious. Heidegger is going to increase security on all the reactors, but please be prepared." Another dumb nod. So no where was really safe was it? Perhaps they should clear the areas near the reactors, but fortunately all but the Sector Three reactor had only businesses near them. Although the Sector Three apartment complex near the reactor was large and might need to be evacuated.

Shit shit shit! His parents lived there; they could be in danger. And no where was really safe; after all, those goddamned terrorists might not strike a reactor. If he moved his parents into a hotel, it would be disgusting irony if the terrorists decided to strike a hotel next. His stomach knotted itself. Anywhere above the plates could be a target, particularly because it seemed that these Avalanche people were not just anti-Shinra but anti-Midgar as well. Probably the only place that was safe was the slums. But he couldn't very well ask his parents to stay down in the slums could he? It was safer from explosions, but there wasn't really a place where one was safe from thieves and thugs. Hell, putting his parents up in a whorehouse until the terrorists were brought to justice would be safer, if somewhat uncomfortable. A whorehouse? What about a love hotel?

Reeve realized he had lost himself in introspection again and looked up to ask Tseng if there was anything else, but the man was already gone and the office door closed. Reeve was only slightly surprised at the man's speed and silence, but while he had little interaction with the Turks throughout the decade and a half that he worked with Shinra, he had known Tseng long enough to not be too terribly surprised by his abrupt and silent arrivals and departures. All the better, he had a phone call to make. He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Yeah, Mom? It's me..." His voice was light, almost cheerful, and it made him sick and bitter at how genuine he sounded. He let himself slip back into his native Junon accent. "Yep, a'course I'm alrigh'... Everythin's taken care of, Ma. Lissen. I was thinkin' that you 'n' dad don' get out much, and mebbe this whole inciden' made me realize life coul' end any time, so y'all shoul' take a vacation now afore somethin' 'appens an' ya can't anymore... Well, no not outside Midgar, a'course. I know Dad can' really travel anymore... Jus', there's this 'otel down inna lower part 'a Midgar called th'Honeybee Inn. I know what it sounds like, but it's a 'otel fer couples in love, an' mebbe y'all need some'in' romantic. Why don' you two stay down there 'n' it'll be my treat? Fer a week or so. Treat yerselves." He nodded unconsciously as his mother deliberated on the other end of the line. "Look, I'll make th'reservations an' I'll letcha know when y'ken check in an' I'll even sen' a cab over so y'don' needa worry 'bout transportation. I'll letcha know when I make th'reservation." And he hung up before she could protest.

It was only a matter of minutes that he set up the reservation with the Honeybee Inn, informed his parents that a cab would be waiting for them in a few hours, and managed to stop worrying about them. The thought of his parents in a place like the 'Bee Inn was somewhat upsetting, but really, it was the safest place for them. And he'd make sure that he could keep an eye on them, too. However, before he worried too much about his parents, there were some reports to file, and some PR speeches to write. Shaking his head, he bent over his desk and returned to work.

The damages were huge, and the reactor's reparation costs in both time and money were astronomical. So he put those aside for now, leaving a post-it note on top of those papers to pull out the blueprints for the reactor later for future reference. He looked through the manila folder now, afraid of what he might find, and feeling sick again. The smell of mako was thick in the air, he realized, and remembered the night's frantic scramble to secure the leak. His clothes must be drenched in the stuff. It smelled awful. But he had to focus, have to look at the numbers as bleak as they surely will be, had to... it was very hard to focus with this headache... his head was swimming and his ears felt full of cotton. The mako stench was really getting to him, wasn't it... the engineer slumped forward onto his desk, passing out ungracefully on a pile of charts and spreadsheets.

((Author's note: Whew. This is my Reeve story. I'm a big Reeve fan and think about his side of the story a little too much, and a friend recently proposed a thought that I'd never considered, and so I'm going to write that side of it for this fic. It'll end up being a bit dark, I do believe.

Looking at it looks like Reeve's been a popular character lately oo I hope you like my interpretation of him. I have a lot of background and personality for him that I was of course unable to include in this chapter, so I put in the big stuff – reactor one exploding, how exactly it is that his parents are there to spy on in the Honeybee Inn, and how he feels about the terrorists. There's a little bit about Cait Sith, but obviously there will be more of that later. It's an awkward place to break the chapter, but I think if I kept on, it would end up being really really long and so I'd rather have a somewhat anticlimactic chapter than a really long meandering one.

It hasn't been edited too much, so really I'd like to edit it and make a final draft of it, so please give me input. Also, give me input for what aspects of him I should bring up in the fic. There's lots of ideas in my head about the character, and I'm not sure what I'm going to include and what I'm going to leave out for the sake of keeping the story interesting. Wow, this is a really long author's note. I'll quit now. Please comment or email. Byebye!))