Stairway:

Chapter two

Slinky... slinky...

A/N: When I was little I had a slinky... And I was wondering, what do you get when you mix more stairs than one can count, Tseng, and a slinky together... This is the answer my mind provided. Written to "Tattered Slippers", by DrakeSword.

He'd had the song stuck in his head for two days now. It was undignified to hum it, even more so to sing it, so he mentally writhed and squirmed as the simple lyrics ran through his head. It was torture; it went beyond cruel and unusual punishment and was torture. There was no other way to describe it.

The song was also fast becoming grounds for murder, fingering his gun he considered what would happen. As a Turk he was allowed to kill in the name of the Shinra, would the law look the other way if he killed for pleasure? Frowning he mounted the stairs. It had become his custom to eschew the elevator, and it was good exercise besides... Carelessly tromping over dust bunnies Tseng kicked aside what debris he found, making a mental tag to inform someone that the janitorial staff had been slacking again. As he began the first circuit a strange noise caught his ears, he stiffened, waited...

Shink shink..

He froze for less than a heartbeat, whirled... His gun cleared the holster in a second, he whirled, crouched. Some instinct telling him that the originator of the strange sound was coming in low.

Shink shink shink...

It rounded the corner, it's gait was a kind of lumpish rising and falling that made it shuffle forward. Fingering the trigger Tseng waited for it to shuffle into the light before shooting. After all, it might be some rouge creature from the Labs, and he didn't have enough power or knew anyone with enough rank to shield him from his own folly. Tseng squinted, his body still as he studied the thing. In the darkness it seemed... skeletal, flesh coiled upon flesh so tightly it could have been a coil. Then the thing made a grandiose sweep over itself and "stepped" out into the light.

It was all he could do not to shoot it, even though he knew it was harmless.

Shink shink shink...

Metal reached over itself, its own weight and gravity enough to propel it down the stairs. With a growl the Turk slid his gun in its holster and stared at the thing the abomination, that Reeve, newest head of urban development had completed. Undisturbed by his hostility the Slinky stepped down a few more miniature ledges with ponderous care to come to a stop at his foot. A faint glow shimmered around the thing, a shard of Barrier materia spread a faint force field around the toy, and it gently pushed off his shoe and began its slow way to the nearest wall. There, barrier power depleted it, it lost its momentum and came to a stop.

Frowning, Tseng picked it up, it tried to slither through his fingers, its weight drew it to the ground. Tightening his grip, the Turk stared at it for a long time, and then looked up at a muffled noise that was not related to the much hated Slinky at all. Annoyed green eyes fixed on him, the white clad boy frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

So engrossed in the toy Tseng had failed to realize he was alone. Granted he'd assumed since no one liked this dingy place save one other, and that other was fond of the higher levels not the lower... It was unprofessional of him, and as a Turk unprofessionalism could get him killed.

"If you're done trying to break paper weight, I'd like it back now."

Rufus Shinra flashed him a quick grin, then dropped it with his stereo typical scowl. Mutely Tseng handled the thing with the air of a man who held a dead rat. His expression saying louder than words just how close he was to pitching it over the edge of the rail.

"And I'm supposed to believe..." A quick glance reassured the Turk they were alone, so the young man allowed himself to speak as he would like, rather than how he must. "that this-" he jingled the toy. "-just got up and carried itself down the stairs?"

"That would be nice." Rufus admitted. "You must admit," The young Shinra added in response to Tseng's answering scowl, "-that it does walk all on its own."

"Out the door and down the stairs?" Tseng pressed, unbelieving. "However does it manage door knobs?"

"Simple." Rufus smirked. "It doesn't. I took the elevator up to the top floor and put it on the stairway at midnight."

Checking his watch Tseng scowled. "It is currently seven fifteen."

The boy shrugged, his eyes never leaving the toy.

"You have exactly fifteen minutes to take the elevator up to your room, change into clean clothes and meet me at the first floor so I can take you to school." Rufus yawned, tried to say something, but it came out somewhat jumbled by the gapping jaws. Still, experience told Tseng what the boy was going to say, or maybe it was exposure. "And this... this thing is going into my pocket until you prove responsible enough to have it back."

Rufus whined a little, but the sleepy grumble was cut off by the stern no-nonsense glare Tseng pinned on him. Tseng had stared younger Turks and many overzealous reporters and photographers into the dirt with that look. Those who could generally did run screaming from the frosty death promising gaze. Rufus only turned on his heel and marched up the stairs, chagrined, but not shaken.

Rufus wasn't concerned about the Turk telling on him to his father. Rufus knew with the surety of childhood that he had little to fear from Tseng. Tseng was the man who had guarded his play, the one man who wouldn't report this "stunt" to the President. He reported little to his superiors, and the cold hard truth was that he reported nothing to the President. Even though he held the inglorious position of "babysitter to the brat" he never strived for promotion, never pined for power, or played the political or assassination games of his betters.

He merely took Rufus to school, picked the boy up, and guarded him every second he wasn't on the school grounds. Sometimes -rarely- he would lounge in the boy's suite, watched the child struggle with his boredom and school work, and when asked, he offered his assistance. Rufus, in turn, would rarely seek the sanctuary of the stairway, making Tseng's job a great deal easier. The long winding path that folded upon itself and cut a zig-zag path up the flank of the Shinra building was filled with dangers, the least of them being the dust bunnies that coated the boy's leggings a dull grey. Assassins could be anywhere, and a zealot, would not be deterred by the dark dank path. White on black, Rufus would stand out swathed in his favorite color, oblivious to the world for his play... one madman, one bullet... Tseng banished the thought, and idly stuffed the toy into his suit pocket and began his way down. He paused in the main entry way, brushing dust from his hands and leggings, ignoring the scandalized glare of some secretary making her way past him.

With every step the Slinky chinked, it was a light sound that followed him were mildly curious, but dismissive. So long as he didn't talk no one paid heed to him, he was just another Turk to the world.

Just another Turk... with a Slinky in his pocket and an annoying advertisement tune stuck in his head. With a sigh, Tseng waited and considered asking Rufus if he could kill Reeve.