This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! Remember, italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events.
Enjoy...
: : The Past RE-Concluded : :
The days are getting longer, it seems, not because of the seasons, but because of responsibilities.
We've been working so hard to bring Midgar back up from the grave. I never knew that it was so bad down here, that the people were so listless and morose. Even with streets and homes being built or fixed, it feels like we're just making a fancy coffin for ourselves. Crime, poverty, death, ignorance and hatred, it's all festering in this place, feeding off of hope and burying it into the earth. Those who could leave already have, and only the poor remain, only the hopeless and loveless linger in these sectors.
I saw someone kill himself by jumping off a crane. He didn't even struggle in the air, didn't even flinch. When he hit the ground...
God, the sound was horrible. It made me sick all through my body. It was so final. So brief. I felt like I could curl up and die. I think a part of me did.
This can't go on. It has to end before we all end up like him.
- Elena
Turks' Apartment, Sector Four
The electronic alarm went off, a shrill buzzing piercing the silence of the bedroom and disturbing Elena from the deserving rest she sought. She grabbed a handful of quilt and tossed it away, sliding legs off the mattress and standing with a shiver on the cold wood floor. She plodded to the noisesome clock and flicked it off, staring at the hands that read seven AM. She rubbed here eyes and took a deep breath, held it in a second, then exhaled; another day, another challenge. Even though waking at seven was sleeping in for her, being up until one in the morning meant the difference wasn't to her favor. Interviews, reviewing reports, plotting and scheming took up most hours of the day, and her work ethic didn't easily let her quit a task just because of a minor thing like time. Walking throughout the streets of Midgar at the same time compounded that exhaustion. She considered going with Reeve and getting a bicycle of her own.
Sufficiently awake, Elena walked around her bed and to the small dressing cabinet, opening the doors. She took up a brush and began taming her hair, noting in the mirror that it was nearly at shoulder length. Just another thing on the growing list of concerns to worry about later. A hairtie pinned it at the back of her neck, and a bathrobe went over her checkered pajamas. She opened her door and walked down the hall to the kitchen, hearing the shower running in the bathroom. She opened the refrigerator and took out a battered coffee tin, added a scoop of grounds to the brewing machine, poured water, then demanded it make a fresh pot. As it began to gurgle and boil the water, she took out eggs and bread for toast. The smells of breakfast began to accumulate, and hunger brought Elena completely out of her groggy senses. The door to the bathroom opened.
"Breakfast's almost ready," she called at the wall, knowing Rude would hear her.
The brewer began to sputter, droplets of coffee pattering into the pot. Eventually a steady stream began to fill it, and the eggs were nearly done. She dashed in some salt and a little pepper, waiting on the toaster. As soon as it popped up with a clunk, she took the slices out and dropped them on a plate, put an egg on one and sandwiched it for herself. She wished there was ham to add, but meats were on short supply and difficult to find. By the time she finished Rude was walking to her side to take the light meal and a mug for coffee. They sat at the table and ate in silence. It was almost an art the way their morning started, how she finished the preparations just as Rude finished shaving regardless of what there was to eat. The silence was unintentional, however; Rude was never one for idle talk and Elena didn't want to force it on him. Even living together for two months hadn't really broken any barriers between them. She just didn't know what to say. She wished Reno was with them so he would talk up a storm about anything under the sun like he usually did. It had been three days and he hadn't called them or stopped by at all.
Rude stood and took his flatware to the sink, rinsing them clean and putting them into the basin. "Thank you," he added.
"You don't need to," Elena replied.
"I don't want you to feel unappreciated," he continued.
"Rude?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"You may."
Elena fidgeted with her mug, turning it in her hands. She didn't want to ask this, but the question had been burning ever since the night at the Pretty Birdy. What was it that he and that Soldier talked about? Her overthinking of that minute made her think and speculate, invited wild theories and reasons into her considerations. Something about it had convinced her that his attitude, perhaps his whole life, had been deeply affected by whatever he referred to. She took a breath and wished for courage. "What was operation Black Mambo?"
The dead silence prompted her to look at him directly, and she was stunned at his expression. Without his trademark sunglasses to hide his eyes, she could tell that he was genuinely surprised. Somewhere deeper, she imagined that he looked frightened about whatever it was. As the seconds wore on, Elena feared that she offended him or unearthed some horrible memory that he didn't want to recall. She retreated from her question rapidly. "Oh, I'm such an idiot! I shouldn't have asked, I didn't mean anything by it-"
"It's okay," he said. When Elena continued to babble apologies, he took a step closer. "Elena."
Hearing her name paused her rant. "Huh?"
"It's okay, Elena. You haven't upset me."
"But I-"
He held up a hand, ending her apology. "I understand."
"You don't have to answer. It was stupid of me to even ask you something that personal."
Rude sighed, taking his seat and leaning on the surface of the table. "No. I'll answer your question."
"But only if you want to!"
"I do," he answered.
Elena remained silent at his response, wondering just what she got herself into.
Rude took a breath and exhaled, closing his eyes a moment. When he spoke, he remained still and folded his hands together. It looked as if he were pleading his case to a judge, or at a confession. His gaze was lost on the tabletop, staring somewhere other than the present, when he began.
"It was far before your time, or even Reno's, when the operation was carried out. Two years post-Wutai, to be exact. President Shinra, to preserve his wartime powers, inflated the danger of reprisal from Wutai to a boiling point. Wutaian citizens were accused of being spies, of plotting terrorist attacks, of spreading dissent and hatred to the masses. While the danger posed by Wutai was small, it was still substantial. A known nationalist zealot and accomplices had been seen in Midgar, and rumors spread in accordance. The President feared that if enough of these foreign agents began demonstrating it might lead to civil unrest and economic turbulence. Shin-Ra as a government was still too weak to handle such a crisis.
"To amend this problem, he ordered the sector police to investigate the influence of these zealots in the economy. By the time the plan was fully underway, a nationalist edge was seen in nearly all businesses in the Wutaian market. When any investigation was made, their lawyers would defend them harshly and prevent any meaningful insights. The zealots integrated themselves into the market faster than anyone anticipated, and it wasn't long before rumors arose of yakuza behind the scenes. Black Mambo was first created shortly thereafter, calling on two departments to work together. One was Soldier in proxy to the police. The other was a new unit made by the President and created specifically to combat any danger to Shin-Ra as a government, the Turks."
Elena took in the details and burned them into her memory. She hadn't ever heard Rude speak this much before, possibly not in all the time she had known him. It sounded like he knew about this from personal experience, that he had been there since the start. She didn't think he was that old to be there for so many years ago; then again, she didn't even know how old he was.
"The Turks were small, then. Tseng was given command because of and despite his Wutaian heritage and his skill as a negotiator. Others were transferred from Soldier because of their talent, and some from various departments that showed promise. I came from the sector police, narcotics division. We were trained heavily in hand to hand combat, in stealth ops and interrogation. Our skills were tooled specifically to the premise of Black Mambo: we were to infiltrate a Wutaian neighborhood in sector four, make contacts and determine the strength of local yakuza, then storm that same neighborhood in one night and remove the entire organization by capturing the leaders and killing all others whom they controlled. We were justified in our actions and none of the survivors could speak against us; would the yakuza admit their crimes to accuse us of ours?
"By the time Black Mambo was poised to start, the team had to be expanded to accommodate our needs. Since the Turks were special, many Soldiers were brought in and given crash training to compensate. Tseng argued this fault, but the President saw no other alternative. We transferred in starting June tenth, ending the thirteenth. It was two-twenty AM on June fourteenth that Black Mambo was executed. Details are inherently vague due to the nature of the operation, but it was declared as an overall success. Success, however, is variable to the eyes of the public. Two names were given to the atrocities that we committed, to our victories: Kurashido Block and Fujiko House.
"Kurashido Block was the center of the Wutaian neighborhood and home to it's wealthiest businessmen. The Turks, given a chance to use stealth firstmost, kidnapped those men from their homes and took them to the Shin-Ra tower. However, the Soldiers assigned as escort were ambushed by yakuza members. They held their ground so Turks could escape. However, rather than use a calculated retreat as planned, the Soldiers pushed forward and carried the fight back to yakuza safehouses and innocent homes. The firefight lasted through the night until both sides abandoned their quarrel as the sector police wedged itself in to establish control. Nearly eighty yakuza were killed along with fifty civilians in crossfire and as failed hostages. Eight Soldiers died, the remaining twenty two were wounded.
"Fujiko House was the name given to the richest and most influential businessman in the block. We had information that he was the chief of the yakuza for all of Midgar. His home was a mansion surrounded by parks and koi ponds, all public property and clear to the advantage of defenders. Tseng and the most skilled of the Turks were given the task of kidnapping him and his family. The home was protected by loyalists and casualties were many, but eventually entrance was gained. However, Fujiko House did everything possible to prevent any of his family from being taken."
Here Rude paused, mouth working as if to find the right words to describe what came next. "He...he had killed his wife, his father and mother, his sister, his three children, and then himself. He did it before we even gained entry."
Elena held back a gasp, her hands pressed against her mouth. Before she could tell him to stop he continued in that same even voice.
"Black Mambo ended at five-thirty AM a success. The yakuza were broken, several ranking members of an anti-Shin-Ra movement were captured, and carefully administered reports and statements turned this into a well planned military operation to prevent these radicals from attacking the city. Outrage flooded the streets from Wutaian population, but the majority ignored their protests and scorned them into silence. Eventually any negative thought on the operation was forgotten, only a strike against the enemies of Midgar remained in the minds of it's people. The captured yakuza leaders were tried and proven guilty of various crimes, then they quietly disappeared. None of the interrogations led to any further successful action against the yakuza, and their numbers never recovered or garnered such levels of power again. Since then Wutai has taken no aggressive actions against Shin-Ra. The impact of Black Mambo was never truly studied to see if it aided or restrained this change."
Rude ended his speech without finesse, remaining still in his chair. Elena, having since crossed her arms, felt an unwanted shiver run along her spine. The story, the vast amount of information and history, all felt so heavy in her mind. She nearly felt a blush on her cheeks in shame at the actions taken against those people, of the tragedy brought on all those innocents by her company. The Soldier woman with them admitted something about Kurashido Block, and Rude did as well. It struck her suddenly that if he was at Fujiko House, then he must have seen-
"I'm sorry!" she shouted.
He finally looked up. "What for?"
"You were there, and you must've seen...I shouldn't have done this-"
"Elena, I already said that it's okay," Rude reiterated, calming her down. "I meant it. It's in the past. It doesn't bother me any longer."
Elena mouthed apologies, but the words never made it to her lips. Her head hung low, wondering why she kept trying to mend ties that hadn't broken. She looked back to him and saw his expression, his depthless patience. She wondered how he managed it considering the people he associated with. She was glad that he wasn't upset at her.
"I'm sorry for apologizing so much," she said without humor.
"It's alright." He stood and tucked the chair in. "You should bathe, it's already a quarter to eight."
Elena looked at the clock to confirm this. All the talk had been too serious to broach so early in the morning, she felt ready to have a drink and digest everything that he told her. A small smile tugged at her lips as he lit a cigarette and took a drag, exhaling thin wisps of smoke through his nose. Even if it was of a macabre nature, she ended up learning a little more about his past and his life. It was a start.
South Gate, Sector Four
The atmosphere around the sector was morose and solemn, not that it was of any shock; the people of the slums had lost many friends and family members when the meteor wrought its havoc on the plates and the delicate homes below. Ever since they had been trying to unearth the rubble and to honor the dead, to rebuild something from their broken lives, here especially at the entrance to the still ravaged fifth sector. Domino, followed by his long-time assistant Hart Adagio, found himself between emotions in this place. He felt guilty that the city was ruined because Shin-Ra refused to evacuate them when it seemed inevitable that Midgar was to be struck, but also proud that he finally had a chance to correct those errors and prove himself to be worthy of his title. As always, he put up a front of collected wisdom for those who recognized him in the streets, greeting the few who approached. However, there was one person whom the mayor was seeking specifically in the streets.
"That's him," Hart announced, looking just inside the cleared gate to sector five.
"I know," Domino replied, taking measured strides to meet with the person leaning on a fallen hunk of metal. He was barrel chested and muscled like a bull, arms crossed but not well enough to hide the mechanical traces of a gun-arm. He watched Domino from the corner of an eye, but otherwise showed no sign of activity. When they were close enough to speak, the mayor folded his hands in front of himself and tried to look placid and mannered. "Hello, mister Wallace."
"An' how-de-do to you, mister mayor," Barret drawled.
"I'm glad you decided to meet with me."
"I'm a busy man, Domino, so get to the point."
"Right." Domino nervously smoothed his tie. "You've heard about the murders happening in sector three, correct?"
"Yup."
"And how we think this person might be ex-Soldier?"
"Yup."
"We've been gathering people who have knowledge on how to fight a person such as this." Domino gesticulated towards him. "I'm certain that Reeve asked you if you would help, but I thought I might see you personally. Would you be willing to help us catch this killer?"
Barret sucked air between his teeth, then sighed briefly. "Nope."
"May I ask why?"
He suddenly turned and scowled at the mayor. "Why the hell do you think? You think I ain't got enough trouble here, huh?" He pointed to the sector with his gun arm, the metal glinting in the sun. "It's gonna take a long time to fix this up, an' now you want me to leave? Forget it!"
"But this man has already killed twelve people!"
"So what! That many people are dyin' each day 'cause they ain't got food or homes. Somebody's gotta help them!"
"This is more important than that."
Barret nearly collided with the mayor as he stepped close and roared at him. "More important?! What the fuck are you on? You even know what's going on out here? You want me t' just leave these people on their own?"
"We have evidence as to his pattern and his territory. All we need is the manpower to bring him in!"
"Look, I'm gonna be honest here. I don't give a shit. All I want t' do is rebuild an' help people do the same. If you need manpower, get some of those Shin-Ra fuckers t' do it. I'm sure a man like you still has influence with them."
Domino frowned, tried of patience. "I wouldn't dare seek out Shin-Ra affiliates after what they've done."
"Except yourself, right? 'Cause you were just some poor flunky who had to follow orders, right?"
"My involvement with Shin-Ra isn't the point here! I'm trying to undo the damage that madman did to my city, and this serial killer is only making it worse! I need people like you to help me accomplish that!"
"You're fuckin' crazy, Domino."
"No, I'm trying my hardest to unite this city so we can purge it of undesirables and make it livable again!"
"Well, good luck on that."
Barret turned to leave, and Domino stepped forward to plead his case. "Mister Wallace, I need your help!"
"We all need it," the burly man scoffed, walking away from the mayor and past the gate.
"I thought you were a leader, Barret! I thought you of anyone would understand why we need to work together to stop evil like this!"
"I've had enough of leadin'," he answered loudly. "Was never good at it, anyway."
Domino let the words die on his mouth as he saw that the man's pace wasn't slowing at all, and that following him didn't look like it would help matters. He had been so hopeful that the one time leader of Avalanche would be willing to help, especially since he knew these slums better than most people did. It would have even meant having others along with him! But all that was lost to his irrational, stubborn defiance. The mayor let his scowl harden as Barret rounded a curve in the gate and disappeared into the sector.
"Well played," Hart commented.
"Be quiet," Domino snapped, immediately taking out his phone and speed dialing his office. It rang twice before his secretary picked up.
"Mayor's office."
"It's me, Estrella."
"Mister Domino?"
"Yes. Get the directory and start looking for other candidates. I'm on my way back."
"How did-" Her voice was cut short as he closed his phone and began stalking back towards his electric powered towncar and driver. It was going to be a long and arduous task to bring this madness to an end.
Somewhere in Sector Three
The body was floppish and refused to keep itself arranged neatly on his shoulder. He counted it yet another nuisance of being so long legged and skinny.
Still, the benefits to such an attribute was worth the negative; the cat and mouse games were all the more enjoyable when the rodent was just as quick and agile as he. The pursuits lasted for hours through the maze of homes and rubble, across rooftops and along drainage pipes. He had to admit that the youth was a challenge despite no signs of formal training. The streets alone were enough to tone the slummers with endurance and wiry strength, and this one was iconic of that trait. It was a shame he simply couldn't endure enough. This kind of determination was something the soft plate-dwellers could never achieve on their own. Natural selection was slowly pruning the city of undesirables so that only the worthy could survive. It was becoming a sort of eden for him.
He stopped at the end of the alley, hiding in the shadow while peeking out into the empty street. The morning hour meant few people were awake and outside. He considered waiting until nightfall to dodge the risk of being seen, but that would mean a full trip here and back plus a day wasted in hiding. He looked again, stood still while his eyes inspected homes and structures for movement or life. No sound of motion, no trace of light. The odds were set, worsening with every second passing. He stepped out of the alley and walked several steps from the entrance, flipped the youth off his back and set him carefully against the wall, ensuring he would not slip. He checked the hand again to ensure his mark was not smudged and noted it was satisfactory. He stood, and at that moment a uniformed policeman walked out of a doorway and looked at him.
Despite years of training and an instinct to keep oneself hidden from identification, there was a moment when he and the officer stared at one another and didn't move. The brain took a logical step, asking itself if this was truly occurring, and found no reason to consider otherwise. The following logical thought was a warning screaming at him to move damn it and get the hell out of sight! He bolted, and the policeman pursued.
He tore down the alley for the intersection, knowing a ladder was to the right that would grant him the roofs and a speedier escape.
"Stop!" the officer cried.
The killer paid him no attention, only focusing on the flight. The intersection was only a dozen meters away. The sound of the pursuing footsteps slowed, and a gunshot rang out loudly through the wood and brick alley. Pain erupted from his shoulder, not enough to incapacitate, but a nuisance and hindrance to his rhythm. He reached out and grabbed the corner of the home, using it to pull him around the corner and out of line of sight. The ladder was there, and he took to the rungs and climbed with haste. He flung himself over the edge and landed on the roof, resting on his back and listening hard for the sound of the officer chasing him. Scuffles echoed up from below, started and stopping as if the man was pacing. The steps started, then the ladder winced from someone climbing up. The killer rolled over onto his stomach, spreading his legs out and forcing his feet to grip as strong as they could to the surface. One hand lay ready to help push, the other coiled in anticipation. He waited as the ladder wobbled, getting louder. If the cop was so intent to find him, he would grant him that pleasure.
The officer's head and gun hand rose up, and the killer struck with a ferocious right hook to the jaw. The blow stunned the man long enough for him to scramble forward, left hand grabbing a wrist and eliminating the gun, the other darting out in another strike. The officer was in a hopeless situation, but kept climbing so he wouldn't risk a fall. The killer got on his knees, grabbed the officer's shirt collar, then stood and yanked him upright and continued into a bodyslam on the uneven rooftop. He applied crushing force to the man's wrist until the gun slid out of his fingers. He took the weapon and threw it down to the alley, then stood and waited for the officer to recover. The policeman scooted back, eyes focused despite a bloody nose, and his hand darted down to his ankle. The killer pounced, grabbing the tiny revolver and wrestled for control of the weapon. They stood and shuffled, grunting with effort, hands prying at one another in desperation. The killer suddenly pulled back, spun on his heel, then threw the officer off the home and to the alley fifteen feet below. A muffled crack sounded, and the killer knew it was over. He leaned over the edge to look, then dropped down easily. The officer lay on his back, left leg twisted in a way it wasn't meant to move.
"This is officer Piper!" the man gasped. "The serial killer is-"
The killer sprinted forward and delivered a brutal kick to the man's jaw, splitting his lips before he could say anything more. He then stomped on the man's right hand, splintering the case of his radio. He did it several times more, enjoying the sound of bone snapping and plastic cracking, all of it intermingled with yelps from the officer. Done, he stooped and picked the officer up by the bulk of his shirt. He looked into the man's eyes, daring him to even try and keep up his resistence. The officer could barely keep his eyes looking at one spot, his tongue inspecting the harm befallen his face. Beneath the pain, the killer felt the officer's anger roiling inside. He almost felt pity that such fierceness was hampered by weak flesh. Perhaps there was more to him? A little more to discover?
He smiled, revealing his teeth in a predatory fashion. "You'll do."
Delikatessen, Sector Three
The morning regulars were used to the high number of police that arrived throughout the hours the café was open, but hesitated when glancing at a table occupied mainly with suits and grave expressions. The only one not dressed for business bore a stare and observant eye that was just as foreboding. The waitress who served them gained the unspoken sympathy of a great many customers as she took down nervous requests for breakfast and coffee.
"So," Reeve began. "Have we made any progress?"
"Not really," Elena replied. "Rude and I have been researching the notes you gave us, but they aren't very useful. So far the only pattern we've got is that each of his victim's are physically fit. Not sculpted or anything, but healthy."
"That's something."
Atma shifted in her seat. "Two people can confirm the identity of the seventh victim. She was a television actor turned prostitute by Meteor named Marle. She held no one location for her use, but moved with the demand."
"Good." Reeve pulled out some crisp papers from a folder and set them on the table. "I managed to convince Domino to convince Varik to give me the full reports on the earlier victims. These are the first five."
Both Atma and Elena reached out for them, hands nearly touching one another. The Turk looked at the Soldier, met her eyes a moment, then retreated. Atma took up the first two documents, leaving Elena the other three. As they began scanning the notes, Rude turned his head to look at Reeve.
"What of Domino's decision?"
Reeve shook his head. "No chance. Yet."
"Yet?"
"I'm thinking ahead. Once we catch this killer, Domino will have to admit that he was wrong about the Turks, that they have a place here. Maybe that will help convince him to bring you on."
"As what?"
"Probably what you are now, an elite group to hunt extremely dangerous criminals. A far cry from what you used to do, but it's something. I suspect that...excuse me." Reeve reached into his coat pocket and took out his vibrating phone, flipping it open. "Yes?"
The voice on the other end was loud, and Reeve's eyes widened at something he said. "When?" His free hand began reaching for his pocket, grabbing his wallet. "I'm at Delikatessen with the others, we'll need a lift. Okay. Okay, see ya!" He snapped the phone closed and shoved it into his coat, then hurriedly drew out several bills for their unprepared meal.
"What is it?" Elena asked.
"The serial killer. An officer radioed in, but his connection was lost. Varik thinks he's being attacked."
The others didn't waste time with needless questions and instead began gathering their things. They slid out of the booth and hurried to the street, keeping an eye out for any of the police trucks that were sure to be rolling out of the precinct. It took a minute, but two of the monstrous vehicles pulled out from behind the building, rolling towards them and stopping with a squeal of worn brakes. The rear door of the lead opened and a harried looking Varik leaned out, gesturing for them to hurry. Reeve led the way, climbing up and sitting in the parachute chairs bolted to the sides. Other officers dressed in riot equipment inspected their gear as the truck lurched forward to the scene of the incident.
"So who's all this?" Varik asked.
Reeve grinned, motioning to the others who sat on the same side as him. "Atma you know. The others are Elena and Rude, former Turks."
As he expected, Varik's face turned a shade of red. "T-Turks?! First a Soldier, and now Turks?!"
Reeve nodded. "Yep."
The chief of police struggled with himself, hands clenched. He pounded the side of the truck in frustration. "Goddamn it, Reeve, you're setting them up to take over again!"
"Face it, Varik, a lot of them are going to be part of the new Midgar eventually. After what happened, I doubt any of them would ever try to go that route again."
"You really believe that, don't you?"
"Yes."
Varik sat there for several seconds before he shook his head. "I give up. I can't do it. I can't understand how you can just ignore everything they've done to us. I can't understand why you would let them have another chance to screw us over."
"Hey," Elena spoke up, leaning forward to look directly at the chief. "we're not all like that."
"Oh yes you are," Varik retorted.
"Don't you dare talk like you know me."
"Oh, I know your type. I understand your motivations. You'll just wait for a weakness and-"
"Understand this!" she snarled, cutting him off. "We want to rebuild our lives just as much as you do! I'm going to do everything I can to make Midgar great again. We all are. If you're going to fight us the whole way, then leave and let us work in peace."
"Like hell I will! Midgar needs people like me to control you bastards so it doesn't end up back where it was. You're the worst kind of monsters, and I'm not giving you an inch more than you deserve."
"Elena-"
"Shut up, Reeve," she snapped, leveling her glare straight at Varik's eyes. "We've all done terrible things in our lives, but that doesn't mean we can't change, or should be denied a chance to prove we can! You just watch us, Varik, watch and see. We'll work just as hard as the next guy to earn our keep, and to start, we'll find and capture this murderer. Something your whole department can't do."
"Good luck with that you-"
"Okay!" Reeve barked, looking at his comrades and the officer. "Quit it! Working together is more important than bickering about the past."
"Those who forget the past..." Varik quoted.
"And I haven't, Varik, so don't infer that I have. How much farther is it?"
Varik stood and leaned forward to peer out the passenger window. "Almost there."
"Good."
He sat back down, drawing out a large, polished revolver. He nudged the cylinder out to see all six bullets, then homed it back into his shoulder holster. "Check your weapons and your partner's weapons," he ordered. "We'll have to double-time it if we want to bag this shithead. Remember to disable him, I want him alive if possible. Understood?"
"Yessir!" the officers chimed together.
Varik began talking for the benefit of the others. "Officer Piper was checking a disturbance in one of the old apartments, but it was a false call. We think he found the killer and tried to arrest him. We don't know anything else, so be careful. Are you armed?"
Atma nodded and Elena opened her jacket to reveal a holster on her side.
"I haven't used a gun in a while," Reeve admitted. He wished he had the sense to keep the equipment he needed to command the toysaurus Cait Sith, but he relinquished the cat and controls to the city for safe keeping. The meager practice he had at a firing range wouldn't suffice in this scenario.
"What about you?" the chief asked of Rude.
"I don't use guns," he replied flatly.
Varik shook his head. "Crazy fuckers..."
"He's fine," Elena insisted. "No one wants to mess with a Turk hand to hand."
"Well, I hope the killer is willing to oblige him, then." He looked to the driver. "ETA?"
"One more block. Another patrol radioed in and found a body. They found a service revolver down an alley. No sign of Piper."
"Shit." Varik pounded his boot on the floor of the truck. "You guys ready?"
"Yeah!" the officers replied.
"Gonna give it your all?"
"Hell yeah!" they replied.
"Gonna let that son of a bitch know what we're made of?"
"Fuck yeah!"
"Alright!" Varik shouted. The truck lurched to a stop, and the chief nearly flew down the tiny aisle and slammed his fist on the open trigger, the door whipping out. "Let's get to it! Move move move!"
The officers roared and leapt out of the truck, immediately checking their perimeter and securing their position. They were all armed with lightweight, semi-automatic rifles that were typical of Shin-Ra grunts. By the time Varik and the others got out, they were already spreading out to cover alleys. The police from the patrol joined them, having donned bullet-proof vests in place of body armor, handguns at the ready. They motioned to the direction the killer took down.
"Okay!" Varik barked, clearly in his role. "Everyone down that alley! Three men down each split and one for the next! Radio man, start networking! I want a five block perimeter up in three minutes past this spot! Have all volunteer units on standby for quick shifts! Get lockdown...no, scratch that, get word to the mayor!" He looked at Reeve and his collaborators, hesitating only a moment in his orders. "Reeve, help man the comm. You three on me!"
The chief turned and jogged towards the alley, Elena and Rude following closely while Atma lingered a stride behind. Reeve went to the second truck that followed them, stepping into the back where a bulky radio console sat against the driver and passenger seats. The man sitting there glanced back, then held out a headset and motioned to a second spot next to him.
"What do I do?" Reeve asked.
"Take down locations, intersections, and write 'em out. Gotta cover their positions the old fashioned way," the radio man instructed.
Reeve nodded his understanding, then put on the headset and began to wait.
Elena tried to get her body to loosen up, to resist getting tense from the pursuit. She knew that her body wouldn't be able to react fast enough if she didn't. Rude looked impervious to the chase, and the police chief and the ex-Soldier both looked fine. The route they chose was simple: keep running in the same direction while taking the closest if not the same alley or street. It was simple logic since the other police were covering the left and right. If they had luck on their side, they could establish a perimeter around the place where the killer might be and could squeeze him out. Firstly, they had to make sure the killer didn't run straight through the blocks to get as far away from the scene as he could.
The seconds passed by slowly, each one noted by a sharp glance and deep breath. After several blocks they didn't slow down, and Varik seemed single minded to continue running like the crow flies through the broken streets. By the time that Elena wondered if they had lost the killer, the chief skidded to a stop. She nearly collided with him, but saw his arm dart up with his magnum aimed at something ahead. She drew her firearm and held it at the ready, trying to see who the officer was intimidating.
"Stand up!" Varik ordered. "Hands where I can see them!"
The person, a man now that Elena saw him, didn't move except to crane his head at the visitors to his napping spot. She immediately noted the brighter than normal irises sitting in the shadow like a cheshire cat. A Soldier without question. He almost looked a natural part of the ruin, clothes filthy and his skin covered in smudges and dirt. His gaze, though, lent itself a predatory feeling.
"Get up!" the chief barked again, taking a step forward. "Get your hands up! Move!"
The Soldier suddenly leapt from his place like a spring, and Varik only managed a single curse before limbs and hands tangled in his own and dragged him down to the earth. Elena stood back, hesitated for a second as she debated keeping her gun trained on him or to stoop and try to wrest them apart. Without such restraint, Rude grabbed the Soldier roughly by his shoulder with both hands, pulling and kicking his feet into the dirt for traction. It took several seconds, but Soldier and officer were separated, and Rude used the momentum to throw the rogue down the alley on uneasy feet. A series of loud gunshots rang out in even intervals, each bullet making the man jolt and twist.
"Hold your fire!" Varik screamed.
Atma didn't listen to his order, only focused on the target. He fell onto the ground after the fourth round, at which she ceased and lowered her firearm. The chief stood and looked at her, eyes wide in anger. The gun hand rose a little as if it were necessary.
"I said to hold your goddamn fire!" he yelled at her. "I wanted him alive!"
"He isn't dead," she replied.
Varik choked on his retort, head snapping back to look at where the rogue lay. Sure enough, the man was wiggling on the ground and trying to lean up on his elbows. Four distinct red splotches were staining his shirt, all centralized on his ribcage and sternum. The chief took only a moment's grace to silently complement the woman's grouping, spending the rest in mute surprise. He took out his radio and held it in for a frequency wide alert buzz, then brought it to his mouth. "All units, code eighty one. We are eight blocks from base, straight line, over."
The radio hissed with static. "Copy that. Code twenty, over."
"Copy." Varik put his radio back onto his belt. He then lifted his revolver again and kept his distance from the wounded rogue. "Now you gonna listen?"
"Screw you, mister," the Soldier snarled, seemingly winded from being shot and nothing more. "Why you shootin' at me? What'd I do, fuck your mother?"
"Better think twice before talking shit, tough guy." He faltered in his anger when Rude stepped next to him, lifting a hand to ward off his outburst. "What?"
"I'll restrain him," Rude spoke.
"Now hold on...!"
"Big shot, eh?" the Soldier chuckled, getting to his feet despite his wounds. "Let's get it on, then!"
Rude approached, hands at his sides and suit still immaculate, looking all the executive rather than trained killer. The rogue did the same, but shifted his balance from foot to foot in irregular patterns. Without any obvious prelude he charged ahead, hands already up to strike or grapple. Rude, having watched the man's arms, saw the motion a second before it occurred and adjusted his stance to prepare his response. As if choreographed, the Turk grabbed the Soldier's hand as he tried to sucker punch his jaw, spun on his heels, and threw the offender face first into the dirt. With a violent twist, he locked the arm in place and elicited a growl of pain from the suspect. With a foot firmly planted on the man's shoulders, Rude stooped and grabbed at his other wrist and pulled it back so that Varik could approach and snap handcuffs onto him. Once they clicked shut, the Soldier seemed to lose all his anger and lay limp on the dirt. Elena and Atma kept their guns trained on the man the entire time.
Varik looked up at Rude, grinning a moment. "Not bad."
Rude didn't respond, stepping back to the sideline.
"What was the radio call?" Elena asked.
"Prisoner truck. He'll be here in a minute." He looked down at the wounded Soldier, prodding him with his boot. "You going to last that long?"
"I'm gonna kill your family and make you watch, you prick!"
Varik snorted a chuckle. "Sure..."
"You think this is the guy?" Elena asked.
"I don't know, but he's Soldier, so he's guilty of something. Maybe he even knows where the psycho is hiding out." The chief kicked the Soldier roughly to get his attention. "You heard. Any of your buddies gone off the deep end lately? Started killing people and writing numbers on them? You the one doing it?"
The man rolled his head to glare up at the officer. "I'm innocent of whatever you're accusin' me about, pig."
"Then who's been doing all the killing?"
"How the hell would I know?"
"You're fucking Soldier, dickhead."
"Oh yeah, perfect excuse." He spat on Varik's shoe. "Get bent. I'm just tryin' to survive out here. Hell, half these people are losin' their heads as is! You think I'm keeping track of 'em all?"
"What I think is that you rejects stick together. Got any friends here?"
"They all died with Meteor. Been wanderin' since."
"Tragic." The sound of an engine came from the street they passed, gaining in strength. Varik chuckled and grinned. "Last chance, guy."
"Or what?"
"Or you don't get on my good side and I turn an eye if you happen to have a fall or three."
The Soldier grinned, revealing dirty teeth. "Sounds like fun, chief."
Varik's grin was equally malicious. "Oh, it will be."