Disclaimer: Again, I do not own FFVII or any related locations, terms, etc. I own solely my OCs and the majority of the plotline. Thank you to Gunshot Romance for the translations of the Before Crisis video game. So as a side, note, the next few chapters are spoilers if you haven't played that game. Lots of thanks & love to Rebellious Turk who is my -cough-slave-cough- beta.
The Fading Skyline
Chapter IV: Of Rookies and Terrorists
"What's your pleasure? Rifles, sniper rifles, ah, bazooka isn't really an option for anyone but MPs…. But we got machine guns and—"
"Handguns," Myria decided. To her, and to her now slaughtered gang, there was nothing more value. Easy to use, simple for drive-bys, easy to conceal, effective, plus, it was a model she was already familiar with. "Got any?"
It had taken awhile —several beat downs, one broken finger, countless bullet-ridden paper targets, infinite bruises and two tackles, to be exact— before the Company deemed Myria "worthy" to do anything for them other than play punching bag. For Marisol, it was a very long two weeks. Myria had yet to find any permanent residence for the two of them, but each night she swore she would find a nice apartment the next day. That was usually said after Myria kicked off her shoes in the doorway to their hotel room and did a belly flop onto their bed. Work, it would seem, was getting the best of her. "Mami," Marisol whined as Myria made her way over to bed one night. "I want to do something fun."
Her eighteen year old guardian sighed heavily before dropping her weight onto the bed the toddler was sitting on, causing Marisol to bounce briefly into the air. "Watch television," Myria groaned as she pulled a pillow close to her face and nuzzled into it. Marisol frowned and grabbed onto the pillow. "Let go," the eldest warned quietly.
"No." The young girl started to lean backwards and tried to pull it away.
"Let me sleeeep."
"No! You haven't played with me at all since we came here!"
Pushing her face harder into the pillow to try and keep her toddler from stealing it, Myria closed her eyes. "We didn't come here, niña, we were taken here. Against our will. Now give me my pillow or else."
"But I'm bored."
"Watch TV."
"But I'm hungry."
"You know how to use the microwave. Make yourself something."
"But I want chicken and fried rice, with that spicy stuff you put in it and—"
"Marisol!" Her mother's sudden shout made the girl jump. Usually, Myria was patient with her and she would spoil the younger girl. But now…
"Please, Marisol, I'm begging you. I'll play with you tomorrow but please, let me sleep—I have to be ready to patrol Sector 8 in six hours."
This bit of information caught the young girl's interest. She let go of the pillow and nudged her mother gently on the back. "A job?" Marisol asked curiously. She could hear Myria chuckle.
"A mission," the woman corrected. "To… help keep everyone safe."
"Like what Jefe did back home…."
Myria couldn't help but grimace. Fortunately though, the pillow blocked her sour expression. "Yes," she said, after a few moments. "Just like what Jefe did…."
By the time her alarm rang at, Myria rolled out of the bed on autopilot. She had been used to not getting a lot of sleep back in Costa del Sol but not because she had to wake up to work; all of the best parties were just heating up at this time. But waking up at this god forsaken hour… "There better not be a crisis," she muttered as she groped around in the dark for her fresh, crisp, new uniform she had received only yesterday.
"It makes us both official!" Jayden cheered when he saw her carrying the large cloth bag. He might act like a kid, but she had found out personally that he knew a lot about how to deal damage to an opponent. Any bruises or injuries she got on her hands were from his nunchaku weapons, which were made of two wooden handles attached to a thick metal chain. He didn't seem all that dangerous when she first met him, but her left middle finger (which was in still in a splint to heal) had taught her otherwise.
Glancing back at Marisol's sleeping figure, Myria tucked the small girl back under the covers before taking a cold shower to wake up and then getting dressed. She was ready in twenty minutes, giving her just enough time to make it over to Sector 8 by 2:15. Almost as soon as she reached the Sector, her PHS rang.
"Myria," she announced in a dull voice.
On the other end of the phone was Tseng. "These are your orders: you're to patrol Sector 8. This is standard work for all new Turks. It's company tradition. Your seniors- Rude and Reno, and even myself- started off with this work."
"So you want me bring in any suspicious characters causing trouble?"
Tseng started to say something but he cleared his throat. "This Sector is fairly peaceful, so I doubt you'll run into any big problems."
"Tch. Sounds like a bore…."
"You're not the first to do this. Look at this work as you would a real mission. This job should get you used to your future duties- ones where there will actually be risks."
She didn't quite buy the idea that you could do anything in a Turk uniform and not be at risk. "And should a problem arise?"
"There's another rookie who has been on call since two. If anything happens, the two of you will rendezvous. You'll both be reporting back to me regardless of what happens. Understood?"
Myria sighed. It was going to be a long graveyard shift. "Roger; leave Sector 8 to me." She snapped her cell phone shut and slipped it into her jacket's breast pocket. Behind her cell rested her brand new Shin-Ra Employee ID card. She jammed her hands in her pants pocket and started walking around. There was a slight chill in the air and the fact that she had two metal handguns tucked into a belt holster at her waist did nothing to warm her up.
After a few minutes of glancing around the empty streets, she saw that she was the only one there. All the shops were closed and the people were tucked safely away in their beds. There was also a feral looking cat sleeping on the sidewalk a half a dozen yards ahead of her. Without reason, it suddenly woke up with a jolt and took off running. It was odd, but not quite a reason to cause alarm- yet.
"Veld, sir!" It was rumored amongst the Turks that Tseng was a vampire, or at the very least some other creature of the night that required little or no sleep. He certainly was not going to receive any tonight. Opening the door to Veld's office, he repeated his commander's name until the older man looked up. There surprisingly wasn't any worry or urgency in his voice as he informed Veld of the status of Sector 8. "There seems to be a disturbance within Sector 8. There have been reports of men threatening to attack the Company."
Veld looked up, face betraying no emotions as he asked, "And has this been looked into?"
Tseng breathed in slowly. "We have two operatives on sight. One of our newest recruits was the one to inform me of the threats."
"What of the other? Who else is there?"
"Myria Delgado, the one from Costa."
"She has been informed of the situation?"
Tseng tensed. He had hoped this wouldn't come up. "No, sir," he replied quietly.
"No?" Veld questioned, eyes narrowed. "Tseng, if there is any threat against this company, no matter how insignificant it may seem, there needs to be more than one rookie looking into it."
"Yes, sir." Tseng tried to maintain eye contact with his superior, though it was hard to while getting reprimanded.
"What do we know so far?"
"Not much," Tseng answered honestly. "They appear to be some sort of organized group. The numbers seem small, but we haven't found their exact location as of yet."
Veld nodded. "I'm not comfortable with two newcomers handling this situation. Keep me informed and see is you can get someone else in there to act as support."
"Sir." Tseng bowed his head and excused himself.
Outside of Veld's office, he hit the speed dial for Myria- a feature he had installed for all of the Turks. When the ringing ended, he cut straight to the chase. "Have you been attacked yet?"
From the other end of the phone, he could hear Myria make a sound like she was amused. "Not yet, boss."
He would correct her on how to address him later. "Have seen any of the terrorists?"
"What terrorists?" she hissed. "Damn it! This was a set up from the start wasn't it? That's why you have me up at this god forsaken hour when there'll be no witness. You're gonna do me off anyway-"
Myria—"
"Asshole, I signed your damn paper. I said I'd join your fruit cake fleet—"
"Myria! This isn't a set up," Tseng snapped into the phone. "There's a group that might be trying to attack the Company. Get to the Mako Reactor as fast as you can."
"I'm near the theater, which way?"
"North-East. Capture anyone involved and try and get information from them."
From the other end of the phone, Myria took a deep breath. "Roger that. I'm on my way," she announced before snapping her phone shut.
After Tseng's call, Myria broke out into a run towards the Mako reactor, unclasping her gun holsters as she went. While this was the last place on Gaia she wanted to be, she knew her hide was tanned if she messed up. Complete compliance meant she couldn't refuse a mission. Even if she might die now she was guaranteed to die if the Company disliked what she did.
As she near what she assumed was the Mako reactor- or at least what she assumed was the reactor, as she had never actually seen one- she could hear people shouting. No, that wasn't true. First she heard an explosion and smoke began to rise from the reactor's front then she heard the shouting.
"The Turks!" For a moment, she thought her cover was blown and she pulled out one handgun, whipping around to see that whoever shouted that was not next to her. There was a group of men in dark brown military uniforms complete with berets and goggles covering their eyes several feet away. Most of them carried rifles.
"We're not letting you through," another man declared. "There's no getting out."
Glancing out from behind a building, Myria tried to see who they were crowding around. One man moved to make room for another rebel and she could see that the other Turk Tseng had told her about was getting circled. His or her back was to her, but she could make out a red circular weapon in his or her hand and auburn hair.
"We're not letting you get away with this, Shin-Ra traitor! Don't think you're getting out of here alive!"
That was it. Raising her gun she took a rough aim at a rebel who was off to the side, far enough from the second Turk to not worry about hitting her comrade. She let off three shots into the rebel's side as quick as she could. Two hit his torso and one went through his neck.
"What the hell was that?"
The entire group turned, and three rebels to look at who had fired at their fallen ally. "Shin-Ra scum," they repeated before taking aim at Myria who was already running towards them, firing towards their legs. The men each shot once or twice before one went down from Myria's bullets and the other looked like they had been whacked upside the head.
"Get away from me!" The last standing rebel shouted before turning around to face his nearest foe—the Turk Myria had come to the rescue of. As he began to fire, the second Turk threw their weapon at the rebel, knocking the rifle out of the man's hands.
"Who are you?" the other Turk demanded. Myria could see, now that she was closer, that her ally was a young woman with a surprisingly soft and sweet sounding voice. "What are you trying to accomplish?"
Wide eyed, the rebel quickly shook his head. "D-down with Shin-Ra!" he shouted as he turned tail and began to run off. The auburn haired Turk immediately began to pursue him when Myria grabbed her by the arm.
"What are you doing?!" the captive Turk demanded.
"Tseng's orders were to protect the rector," Myria stated simply.
"And they were also to get information." The other woman scowled and crossed her arms. "How old are you anyway? Fifteen? You're just a kid." While Myria didn't acknowledge or recognize it, there was a hint of concern in the woman's voice. Her brown eyes glowed sympathetically, as if she knew the whole story behind the Costan's enlistment.
"Eighteen," Myria corrected with a voice filled of Costan pride. She glanced at the brunette skeptically. "You don't look much older. How old are you?"
"Now, now, it's not polite to ask a lady her age, is it?"
"I'll let you know when I see one." Myria smirked.
The other woman looked like she was about to say something back when both of their PHS phones went off.
"Tseng?" the girl answered.
"This is really important," Tseng began, "so I want you both to pay close attention! The entrance to the reactor's underground entrance has been blasted open—"
"No shit," the Costan snorted. She couldn't see what had gone off in the explosion as she arrived but it was either a secret entrance or the organization was creating their own.
The light skinned woman looked appalled at how Myria was speaking to a superior. "It's my fault, sir," she apologized. "I got overwhelmed, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about that right now, Cissnei. Now listen to me, the intruders are aiming for the reactor itself. Stop them from reaching it." Both women nodded.
"Roger."
"Yes sir."
Closing her phone, Myria glanced at the other woman. "Cissnei, is it?"
The woman smiled. "That's what they call me. I take it you're my back up then?"
Laughing, the Costan shook her head. "No, no, Cissnei. I'm not your back up—you're my meat shield."
