Disclaimer: I don't own any of the FFVII characters, places, etc.
Chapter 21: Nature of the Job
When Rude encountered Lyn she was hunched over a makeshift table on a plastic crate, staring seriously at the table's contents as she rubbed her lips with her forefinger. Her grayed hair, usually spiked was pushed helter skelter and clumped with heat and her blue coat was crumpled on the floor. Sweat stains stood out around her arm pits, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows and the top buttons undone, the knot of her tie settled between her slight bosom. Whatever held her attention and the other Turks around the table must have been important.
"I'm calling your bluff Tyco," she answered suddenly and thumped a carton of Junon Jezebel's onto the table. As Rude came around them he realized it was a poker match. The other men quickly backed out and the one called Tyco, a stooped man with sharp angles and gaunt features smiled crookedly. He flipped over his hand. Lyn reached into a mountain of loose cigarettes and selected one at random, striking a match on the bottom of her shoe.
"That'll cost even you Lyn," Tyco threatened. Lyn flicked her cards over to gasps.
"I'll let ya have one Tyco, as a consolation prize," Lyn winked an amber eye. Tyco sat agog. "Now then, I smell aftershave," she turned around to face Rude. "Good to see you Darryl. I was afraid you'd leave Red on his own. You're a pair of aces," she flahsed the cards at him, aces in a spade and diamond. "How're your siblings?"
"Taken care of," Rude answered despite the sting in his chest. Lyn swung up. He found himself surprised she was shorter than he was by two inches.
"I suppose in a way that's true," she thumped his chest as she passed him, angling for a window. At the table Tyco was sulking over a cigaret, the other Turks consoling him. Rude followed Lyn to stand in the sticky breeze moving sluggishly up from the port. "Velden's a scam. He's too close with Hojo. Who knows what will get stuck in little Beatrice's system." Rude glanced at her from behind his sunglasses and remained mute.
"Your orders?" he asked at length as Lyn studied the anchored ships and the scars of battle disfiguring the city. She took a long pull and blew out a sigh of smoke.
"I need a bribe," she replied. "Did you know that Wutai has some of the most powerful Materia? They've been cultivating it since before we even knew what it was."
"Materia is?"
"Precisely," Lyn smiled. She crossed the room, cigaret between her teeth, and hefted a slender sword with the slightest arch. A gap in the sheath exposed a green orb. "This is Materia. It harnesses everything from elemental forces to ailments." She put her cigaret out in a glass at Tyco's elbow, selected a fresh one, and returned to the window. She studied the tip hanging from her lips and the Materia began to glow faintly. A spark lit on the end of the cigaret. "It can do much more but this thing is laughable compared to what the Woots have in their arsenal. See Materia becomes stronger with time, can channel more power or whatever it does. Not only that their technique – highly secretive I might add – cultivates it so that it can summon even the Gods themselves. It comes off the cutting block three times what we've managed to do on our own. What I need from you Rude is two things. The first is a ring of prayer beads from the Sun Sect Monks and the second is someone who knows how to make Materia."
"He's a kid Lyn. He don't even know what you're getting him into," Tyco admonished as he swirled the tumbler with her cigaret floating in it. Lyn ignored him as she pushed Rude out the front door and back into the muggy sunshine.
"This is complicated here. Pull up one of those crates. They're ergonomic," she motioned. Rude did as he was told and carefully sat. Lyn was already drawing in the dirt with a stick. "Most of the Woots believe in the diety Leviathan and I hear Godo – their Emperor – controls the Materia that summons him. So almost everyone here puts their faith in that water snake. There's the Sun Sect though that instead puts their faith into Ifrit. The Empress Xíhē is one of these and she has the summon for Ifrit. Godo married her to settle his Kingdom to keep it from another civil war or something. The man killed his big brother for the throne so he's motivated by power. So not every body likes this marriage on either side but they share power for now. Given time Godo would probably off Xíhē too and consolidate so he had both Materia.
"Ordinarily the Sun Sect would blow you off the face of Gaea without a second thought. That being said I need you to kill two Sun Sect monks. And when I say kill them, I want them drowned in secret and then laid out someplace easy to find."
So his first order was to drown two men. Rude felt his insides go still.
"And you leave this with them," she continued without seeming to notice the sudden pallor of his expression. Lyn passed him a parcel wrapped in cloth. "Drape it over the bodies and take the beads they wear around their right arms. You'll recognize them by the suns they tattoo on the backs of their necks and scalps. Here we are and their temple is over the lines on the other end of the city," she tapped out the places she'd etched in the dirt. "You can see it there," she added pointing at a tower glistening in the distance.
"The expert?" Rude reminded her, the cloth in his lap weighing on his conscience.
"Shimmen Wakure. In Wutai they place family names first. Lyn, why are you assigning these high profile risks to children? You may be in charge of a sizeable portion of field operations here but I need actual talent. Your previous boy has yet to return," demanded a man as he handed a file to Rude.
"Have a little faith Verdot," Lyn answered leaning back. "I have contingencies for my contingencies, I promise. You'll be glad you trusted me."
"I'm never glad I trusted you. A quarter of the city was burned out with your last little scheme," Verdot accused gruffly. "And you didn't kill Xíhē either."
"But I made her flaunt Ifrit didn't I?" Lyn replied unruffled. "The more that thing rampages the less people will like it on either side."
"What is this one called?" Verdot sighed like a man much older than he was, perhaps somewhere near forty.
"Darryl Rude," he stood up and extended a hand. Verdot gave it a firm shake.
"Whatever Lyn's promised you results come first," Verdot eyed him suspiciously. Rude just nodded and opened the file. "You'll find Shimmen Wakure firmly entrenched in one of the temples at the feet of Da Chao. That's where most of the craftsmen stay but I want Shimmen. He's the best of the best. Don't botch this or I'll feed you to Xíhē in pieces. You too," he jabbed a finger at Lyn. She gave him a careless smile.
"Suits me boss. I've chosen well. I'll put two months hazard pay on my boys trumping Tseng."
"Don't pull me into this please," responded a mild man coming up the way behind Verdot. His dark hair was pulled back into a pony tail and a small spot decorated the middle of his forehead. Rather than Turk blues he was in a black suit of the same cut. "Anything you touch either burns or will forever have a legacy of blood Lyn."
"Don't be ungrateful whelp," Lyn brushed off the comment as it pressed down on Rude.
"Welcome to Wutai," Tseng offered his hand to Rude. "I understand you are friends with Landon Reno."
"Yes," Rude nodded once as they shook.
"You make for quaint opposites at first glance. Watch yourself out here, Rude. This place takes no prisoners." Tseng's advice was delivered with a piercing stare. He glanced distastefully at Lyn and then ducked into the shanty which seemed to serve as a sort of HQ.
"Under appreciated here," Lyn sighed as she stood up. "Introduce yourself to the SOLDIERs at their base that way. They'll tell you the best place to get over the lines today. Their captain is up north somewhere so that probably leaves Grim in charge. The other Lightning Bugs at their HQ will tell you where to find him."
"Yes ma'am," Rude answered as he looked one last time at the picture of Shimmen Wakure before returning the file to Lyn. He tucked the parcel under one arm and moved in the indicated direction.
If it hadn't been for the death shroud he carried Rude might have been able to appreciate the scenary around him. As it was he could only focus on the consequences of the task at hand. His resolve to best serve Beatrice wavered with the cost.
This wasn't just war he reflected. It was murder. War and murder were two completely separate conflicts. Going out and fighting with the other soldiers was one thing – although he had expected plenty of espionnage working for Lyn – but going out to assassinate hapless monks? It didn't sit quite right.
Rude recognized the SOLDIER headquarters as such by the M.P.s standing guard with their Mako eyes. They merely glanced at him, one's lip curling disdainfully, and let him pass into a significantly larger building rising about three stories. Inside was all wide open space with paper screens thrown open for as much air as possible. Tables had been pushed together and strewn with maps and in one corner equipment was set up. Reno would be able to tell what all the wires and boxes were but to Rude it just looked like slag that should have been rotting in the slums dumping grounds.
The only person here was a young man seated at the equipment with headphones on like the ones Miguel had made him wear in the helicopter. Rather than fuss with the electronics he was idly doodling on a scrap of paper, head propped in his free hand.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for Grim?" Rude said and the young man looked up. He was dressed in the blue uniform of the enlisted. His eyes flicked over Rude's attire and then he pointed towards a half open paper screen. "Thank you," Rude nodded.
Pushing sideways the screen opened fully and Rude was surprised to encounter a Wutain man sitting on the floor behind a low desk reading calmly through bloodied documents as if it were just a novella. His black hair was pulled up into a knot and heavy side burns bristled along his cheeks, bushy eyebrows raising as he looked up at Rude.
"Another cub," he observed as his eyebrows slanted down. "Remove your glasses." Rude did as he was ordered. "You must be friends with the other one that underwent preliminary SOLDIER treatment. Or is this a new habit of the Turks?"
"It's not standard procedure," Rude shook his head.
"So then you wish to cross the lines as he did."
"Please."
Grim studied him for several long moments that made Rude uncomfortable without his sunglasses. People had made so many comments about his mixed heritage and the peculiar glow in his eyes over the years that such genuine inspection tended to set him on edge. Whatever someone had to say it was almost never nice. But the commander didn't say a word. Rather he put away his pages and rose gracefully. Taking a standard issue blade from its place on the floor he secured it to his side.
"Come then. I will take you," he said. Rude replaced his sunglasses. "It is not just anyone who survives the treatment. Take pride in that," Grim advised as he passed. "Hammond. I will retrun shortly. Manage things."
"Sir," the recruit with the equipment hurried to salute, wincing as he banged his hand on one of the behemoth machines.
"I have patience to allow you time to stand without injury," Grim almost smiled as he led Rude back into the sweltering streets.
"Sir," Hammond shouted after them. The guards at the door saluted as well. Grim and Rude proceeded around the building to a row of the most beautiful bikes Rude had ever seen. Nevermind the scrapes and filth of the battlefield the workmanship was beautiful.
"Do you know something of bikes, Turk?" Grim asked. Rude hadn't realized he'd gasped aloud. Found out he placed a hand on one and squatted to examine it.
"Enough," he nodded. A fortune could be made back in Midgar with one of these. He squelched the boyhood memories counting cash with Cassie and Reno and cheering along whatever precarious perch they could find.
"A perk of SOLDIER. Our equipment is always superior to that of the Fenrirs and enlisted." Grim slung a leg over one and turned the key. The bike roared throatily to life and settled into a rumbling purr. "Climb on."
Rude sat behind the Wutain SOLDIER and thrilled as they pulled out into streets of hard packed dirt. The bike didn't ride, it prowled like a big cat. All sleek lines and smooth handling he barely felt road as the wind moved by them fast enough to finally be called cool. The ride was almost intoxicating enough to ignore all the ruined homes and the ravaged possessions, stray dogs and the occaisional flash of a terrified face peeking through broken windows. Almost but not quite.
Grim came to a stop a ways from the river. He took the keys with him as ordinary soldiers in their blue uniforms melted out of the woodwork.
"First Lieutenant Grim! We weren't expecting you sir!" one exclaimed as they saluted crisply.
"As you were. Where's Durmont?"
"Master Sergeant Durmont crossed the river already sir!" the same recruit answered.
"Anyone left on this side?"
"Coporal Darcy is, sir. Down at the Dodgey Bridge," he pointed. Grim nodded and had Rude follow him again along the hastily constructed fences and sprawling barb wire cluttering the river bank. He could feel the shudder of artillery and smelled damp wood and fire at the same time. Nearby a house burst into flames, barely fifteen feet from them. Rude jerked away from it. Blue coats swarmed dumping buckets of water on it and shouting for a hose. Grim merely examined it like a clerk checking inventory.
"This bridge, the 'Da Jia' in local dialect, is one of the last ones standing. Imperial forces have been very good about blowing them all up which makes it hard to move an army about over a big river like the Hibiki. Most of the action is centered here but its also one of the only ways across without taking at least a week to skirt the entire city, assuming you don't enounter either bandits or prowling Imperials. Do me a favor Turk and actually learn the local names of things. I may work for Shin-Ra but please at least do this ancient city the courtesy. You'll get much farther here with respect, even amidst your enemies."
Rude digested the tip as they came upon a scene of blasting shells and explosions. Blue coats were spraying the opposite side of the bridge with machine gun fire as a few exhausted souls hunkered over Materia, their eyes fixed on ethereal barriers that repelled or dampened the return fire. Only one wore the SOLDIER uniform and he was focused with one of the Materia orbs clenched in his gloved fist. He stood with the blue coats in cover, sword drawn in the other hand.
"Take a breather for a few minutes Darcy and ptach up your wounded. I'm crossing," Grim advised. Darcy with his blond mohawk and multiple piercings along his ear barely glanced at the Lieutenant.
"Durmont's across with a mind for the Woot nest in the old silk factory." He flipped the hand holding the sword and moved as if to hurl the weapon. With a crack lightning struck. "Swap out!" Darcy barked as fire started from the sparks on a house on the far bank. Blue coats traded machine guns for Materia with surprising orderliness, Darcy's Materia glow never fading. "Medic!" he yelled.
"Shall we?" Grim unsheathed his sword. There were three Materia embedded at the base of the sword like green eyes. One of them began glowing as Grim advanced down the bridge without concern. Not sure what else to do Rude followed in his wake.
A green mist poured out ahead of them and what must have been Imperial soldiers rapidly back tracked. Their armor was almost scaley with horns on their helmets or snarling face masks. Shouting they gave ground. Unlucky soldiers caught in the mist fell chocking, twitching, and then went still with bloated purple faces. Grim stepped over the fallen as if he were only out stretching his legs. A fireball came hurtling at them and the Lieutenant batted it away with the flat of his blade so it plunged hissing into the wide current.
"Keep up," Grim called before he bolted. Reno gave chase.
His reward was an up close account of wholesale slaughter. On his own Grim literally carved through Imperial soldiers like a hot knife in butter. They fell in droves before him. He found them amidst the broken buildings with preternatural senses and delivered death with maxiumum efficiency. It was all Rude could do to shut out what was happening and keep up.
After butterflying a man Grim plunged his sword into the ground and shockwaves tore through their surroundings. Timber buckled with splintering shrieks, human cries swallowed up in their midst. Rude barely kept his balance in the bloody mud.
"That will buy you a few minutes. There will soon be elites working towards me. Hurry on your errand Turk," Grim instructed, poised like a classical statue.
"Thank you," Rude ducked his head numbly, tongue dry. He scanned the horizon just long enough to pinpoint the Sun Sect temple.
"Take this," Grim added, plucking one of the Materia free. He threw it to Rude. It may as well have been a bloody heart as it landed in Rude's palm. He stared at it as his stomach did backflips. "Explaining Materia is difficult. It will activate when you need it."
Rude could only give him a nod for fear he'd throw up if he opened his mouth. Turning he ran in the direction of the temple and didn't look back.
In his time he had seen some terrible things but nothing had prepared him for this. The images of dismembered bodies and gaping wounds kept replaying in his head, the smell of blood and burning things, the fear. He only stopped running when he could duck into an alley and it was there he realized he'd been crying, tear tracks carving paths through the secondary spatter of blood and grime.
What had he and Reno gotten themselves into?