Equlibrium

A leap

Reality was hard, the grey of congealed sun baked earth. It bore scars, marks left behind before it had hardened. Something as whimsical as the touch of a child or the indifferent oblivious foot of the passerby left a mark. Later, once congealed, cracks were hard to make, but once there they appeared the smallest flaws were disastrous.

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Rufus snorted, more to clear his noise of the combined reek of piss and chemicals from his nose than to express his distaste. The room was bland, but considering he favored the Spartan style the starkness wasn't his complaint. The spider web flaws in a cement wall proclaimed an impact, the scent of chlorine and bleach alluded to a cover up. The evasion served as the heart of his complaint.

"Sir." Breaking the customary silence of his order, the Turk who had followed him from the crush cleared his throat. "We're going to be late."

Letting his eyes thin in distaste, the Shinra turned. He wasn't going to leave or follow the orders of this strange Turk. With a half step he put the break to his back, his eyes traced the path of flight starting from the point of impact.

"Mr. Vice President..."

"Shut up." Rufus snapped. He traced the path with his eyes, then followed it a few steps. How convenient that the most logical course of flight was cast in darkness. Reaching for the wall, he smirked, the military mind was so uniform. Switches were at every intersection, one designated to light each path. With a lazy motion of his hand the blond would flip the switch and the path ahead of him would be illuminated.

A dull clunk told him that something was broke. The soft caress of wires against his hand alluded to... to something more than a mere shot fuse. Despite his attempt the path ahead remained stubbornly dark.

"Mr. Vice President."

Exasperation, worse, a lack of respect, was seeped into those words. To that insult Rufus turned, his lips pressed into a thin hard line, his blue eyes glinting. Head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed in distaste, the Turk met the young man's glare with indifference.

"You're not supposed to go that way." The black clad man's tone was reminiscent of one used for stupid children. Seeing the young Shinra's hands clench and maybe recalling that his Christmas bonus might be on the line if he pissed Rufus off, the man acquired a more conciliatory tone. "You're presence is needed in the main offices on the other side of the building."

"A rather long walk." Rufus countered.

"Blame the new pilot. He landed in the wrong runway."

At the young Shinra's answering smirk the black clad Turk frowned. But despite the intensity of the man's glare the young Shinra didn't bat an eye. Patience broke in less then five minutes. Ill grace and raw temper stained the cheeks of the Turk a ruddy hue.

"You aren't one of Tseng's men." Rufus noted.

Each word was forced between ground calcium and tight lips, still despite these impediments the Turk managed a semi-civil. "With all due respect, Mr. Vice President, we should hurry. We're going to be late."

"All right, I'll come along, but you'll have to excuse me if I walk with my eyes open."

X

The fat man graced him with a glare upon his arrival. As always the fat man was jammed behind a behemoth desk designed to intimidate. Yet exaggerated shows of power and mundane intimidation did nothing to obscure the obtuse truth. The fat man was fat, rather boulder-esk if truth be told. Amused that so much cellulite and congealed oils could even sit without oozing, the least powerful of the Shinra inner circle, nodded his greetings.

A grunt was the President's reply.

Fat man was hardly complimentary –and neo-AVALANCHE slang besides- but it was fitting. The moniker "Old man Shinra" just seemed too affectionate these days.

"Hello Rufus," One face broke out from the mass. It turned to regard his coming, and at least one pair of lips twisted into a smile of greeting. Comforted by the familiar sight of slanted eyes but made uncomfortable by their owner's open show of warmth, Rufus nodded in Reeve's direction. The head of Urban development winked, then turned back to the President.

"Going back to the topic, before the interruption," With those words the Fat man glared at his son, clearly telling all present exactly what the interruption was, Alex Shinra pressed on. "I've gathered all of you to talk of the Avalanche infiltration in the company."

Those gathered were not so base as to be rabble. They were far too advanced to gasp at the revelation, but silence did fall, and into that silence Heidegger chortled. If Alexander Shinra was the "fat man", than Heidegger was his brother. Both men were round-tound, and while there were many physical differences between the two of them there was something in their manner that reminded a viewer of both when just looking at one.

"I can assure you, sir, that we've found the primary opening in our defenses." Heidegger said, and at the last word his chuckle swelled into a harsh booming laugh.

So fat that his stomach jiggled while he laughed, Heidegger could have been a deranged Santa Claus. Disturbed by that image -Rufus was at best nominally Christian after all- the young heir checked a shudder at that thought. While Rufus' father nodded and encouraged Heidegger to continue the young man decided then and there that there would be no Christmas party this year.

Or, if there was, he would not be in attendance.

Alex allowed Heidegger have his chuckle, and when those fat rimmed eyes pressed into small slits it was to mutely tell the head of Midgar's military that it was time to move on to business. Time was money, and money a Shinra's lifeblood after all. Reeve let out a gap jaw yawn as the game of subtle finger pointing began. Heads of each department would doubtlessly blame one another once the fat man got to his point. The half Wutia wasn't interested in who did what, and why, he was the rare breed of executive that wanted a solution, not subtle snipping. Outsiders breaching the business weren't any of Reeve's concern. "Fresh blood" and "new opinions"-even controversial ones- were welcome in his eyes. He didn't consider that this "new blood" would spill old blood. Made oblivious by optimism it would never cross Reeve's mind that these people with controversial opinions would come to a board meeting with a bomb.

The line between radical thinking and terrorism was a blurry one, at best.

Still, Rufus had to check a yawn of his own as the recap dragged on. Why he had to be summoned out of his nice, snug, dry, office to hear a grandiosely given report of the obvious was beyond him. For "concluding something" they were taking a long time to get to the point.

It was then, when his eyes were half closed and his attention wandering, that Heidegger sprung his surprise. And like an immature, sophomoric, magician the fat man's right hand did so with a obnoxious flourish. Pushing his chair back to stand Heidegger struggled to his feet, a cruel smile on his lips.

"These events point to disloyalty amongst the Turks." Heidegger announced, with a smile. "Only they have the wide base of expertise to precipitate these actions against Shinra."

That jolted Rufus wide awake, his eyes flared open at the words. All around him, from all the people at the table, came a surge of surprise. Shock came in the form of a hard drawn breath or a babble of shock, and it took all of Rufus' willpower not to join in.

"And that is why you all are here." Alexander Shinra concluded. "We'll be investigating the Turk branch... most extensively. All of you have contacts with the Turks-" When Reeve opened his mouth to protest Alexander made one pudgy hand slash through the air. "Even acquaintanceship is damning Reeve. As such, when dealing with such a dangerous enemy, it would be disastrous if anything of our intention were to leak out. So, for as long as the investigation pends, I'll request that you remain upon the premises."

"When... when is it going to begin?" Rufus managed to force the words past a dry mouth.

"Even as we speak a squad of SOLDIERs are storming the Turk compound in the Shinra building." Heidegger replied, a wide smile on his face. "I imagine that that alone will be quite a shock for the Wuitian bastard."

Remembering the black clad man that had served as his escort, Rufus glared at his father. "There are Turks' here-" He began.

"What Turks?" Alexander Shinra countered. The picture of cool composure, he laced his thick fingers over his paunch and speared his son with a look loaded with disdain. "There are no Turks here, boy. Not anymore."

With infinite care and wide eyes the young Shinra sank into his chair, and for once there were no sneers, no finger pointing. Embroiled in anger and indignation at the fact that their personal rights were ruthlessly being stripped away, every executive was on their feet, protesting. Shoving his hands into his pocket Rufus fell back into the embrace of his chair. Spasmodically his hands clenched in the white sanctuary of his trench coat's pockets, he grasped for control and composure even as all those around him wallowed in their anger.

This scene -with executives towering over him roaring in anger- was reminiscent of one of his nightmares. Left impotent and powerless he would look up and see them all yelling and screaming as some vital thing came undone. His composure shattered, he'd shoot from his chair, his voice swelling to bring order, only to find his words lost due to their anger…

Save, that this wasn't a dream, and his composure didn't break. His left hand hurt as the edges of his cell phone dug in.

"You've got not right to shove me in some dingy little cell for the sake of security measures!" Scarlet screamed. Her voice was shrill, and Rufus wasn't the only one to wince as she scaled the upper octaves effortlessly. "Damn it, I won't be caged in this stupid fort while you-"

"It seems as if I haven't made myself clear!" The President's voice was a roar, and it thundered effortlessly over the bickering of his subordinates. "You don't have a choice. None of you do. You'll stay here because I'm ordering it-"

Another wave of protest rose, from those with families and those without. Now, even the placid seeming Hojo was protesting, and that protest was preceded by a wild screech. Arguments and logic were spewed into the morass of anger; his though were centered upon the fact that there were various experiments that wouldn't last a day without his attentions.

Civil rights -the head executives of Shinra were learning- were nothing but a fond delusion in the face of a dictator's whim.

With a grimace he shoved his cell phone down as far as it could go into his pocket, and with shaking hands flicked it open. Hidden in the depths of his trench coat his hands pressed on the key pad. All the while he was gathering his feet to join his voice with the protesters around him.