I'm sorry I only manage to post the chapter today, but work overwhelmed me at the weekend again and when I was about to upload the chapter, I decided that I didn't like it the way it was and rewrote it again.

So, now, we come to Rufus' promised mistake but I suppose it won't come as a great surprise (even without the title already giving it away).

Chapter 25: Rufus: Hubris

Tseng was waiting for him next to the table, but he wasn't looking at Rufus when he approached. He was looking after Elena and Tifa, too.

"You look preoccupied." Tseng gave him only a short look before he turned his eyes away again and Rufus thought that he wasn't the only one who did when he took up a glass of water. "A strange evening, isn't it?"

Tseng signified a shrug and refused the seat Rufus offered him. "Not stranger than most other evenings, Shachou."

Rufus placed his glass on the table. Tseng hadn't been looking after Elena and Tifa he had noticed. Only after Elena. He wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved for Elena that Tseng was finally showing some interest in her. After all, if that interest increased, Tseng might show less interest in him. "Well, I hope they'll find something, soon. If they are quick enough they'll save me from a dance with that lady of the house." He sneered.

"Then, they'll have to be really quick," Tseng observed without even a battering an eyelid and nodded over his shoulder.

Rufus drained his glass. "I hope she sprains her ankle."

"Don't see to it."

Rufus smirked and flipped his mobile open, connecting it to Tseng's who picked up after the first ring. "Record what we say. I'm sure it's going to be boring, but if she knows something, I'm going to worm it out of her empty head."

"You really shouldn't underestimate them, Rufus. I don't think they are quite as stupid and quite as banal as you think. Please be careful." Tseng's face was serious when he looked up from his mobile and the seriousness in it didn't suit Rufus at all.

"I don't think them stupid, Tseng. Shallow, perhaps, but not stupid. Don't worry." Tseng was worrying far too much again. Had worried far too much so far.

Tseng just gave him a stern look. He wasn't believing him. He didn't want him to be here and only the argument that there wasn't much of another way to get into this house and get to the information quickly had persuaded him.

Rufus slipped his activated mobile into his pocket. "My, Tseng, I'll just do some talking. Before it gets dangerous, we'll all be off and you can call the tower to unleash a firestorm here, whatever."

By now, he could hear Isolde approach and Tseng frowned, still. "We only need to know that they are responsible for the murders and who 'they' is. Please remember that. Don't be reckless."

"Rufus! There you are! My, I'm sorry to keep you waiting; I was engaged for sooo long! – Won't you ask me for a dance?" She winked very heavily and Rufus felt aversion rising simultaneously with the thrill of the prospect to worm a confession out of a murderer. He turned around with a smile. This would be very amusing.

"Why, Isolde, of course, if you'll do me the honour!" He let himself be taken by the arm although usually, he would have forbidden such an action.

"So?" He probed after he had been silent for several moments. He could see that she was boiling with anticipation. "What are you going to tell me?"

She feigned ignorance. "Who said I was?"

"You just hinted you would." He tried to sound rather bored to make her even more eager to tell him. She who, if he had been just any man, would have gladly killed him. Playing with fire had always given him a thrill, even though he doubted very much they would lay a finger on him even if they found out. After all, he was the heir of Shin-Ra. Good for him she only judged by appearance and money.

She grinned stupidly. "Well, first at all, I'll have to check if we are of one mind."

"How couldn't we?" He replied with a smug grin and turned her around her axis.

She laughed. "Right you are! – What do you think about White Geostigma?"

Rufus had to force down the laugher that was building up in his throat. How could she even be asking such a question after the opening speech she had given?

"Why," he replied and took full enjoyment out of the lie. "It's disgusting! Those people who are infected with it are an embarrassment to the town!"

"Yes! Are they not!" Isolde beamed but then, her eyes had caught fire. "Did you know – they are responsible for the entire misery we are in! – Have you read the scientific reports? They have sinned against the planet! They are the ones who took away all the happiness! Because of them, Midgar was destroyed! They carried their evil doing into our wonderful town! And our planet tried to rid itself from them! – That's what Geostigma was, you know! The planet tried to clean away all the sinners! All those devils who were working for Sephiroth! But there are too many, and many of them hid themselves and made other, innocent, die instead! But now, the planet has found out about everybody and marked all the guilty ones! As long as they still walk the surface of this planet, a better future won't be possible! They'll destroy it, just like they destroyed our glorious past! So, we have to purge them from the surface of this world!"

Rufus narrowed his eyes. It seemed very much that she meant what she said. Her eyes were aglow with the idea, and he smirked. This was getting better and better. "My – that sounds like quite a task! I can only admire your zeal!"

Her face glowed. "Do you? Do you indeed?"

Rufus studied her, coolly, while beaming on the outside and asked himself how she could indeed believe what she was saying. With even a little sense, one had to realize that her reasoning was complete nonsense. Then again, people had – and believed still – even greater nonsense then this. And too much money gave rise to boredom, the loss of money rise to bad feelings and on going boredom rise to strange ideas which first started out as little thoughts but the more one talked, the more they continued to folly or fanatic ideas. And talk there was enough within the nobility. The problem with Isolde was that she was too stupid to see how silly her logic was, even if one pointed it out to her. Or maybe she wasn't. He had never been quite sure of that. Maybe she was just too shallow to care as long as things amused her.

So, he agreed only carefully to what she had said to have her say more.

"But – oh! You think I'm just talking randomly! You must not think so! I'm not! No, I tell you! – They are clever, those White-spotted devils! But we will find them all and we'll wash them free of theirs sins and save this planet!" She had to stop to catch her breath, her eyes were glowing like coals, so very different from the way Tifa's eyes glowed. And yet, once, Tifa's eyes must have been alive with a similar fanaticism. "And afterwards – afterwards, everything will be like before again! – That's what you want, too, don't you? That everything is like before!"

"Oh, of course I wish for that! If Midgar could only be that beautiful town again! If my father only were still alive to rule on!" he agreed, hiding the sarcasm behind enthusiasm. Just a little further and they would be able to cut them down like ripe fruits. He hoped very much the music didn't drain out too much and that Tseng was furthering everything to Reeve. "But, honestly, Isolde, - what do you want to do? Just wash? Do you really think that's going save the world?"

"Oh, hush, not just wash, silly! We make sure all their sins are gone and atoned for!" She winked and he had to brace himself against the wave of contempt that filled him. Tifa never winked.

"But how do you want to do that?" He felt silly to ask even further, thrilled that he had gotten her to admit the 'we' now. It could only be a matter of moments before she babbled everything on tape.

She grinned. "Not 'want', Rufus! 'Do'. – Do you remember Vice-Mayor Eliot? – You won't believe it! That slimy bastard was one of them! Got his post to put the world in even deeper misery! Well, we did him!"

Rufus tried to look astonished while inside, he had to fight himself to keep a spiteful grin from his face. He was close! "Did him? Like – how?"

She grinned in triumph. "Well, you've seen the news lately, haven't you? That was us! We made him pay! We made him confess all his sins and exorcised him!"

Rufus tried to increase the astonishment on his face while on the inside, he was all triumph. She was really wrapping herself into a nice package and he couldn't imagine something more fun than tugging at the wrapping. "You? Impossible! You couldn't, Isolde! Not you!"

He knew very well what the sweetest people were capable of if only you forced them. And Isolde wasn't anywhere close to 'sweet'. She just had to tell him now who the others were. That was the last thing he needed to know and he would certainly worm that out of her, too. Afterwards, he didn't care anymore. Afterwards, this was Reeve's business. Maybe, there was even time for another dance with Tifa until the mansion was stormed. Surely, the band was paid to play even if hell broke loose. But Tseng would surely evacuate them long before that.

Isolde felt honoured by his words, it seemed. "Oh yes! I admit, at the beginning, it really wasn't easy, all the blood, and the screaming. It really gets to your nerves at first. But for the good of my future, I had to do it, you know? And I tell you, once they are cleaned, it's a delight!"

So, she was just like Scarlet, then. He didn't like it when passion was involved in killing. "Amazing! You amaze me, Isolde! But – I heard they drowned?" Come on, tell the tape how you killed them!

"Oh, yeah, they did! We've got the Holy Water, you know? – Tons of it, - Ennio, Ennio Scipione, you remember him, don't you, well, he built the connection, you know! And that stupid WRO, they won't even guess! – Ha! I bet that Tuesti-guy is one of them, too!"

"I can only marvel at you." Yes, how could she be so stupid? But now, he had already a second name.

Suddenly, she seized his wrist. "Oh, hush, Rufus! I'm just helping Daddy and Ennio and all the others! But you, you could be great! – Come on, I'll show you! – Maybe, if you're lucky, you can even be part of it today!"

Rufus stopped her. "Now, I don't think that will be necessary." Or was it? He wasn't quite so sure as to how expressive Reeve needed Isolde's confession to act.

Isolde stopped, too. "Come on, Rufus, don't worry, the media won't hear any of this! They haven't found out so far and nobody will in future. And if – well, we are going to be heroes! Come, I'll introduce you to the rest of the party!"

If Isolde was so kind (or stupid) as to introduce him to the rest of the party, surely, that would save them a lot of trouble. Besides, it would be much more fun to find out more than just step back now. Out of the edge of his eye, Rufus saw Tseng getting out his mobile and he gave him a short nod before he set into motion to follow Isolde. Let Tseng call in the cavalry now; until they came, he would know more. And it wasn't like anything could happen to him; his own reputation as the heir of Shin-Ra was far too high that they would dare to touch him. It wouldn't even dawn to Isolde that he could be infected and even if not, different from any other victim before he had his gun and knew how to defend himself. The risk was minimal, the gain huge. He decided to enjoy himself a little further.

"Well, if the media won't find out, I would of course be most interested to know more. Pray tell me, who are your noble comrades?"

Isolde gave one of her girlish laughs and thankfully let go of his hand to childishly put her finger onto her lips while thinking and looking awfully dense. "Hm… let's see, can I tell you? I do think I can tell you already, it's not like you are going to tell anyone!"

"Now, certainly not." Not I, you're just babbling it on tape yourself. "You can be assured of my full sympathy for your noble scheme and, of course, my loyalty." These words were certainly the most enjoyable he had uttered so far.

"Ah! Yes, yes, of course! I'm not doubting you, you know… only, Ennio says I talk too much."

"I can't imagine where he gets that idea from. I don't mind you talking at all." At least not as long as she spilled useful information. He wasn't planning to follow her all the way. As soon as she had coughed up all the names, he would get out the mobile and tell Tseng where they were and that the cavalry was indeed taking its time. He supposed that Isolde's expression would be worth every cent he had pumped into them. It would, perhaps, be as priceless as the face of his father when the old man had realized he had been trying to kill him.

They had meanwhile headed farer into the depths of the mansion, quickly away from the party, and Isolde had started her list of names – a lot of them very familiar to him. It was sad that she interrupted herself to point out several paintings to him, but at least, that left him some time to think. He didn't hear any steps behind them, but he was sure that Tseng was following them nonetheless, hopefully already having Reeve get his people ready. Tseng had looked rather cross when he had turned to follow Isolde and he was sure he was going to get a lecture about reckless behaviour again when this was over. Perhaps he should make up for it. Give the Turks some days off (not that Tseng would take them). Ask him whether he would be so kind as to cook some Wutainen food again, fake inoccupation and help him. Maybe, Tifa could even be persuaded to come for supper one of these days. His eyes darted back to the babbling Isolde who hadn't yet arrived at the end of her list. How different Tifa was from her!

And why hadn't Isolde arrived at the end of her list, yet? The thought crossed Rufus' mind as Isolde led him up a staircase into the first storey. There shouldn't be so many people. No, there weren't so many people, she was just interrupting herself again and again to show him some paintings or other plunder.

At the top of the staircase, a little further down a corridor, Isolde gave her childish laugh again, turning around to him. "Um…, yes, I think that's everyone! – But, wait, let's ask Daddy to make sure!" She stopped in front of a two-winged door, leaned against one of the doors and opened it to a room. As all the other rooms and corridors before, it was at least three metres high, covered by expensive carpets and the windows were clothed in even more voluptuous curtains. The walls, Rufus noticed, were covered with silk and opposite to the door, another glass door lead onto a balcony in a winter garden behind which the dark of the rainy night loomed. In the room Manuel Fontainebleau was waiting in one of the expensive chairs, jumping put as soon as Isolde had pushed open the door to seize his hand.

"Ah, I'm glad you've come, Rufus! But, of course, I never doubted for a moment that you wouldn't! Not President Shinra's son!"

"I am honoured to be let into you secret. Very honoured indeed," Rufus replied with a smirk and decided that it was time to leave them to it; Isolde had taken him a little too long with naming all their associates, even given the fact that she had clearly been bragging with their house and he wasn't about to be too reckless.

"It's a great pleasure to welcome you to our group. Come – let me show you where we bring them." Fontainebleau continued and turned into the room, obviously expecting him to follow, pointing at the winter garden.

Rufus looked up to scrutinize the beaming man, the room behind the door and doubted for a moment. Why not take everything they offered to him on a silver tablet? Why not enter that room and let them entangle themselves even further in their net of stupidity? He was about to follow but then hesitated. It was thought chic in the nobility if the girls were as stupid as bread. But the way Isolde had talked about their torturing methods had had the underlying tone of someone who clearly understood what was going on. Yet, it would be a nice finishing touch to see where they tortured their victims and surely, if they suspected him of anything, they would have checked him for weapons already. Still, he had promised Tseng not to be reckless for once and if he entered that room now, Tseng would chew his head off.

"Usually, we lure them here on some pretext," Fontainebleau continued cheerfully. He was already in the middle of the room and turned back to him. "Do you not want to enter?"

"Is something the matter, Rufus?" Isolde said behind him. The concern in her voice had a strange nuance which made him turn around to her. There had been a slight hint of scorn. And over Isolde's shoulder, he caught movement, for the doubt of a second saw a shadow in the corridor. Tseng wouldn't be as careless to let himself be seen.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. I just thought I heard something," he replied with a smirk, somewhat uneasy now. Had he been mistaking? Was his status perhaps not worth as much as he had presumed? Had he been foolish enough to let himself be lured here on a pretext, too? Isolde had definitely taken very long with naming all their associates.

"Why don't you enter, then?" Isolde pointed at the room. "Do you not want to see the pool with the Holy Water?"

Yes, there was definitely a slightly scornful undertone in her voice and the more he looked at the innocent expression in her painted face, the surer he felt that this was a trap and he had walked right into it. But they didn't know, yet, he had noticed and by now, Reeve had to have heard enough to order his people to storm the mansion. Could they know about that? No. They surely didn't. Otherwise, they would be much more nervous. At the moment, they didn't seem as if they were going to do something to him and if he played along, he would certainly have an advantage.

"Oh, certainly! I would be most exceedingly obliged if you could show it to me!" He entered the room and out of the edge of his eye caught hasting in the corridor. Not of servants, of someone armed.

Isolde entered the room after him and closed the door behind them. At the other end of the room, two open doors were leading directly onto a balcony stuffed full with dry plants. The winter garden behind the balcony was lit dimly, the night behind its glass pitch black. There had to be a pool in that winter garden for water reflexes were dancing greenly into the room. Rufus stepped further into the room and towards the balcony. In his back, he heard the faint but unmistakable click as Isolde turned a key in the lock of the door.

"What a nice winter garden! Is the water in the pool the water from the church?" He asked, as if interested. He couldn't have been less interested. He only wanted Tseng to know where he was.

"Yes. Of course," said Fontainebleau. He had seated himself in his chair again and was staring at him from the depths of it. He wasn't sitting at ease, rather on the rim of the armchair and he had placed a cushion on his lap, on hand underneath it. The warm air from the winter-garden was rustling in the dried up plants on the balcony. The rain was invisibly hammering onto the glass-panels and there was a faint purling sound of water that was flowing into the pool. The moisture in the warm air was almost becalming. "We know what you are here for, Rufus."

Rufus smirked and stepped onto the balcony. Even if he supposed that below the cushion on his lap Fontainebleau was hiding a weapon, he didn't suppose that either Isolde or Fontainebleau was much of a danger to him; he had spent the best of the last seven years with Turks and trained with them. "Do you? – Now, this is a nice balcony indeed! I would water the plants from time to time, though. They seem to have seen better times, too."

"Don't act like it," Fontainebleau replied calmly. "You know, Rufus, we had really counted on you! We had really hoped that you had changed after all these years! But you always were something of a black sheep, never like your worthy father. Even as a little boy. Stubborn, I remember you were. Stubborn and condescending. You never understood about true values like friendship and consequence. I used to think it was just an age thing; some kids are slower than others. So, now, once again, we gave you every chance. But instead of taking our offered hands, you just paid us off with that minimum of money. You scorned our ancestors and you scorn us! And now, you've even come to spy on us!"

Rufus gave a soft laugh and turned back into the room. There wasn't much of a way to get down from the balcony; it was hanging about 4 m over the floor of the winter garden and the plants made it impossible to get to the balustrade apart from that part that was directly above the pool. So that was why Isolde had locked the door. It might have been the better idea to stay in the corridor after all; the two Fontainebleaus were clearly waiting for someone to arrive. But Reeve's people surely wouldn't need more than ten minutes to get into the mansion and surely, Tseng would move heaven and hell to get him out of here as quickly as possible. "Ah. Well, you have me there. But since you are so good at putting two and two together, why don't you just tell you daughter to unlock that door?"

Isolde had moved away from the door and in her movement and posture, there was nothing of the former flirting or even stupidity left. Her face wasn't the one of that silly girl he had been talking to so far. It was drawn into a an ugly mask full of scorn. "Oh, I know you think us stupid, Rufus! But we are not stupid. Not as stupid or dumb as you are! Ha! I tried my best for old time's sake to help you out of there, but you … you even associate with Turks! – But I see clearly now! It was always you who was behind all of this! You formed a pact with Sephiroth! You had him murder your father, so you could take our precious civilisation down and wrack havoc! But I'm sure the planet marked you!" Her eyes were burning and she positively looked as if she wanted to kill him personally and for the first time since Rufus had entered the room he asked himself whether they might, after all, become dangerous to him. And then, Isolde smiled at him, broadly. "So, for now, you'll go nowhere! You'll wait here together with us until the doctor comes to ascertain your treason! And don't dare to try anything! I know you think someone's going to come for you, but we've got our soldiers waiting in front of that door! – We'll make you confess all your sins and we'll make sure you atone for them! By the end of tonight, everything will be like it has been before you set your foot back into Midgar!"

Slowly, Rufus was starting to feel a little more than just a bit vexed with himself that he had fallen for their stupid trap. Uneasiness and the feeling of being cornered were starting to slip into his mind. Soldiers. He made no doubt that those were the shadows he had seen when he had followed Fontainebleau into the room. But the problem with soldiers wasn't that they would keep him inside this room or the Turks out of it. The problem with them was that this mansion had all architectonical necessities to be held like a fort if defended by soldiers. And that meant that help wasn't even close to on its way to him. Still, he maintained the calm expression on his face. "You will do no such thing. Do you not know that I own all your companies and every scrap you call your own? The moment you lay hand on me, you'll all be turned from your houses and this entire area will be used as a waste-dump. So, I think you might consider opening that door again."

Isolde and her father both stared at him for moments long, their expression wavering. Then, suddenly, Isolde laughed, shrill and hysterically. "Oh, Rufus, you are so naïve! Ennio will see to all that! He already has people who only wait to get those silly and falsified contracts from your safes! There's a riot starting downtown just now, so nobody will notice! Your Turks will have all hands full with that and even if they manage to get here, they won't even be able to enter here! Do you think those people out there are just police officers? We didn't spend our time idly! They are fully trained soldiers and not just two or three! It's an army! Your Turks won't even get unto this floor before we haven't made you confess all your sins!"

Rufus halted in his movement. He was feeling entirely cold now, realizing that he had completely underestimated him. For once, he doubted that Isolde was just bragging. Fighting against fully trained soldiers, it would take Reeve's people hours to get into the mansion, maybe they would even abort when casualties mounted too high or when they needed the forces within the city. Those soldiers would buy all the time Isolde and associates would need to torture him, kill him and run for it. Maybe, he had gone too far for once. Tseng had never talked about what happened to him and Elena when they had been abducted by Kadaj, but he had seen his Turk's body and only the thought of it made his blood freeze. No. Not freeze. Boil with that fire within. Fire that was licking up at the edge of his brain like a predator in the jungle, ready to take over the moment he allowed himself to panic.

Isolde was standing in the middle of the room, between him and the door, as if she was shielding it. And Fontainebleau was only half sitting on his arm chair. His hand had slipped under the cushion on his lap and by the cramped posture he was sitting in, Rufus had no doubt anymore that he was hiding a pistol below that cushion that was presently pointing at him.

He had to get out of here. Before they could do something to him, before he would loose control once again. Before his Turks could risk their lives because he had been too damn stupid and arrogant to notice the nobility's game. He stared at the door in front of him, his heart hammering. He tried to force himself to calmness, the flames away, to think, not to let flames – or his stupid arrogance – get the better of him. He had to deal with this. Before anyone of his Turks could get hurt. Not to mention Tifa whom he had drawn into this, too. He would deal with this.

"You are actually mistaking," he said, slowly trying to move around Isolde, eyes on the door behind. Would the door hold? It looked, thank Gaia, rather massive. Would he be quick enough? Isolde move, as expected, a little closer to the door. He was almost with his back to the wall, the maximal distance in which he could bring himself from Fontainebleau. Tseng would lynch him. If he survived this, his Turk would personally lynch him for being so stupid as to follow them. For being so stupid as to let his prejudices and arrogance get the better of him and believe they were just stupid. Well, if he survived. He had to survive. Tifa had smiled at him during the dance. He felt his skin crawl with the fire below it. He never wanted to loose control to those flames again. Never in life.

"Mistaking? Don't try to talk yourself out of it! Your entire behaviour this night proves us right!" Isolde scoffed.

"You are actually mistaking," Rufus repeated, now coldly. Isolde was almost standing between him and her father now, "if you say 'I associate with Turks'. I don't." He moved his hand upwards. The plan was madness. Sheer and desperate madness. "I am a Turk."

In the same moment, he had already ripped his own gun from his jacket, pushed the safety off and fired thrice. As expected, Fontainebleau jumped up but hesitated to fire with his girl between them, and Rufus' first shot got him straight through the right shoulder, send him tumbling backwards, his pistol falling uselessly to the ground, even before Rufus' second shot pierced his thigh. Out of the edge of his eye, Rufus saw Isolde pulling something from her purse, swung his gun, his third shot missed her by millimetres as she ducked away, her pistol crashed, but his fourth shot, only a second later, tore its way right through the woman's tight. She tumbled backwards, face pale in shock, a tiny golden pistol falling from hand. Her father had knocked against a tiny table in his fall, had fallen over together with it and was lying motionless on the expensive carpet, most likely unconscious from hitting the floor head-first. Isolde was crawling towards her pistol, as quickly as her injured leg would allow her, panic all over her face. Gun in hand, Rufus followed the trace of blood she left on the carpet with quick, deliberate paces, before she could overcome her shock enough to cry for help or even reach for her pistol. His heart was hammering. He didn't yet hear anything from the door. Isolde's over-painted face was torn in horror when he kicked the pistol aside. It would have been much easier and less dangerous to kill them, but Reeve and certainly also Tifa would most likely take it badly if he had killed them.

"You won't get away with this!" Isolde whimpered. "Even if you kill me! We will find you!" She whined, her voice high pitched with panic when he had reached her. With one hand, he got out his mobile. With the other, he aimed the barrel at her head, just for the right spot as Tseng had taught him so many years ago, a movement which stopped Isolde's stream of hoarsely whispered abuse. Her eyes were staring at him in panic, she tried to shield her head and in a smooth movement, he let the barrel collide with her skull, thanking Tseng inwardly for the long hours of training which had just saved his life. A bodyguard who was able to protect his charge even when not around was inestimable. Even before Isolde sunk back unconscious, he put the mobile to his ear and nearly flinched as a hot pain shot through his right under-arm: "Tseng, do you copy?"

"Rufus! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, don't worry." In his right sleeve, a bit of the cloth was missing and he could watch the edges being dyed in a painful red; Isolde's shot must have scratched him after all. There were shouts behind the door.

"You have to get out of there! We can't get into the first story, they've closed it off!"

"Then don't." Rufus moved onto the balcony, considering his stinging arm. The wound was very deep, thank Gaia, but the fire seemed to be sipping out together with the blood, burning itself through his sleeve.

"Can you get to the pool area?" He past the plants – no way to get through them – and stepped to the balustrade. There was a rim around the outside of the balcony, maybe as broad as a hand. Directly below him was the pool with a diving board.

"Yes. Tifa knows where this pool is, - she says we are almost there. Elena is already preparing to get us through the fence. Can you somehow get down from that balcony?"

Rufus stepped closer to the balustrade. He turned, listened behind him, Tifa's name still spinning in his head. Someone was hammering madly at the door now. Letting himself fall onto the diving-board was no option. Even though it would perhaps cushion his fall, chances were too high that he didn't hit it probably which would definitely result in several broken bones. But if he hurried, he would maybe have time to climb around the plants and let himself far enough down to jump onto the ground. But it could only be moments before someone would get an axe. Although he wasn't training as much with the Turks as he had used to in Junon, he should be well enough in shape to manage not to break his ankles. And by now, he was surely full enough of adrenaline that he would be able to ignore much greater pain than the one in his arm. He wasn't going to tell Tseng about his plan, however. This certainly belonged into the category of 'pulling crazy stunts'.

"I'll manage," he thus just replied, pushing the weapon back into his jacket, ignoring the pain in his arm and snapped the mobile shut.

The noise at the door was getting louder. As quickly as possible, he climbed onto the balustrade. In the same moment, there was a loud crash and out of the edge of his eye, Rufus saw the door vibrating in its hinges. He cursed under his breath, climbing along the balustrade, ducking away under the dried out branches and twigs. As soon as they were in the room, hell would break loose. If he wasn't off the balcony at that time, he was dead meat. Another crash made the door shiver and Rufus saw splinters flying. Without a moment of hesitation, he propelled himself over the balustrade and onto the rim. His left foot landed safely, but his right slipped and he would have lost his balance if he hadn't clung to the balustrade in the last moment which sent a harsh pain through his right arm, fire flaring high.

Simultaneously, there was another crash and something splintered from the door, crashing onto the expensive carpet. Rufus tried to move along the rim as quickly as possible. At the moment, he was still shielded from the view of the other windows by the enormous plants, but that also meant he was still right above the pool. And the rim was far too narrow to move at a high speed. Someone shouted into the room for Isolde and Fontainebleau, only one step to the edge of the balcony, three steps around it and he would be able to lower himself savely down. In the same moment, just as he placed his next step, plaster broke away under his foot and it slipped a second time, but he didn't have much time to find his balance again, for in the next moment, the door splintered open.

"He's not here!" he heard someone shout and ducked behind the balustrade. Luckily, every fifty centimetres, there was slit in the balustrade and just enough room between the balustrade and the next flowerpot to slip his fingers through. The movement nearly cost him his entire balance; his left foot slipped, he just managed in time to press himself again the white stone, but the foot was only barely on the rim and the other together with his three fingers carried his entire weight. Unless he got up again, there was no way to move without loosing his entire balance. But up he couldn't get up. Someone on the other side of the balustrade was just shouting for a doctor.

"Mr. Shinra?" A man called. "There's no need to hide, we'll find you, anyway!"

Rufus heard his steps muffled on the carpet, joined by other steps at the door. Four pairs of boots, perhaps. He knew he was completely at display once someone would lean over the balustrade and Tseng wasn't even in sight to cover him. Steps were coming into the direction of the balcony, quickly, determined. He wasn't above the diving-board anymore, but even if he let himself fall now, they'd just shoot him from up above before he would have reached the rim of the pool. But it was only one pair of boots that was coming into his direction. Carefully, he tried to feel with his free right hand into his jacket which shifted his balance another millimetre backwards, ignoring the pain in it. If he shot that man, maybe that would buy him enough time to slip around the edge of the balcony and get down. The man had almost reached the balcony now and Rufus fingers brushed over the grip of his gun, tucked under the arm with which he was clinging to the banister. His right thigh was already hurting from the unaccustomed pose and a cramp was announcing itself in the left leg. He hoped very much the man wouldn't look over the railing. Or if he did, then in such a way that it didn't present much trouble to blow his brains out.

"I can't see anyone here!" the man called back into the room. He was on the balcony now and the plants were rustling as the man was looking through them.

Rufus' fingers closed around the grip of the gun, dragged it out, millimetre for millimetre. But the movement cost him nearly the rest of his grip he had with his left foot; it slipped a bit further, increased the strain on his fingers, he wouldn't be able hold himself much longer in this pose. The searching noise in the plant got closer and closer and he felt the fire inside him surging higher with his slipping grip. He wouldn't let it get hold of him. He would shoot that man and then, he would safely manoeuvre himself to the ground! His heart was hammering. The man nearly reached him. He felt the hot blood inching down his right arm, the fire that was licking out with it.

"Must be here somewhere! Can't have grown wings!" another voice shouted back, one which Rufus didn't recognize. Out of the edge of the eye, he caught the gleam of healing materia, heard Isolde moan in pain.

"You never know with those bastards!" The man above him called back. He was almost directly next to him now.

In the same moment, Rufus had finally freed the gun from his jacket and quickly pulled himself closer to the railing. This, though, cost his left foot the last of its grip and debris fell into the pool below him. His fingers were slipping, quickly, the fire inside him surged high below his skin, sizzled around the wound in its ugly, frightening way when the plaster splashed loudly into the water.

The man above immediately stopped in his movement. Rufus swung the weapon into position, his skin stinging with the fire. The steps were coming towards the balustrade, determined.

Rufus got the weapon ready, aiming for where the man's head had to appear.

The, suddenly, the steps stopped. The man hadn't reached the balustrade yet. But why had he stopped? He couldn't have seen anything, possible, could he? In the same moment, Rufus realized that he had used his fingers, his slowly slipping fingers, to consider the wound in his arm. And that the balustrade was white. Or rather: had been perfectly white before and with that realization, the fire flared up within him in cold panic.

In the same moment, the man had stepped closer, was right above him now. But even before he could react – even before he could swing his gun – a hand shot through the slit in the balustrade and pulled his hand and arm with irony grip through the hole.

"Hello, Shinra!"

The pain as the man bent his arm against the natural direction of bending was enormous and simultaneously, robbed of his support, he was already falling. But he didn't fight for his balance. Instead, through the cloud of flaring pain and glowing fire he swung his gun, tried and somehow managed to fight the fire inside him down and aimed for head of the man above him. But in the same moment, he had fallen all the way his arm allowed him to fall and he crashed with his entire weight against both shoulder and elbow. The pain when his arm tore from its socket was above everything he had ever experienced before, the skin on his arm seemed to be rasped away by the rough stone and rest of his arm seemed to shatter as it smashed against the railing. He felt his finger twist around the trigger, simultaneously, pain and fire became one, darted up through his body, he heard himself cry out with pain, the fire darted out of the wounds, followed the blood, engulfed him, replace the pain, horribly replace his thinking, his seeing, soared up and swallowed him, tore him with them and dissolved him in an ocean of fire and pain.

The world crashed back into focus when he slammed into the surface of the pool, warm water shooting up through his clothes, into his nose, the dried out mouth, closed over him, he felt himself sinking, felt the fire, tasted the water, the ashes, the pain, the heavy, soaking clothes around his body, realized that he couldn't breath, realized he couldn't move his left arm.

Panic flared up again, mingled with the panic to loose control again, blending with the surging fire. He tried to breath, caught only water, struggle against the clothes, the water, pushed himself up from the bottom of the pool, his head broke through the surface of the water, air flooded into his lungs, he tried to swim as good as the clothes and the immobile arm allowed him, water closed above him once more, he kicked, struggled up again, sharp, smoky air rushed into his lungs, he tried to move forward and nearly sunk twice more. He struggled up again, was completely exhausted, more drowning than swimming when he reached the rim of the pool, clung to it, coughing and gasping for air. His entire left side was aflame with pain so agonizing that it nearly swept his consciousness with it again, the fire was hammering in his eardrums, he could only gasp for air.

Suddenly, somebody grasped his arms, from both sides, and before he could cry out with the excruciating pain that shot through his left side or even knew what was happening or had realized more than that they were going to pull him out of the water, they were already pulling him up.

Just in the last moment and somehow he managed to stop himself from panicking, the fire from shooting forth again, swallowed even more water, nearly fell backwards and was at last dragged onto the shore where he collapsed onto knees and hand, coughing, more unconscious than conscious from pain.

So much for now. The next chapter will deal with most of the rest of the fight and some further trouble: Chapter 26: Tifa: Fire, Water, Burn.

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