AN: Hey everyone! Just wanted to let you guys know I made a little drawing inspired by the previous chapter! You can find it on my tumblr, ryuzakira-sketchblog is the url :)

Also, today's chapter is a little short, but I'll try and post another chapter tomorrow to make up for that.

That's all I had to say today, so thank you for reading and enjoy the chapter!

XXV: Heidegger

When the blades of the helicopter started spinning loudly above him, Devon had half a heart to turn back. Partially because he really, really wanted to witness the deaths of all the corrupt bastards that were his superiors, partially because he hated to leave matters in SOLDIER's hands. No matter how capable those hands were. Assassinations were a Turk's job, and here he was, most definitely not murdering someone.

Yet.

He shouldn't complain though. A change of plans was rarely a good thing, but Gaia be blessed, they had luck on their side. Or a Goddess. Probably both.

Either way, he wasn't surprised that Tseng had found out what they were planning. The Wutaian man had 'sensed something had been amiss' when Devon had asked -bullied him, rather- for a week of leave. So he had planted a microphone into his right hand's PHS. He had heard everything, from their conversation with Vincent Valentine (and of course, Tseng had recognized the legendary man) to what Minerva had told them. Tseng knew all. And so, the day before their plans would be set in motion, the Wutaian had taken Devon aside and had wordlessly shut down all camera- and alarm systems on both the executives' floor and President Shinra's office.

His job done for him, Devon had returned to the General's apartment where they decided the Turk should go to Nibelheim to fill Valentine in, and if he had time, find out where Jenova was hidden. Since the red-cloaked gunman appeared to know more than he let on, Devon was sure the man had at least a vague idea where they had to look for the psycho alien bitch.

That would simplify things, at least.

So far, things were going smoothly. All cards were being played in their favour. They had Tseng's full support, and thus an entire army of Turks would have their backs. Their targets were currently in the exact locations they needed them to be and Valon appeared to be fine, if not more motivated than he'd seen her in a long time. Despite all that, Devon felt uneasy. However, Turks were extraordinarily good at switching their emotions and personal feelings off, so he did just that. Everything that was about to happen at the Shinra Headquarters was out of his control now, so he would focus on the task at hand.

Truth be told, he was actually looking forward to meeting Vincent Valentine again.

Stealth had never been Angeal's strong suit. He never expected himself to be good at it, either way. With his impressive height, towering even over Sephiroth, and not to mention his extremely muscular physique, there was no way he would be good at blending in with the shadows. But all that didn't matter. Today, he didn't need to be sneaky.

He walked through the corridors in his usual way, smiling politely at all who passed him and taking his time to make some small-talk with those who greeted him. His mission was time-sensitive, but he still had plenty.

With the comforting weight of the Buster Sword on his back working strangely motivating, he straightened himself once he reached his goal.

Heidegger's office.

He knocked on the door, two quick taps with his knuckles. He could just burst in, but he wanted to keep up the facade as long as possible. No need to get innocent people involved, after all.

"Come in," came the answer from the other side. The Commander rolled his shoulders before he opened the door, walked in and shut it again.

"Commander Hewley, what can I-" Heidegger was instantly silenced when Angeal locked the door. The fat man jumped up and slammed his fists on his desk. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I have but one small question, sir," Angeal replied casually. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto one foot. "What can you tell me of the Promised Land?"

Heidegger turned an unhealthy shade of white, then red and eventually purple. "I don't know what you're talking about. You-"

Again, he was silenced. This time because Angeal gently wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his beloved blade.

The green-clad man threw his hands in the air, his skin as pale as porcelain once more. "What are you doing? Hewley, this is madness!"

The raven-haired Commander pulled his blade free from the magnets on his back and aimed it at Heidegger. With each step he took, Heidegger took one back. And another, and another, until his back was pressed against his large office window. When the Buster Sword came dangerously close to his face, he again turned red and then purple.

"Tell me what you want, I can take care of it. Money, land, anything, but please-"

"I think you misunderstand, sir." Angeal shook his head. "There's but one thing I want, and that's for your heart to stop beating. It's nothing personal."

"Hewley!"

At that, Angeal kicked the fat man square in the chest, breaking not only his sternum, but also the glass he was pressed against. The Commander watched the man's face twist into a horrible expression as he realized what had happened, and then he watched him fall. He watched him fall faster and faster, he watched him flailing his arms and kicking the air with his short, stubby legs as he plummeted from the sixty-sixth floor, all the way down to his certain death. Angeal watched it all, counting the seconds as they crawled by, and just before Heidegger was about to hit the ground, he turned around. He gently put the Buster Sword on his back again, scoffing to himself as he did.

He had never even planned to use his beloved blade to kill him.