Equilibrium:
Death of Symbology
To my readers,
Well it's almost done now, maybe two chapters to go now. Hopefully you've all enjoyed the ride so far. I've got a few plot ideas for the next segment, as well as some one-shots (all Turk centric) that I've been thinking about putting up. But before that comes up I need to wrap Equilibrium up, non?
Kasan Soulblade.
Gun fire ceased as he they stepped out. Always one to stay in the background he found it oddly satisfying to step forward and actually put a stop to the action without having to do anything save put in an appearance.
It made attendance worthwhile for once. He smiled into the shocked faces and barked orders, and those from beyond his powerbase scrambled to obey. One sharp jab to the small of the young man's back sent Rufus sprawling, he followed the heir's fall with his gun. The blond hit the cement with a satisfying grunt, and lay still.
There was power in pictures, symbols in posture, and the image of an armed man standing over a fallen one was poignant enough that the normally dense SOLDIERS drew the right images and broke their precious protocol and procedure to see he got what he wanted. Soon, down the hall, came a rush of steps, under heavy guard they came, all the moderator's in the Shinra power company. Last to arrive was the king of the company, and with so many powerful witnesses he was disarmed.
You could only pretend to be a callous bastard so far in public. Cross that line and tongues would wag, the company was already under suspicion due to the power outages, the assassinations, and the documents that had fallen into the peoples hands.
Precarious, only a fool would not see the tilt of the scales. Balance upended, the pieces of an empire had fallen into one man's hands. Hoarding those pieces, holding absolute power for less than three days, the holder was now in the place of the destroyer. He could -and logically should- destroy what he held, if he wanted to live a life without looking over his shoulder until that last day he should have. But this was Alexander Shinra who was coming under fire, a cowards and glutton at heart the man was now set in a position as precarious as his company.
For the sake of his own survival the President was going to have to abstain from vengeance for a time.
Reaching into his pocket with a free hand Tseng fished out his cell phone. He held it up, turned it over in his fingers so all could see it, then he flicked it open.
It was already on speaker, he'd set it that way, the volume was maxed out and his audience was quiet. To the power of image they folded, those of false power and pretense, and only the President sputtered and cursed. But even that was subdued, fat rimmed eyes flicked to the Turk to the still heir, than back again.
Recognition of reality was knocking.
"Shinra's legacy, Shinra proper, I offer both of these to you for the sake of mere chance of negotiation, Mr. Shinra." Tseng murmured, his gaze never leaving the still form at his feet.
"We had a deal." Alex spat, he bulled his way past his subordinates, even stepping past Heidegger's ring of SOLDIERS to better see. The close up view wasn't much better, the boy's straits were apparently dire "You were to meet me in the Shinra building on the Turk level."
Lifting the hand with the phone Tseng waved away the President's words with impatience. A soft hum came from the device, it's buttons glowed a sullen red, the screen declared in thick Continental letters that it was "dialing". Then, came a click as someone on the other end picked up.
"Sir," Tseng stiffened, instinct decades old almost made him salute out of habit. Almost. Overtraining allowed him to override the childish impulse. "I've gathered the Shinra boy, I take it our teams have infiltrated the building?"
"Yes, and the situation is stable. The explosives are being set in place among the foundation beams."
Gasps met that announcement, looks of horror. Even Rufus, sprawled on the floor as he was twitched as those words sunk in. Ignoring them all Tseng let out a low growl, and the boy went still at that wordless threat.
"I take it that the security in the Turk floor was extensive?" Tseng asked delicately.
"We lost Erick's team taking them down, but the President's little ambush is finished."
To that Tseng lifted his gaze, met the pale doughy face of Alex Shinra. A small frown touched his lips, only that.
"The Turk's price just went up." Tseng announced coldly.
A door swung open, reality impatient with knocking, had entered. It's entering was rude, and met with one snarl of absolute shock.
"As if I'd ever take the lot of you traitor's ba-"
"Before you say anything damning sir, I feel you should be warned that Reno is in charge of the raid on the Shinra building. He's an enthusiastic Turk, always eager to... shall we say... make a flashy exit. But, aren't you forgetting the most important thing out of this?"
With one booted foot he nudged Rufus Shinra, the boy lay limp. Bonelessly going with the force of his attackers blow, Rufus was so pale, bruises stood on what flesh they could see. And they were seeing, the executives were seeing and perhaps comprehending for the first time the matter of scale. Alex had already signed his own death warrant in a way. The pen was seeped in the ink of apathy, and the signature flourished with obvious disdain of compassion. And by Alex's hand, by Alex's actions, perhaps those closest to him were finally seeing. Seeing a man so callous, so inhuman that he'd leave his son at the feet of a foe. Hearing the place silence reigned where concern and heated anger would have been better suited.
Scarlet, a steadfast supporter of the elder Shinra looked from parent to child, then considered the Turk, her lips pressed together in thought. Reeve was pale, obviously shaken and torn between disgust and the humane (if suicidal) idea of rushing to the boy's rescue. Palmer was a blubbering mass of uselessness, and with a healthy dose of disdain on all parts he was being ignored and avoided. Only Hojo and Heidegger were unmoved, uncaring, and the Professor's thin lips were pressed into a frown. One foot tapped against the floor in a show of obvious impatience, only the rustle of fabric being stirred told the observant whose it was. The words were unspoken, but the sentiment was obvious, "kill the boy or not, just hurry up, I don't have all day you know".
When Alex's fat rimmed eyes slid to some point beyond the Turk's shoulder Tseng let his lips quirk in one corner.
"Mr. Shinra, you should also consider this, if I don't come back to report in person, in an hour, those explosions are going off regardless of what agreement we reach. So you best call off those reinforcements that are coming in."
Reality had taken the most prominent chair in attendance, kicked it's feet up, and made itself at home. And by the red hue that was fast mounting the senior Shinra's cheeks the homecoming wasn't a welcome one.
"Heidegger, have your SOLDIERS send the rest of the executives to thier quarters." Alex hissed the words around clenched teeth. "Mr. Tseng, I expect to see you in meeting room in five minutes."
"Sir." With a curt nod Tseng stepped back, allowing his superior to pass, his eyes lowered in a show of humility of submissiveness. The show lasted only until Alex had passed, then the gaze had lifted and Tseng's lip curled in a mute snarl of hate.
Oblivious, the elder Shinra stepped over his son, past the Turk, as he left.
Chaos erupted behind him, around him. SOLDIERS were grabbing at protesting executives, dragging them back. Yet not all were indifferent to the fate of the young Shinra. Reeve unclenched his hands, and stood numb in waiting. He had been a silent witness, and he would remain silent. One thick fingered hand closed over his shoulder, and he turned and stared into Mako green eyes, his own brown were listless, disinterested. Some instinct told him that his hands shook and he shoved them into his pants pockets, hoping that no one had seen them quake.
Especially not one of Heidegger's flunkies.
"You're supposed to be leaving." The SOLDIER growled.
"Just on my way out." Reeve assured, and he fell in step without a word of protest. The little freedom "of movement" was obviously going to be curltailed until the Turk's meeting with the Shinra's was concluded.
Yet as he walked he didn't see the grey halls he traversed. Only one image played in his mind, and it was caught in replay.
One Turk, kneeling down, reaching down to gently shake the young man who was sprawled at his feet. A slight stir on the boy's part, the opening of world weary blue eyes. Then a flick of motion had caught his attention. The sedate wave of darkness from darkness, inhuman yet familiar. A wag, like some great tail had swished, he'd followed that motion with his eyes and found a pair of compliant, relaxed navy blue sparks considering him from the shadows left by failed illumination. Those sparks had closed, opened, considered him, then he'd seen a flash of white. Fanciful images -of some savage tooth tipped in red- played in his head as those eyes had gone out. He wondered, as his path deviated from that of Rufus Shinra's, it the owner of those blood seeped teeth would pad after the boy.