I back up slowly as the distinctly Asian man steps out of the house. His boots crunch the soil one step at a time- methodically. His hands remain folded behind his back, and he keeps a very neutral expression on his face. My eyes are drawn to the dot on his forehead. I already know exactly who this man is. Still, I shouldn't know. "Who are you?" I ask.
He sighs, releasing a breath in what seems like disappointment. "Don't play coy, Daniel, it doesn't suit you. I can see in your face, no matter how you hide it, that you know precisely who I am." He keeps walking, taking it one step at a time. His movements are perfect in a way I can't quiet process. He knows what he is doing, moves exactly as he intends to, and lets me know exactly what he wants me to see. "Daniel B, last name unknown. Mid-late twenties. Biologically half a year old. Absolutely no past. Prior to the first of January, you did not exist." The information he reveals is shocking. My weight goes on the back of my feet as I rock back in place, a frown entrenched on my face. "Ah, I notice you didn't know. My condolences, Daniel." His voice seems mocking now. He is slowly circling around me, step by step. He keeps a certain distance from me, and I realize he knows exactly how fast I can cast with my materia. The distance he is must be where he can fast faster from.
I watch him warily. "Wh-" I try to speak, only to be cut off as he speaks over me.
"The Ancient is of no concern to you." He must have been waiting for me to ask a question. Obviously, he knows about the little dance Aerith and I have been having. Her flirting. The way he phrased what he said could be in answer to many different ways I could have poised a question starting it the way I did. 'Where's Aerith' or maybe 'What did you do to her' could both be answered by that statement. Anything relating to Aerith I might have asked was stopped by that. Honestly, seeing how outplayed I was kind of was making me angry.
He must have seen it in my face, for all the good trying to keep a good poker face was doing me. This man was sharp. "You have no history. Your body is new. You know who I am, and who I work for. You've made contact with the Ancient, and have been ingratiating yourself to people of high interest." He stops walking around me. He's stopped so he's directly facing me, head on. "Doctor Hojo wants to have a word with you." He doesn't ask if I'm going to come willingly or not. He already knows the answer, or maybe just doesn't care. I just remember that he's known Aerith since she was a child. He watched her grow up. They were even friends. Did he… love her?
I pull out my staff as Tseng looks on with scorn. "If you're going to resort to violence, you should at least know what you're doing," he comments. He pulls his hands out from behind his back. A black staff is held in his hands. I gulp, steel myself, and dash forward, hoping for a first strike. Left hand extended from the right, I try to bring the staff down diagonally, pulling my right hand towards me and the left more forward. Tseng pokes the descending staff with the tip of his with scary accuracy, overpowering my strike and knocking my hand in the air. He then jabs me with the tip in my sternum. I step back, coughing.
"You lack discipline," he states calmly, pulling the same maneuver I tried on him, but the form is perfect. The staff cracks against my shoulder as I manage to get it between the staff and my neck where he was striking at the last second. He's fast. Too fast for me to try to anticipate, so I know blocking is almost useless. Instead, even as I cry out with the blow, I swing the staff to try to hit his waist. He steps with the momentum, the air the strike generates actually pushing him out of the way like trying to catch a fly.
"You lack speed," he intones softly, reversing the staff so it hits up under my armpit. The tip digging into tender flesh, causing me to once again cry out in agony. He's strong. Too strong. I stagger backwards and a little to the side, trying to escape his staff. I try to poke it forward, doing my best to mimic how he did it. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, but I can't read him. He merely turns his torso slightly enough so it utterly misses, his staff also whipping back to slash across my cheek. The metal dents my face and I'm flung to the side, I barely avoid landing on the floor by stabbing the end of my steel staff into it, stumbling forward for balance. I hop forward, spinning in the air as I do, swinging the staff because I know he was going to follow it up with an attack. I would have.
"You lack foresight," he says, having not moved. I flailed around like a moron, missing completely. As soon as he noticed I knew in the entirety how I missed, he moved forward. One step. One jab. It hits me in my stomach, and I keel over, gasping for breath. He pulls back, and slams the stick down on top of my head. I fall to my knees. Desperate, I roll to the right, scrambling to my feet. For some reason, he lets me.
"You lack strength," his voice reaches my ears, as I try to activate my materia. I want to shock him so bad. Almost always, I use the strongest materia I have. My pattern is to cast thundara. Instead, knowing I don't have time, I go for thunder. Casting lower level spells is much faster than casting higher level, and I'm already a quick caster. The bolt fires straight at the TURK, who had placed his black staff into the floor, creating a lightning rod to diffuse my attack.
"You lack imagination," he simply states, pulling the staff from the floor and swinging it like a bat into my ribs. I try to block it, but my staff only slams into me, doing nothing to stop the force of his attack. I jump back, trying to get more distance, but he follows now, not giving me a chance to catch my breath. He uses the staff professionally, slamming the sides into me one hit after another. Loud thwacking sounds of steel striking flesh ring out in front of Aerith's house. I try my best, but I cannot withstand his attacks.
"You lack will," he growls now, as I fall to my knees. I drop my weapon and curl up on the floor, doing my best to protect my face and body from his blows. The staff smacks me over and over. I can feel my body bruising, my ribs snapping, bones deforming as I'm assaulted over and over again. My eyes are blurry from tears, and finally he kicks me, sending my battered body sprawling on the dirt, my mass crushing several flowers. I hear a voice beyond me.
"Stop, Tseng, stop! You're killing him!" Tseng stops. I catch the blurry form of Aerith screaming at him before the pain knocks me out.