The fact that AVALANCHE had been hidden in Midgar, right under his nose, galled Veld to no end. Never mind the sheer size of Midgar, never mind that he didn't have the forces to be everywhere at once, never mind that of course they'd made an art out of staying under ShinRa's radar up until they attacked, he couldn't help the irritation that they'd been there all this time and he hadn't found them.

This would also mark the first time he'd gotten a proper look at their forces that wasn't fast-moving blurs or blended into a crowd. He was hoping he might be able to identify their leaders better, find out where they'd come from and what motivated them. As a collective, they claimed to be environmentalists, but that sort of extremism always had a deeper, darker foundation. Usually some sin of ShinRa's, but until he saw their faces and was able to put proper identities to the single names he'd been given, it didn't matter.

'Shears' was most likely the same Shears that had headed up the Silver Crows that had infested the Train Graveyard, which would explain where the sheer numbers of AVALANCHE had come from. Fuhito was likely Fuhito Hira, a former Junon University student who'd gotten a bachelors in bioengineering before dropping out part way into his doctorate and proceeding to completely vanish from academia. It would explain the Ravens better than anything else.

But Elfé was a mystery. He'd never heard the name before, and all the enhanced females to ShinRa's credit were accounted for. Well, as far as he knew. Unfortunately, if there were others Hojo had created and discarded, he'd taken their identities to the grave.

Not that he was any sort of scientist, but it seemed like mako didn't always agree very well with women - part of why they'd been barred from SOLDIER. The irony that there may well be one success, by a student of Hojo's, wasn't lost on him. He looked forward to getting a better idea of what he was dealing with soon.

"We're in position to infiltrate, Chief," Emma reported. "Permission to advance?"

"Go for it, but be mindful. We don't want to tip them off that they've been found." Veld took a seat, watching the bank of monitors closely as the various monitoring devices were guided into the warehouse they had taken over for a base.

The team was silent, taking in the sight, the controllers minding their drones to avoid detection while the others observed and made notes on AVALANCHE's forces and supplies as they came to them, and any bits of audio that might have some use later - talk of locations or supplies, anything they could use.

"I think we've hit mythril," Ruluf said quietly. "Check it, that's definitely Shears, I'd know the bastard anywhere."

"Which makes that Fuhito," Emma said. "Focus your camera, let's get some good shots. Where's Elfé?"

"She's got to be there," Ruluf said. "Or will be soon. Might'a stepped out a minute."

Veld was going to comment, before a woman's voice could be heard, and his eyes went wide. He gripped his wrist, thumb pressed over the scar hidden under his glove, and he stared in shock at the figure coming on screen.

She's got my hair, was the first somewhat coherent thought. Cut short, it spiked a bit, just like his did. But it was the voice he would have known anywhere, gone low and smooth just like her mother's but still unmistakably Felicia.

"Chief?" Ruluf prompted.

"We need people in there," Veld said, admirably even toned through the thundering of his heart and the ringing in his ears.

All the same, as good as he was he'd still trained the next generation all too well. Ruluf looked between him and the screen, squinting a moment, before making a sharp sound. "Holy shit, is that her? Is that your kid?"

"Ruluf," Emma hissed, smacking his arm.

"It is," Veld said quietly.

"Guess we're stagin' another rescue mission then," Ruluf said, flicking his camera around. "Alright. Feet on the ground, yeah? An awful lot of 'em, but I wouldn't trust army with this."

"No, no army," Veld agreed immediately. He didn't want Heidegger involved. He couldn't have Heidegger involved, not if he wanted to get Felicia out alive.

"SOLDIER," Vincent said quietly.

Veld glanced at him, arching a brow. "SOLDIER is a sledgehammer, Vin. I need a sniper rifle."

"And you have that," Vincent said. "But for numbers like those, you need either a large group to meet them as equals in number, or a small group to meet them as equals in power. And they owe you, for Fair."

"AVALANCHE has taken out some of their people. I don't know how merciful they'd feel like being," Veld said. "There's a reason we've changed things."

Vincent glanced at him a moment before making the connection and inclining his head. "You'll need to distract the board."

"Bump up the timeline and the board will be very distracted," Veld said darkly. And Rupert would be out of his way.

"Bump up the timeline and you're stuck here," Vincent pointed out.

And one more time, duty came before family. Veld closed his eyes. "I trust my team."

Vincent squeezed his shoulder. "Tell us what you want to do."

It was well into the night when Rupert Shinra made his way home, tired but satisfied with the day he'd had. He dismissed his escort to linger in the living room, heading deeper into the penthouse with nothing on his mind but a hot shower and sleep. With the shower running, he wouldn't have heard an intruder - would never have dreamed there was an intruder, not with his troops at every entry and a Turk in the living room.

He dressed for bed, pleasantly tired and not at all paying attention as he slid under satin sheets with a gusty sigh and hit the lights.

Red eyes flicked open on the other side of the room, a malevolent glow in the pitch darkness, and he gasped, fumbling for the light and the pistol under his pillow.

When the light came on, there was nothing, and he let out a little uneasy chuckle. I shouldn't have been reading those reports on Hojo before bed… He'd always had quite the imagination, and he was just tired enough for it to run away with him.

Rupert shook his head and turned to get the light again, only to freeze. The hair on the back of his neck raised as he stared across the room where a figure stood by the door. The hair was too long, and the eyes had never glowed like that before, but considering he was staring at a dead man that was hardly the point. "…Valentine."

"Hello, sir," he murmured, voice dropped to a chilling baritone. "So sorry I'm late."

"What… what are you doing here?" He managed, swallowing and curling his fingers around his pistol. "You're dead."

"Exactly what I did when I was alive." Valentine raised the three barreled monster he called a gun, expression entirely void of emotion. "Protecting ShinRa's best interests."

"I am ShinRa!" Rupert snapped. With reflex borne of decades of training and hunting and shooting for sport, he brought the pistol up and shot, again and again, only to have him collapse into a stream of crimson fabric.

The last thing he saw was a sudden flash from within the folds.

Veld stood beside Rufus, watching Maur supervise their clinical team as they processed the crime scene. He'd insisted on coming in, taking in the sight of his father sprawled back on the bed with a pistol still clenched in his hand, face twisted in shocked horror, his own expression largely blank. Pale blue eyes had gone dark, though they were dry, and he honestly looked a little shell shocked.

It was hard to say how much of that was real, how much of an act he felt necessary to put on even for the Turks.

"We've got this under control if you want to go make a statement," Maur said lightly.

"…we should, I suppose," Rufus said quietly.

"We should," Veld agreed. He placed his good hand on the small of Rufus' back and urged him out of the room.

Rufus let himself be guided. Dressed in his own pajamas instead of his usual suit, hair combed but not quite styled so it was a bit fluffier than he'd have normally allowed anyone to see, he looked… young. Vulnerable.

And even though Veld knew full well at least part of that was deliberately calculated, he couldn't help himself; it worked. He moved his guiding hand to Rufus' shoulder as they headed out to deal with the rest of the executives.

Palmer looked about ready to faint, sitting on the couch in his pajamas and clutching at a pillow.

Heidegger was thin lipped, dark eyes hard, and one of the closest to 'together' given he'd rolled out in camouflage pants and an Army hoodie. And, given he had insisted on his troops being the higher percentage of guard over the Turks, he didn't have anything smart to say. This fell back on his department, and he knew it. "What have you found out?"

"Is it the same one who killed Hojo?" Palmer asked.

"I don't like making assumptions that quickly," Veld said. "But I think it would be a hell of a coincidence if not."

"So we've got someone with an agenda," Scarlet said.

"There's always people with agendas," Reeve said. "What we have is someone with a very specific sort of grudge. Hojo wasn't a public figure outside academia."

"Not the sort of people you'd expect to come in and start firing," Scarlet said.

"Doesn't have to be. Anyone with enough money can hire a hitman," Heidegger said. "And academics on Hojo's level have money."

"My team and I will be looking into it," Veld said. "For now, I would appreciate everyone taking my security concerns more seriously. The building is under guard, you will all be escorted in the morning, and we can discuss this in detail then."

"Then I think we should all get to bed," Reeve said. "Tomorrow will be a busy day."