Standard Disclaimer: We all know the drill by now, right? Final Fantasy VII is Square's, Scarlet's client is mine. Good deal, huh?
Fifteen minutes. More than enough time for her purposes. She wouldn't have dreamt of trying to elude the man. For whatever reason, he knew her name, he knew about the gun, and more than likely, he not only knew where she lived, but where she would have gone to hide. He knew she wouldn't run. Not away from him, anyway. She had to know why.
Breathless, she skidded through the door and headed for the bedroom. With an almost careless-seeming pass of her hand, Scarlet swept the contents of the tabletop into a fold of her bedsheet. If anything came loose, she could put it back together with relative ease, which ought to keep her alive for a while longer. In a matter of seconds, she'd secured the corners of the sheet in a tight knot and scooped into into her arms.
Seven minutes, by her estimate, to reach the flat and retrieve the gun; leaving her eight to complete her exodus. Her shoes, stiletto-heeled pumps that were just begging to twist an ankle, had been abandoned scant steps after taking flight, which would shave a few seconds off the return trip. She had a feeling she wouldn't be coming back to the makeshift workshop after tonight, and she'd be damned if anyone else was going to reap the benefits of her hard work. Savagely, she yanked a piece of the paneling from the wall. It clattered to the ground, and she reached inside to grasp a handful of the wires and do the same.
It was times like this she was particularly proud of being able to call herself the best wirer in 4. She'd planned for just such an event shortly after taking up residence in the flat. Slender fingers picked their way through the mass to the center coil, and she eased it through the maze of metal until she could actually see it. Her eyes narrowed, and she pressed the tip of a nail through the plastic coating.
It would, if all went well, finish eating the hole itself, now that the barrier had been weakened. Chemical burns were not high on her list of experiences for the evening; or wouldn't have been had she intended to stick around and check its progress. The tangle of wires swung gently above the bed when she released it, content enough to be free of their previous home in the wall.
Four minutes. Scarlet shifted the bundled bedsheet into the crook of her arm and spun for the door, smacking the light switch to the ON position with the palm of her free hand on the way out.
He was waiting at the end of the corridor, as she'd expected. As she slowed, she reached up to flip the unruly lock of her hair back into place.
"I'm ready," she said. "Let's go."
"Go where?" he inquired amiably, quirking a brow.
"Wherever the hell you're taking me!" she screeched. Her irritation was beginning to break through her falsely calm demeanor.
Instantly, his own attitude shifted to one of suspicion. "Just what did you do?"
"If you know me, you know what I did," she replied with a wink.
He blinked, then shook his head, smirking. "Should I feel sorry for whoever has to pick up the pieces?"
"Ashes," Scarlet corrected. "It'll burn itself out. I was trying not to call attention to myself."
"It's a bit late for that," he told her as he turned, apparently headed for the same train stop he'd disembarked from.
The blonde scowled, re-arranging the bedsheet so that it covered the hole in her dress. "I meant by anyone else. And just who the hell are you, anyway?"
"I'm the employer of a rather shrewish whore, apparently," he remarked dryly.
"And you still haven't paid me!"
He simply laughed, checking his watch. "I will. You're worth a slight bit more than I can conveniently carry."
Her eyes brightened, and she turned a bright grin up to him. "Told you."
"No, you didn't." Beneath her feet, she could feel the tiles vibrate, but her attention remained focused on the man beside her. "If I'd come looking for an actual whore, do you really think I'd've come without gil? Well, to pay her off, anyway."
"...is this where I'm insulted that I'm not a real whore, or grateful that you think I'm something else?" Scarlet gave a light snort, and raked her hair from her face again.
"Whichever." He fell silent after that, not speaking again until after he'd led her into the last car and the train had resumed motion.
Three A.M. With the exception of the silent, timid-looking woman carrying a bag of groceries across the aisle, the car was deserted. Scarlet's lips thinned somewhat as the seat lurched beneath her, and she realized abruptly just how bad she must truly look. Now that she could loosen her grasp on the folded bedsheet, she scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth to remove the remainder of the lip paint.
"You're not doing anything but making a bigger mess," her companion snapped. The woman blinked at the sudden irritation in his voice and glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
"I'd like to see you do better."
"Don't tempt me."
She smirked, stroking the sheet nervously. Beneath her fingers, the fabric was growing warm from friction. "Where are you taking me, anyway?" she asked.
"Where you wanted to go," he answered, once more amused. Scarlet sighed, deciding that she would get no more out of him until he was ready to tell her, and leaned back against the ripped cushion backing her seat.
She knew, even before the train slowed. By the time it screeched to an unwilling halt at the end of the line, she was sure. Nowhere else would have taken that long to get to. She'd lost count of the levels after the other passenger had gotten off, but it didn't matter. The instant the doors opened, she was up, sprinting into the section of the city beyond the exit. The Sector without a number; the top level... The plate.
Throwing decorum to the wind, Scarlet giggled; the high-pitched laughter she'd never quite been able to rid herself of after her first kill - part hysterics, and part what was probably actual madness. In her excitement, she nearly dropped the bundle, and it took her a few seconds to resituate herself; by which time the man had joined her.
"I take it you approve." It was a statement rather than a question, and she grinned as she spun to face him.
"Hell yes I approve!" She dropped her empty hand back to her hip and struck a cocky pose before him.
The edges of his lips curled upward, fighting back a smile. "I'm sure you would have approved four years ago, too," he added.
"I would have approved pretty much any time," she informed him, turning an entire circle in her effort to take in as much of the sight as possible.
He walked toward one of the streets leading away from the stop, not waiting to see if she followed. By now, she was growing accustomed to his nature, and took a step after him without waiting to be prompted. It worked out rather well. "If you hadn't run off where no one could find you, you would have been able to approve four years ago." There was the annoyance creeping into his tone again.
"...you expected me to stick around and wait for the twits who killed my meal ticket to kill me?" She gave that same disdainful snort, shaking her head. "You must have never been off the plate before in your life."
"You make it hard for anyone to be your meal ticket, Scarlet," was his only response. Dimly, in the distance, she could see the eerie glow of the upper-level Reactor lights; prompting her to wonder briefly if the security was any lighter at the top. She doubted it.
"I do what I have to," she said quietly, and shrugged.
He cast one of those piercing gazes at her over his shoulder. "You do, and it worked out to your advantage. If nothing else, your projects have earned you the interest of people who might have looked you over or not, previously."
"Oh?" she asked. A golden brow quirked with renewed interest. "Who?"
"Me." He smirked and resumed walking.
The streets of Midgar's surface were no less crowded that those of the Sectors below, though they were somewhat cleaner, if only because of the exposure to fresh air. In the years she'd been away from it, though, it seemed to have closed in on itself, shoving new structures into places old structures had not intended to share. Here-and-there, neon signs flickered and buzzed, hawking the wares of the shops they graced; and at periodic intervals, labels proclaimed proudly that the business was powered by the Shin-Ra Electric Company. Powered by Mako.
The walk was becoming a lengthy one. Scarlet suspected that her benefactor hadn't wanted to risk leaving whatever method of transportation he used on the top near the Sector entrances, and she couldn't blame him. At one point, had she been able to sneak into 8, she more than likely wouldn't have been above stealing such items herself. Now, however, she was above that. Above the dirt, and the darkness, and the disease. Above the dimly lit corners where a whore had once offered herself to whoever had a gil or two to spare on cheap entertainment. The whore had ridden her way up at gunpoint.
At last, they came to one of the multi-storied buildings closer to the center of the city. Her companion held up a hand to indicate that she should stop, and pulled a keycard from his coat pocket with the other. Blue eyes watched impassively as the LED sensors on the swipe switched from red to green; only to lift to his curiously as he handed the card to her once the audible hiss affirmed that the door had unlocked.
"It's yours," he said.
She blinked, reaching to take the keycard with a trembling hand. By the time the full meaning of the action had sunk in, he had brushed past her to press the call button for the lift just past the entrance, and she had to run the last few steps to keep the doors from closing before she arrived.
"Ten-K", he added cryptically as the elevator began to rise, and she surmised that it was the number of the apartment that the card would open. "Furnished and fabricated with a rather disgusting amount of resources. There are clothes, of course; if you don't like them, or they aren't fitted properly, you can buy new ones at your own leisure."
Scarlet was quiet for a moment, studying the card in her hand. Painted, bruised lips curved into a sly smile as his words reached her ears. "So I'm to be a higher class of whore, now?"
"If you like." He shrugged disinterestedly. "What you do in your spare time is your business. The rest of it is ours."
"Whose?" she asked, furrowing her brow. The ding of the lift as it reached the selected floor went unnoticed in her desire for answers, and it was only when he scowled that she stepped - backwards - from it.
"Mine, for one." Dark eyes fixed on hers, and he extended a hand. "The gun, Scarlet.
"Wha...wait! No!" she cried, curling her arms protectively around the bundle. "I thought -"
"That we had a deal?" he replied with a smirk of his own. "We did, and we do. I told you back in Sector 4 to hand it over to me. Allowing you to retain it this long was a simple oversight on my part. Your reaction to the surface amused me," he said, the grin returning to brighten his features for a second.
"I worked for years on this!" Her eyes narrowed, and she backed another step into the hall.
"And your devotion to the cause hasn't gone unappreciated, I assure you." All traces of his earlier pleasure had fled from his face, and he curled his fingers to beckon Scarlet back to him. "I merely wish to see whether or not your efforts will be rewarded with success. If they are, you'll have as many years as you care to take to complete the design, and the means to create as many more as pleases you. Though...if you'd prefer to return to the slums, I can see that you do."
Her lips thinned, twisting bitterly, and she shoved the bundle into his waiting arms.
"There's my pretty whore," he crooned placatingly. Scarlet merely stared at him with an expression of hate rivalling any she had ever given to a slumdweller. If she was angry, she wouldn't cry; and there was no way she was going to let the man see her cry. He'd bought the whore, used her, and paid her way; and his time for selecting the options of his pleasure was about to run out. Finally, she shook her head and turned away.
"Scarlet," he called.
For a moment, she stood where she was, then sighed and looked back to the lift. "Yeah?"
The knot was already undone, and he cradled the sack-like portion of the sheet between his arm and his chest. His other hand lifted, tossing something toward her, and her own arms rose automatically to catch the object, and ward it off if necessary.
The doll dropped to her feet, smiling up at her vapidly, and the woman ducked to scoop it up as quickly as she could manage. When she straightened, the doors to the lift had all but closed; allowing just enough room for his parting words to reach her before he vanished from view.
"If all goes well, your classes start at the first of the week, Miss Kirana."