Game of Power

By: Zavijah

"From error to error, one discovers the entire truth."

"Would you send Reeve to my office," Rufus lifted his finger from the intercom button and waited for a reply. Blue eyes, now red and slightly puffy from lack of sleep, glared at the black contraption sitting on the edge of his desk. If given the time, it would melt under his demanding, unblinking stare.

"Uh, just a moment sir," the woman on the other end of the line hastily replied.

Rufus finally withdrew his hand from the intercom. His rigid motions laced with forced calmness all but screamed of his dying patience. The previous night proved to be a strain on Rufus' mind. His head felt heavy, clouded, and his fingers ached from tightly gripping a pen for hours. However, the time was not a waste; Rufus had been able to write out a good portion of his life onto the pristine sheets of notebook paper. Everything had been working out smoothly—the ball point gliding gently over the paper to leave the elegant curves of letters between the parallel blue lines. That was how it was until the sun peeked its burning arch over the distant horizon. Bright sun streaks filtered through the mako poisoned sky and glared into Rufus' office. The metal interior made the morning light too much for his tired eyes to endure and Rufus was forced to close his notebook and lay down his pen at the peak of his written plans. The young blonde was at the point of picking the deciding factor that would cause his downfall.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

Rufus head snapped upright at the sound of his secretary's voice that pulled him out of the grip of sleep. His eyes shifted to the intercom. It took a moment for his sluggish mind to realize that the woman could not see him waiting for a continuation. His slender finger pressed down on the send button. "Yes?"

"Reeve is not here. He's been on vacation since yesterday," the woman replied in a nervous rush.

Rufus flexed his fingers, tensing his muscles to release his annoyance. Reeve was in charge of Urban Development; Rufus had a few issues to discuss with the man—but now to have him absent put an ink smear on Rufus' otherwise perfect plans.

"Who is filling in for him?" Rufus calmly asked in a flat tone.

"That would be Tseng sir," came the reply accompanied with a relieved sigh.

Rufus glowered a moment before pushing down on the intercom, almost to a painful degree. He hated wasting time with pointless exchange of words. Did she really need to be told to do every little thing? Where was her common sense? "Then send him to my office."

"He's not here." Yet another ink smear.

Lightly Rufus shook his head, sending a few golden strands of hair to fall over his sapphire gaze that was chiseled sharp with irritation. He ran his slender fingers through his unkempt hair that was in dire need of attention due to the abuse of his all-nighter. A part of him wanted to snap angrily at the girl, but Rufus knew that a temper would get nothing done. He had to remain calm and collected.

"Would you like some coffee, sir?"

Fingers fisted in the soft locks of sandy colored hair. The people around him were so annoying and incompetent—but really it wasn't their fault. Stupidity was like a cold that everyone caught now and then. Rufus just made a habit of avoiding those that were ill. He pressed his finger down on the button for the last time. "If there is anyone here that is closely involved with the Turks, send them to my office. Coffee would be great; black, no cream or sugar."

Rufus glanced at a digital clock off to his right and mentally noted the time before slumping over and resting his head against the desktop. Heavy eyelids fell down, welcoming the young president back into the darkness. Without the cheery sunlight to brighten Rufus mood, he was free to brood over his previous task—deciding the key event that would tear his success apart piece by piece—paper by paper.

He could feel it, the little black notebook, pressing into his chest with every breath due to the way Rufus had draped his upper torso over the desk. What could he possible write that would be his dramatic exit of the dying world. Death. Hm, that had always been a popular method.

A ghost of a smile passed over Rufus' lips as his fingertips began to lightly caress the metallic surface around him. That spot, the very one he was slumped in, had been the exact place where his father had died. Rufus couldn't help but wonder what had been the last fleeting thought to run through the man's head as his heart came to a quivering stop. Did he regret wasting his life—eating­ his days away one by one? Was he horrified that he did not see death standing in the shadows of his office. The ominous presence had been there all along, sitting in the darkness—waiting, watching the man's every move until he finally turned his back. Ignorance was his downfall. He had ignored those that posed no threat to him like they were air—what he could not see couldn't harm him. But oh, how wrong that man had been..

Yes, death had a strong impact on people. Although, it did not shock Rufus—but it had certainly given the secretary a fright when she had found the stout man hunched over his desk.

Rufus mulled over the idea a bit longer until the corners of his lips began to turn downward and his eyebrows drew together in an unconscious frown. If he did choose death, like his father had absently done, that meant it would have to be done by assassination-but who was suited to handle the task? Could anyone handle the pressure? No, there was no one that Rufus could think of that could be the one. Besides, if he wasn't around, he couldn't take pleasure in watching his plans fall perfectly into place. Also he couldn't keep away the dirty fingers that would try and smug the ink of his life. He couldn't let that happen, therefore death was not an option. Rufus deserved something better; something that would earn a huge reaction.

Fingertips continued to brush across the metal surface until a warm object became an obstacle in his hand's path. Eyes then slitted, revealing a line of sky blue that focused distantly on the styrofoam cup resting on the desk space next to his hand.

Coffee?

Rufus pulled his hand away from the desk. The fingertips connecting to the to-go cup were not his own. He traced his gaze up the elegant digits until fair colored skin disappeared beneath dark, fingerless gloves that in turn tucked under the sleeve of a black jacket. Rufus let his eyes continue their journey until it clicked in his mind that the sliver of a shadow in the sunlight was actually the figure of a man sitting on the opposite side of the desk.

Finally his eyes finished their passage and Rufus soaked in the lasting details. Unkempt suit that looked as if the other had fallen asleep in it—the jacket was wrinkled and left opened. White undershirt buttons were left undone at both ends and it was left untucked at the bottom. The look was topped off with disheveled red hair pulled back in a short ponytail, and the unruly long front bangs were held aside by a pair of fashionable sunglasses that were pushed back past the brow. The glasses left a pair of mako green eyes uncovered—eyes that tried to carve their way past the ice of Rufus' blues. All together the stranger was a direct contrast to the professionalism that plagued the rest of the office.

Rufus liked it.

The stranger nudged the cup towards Rufus and the young president took the offered drink. He silently took a sip. As soon as the strong, bitter taste hit his tongue, Rufus slammed the cup back down and shot an annoyed glace at the smiling man. "This is not what I wanted."

"I know," the other replied with a lazy shrug of one shoulder, a soft, flowing motion to demonstrate the man's lack of concern. His green eyes wandered to more entertaining objects in the room. "I was already on my way up here with that"–he gestured single-handedly to the cup—"and I thought 'what the heck'"

"I see," Rufus attempted to take another sip but the smell was proving too much for him at the time. He needed it to make it through the day, but he would find something more to his taste. Oddly, the redhead sitting before him seemed to be doing the job for the morning. "What is it?"

"Espresso. It gives more of a kick than plain coffee." The man grinned lopsidedly before letting his attention stray once more. "It looks like you need a good wake up call."

"Mm," Rufus drawled while letting himself openly stare at the stranger. Mentally he was making small judgments about him. Such as how the other's outward appearance spoke of him being lethargic—but his graceful motions hinted more towards his apathy about his outward look. Reno moved with a purpose, even if it was a casual flick of his cat eyes to meet Rufus' criticizing gaze. On the other hand, Reno should have been no one special. He'd prove to be just like the others around him if given the chance. Rufus inwardly sighed as he glanced at the clock and found that it had been forty minute since he first laid his head down on the desk. The realization made him bristle in alarm. "How long have you been here?"

The disorderly man snapped his green eyes back to examine Rufus' masked expression. He paused thoughtfully on the questions, allowing his head to tilt a second before glancing towards the nearby clock, "About twenty minutes."

Rufus eyebrows rose with the unexpected answer, "And you simply sat there the entire time?"

"Yes," the man smiled, his eyes flickering with dark interest. He reached forward and ran his fingertips over the metal surface of the desk—much like how Rufus had been doing moments before. "I didn't want to disturb you. It looked like you were thinking about something important, and you looked kind of cute when half-asleep."

Rufus let one brow lower while the other remained raised in skeptism, "What's your name?"

"Reno, sir" the redhead responded as if out of habit. By then he had withdrawn his hand and had settled his restlessness by fiddling with a nearby picture frame.

"Well then, Reno.." Rufus let his voice dip, demanding the other's gaze. He quietly watched as the man cocked his head at the picture—one of a family that only existed because of a name—then he set the frame back down before finally bringing his eyes back to Rufus. The blonde in turn let his gaze slit into a venomous glare. "Get off my desk."

Reno's lips parted as if to reply but he seemed to think better of his words and smirked instead. He slid off the edge of the desk and backed off a few steps. When he stopped he took on a slanted stance that seemed to shift his weight back and forth—laidback yet nervous at the same time.

Rufus took the moment to try and once again stick a label to the strange man, but nothing seemed to categorize him—at least not anything that could be determined with a first impression. Everything that Rufus assumed would be disproved by small motions, words, or gesticulations by the redhead. Thoughtfully Rufus let his tongue run over the point of his canine as he finished eyeing the other—a predator sizing up his prey before deciding one which part to eat first. "So, what are you, my coffee boy?"

"No, not even close," Reno slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged again for a reason unknown to the young president. However, the gesture allowed Rufus to glimpse at the black handle of the standard issue handgun that rested peacefully in Reno's shoulder holster. "Your secretary said you were looking for someone closely involved with the Turks, so here I am."

"You're a Turk." Rufus stated, not questioned. It was just another twist in his mental sketch. Just another time to erase and redraw the fine gray lines that served as guidelines. Rufus had become to accustom to dealing, and seeing Tseng—straight, clean suit; stone-faced, predictable and uninteresting. Yet, where Tseng was a professional in his appearance, Reno carried none of those traits. Of course he had to be good if he was allowed to be Turk, not just any ruffian off the street got to serve in the elite branch of government. Rufus suppose the slacking appearance was an advantage to Reno, it caused people to underestimate him; a costly mistake. Besides, the unkempt style separated the redhead from the others; it was a wonderful change of scenery in Rufus' opinion.

"I need information gathered on all the rebel groups that base themselves in Midgar," Rufus laid down the orders and carefully watched as Reno's shoulders slumped with the new burden.

"There are only three active groups. So maybe you want information on just them." Reno's mako-tinted eyes rolled back onto the president.

Rufus raised his folded hands in front of his face so he could rest his elbows on the desk—it also hid the way his lips quirked up in a bitter smirk. Sure, Reno was nice on the eyes but it didn't mean that Rufus liked him. In fact it might prove to be the opposite. He was amusing, yet annoying. "But when those three are taken care of, the others will rise to take their place. It's better, easier, if we simply crush them at the same time."

Reno rolled his shoulders as a faint smile tried to mar the serious expression he was fighting to maintain. "Yes, but my way means less paperwork and it ensures I will have a job when those other groups arise."

"True," Rufus let one of his hands fall to rest on the desk while the other became a pillow for the side of his tiring features. The redhead was honest. It was a bit disturbing to not hear the usual excuse—but telling the truth was a dangerous trait, because Rufus didn't know how to pick out the secrets hidden behind blunt honest. "I can find other jobs for your department to do."

Reno snorted causing Rufus' eyebrows to shoot up in silent questioning. The redhead lightly shook his head and turned to walks towards the window. He flipped his sunglasses down to shield his eyes from the harsh rays. Rufus tried to follow the other's moves but the morning light burned his sensitive eyes and he finally turned his face away from the window. "Have something you want to share?"

"Yeah. You have no idea what we do, do you?" was the biting reply.

Mockery. The taste was bitter sweet inside of Rufus' mouth. He sneered at the empty spot on the desk that had once served as a seat for the Turk. This other man seemed to know what little power Rufus really had—why else would he continuously cross the line with sharp remarks that cut more than just the skin; not that Rufus would show any sign of weakness.

"Sir, Tseng is here." The intercom voice broke the tension that had been quickly building to a suffocating degree. Maybe it had just been Rufus' chest that had painfully tightened in anger—or perhaps in fear that the other know how powerless he was, a threat that would end Rufus plans before they had a chance to begin. Rufus could feel the real power—the mako radiating from Reno's eyes. The poisonous orbs were watching him behind the black veil of his sunglasses. He could feel the mako mercilessly burning into his skin. Even if the other was only a shadow against the morning light, Rufus knew the other was watching him; waiting for the young president to make a fatal mistake.

But Rufus couldn't let that happen. He didn't make mistakes when he had already laid out his plans in perfect order. Everyone else around him made the errors, he just worked around them.

"You do what I tell you to do," Rufus calmly stated before pressing his finger down to speak into the intercom. "Send him to my office."

"Ah well," Reno stirred at the window, pivoting his body towards the direction of the door. "I didn't come up here to receive orders anyway."

"Oh?" Rufus feigned interest as he stood from his desk, walked around and leaned up against the edge.

"Ever since your old man died, I've been curious to see who assumed power," Reno's silhouette shrugged then headed for the double doors.

Rufus couldn't help but to chuckle—a string of low laughs that echoed the hollow of his soul. There was that fickle word again, power. It haunted him like a shadow.

"What?" Reno inquired, his general curiosity finally reaching past his eyes and into his voice. "Why are you laughing?"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Reno," Rufus smiled; blue eyes flashing darkly, dangerously at the approaching redhead. A step closer and Rufus might have lashed out. How dare that man challenge his 'power' when he had none at all. Was he blind, or simply a stray dolt from the herd? Rip his eyes out. Make him blind. Anything but stupid, clueless..

Reno paused as a knock sounded from the door. Both heads turned as a man pushed aside the metal doors and strolled into the middle of the room. Black suit was buttoned, freshly pressed and not a wrinkle creased the fabric as the man stood ramrod straight. Hands were clasped firmly behind his back and his chin was slightly inclined with a neutral expression. His long raven black hair remained neatly tucked behind his ears, not a strand out of place.

This man was the incarnation of professionalism that Rufus loathed.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" the man asked the expected question while his eyes wandered to Reno.

"Yes," Rufus resumed his businessman façade so quickly that was as if another being had taken control of his limbs and had smothered the fires in his eyes. Apathy was once again his personality, a cold man without the violent images dancing through his mind. "Glad you could finally come, Tseng."

"Actually," Reno interrupted while stepping up to the other Turk, "the president and I were in the middle of a discussion. You can wait outside the door until we're done."

Tseng's gaze remained on Reno in silent regard. Rufus could see the annoyance hardening the man's expression to surpass that of stone. It must have been a practiced reaction, like it wasn't the first time Reno had become an embarrassment, or one that would ever end. Carefully the older Turk held back his tongue from whipping out to scar the teasing found on the curve of Reno's lips. Coal black eyes eventually shifted to the president—the one who was watching the exchange like a hawk. "Sir?"

"Power, that's what's funny, Reno." Rufus snapped flat toned at the redhead. The neutral, blank expression on his face hardly contained the harshness beneath the words. "Now, get out of my office."

Reno waved his hand through the air as if he didn't care. His feet carried him the short distance to and through the doorway. As soon as the metal door clicked to a close, Rufus shifted his attention to the boring colors of the more professional Turk. "I need information gathered on the terrorist groups here in Midgar."

"Yes sir, I'll get onto that right away." Tseng's bland reply seemed to end their conversation.

Rufus gave the stiff man a quick look over. He could practically taste the revulsion emitting from the other man. Did the old Turk not take well to being ordered around by the new, young punk president—who only got the position because he was daddy's only son.

Well, at least he isn't the only one disgusted by the selection process, Rufus smirked.

"Let's make this easy on Reno. I'm interested in the groups that live under the plates," The dark humorous joke fell flat against Tseng unchanging expression. Rufus grunted before standing and moving around to sit in the leather chair behind his desk. The soft creak of leather was the only sound between them. Apparently the older man didn't have the same sense of humor as the young redhead—a pity. It was obvious that Reno would be the one doing all the legwork of the organization.

Tseng still stood alert, waiting for an approval to leave. Rufus however ignored him and began to hum a slow tune into the uncomfortable silence. He picked up his discarded pen and flipped open the small black notebook to reveal his night's writings. Dithering as much as possible, Rufus raised a hand and licked the end of his index finger. He then brought the moistened tip down on the dry paper and proceeded to smear the ink in seemingly random places on the sheet. Rufus eyes lifted along with a soft smile. He glanced at the black tinge coloring the end of his finger before sticking it into his mouth to remove the offensive stain.

Rufus paused long enough to let his sapphire eyes laugh at Tseng's tense form. "You can go now."

Long raven hair nearly rose in the air with how fast the Turk turned on heel and swiftly made for the exit.

"Oh, and Tseng.."

The man stopped, hand resting on the doorknob. He did not turn around, however, keeping his scowl aimed at the metallic surface before him. Rufus merely let his smile broaden at the pleasing sensation of stabbing needles into the other's nerves. "Be sure you don't make any mistakes."

End Chapter.

Yeah. Definitely a dark relationship between Reno and Rufus, I can't help myself. Oh, why am I updating this and not my other stories? Well, I lost my notebook (with the chapters I was writing) on one of the planes I took to get here, my new home, Fairbanks Alaska. I do, luckily, have parts of those stories saved on a floppy disk—but this laptop doesn't have that, so I need to order an external floppy. In the mean time, I'm just going to amuse myself with this 'slowly driving Rufus to the point of insanity' thing.