Manila
The words played in her head, missing a tone or two, but meaning the same nonetheless.
I would kill for something to eat…
The hood on her head covered what was a mane of brown hair that really didn't decide whether to go down to her shoulders or hang around her cranium. Well, the owner was to blame. She decided that a hood was a good way to go. The red hood reminded her of a story she'd managed to read her and recite once.
Her white blouse and red skirt were expenses paid for by a man who went about matters in a different way. She knew him for never answering his questions directly, taking showers almost every five hours and eating the crusts off his bread, leaving a whole sandwich, which she usually ate happily.
"Yuffie is coming to town." He said, sitting at the edge of his bed. The red-hooded girl sat on his desk facing from about ten feet away. She had a thin build with a small frame that easily evaded anyone who looked. She was twenty-two years old, not a years more or less. She preferred not to revealher age, letting her voice force others to presume she'd barely met puberty.
"And what is my mission?" she asked, her voice distinctly springing to life. It was about four o'clock in the maiden sector of Midgar. The different man stretched a bit, his press pass on the desk behind the red girl.
"What kind of food do you like?" He rose his arms individually, making it look as if he were flapping his wings. Maybe he put on too much deodorant. Whenever he felt like thinking, he picked at bits of it that wanted to cake itself in his armpits. He began to pick. The red girl leapt off the desk, walking to his bed in the small room. She sat at the edge beside him, but facing the window, which gave a view of citizens, drunkards, police, children, cowards, mothers, mother-makers, widow-makers, homeless, runaways, gentlemen, criminals, whoever managed to walk through the streets was instantly labeled. She longed to be apart of them, but she lost her chance. More like lost her home.
The man picking his pits had dark hair, slicked back with tan skin and slanted eyes downward, giving him menacing stare, especially when he lowered his gaze, or head. Whichever one. The red girl checked the strap on her thigh. It didn't matter which one. She slid her hand smoothly down the dagger that met the insides of many people. It had been inside more women than the pit-picking man, but he planned everything, so she bit her tongue after every successful mission.
He possessed a muscular build, which made his wearing a wifebeater a little impressive. Red girl noticed, but walked to the window, watching every person. Their expressions. Their possessions. She wished the ones she saw could kidnap her and feed her. Her gaze frowned a bit when she saw a lightpole on the corner, where a tiny girl sat, huddled on the verge of crying, hoping her sad look would attract a bystander. Any bystander that could provide shelter. And food. Red girl felt a little alarmed, her skin a bit warm as the girl managed to look up, catching her looking. She wanted to move, but walking away only meant she wanted to forget her past. Red girl's hand pressed against the window where she thought the little girl's hand would be. Her yellow eyes locked onto the girls clear blue eyes. She sensed her pain and loneliness.
I can be there. Just wait outside the building. I'll be right there. I have some bread. And a cover too.
"Juni." The little girl stopped crying now, showing signs of smiling as her face relaxed. Juni wouldn't find out. At least right now. She turned to see the pit-picking man throwing a manila folder on the table as he walked from the once occupied door, papers sliding out fashionably, as if it had been planned. Before she opened the folder, she saw two faces. One recognizable. If aged gracefully weren't used so much, Juni would've said the venerable woman with long hair had aged gracefully. Of course it was questionable why a thirty year old woman who could take out men twice as strong could be classified as aging at all.
Ping looked to the right on the photograph, possibly not aware of the photographer. Or knowledgeable, just posing inadvertently, hoping they got a good angle.
Juni flared her thin nostrils at Ping's portrait. Saying they met under hostile circumstances would be well, and understatement. The only person to give her a scar. Pit-picking man groaned a bit as he kept imitating a simian. Must've pulled a hair or two. Her mind seemed to spring another thought as he winced in pain. Make that only woman to give her a scar.
The folder said the usual stuff, they'll be here, so be here, they'll do this, so do this, like you've always done.
"Not exactly a killing. A meeting,I presume?" Juni asked, flipping past pages to make it look like commonplace.
"There's another girl. Shinra wants her." he said.
Juni watched him throw on a red button-down shirt which would pair with his uniform black pants and black shoes. The manila folder closed and Juni watched him straighten out his black jacket. He smiled at her, being only three years older and giving her these assignments made him feel twice as old, as if he couldn't perform himself. Yuffie and Ping would arrive to meet with them in ten minutes.
Juni stepped outside, looking at the lightpost.
The little girl was gone.