The Flowers of Midgar
Chapter Three
Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy Seven, or any lyrics I might use.
This is a simple fanfiction about complex people; i.e. this is part "Shinra" fic, part romance, part adventure, etc. There will be many mature themes dealt with in this fic, that's why it's rated R. If you don't think you can handle reading excessive violence, swearing, rather long stretches of logic to get from point A to point B, then go away now and find some cheerful little G-rated fluffy thing to waste your time on. There will be little to no fluff in this fanfic.
Read and review, check out some of my other works. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, and if you choose to impart some, give me specific examples as to what you would like to see things changed to. Flames are always appreciated, and will be used to cook my dinner and warm my house (the heating bill tried to eat me yesterday, so yeah, please, send flames.). I will try to update as often as is physically possible, but I'm a college freshman, and I have a lot of crap to do. Enjoy.
"You did WHAT!?" Tseng of the Turks watched silently as Vice President Rufus turned to Reno with a look of sheer disbelief on his face. "You destroyed a 5000gil earpiece on a whim!?"
Reno had come stumbling in at seven o'clock that morning, still pretty close to sober, with the terms he'd worked out with Hero. That wasn't going to save his ass from getting chewed, but the Shinra execs had gotten what they wanted: a chance to make their proposal. Reno had gotten something he'd wanted: three stiff drinks and a bottle to take home. Now all that was left was to see if Hero got what she wanted.
A timid little secretary scampered up with a manila folder that she handed to Rufus before she made her escape. Rufus gave Reno one last murderous glare before he let his dark blue eyes look over the folder. It was old, very, very old, with the name Grace Blackwater on the front. With a practiced flick he opened it as he walked back to his desk to sit on a corner and read.
Name: Grace Blackwater
Aliases: Hero, Black Grace
Birthdate: August 15
Age: 25
Height/Weight: 5' 1 ½"/110
Hair/eye color: Black/reddish-golden (penciled in the margin: warm honey)
Blood type: O
Birthplace: Nibelheim
Noticeable features: Tear-shaped scar in center of forehead, multiple gunshots scars over body, various other scars. Tattoo of black Wutainese dragon on right leg (there was a picture of a leg with a silver dragon spiraling down it), tattoo of silver Wutainese dragon on left arm (picture of a left arm with a black dragon spiraling down it), and multiple piercings.
History: Lived in Nibelheim until the age of five, moved to Wutai. Lived in Wutai for ten years. Exiled at the age of fifteen, after completing the highest available levels of Wutainese martial arts training. Was hired by Shinra, age 17, as a mercenary to fight in the First Wutainese War; disappeared after the battle for the capital; thought to have been smuggling refugees out of Wutai. Appeared in Midgar, age 20; graduated University of Midgar with honors and two degrees, age 24. Opened bar in Sector Three, age 25. No known family or relatives.
Notes: (Written in pen, very sloppy) Exposed to increased levels of Mako radiation during the War, no obvious effects except a cessation of physical aging. Increased physical strength, consistent with tests performed in Nibelheim. Mental capacity near same level or unchanged, hard to tell...such a bright girl. Permission to perform further tests denied. Subject to be released from hospital immediately, injuries sustained during battle already healed. Permission to observe subject granted...further experimentation with Mako in initial stages of development. (Here the words are sloppier than everywhere else, the writing erratic and nearly illegible) Subject dismissed from military; contract fulfilled, etc. Eventually testing will resume, once subject resurfaces. (Words are blurred, the ink was smeared out when still wet) soon will have a match, and the breeding process can be started.
Rufus glanced up and looked at Tseng, bringing the Turk leader over to the desk without a word. He handed the expatriate Wutainese the file, watching Tseng's face closely as he read it. Reno stood in the center of the huge office quietly, not forgotten but ignored for the moment. He was grateful for the distraction, since getting yelled at by the chief was never pleasant. Tseng turned his brown/black eyes on his boss, one eyebrow raised and the ghost of what would have been a cold sweat on a lesser person hiding in his gaze.
"Well Tseng? Would you verify the Wutainese bit in here, and tell me what it means?" Rufus had that bored drawl in his voice that said all too clearly he was not happy with the contents of the file. Tseng looked at Reno briefly, and turned back to his commander in chief.
"I know for certain that the Wutainese references are true, as I knew this woman in Wutai. We called her Black Grace, and she...she is one of the most dangerous people in this world." If Tseng had shown a hint of hesitation at what he was saying, Rufus wouldn't have believed him. "Exiles are marked differently, according to the reasons they are exiled. A tear-shaped scar shows that the Council did not wish to send her away, but had to for the good of the people. Having the scar in the precise center of the forehead shows a large amount of respect for the person being exiled, to the Wutainese any mark in the center of the forehead is considered equal to a crown. So, translated, the Wutainese gave her a crown of tears when they sent her away."
Rufus sat in his comfortable desk chair and assimilated the information, getting almost as much from what Tseng was not saying as what he was. He was a scarred exile, and rather than use himself as an example, he chose to explain concepts.
"What's the significance of a crown of tears, and is there anything special about the tattoos?" Tseng looked at the picture once more and took a moment to find words to explain a practice older than ancient and twice as outdated.
"A crown of tears is exactly that...she carries the tears and prayers of Wutai with her everywhere. It means that if she asked, even though she is 'dead' to them, they would send an army to her side without question. She...is something of a...a fallen queen, you could say, among the Wutainese. If she returned to Wutai, she could overthrow the entire Council, most likely, with the might of the people behind her. That is what a crown of tears is to the Wutainese." Tseng paused to let this sink in. He wasn't at a loss for words; it had just been so long since he'd had to think about the ancient Wutainese traditions that he was a little rusty. The tattoos were easy though. "The tattoos are simple in comparison. All tattoos are determined by prophecy; once you reach a certain level of fighting skill, the village seer has a vision of your life. What she sees is turned into tattoos so that all who see you will know your power. Dragons are the highest of symbols you can get. The silver dragon represents the mind and magic in Wutainese lore, the left arm represents the pathway to the soul. The black dragon is the human self, the emotions, the desires that make us function; the right leg is the foundation of the person, the base from which the soul grows. The translation of it is this: four spirals from shoulder to elbow; she has four wars to fight within herself before she can tap her full potential. Five spirals from elbow to wrist; she has five wars of the body to fight before death can pursue her. The dragon's flames go all the way to the tips of her fingers, once a true fire is kindled in her, it will burn to the end of her life. Three spirals from hip to knee, she will destroy the lives of three people without meaning to. Four spirals from knee to ankle, she will free four souls from hell. The black dragon's flame spirals down her foot; she will find one redemption from her crimes in her life...if she can take it."
Tseng had fully warmed to his subject, and the study of the tattoos had fascinated him...he was looking forward to meeting Black Grace again, and he wondered idly if she would remember him. Rufus had listened patiently to the explanation of the tattoos and such, since he knew Tseng said it out loud to help himself remember. Reno had listened and absorbed the information; Tseng didn't often talk about Wutai, and he had to ask a question of his own.
"Well, in general, what do the tattoos mean concerning us?" Tseng looked up at him thoughtfully.
"It means that if you try to kill her, make sure that the first attack does the job, since you won't get a second. If you try to double-cross her, pray to all your gods that she won't kill you slowly. Ultimately, it means that if we make her our enemy, we're in deep shit." Rufus looked up at the long haired man in surprise. It was rare when Tseng appeared to believe in all the arcane traditions of his birth country, and when he did it was usually trouble. No one had ever rattled the assassin as much as this bar owner seemed to, but, then again, Tseng had never encountered someone he'd known before his exile in the years since he left Wutai. Curious...very curious...
Dismissing the Turks from his office, Rufus leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk, and thought up a game plan for that night's meeting with this Hero woman. That file was a good ten years old, and if it was stored when Hero was grimaced inwardly. He hated trying to charm the jaded.