The Flowers of Midgar
Chapter Four
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.
The bed was rather small, just big enough for Hero and her mountain of pillows. The blankets were handmade quilts from a woman in Sector Five who operated a fabric store. She thought Hero was wonderful, and so she was always sending one of her many children along with a blanket. Hero appreciated it, the building was a bitch to heat, and so when they didn't need it, they turned the heat off. The quilts insured that none of the employees would freeze to death in their sleep. Hero had slept for a few hours, waking up long enough to check the time and go back to sleep. She slept in forty-five minute segments, a habit ingrained during her military days, when she didn't know who would attack her first, her employers or the enemy. The clock on the bedside said it was a quarter to six, so she stretched a few times and snuggled under the covers to wake up slowly.
The blankets covered her face from her eyes down, and she absently looked around her apartment. The bed was in a corner by a window, opposite the door. A desk further along the wall from the bed had papers scattered over it covered in childish scribbles. The far wall was floor to ceiling bookcases, the dark red wood polished to a shine, the books lovingly dusted every morning. The door to the bathroom shared the wall with the hall door, a large painting by a long dead Wutainese artist between the two. Below the painting was an ornamental but functional sword rack filled with katanas and smaller swords and knives. She did her katas every morning when she woke up so she wouldn't get rusty. The old grandfather of the people who ran the restaurant in Sector Six was an exiled Wutainese swordsman and they often trained together. Neither learned anything, but he was still spry enough to give Hero a good workout when she needed it.
Feeling awake enough to holler down the hall for "coffee, damnit" Hero arched her back and relaxed the muscles in her shoulders as she walked over to her closet, her silk embroidered Wutainese dressing gown whispering along the freshly waxed wood of the floor. The black silk blended in with her short-ish shoulder-length hair so you couldn't tell where hair ended and robe began, the amber colored embroidery making her eyes look darker than they really were. She was lost from sight within the confines of her wardrobe when the subtle knock on the door announced the coffee had arrived. She hollered a muffled come in, and the waitress on duty entered bearing a tray with coffee, sugar, cream, and pastries. Hero crawled out of the wardrobe gasping and looking at it like it was a hideous monster.
"Ah...Caitlin, just the girl I wanted to see. I have a business meeting tonight...the Turk from this morning, his bunch, and one of his bosses. Would you be a dear and find me something to wear?" Hero poured herself a cup of coffee gratefully, liberally adding sugar, conservatively adding cream. The waitress Caitlin looked at the closet thoughtfully before she approached it and stepped in. The rustling and banging coming from within assured Hero that she had just barely escaped with her own life and that the brave girl would need a spectacular funeral when Caitlin returned dragging something covered in a dust jacket and looking like money.
"I thought this would be appropriate for any dealings with the Shinra, boss." Caitlin lifted off the dust cover as her hair-do finally gave up the ghost and fell apart. "Now if you don't need anything else, boss, I'll be off to get fixed for work...again..."
Hero thanked her kindly as the now bedraggled waitress left; turning to survey the outfit like it was a dangerous enemy. The white linen dress shirt was still pressed to perfection, the black silk waistcoat embroidered with white dragons made from fine silk thread, the black silk slacks unadorned. The outfit was masculine enough that the Shinra wouldn't treat her like a girl, but nice enough that she would still be able to make them drool if she wanted. Hero eyed it once more, then went to the bathroom to turn on the shower, resolving to give Caitlin a pay raise and a free trip to the hairdresser.
The night had been no busy than any other, it was a quarter to eleven, and the Shinra had yet to arrive. Dancing Dice had been open for almost four hours, the meeting had been scheduled for ten, Hero had gone through half a pack of cigarettes and two books already. She was slightly, just slightly, beyond annoyed. So when the Shinra finally walked through the door, they saw her flopped on the bar the way she usually was, her back against the wall, legs stretched out, ankles crossed. Her outfit had survived well, and she still looked great, but there was a fine thread of irritation running through the air. Some of the customers looked up, then they went back to their drinks. If Hero had problems with the Shinra, she could handle them.
Reno walked over to the bar, where Hero was sitting to find out where exactly the meeting would take place. He got there, opened his mouth, and went flying across the room. The bar was totally silent when Reno hit the wall on the other side, and the sound of bones crunching seemed to echo throughout the room. The remaining Turks had their hands on their guns, but didn't draw them. Rufus looked at Hero with an is-that-all-you've-got stare.
"A time for this discussion was agreed upon. That time came and went, just as your chance at a discussion came and went with it. Now get out." Hero's voice was laced with poison, and she wasn't near angry yet. The Shinra exchanged looks and left it to Rufus to fill the silence. The participants in a game of Asshole in back didn't bother to stop playing, the poker cards at another table were dealt, but the attention of everyone in that establishment was trained on Hero and the Shinra.
"I'm afraid that we were delayed. You have my deepest apologies for interrupting your schedule, but it was unavoidable. What would it take to bring that chance at discussion around again?" Rufus was unwillingly impressed with the woman. She was beautiful, and deadly, and in complete control of the situation, without even looking up from her book. She let out an offering to the perpetual smoke cloud hovering around the ceiling and raised her gaze to lock with Rufus'. Whereas he was impressed with her, Rufus didn't even show up on Hero's radar. Instead her eyes flicked to the Turks standing behind him. A woman, brunette, looked like a female bodybuilder. A tall man with a set of shoulders most women would drool over, skin the color of well creamed coffee, and badass written all over him. And...
"Kisaragi Tseng... It's been too long." Tseng smirked at her mischievously as she swung down from her perch and sauntered over to him. He bowed low when she reached him, murmuring something in Wutainese that made her smile light up the room. They spoke quietly for a moment, then Hero sighed and led them through the bar and into a back room. Chatter broke out immediately behind them, but Hero closed the door and ignored it. Tseng continued speaking to her in muted Wutainese, and Hero kept smiling. Occasionally she would interject a comment of her own in the fluid tongue, Tseng would laugh, and they would get back to the conversation at hand. Reno stumbled in behind everyone else, clutching his ribs, and the woman hurriedly used a materia to heal him.
"Kuroi Megumi, please, hear him out. The reason we were delayed is why we have come to you to begin with." Tseng was eminently respectful to her, knowing she would see it as a way of gaining favor, but not really caring. She deserved respect. Rufus stepped forward once more, well aware of how he had been overlooked, but deciding to use her low opinion of him to his advantage.
"Grace Blackwater, I have a business proposal that would be quite advantageous for you." He let his blue eyes meet hers as he flicked his bangs out of his eyes. She looked him over once, resisted the temptation to tell him to drop dead, and looked at him more closely. He had potential...it was just stuck underneath all the bullshit he was forced to put up with. She knew she was going to regret it later, but she nodded once and sat at the large table in the middle of the room. Hero put her feet up and grinned as Tseng ran his eyes over her legs. The others might have thought he was checking her out, but they both knew he was counting knives.
"I don't remember your legs being that long, Megumi." Tseng truly didn't; the last time he'd seen her, she'd only been able to wear a total of eight knives. Now he counted ten.
"I've grown since then...you should know that. You're a lot older than you were the last time I...saw...you." They were both playing up to the sexual banter expectations of the rest of the group. Reno was the only other person in the room who'd known what Tseng was looking for, but he'd counted two knives short. Tseng chose not to reply, but rather sat at the table, faced Hero, stretched out into the chair and crossed his ankles. Slowly the rest of the group sat around the scarred wooden table. "Now, what's so important that the mighty Rufus Shinra would venture into the slums to see me?"
The Turks all seemed to sit up straighter and put on knowing looks. Hero looked around the table and laughed. So, the all knowing Turks are even in the dark about this, Hero thought absently, her curiosity growing slightly. Rufus lifted a briefcase onto the table that Hero hadn't noticed earlier. He'd hidden it in his coat, and as he did so, Hero saw a shotgun on the other side of the coat. Watching that made her blood run cold, and she surveyed the other Turks with a harsher view than before. No...they didn't have any extra tricks. Hero looked up to see Rufus watching her, a small smirk playing around his full lips. Hero didn't like the little twerp looking at her like that, so she smiled back and watched the smirk fade from his eyes. She'd called his bluff, and made one of her own. Now they were starting to play the game, but it wouldn't be fun for Hero until someone pulled a gun.
"During a separate investigation, we ran across your name in conjunction with Sephiroth, Professor Hojo, and Professor Gast. This is of a small concern at the moment, but it will soon get much bigger. First order of business is simply to find out why you are in their files." Rufus had already found out part of that from Hero's general file at Shinra, but he needed specifics. It was very, very important. Hero's eyes narrowed and her lips twitched suspiciously as she tried to remember so far back in her past.
"Good Lord, Shinra....do you have any idea how long ago I was involved in any of that? I must've been ten years or more... Well, the Sephiroth connection is easy. I was hired to train him when he was knee high to a small bug, and later he was in my troop in the first War. He hit General rank in the last part of the Second Wutainese War, poor thing. I would sooner die than be stuck as career military..." Hero paused to light a cigarette, and settle herself into her chair again. "Hojo and Gast, misguided bastards, got a hold of me in the First War, when I was in the infirmary having my pieces put back together. They gave me a few extra injections, monitored me for a few weeks, and started talking about cellular implants. I know for a fact they gave me some kind of Mako shot, nothing fucks up your system like that shit. Apparently that's what stopped my aging and made me eternally young." Hero pulled a face and pushed out her cig. The bitterness in her voice was almost tangible, and Tseng was watching her closely. "They gave me a needle full of some kind of red colored shit...wasn't blood. Blood doesn't try to get out of the needle and eat you. Well, after about three months of them monkeying around with me, they brought in Seph and had him take a few swings at me with Masamune. He didn't really want to, but they told him some cock-and-bull story about me being part of a special science project, being as good as dead anyway, and all that jazz. Well, he took his swings, but I wasn't there anymore. I was on the other side of the fuckin' room before I knew I'd moved at all. That shit fucked me up for a long while, I got transferred out of there by pulling all my tubes out, breaking some of their beakers and cuttin' m'self up. I had to get 340 stitches, but I was discharged and gone. I haven't been to a doctor since."
Rufus had listened to her patiently, frowning thoughtfully now and then.
"Do you know why they picked you for the experiments?" Hero's eyes blazed, and she laughed bitterly.
"No clue. I've always figured it was a case of wrong place wrong time, but lately I've been thinking it was a little more than that. You see," And here Hero sat up straight and leaned toward Rufus conspiratorially. "While they were performing their experiments, they were talking about how it was lucky I'd finally been injured and they'd finally gotten their chance and that bullshit. And the woman Gast had brought along as his assistant, well, she was married to him and pregnant. He was talking to her about how their progress with someone of my genetic structure proved the shit they were doing would work on the brat once it was born. That horrified me, a nice enough man so obsessed with his job that he was fully intending to sacrifice his own child to science..."
Rufus thought about that for a while, pulling out his own pack of cigs and lighting one. Hero passed over the ashtray and a few moments of silence descended on the table. From out in the barroom there were shouts and yells coupled with the sound of bottles breaking and chairs crunching. The Turks tensed, but Hero laughed.
"Don't worry. The customers can handle anything that walks through that door. Part of the charm at Dancing Dice is that if you're close enough to a fight, you get to join in. If some kind of bruiser comes in, I'll get off the bar and tango. Drunks love it, says it's better than watching boxing on the tellies." Tseng stared at her in horror.
"You mean to tell me that a master trained in Wutai rolls toughs in the Midgar slums for fun!?" Hero raised and eyebrow and chuckled.
"Since when did I say it was fun? I haven't had an honest-to-God fight in longer than I can remember...I haven't had a fight since I hit Midgar."
"Tomorrow's my day off, I'll go a few rounds with you." The brunette had finally spoken, and her arrogance made the hair on the back of Hero's neck prickle. Hero looked at Tseng, gave him a chance to intervene, and when he didn't, Hero smiled broadly. It was the sort of smile a cat would get when she sees a mouse walking right into her mouth.
"What sort of training have you had? And I don't really care about what with, but my guess would be that the only person sitting at this table who'd even be able to make me break a sweat would be Tseng. I don't think you'd have the staying power to dance with me, kid." The brunette glared and looked ready to spit nails, but Tseng shot her a look.
"I agree with her, Bernice. Megumi could rip you apart without trying. But, Reno and Rude...I think they could handle a dance with you." He was looking at Hero again, a small smile playing around his lips. He knew where this was going, they both did, but getting there was the fun part.
"You think so? Well, I just find it interesting that you're so willing to have your underlings turned into hamburger...I think you're scared of me, Tseng." Hero's smile was distinctly feline, dangerous and seductive all at once, and Tseng smiled with one of his own come hither looks. Rufus snapped back to the happenings at the table with a glare.
"No one is fighting or planning at fight tonight. We're here for business, not games. Thank you for your cooperation Ms. Blackwater. If you would like, there is a job for you at Shinra and you can start whenever you like if you choose to take it. Thank you for your hospitality." He got up from his chair and stubbed out his cigarette. The Turks also rose, Tseng shooting a sorrowful look at Hero. Hero leaned back in her chair and grinned at them. They thought they were leaving without her getting something for her time?
"As rare as I'm sure it is, Mr. Shinra, your gratitude isn't enough to cover the cost of my time. There have been severe damages to my business during the time we were conversing, and I may need to be reimbursed." Hero's smiled could have made an angel run screaming in terror with the mischief hiding there. Rufus turned back to her, but he didn't sit back down at the table. Hero noticed he had his hand in his coat pocket, his finger probably on the trigger of the shotgun.
"Name your price Ms. Blackwater; I'd like to be on the plate before dawn." The bored drawl was thick in his voice, his arrogance having it say at being thwarted by a slum dwelling louse.
"Let me make myself perfectly clear, brat. You are in my bar, in my presence, and still breathing after a comment like that. Your luck has just run out, and if you don't start acting like a man instead of a spoiled child, it will be a long time before you see daylight again." Hero eyes were deadly, her voice was low and quiet, and Tseng dropped back to the door in a Wutainese fighting stance on instinct. Things had gone from good to worse in less time than it took to have an oh shit moment.