The phone was ringing; he could hear it from out in the hall. The sound was alien to his ears; nobody cared enough to pay for a conversation with him. There was only one person who ever phoned, and Rude knew that it was considered a terrible inconvenience.
The phone came with the apartment; the last tenant had worked from home. He was rumored to have never ventured outside after a mysterious incident cost him his hand. He disappeared one day, and his body was found ripped to shreds days later. The published report stated that a rabid dog had killed him while he was on his way through Sector Five. That was the information given, but when Rude moved in a week later, local kids told him of the creature that had taken the man's hand, and come back for the rest of him.
The loud ringing continued and Rude, temporarily distracted by his thoughts, fumbled for his key. "Stupid rumors," he muttered to no one in particular. Opening the door, he quickly made his way to the bedroom. "Hello?"
"Took you awhile." The voice was cold, and Rude was slightly surprised to find that it sounded very much like his own.
"I just got back."
"Did you do it?"
He said nothing, thinking back to his conversation with her earlier. Her words haunted him like ghosts of the not-so-distant past. Everything she'd said about him had been true; there was no doubt about that.
"Did you do it?" the voice asked again. The words were more strained this time, Rude could tell he was getting frustrated.
Finally, he shook his head. "She wasn't working tonight."
"What do you mean?"
"She was sick and got the night off. I watched the owner, some of his friends, and her replacement die, but she wasn't there."
"Did you kill them?"
"No, the owner cracked. The bar's probably closing down now. She's gonna be harder to find."
"You know what you have to do. Find her, kill her, and Heidiggar'll make you a Turk."
He hung up. Sure, he thought, only it's not so simple anymore.
He knew where to find her. Hell, he knew her exact address and apartment number! He also knew that she would be working a double shift at the bar the next night because of what happened. It should be easy, he probably should have killed her already, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not yet. She was the only thing standing between him and his goal, but he hadn't been able to do it.
It was because of the other things he knew, and it was those little facts, both said and unsaid, that made him lie to Tseng just then, and had prevented him from making the kill.
He knew there was a blonde-haired kid in SOLDIER who had promised to protect her, and failed; and that she was in love with him, even though she was too proud to admit it. He knew that despite her new-found friends, she couldn't help but feel terribly lonely; that the five of them had started a rebel group, and were in the process of recruiting new members. Rude also knew that she felt useless among them, even though she hadn't said so. He could tell that that was why she spent her time with the leader's daughter instead of her fellow partners in crime. She had told him about her martial arts lessons with the world famous Zangan. More importantly, he knew that Shinra was responsible for the death of her father and friends, and that they had very nearly gotten her as well. Furthermore, she had accidentally blurted out that Sephiroth was the one she blamed for it all, that he was the reason she was in Midgar. She had refused to say more, but Rude knew what it meant; she had to die because of that mysterious connection to the company's reportedly missing general.
She knew something about him, he decided. Something that Shinra was so afraid would get out that they had sent an assassin to kill her, rather than just a couple regular troopers. They wanted to make sure she was dead, and that it was done right, without risking public knowledge. The fact that he was involved in an important, top secret mission sent shivers down his spine. What would they do to him if he found out what her connection to Sephiroth was? Or if he didn't kill her at all? If it was so important to Shinra that she die, why didn't they just send someone who was already a Turk, and not risk whatever secret she held getting out to someone who wasn't loyal?
This thought brought even more questions to Rude's mind. Was he really loyal to Shinra? Or was he just playing along because he had nothing better to do? Even more strange was why he was thinking about it, period. How could one conversation with a lonely bar hostess make him question everything he had taken as irrefutable?
Dropping his coat on the bed, he left the room only to return shortly with a beer in each hand. He sat down on the edge and kicked his shoes off to a corner of the room. Opening one beer, he placed the other down by the phone and lay back against the wall. It was all too much to think about, so Rude decided that he wouldn't. He didn't need to know any of the details. Tomorrow, he would go to the bar and end this, once and for all.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Working."
"But daddy said you were supposed to be finished by now," the little girl whined.
"Not tonight Marlene," Tifa said, rushing to get an order ready.
"But I'm bored."
"And I'm working."
Marlene pouted and climbed up onto an empty stool. She sat playing with a bottle cap that had been lying on the counter. Sliding it around the bar, she looked up at the older woman with the best puppy eyes she could muster.
Tifa did her absolute best to ignore her, but eventually found herself giving in. "Tell you what," she said, stopping in front of the suddenly perky girl. "You can help me out, okay?"
"Really?"
"Sure. Why not? Right?"
The little girl grinned and ran around the bar to help. "So what can I do?"
She looked around, trying to find something for her to do now that she had recruited the girl's help. "Alright. See those people at that table over there?"
"Which one?"
"The one behind your daddy."
"Uh huh."
"I need you to take them their order, okay?" she said, placing the tray on the girl's outstretched hands. "Hold it carefully now."
"I will, don't worry." Holding the tray close to her chest and walking with slow, deliberate steps so that she didn't spill the drinks, Marlene slowly made her way towards the table. The group of men greeted her enthusiastically, taking their drinks off the tray. Marlene waited until it was empty, then ran back to Tifa, who was busy serving customers at the bar. "Did I do good?" she asked, waiting eagerly for her next assignment.
"You did very good. You wanna take this tray over to your dad?"
"Sure!"
Tifa's regular shift continued much the same. Eventually, the few members of AVALANCHE left, taking Marlene with them. Tifa soon found herself alone and working a shift she never had before.
The customers grew rowdier as the time for food passed and the time for drinking came. Tifa found herself grateful for her easy regular hours. The evening crowd shuffled out and the crowd that had already been kicked out of at least one bar came in. A couple late-shift waitresses came in to help and stuck around even after hearing that Black was dead.
One man in a blue business suit with jet-black hair and what Tifa supposed was a mark of religious faith on his forehead came in at around one o'clock. He walked in the door, looked around, and left. Tifa found herself unable to suppress a shudder as he turned to leave. The look in his eyes when his gaze had landed on her and the strange smirk on his face as he had turned leave had given her the shivers.
Rude came in shortly after, and Tifa smiled a little as he took a seat at the bar. Rude was hardly her type; he had half a million earrings in his ears, was bald, could be startlingly cold, and wanted to work for Shinra. But he understands me, she thought to herself as she walked over towards him, and I can't say that for a lot of people anymore.
"So what can I get you?"
"Just a beer."
"Coming right up."
They didn't talk much that night. Tifa was too busy with the bar to manage anything but the occasional smile in his direction and a word or two while he ordered his next beer. There was absolutely no reason as to why he should have stuck around for the whole night, but he did. He helped her out when one of the customers got out of hand, and was still there when she was thanking the waitresses for their help and getting ready to close up almost four hours later.
Taking one last mouthful of beer, he put the bottle back down on the bar and stood to help her clean up a little bit before leaving. "Busy night tonight," he said, feeling the need to start a conversation.
She smiled. "Yeah, I'm pooped. I've never worked the late shift before, let alone all three."
"Can't your friends help you out earlier in the day?"
"Nah, they got jobs of their own."
"With Black out of the picture, you could run this place you know."
"Illegally," she pointed out.
"Who does stuff legally in the slums? Are you trying to tell me that President Shinra legalized rebel groups? Cuz if he did, he must be insane."
Tifa looked at him strangely for a moment, his regular cool voice had disappeared there for a second and she was once again startled to hear emotion in his voice. This time however, it was humor rather than sadness and pity. Shaking it off, she grinned and headed to the door. "I just don't know if I'd be any good at it."
"You did fine tonight," he said pointedly.
"I had no idea what I was doing. When that one guy got out of hand I had no clue what to do."
"You handled it pretty well I thought," he said, walking out so she could lock up.
"Thanks to you."
"I'm serious, I think you should take over the place. Hell, you never know, maybe you and your rebel buddies could use it as a fort."
She laughed at this idea and turned off the lights. Closing the doors behind her, she withdrew the key from her pocket and locked up. She smiled up at him, "I'll think about it," she said, walking down the rotting steps. He followed her, and walked her to the train station. There they boarded the morning's first train and headed off towards Sector Four.
The train was surprisingly busy for five in the morning. Shinra employees sat side-by-side, hoping they wouldn't run into any security problems and wind up late for work. When Rude and Tifa boarded the last car, there were only three seats left; two on one side, and another right across the aisle. They took the two side-by-side and sat in silence, waiting for the train to pull away.
He smiled at her once, then turned his face away to gaze out the far window. Tifa noticed that he seemed strangely distant, and grew worried. The train started up and it wasn't long before they were speeding towards the station in Sector Eight.
"First's train's always a round trip," she said, aching to break the silence.
He nodded, but said nothing.
"There something wrong?"
"Why should there be?"
There was that voice again; distant, cold, uncaring. Tifa wondered if it was because of something that she had done. Shaking the thought from her mind, she turned to gaze out the window behind her, curious as to how so much had come between them in such a short space of time.
The train slowed, then came to a stop. A few passengers got off, while more came on board. One man sat down across from her and Rude. He winked and flashed a grin at her. She suddenly found the silence unbearable, and struggled to find a topic as the train once again pulled out of the station.
"So, where do you live?"
"Sector Three."
"Apartment?"
"Yeah."
The conversation died yet again, and after another silence, Tifa noticed that the train was once again slowing to come into the station. We must be at Sector One by now, she thought, mentally calculating how much longer the train ride would take.
"Who were you trying to kill?" she asked suddenly. A couple people looked up, but none seemed very interested in the topic.
"Don't bring that up."
"Why not?"
"Cuz it's over."
She blinked a couple times and was about to pursue the topic when her eye caught a man in a blue suit boarding the train. Tifa recognized him as the same person who had entered the bar earlier, then turned and left.
He walked calmly in their direction, then stopped and stood in front of the man who sat across from them.
"Move," he said, his voice as cold as Rude's.
The man fidgeted a bit, but stayed seated.
"Move," he repeated.
Finally, he stood and began muttering curses under his breath as he shuffled off towards a different car.
Unfazed, the man seated himself right across from her and Rude, his eyes locked on the two of them.
Rude began to fidget, and Tifa noticed him avert his eyes from the man's harsh glare. The whisperings of the Shinra employees made Tifa nervous, and she silently ridiculed herself for being frightened so easily. Master Zangan would never approve.
The train took off again, and Tifa turned around in her seat to look out the window.
He didn't speak, and that was the worst part of it all. He just sat there with an amused sort of smirk on his face, enjoying every minute of Rude's torment. In an effort to control himself, Rude returned his stare, trying in vain to convey a sense of certainty in his actions.
It wasn't long before the train was once again slowing down. Shinra's really outdone themselves with these rush hour express trains, he thought as even more people boarded. The lack of seats forced some of them to stand, and Rude was greatly relieved when an elderly woman stopped to stand right between him and Tseng.
I just don't think I can do it, he thought, looking over at the beautiful girl who sat on his left. She smiled a little then turned back to the window, having given up on conversation a long time ago.
But then again, how can I not? Looking around the woman who stood before him, Rude tried to examine the Turk leader's expression. He had made no move to continue staring at Rude once his vision was blocked, and Rude was all the more thankful for the human barrier. If he'd seen that calm and serious face peeking around the lady, he thought he'd flip.
Finding himself caught in the middle between beauty and power, Rude reached in his pocket for his gun. He stroked the smooth surface for a bit, strangely comforted by its presence.
Turning his head to look back over at Tifa, he was slightly relieved to find that she didn't notice him. Curious as to how she could maintain her beauty and innocence despite all that had presumably happened to her, Rude was tempted to ask her exactly what Sephiroth had done. Remembering Tseng's presence however, he swallowed the words and contented himself by just looking at her. He supposed that Zangan had taught her to survive, strengthened her spirit with his martial arts.
The real mystery though, was why she was allowing him to get so close to her. He had been through half as much as her, and contained none of her beauty. He was a lousy alcoholic who was out for power while she was a gorgeous bar hostess, full of hope and dreams. They were complete opposites, so why was she sitting next to him?
The train slowed once again and Rude turned to look out the window behind him. Sector Three Station. I should be getting off here, he thought to himself, but remained seated as the train sped out of the station.
Returning to his dilemma, he tried to reason it out. On the one hand, there was power, money, and the adventure that came with doing Shinra's dirty work. If he was going to kill more people, he couldn't hesitate with this one. It had to be smooth; it had to be done.
But then, on his left was Tifa, the very person he was supposed to kill. Young, talented, and full of dreams, she sat beside him like a fallen angel. A broken past behind her and a bright future still to come. To kill her would be to destroy that future, shatter the dreams, and break her soul.
Damn it, didn't I already decide on this? Why can't I just do something and be done with it?
A soft voice came to his ears, and he suddenly realized that the train had stopped.
"Rude? You coming?"
He looked up at her, then around the elderly woman to Tseng. Standing, he patted the gun in his pocket once more. "Yeah," he said, following her off the train. "I'm coming."
"Hey Biggs, where you off to so early in the morning?"
"Work. He told me if I come in early today I could get the weekend off. Needs help with his tank or something. You?"
"Just out for a stroll."
"Ah."
The two friends fell silent, walking side-by-side through Sector Five. Each knew what the other was thinking, but no thoughts were voiced. Tifa's possible betrayal to the group was on everybody's mind, though for some reason, none of them had brought the topic up the previous night; they had all chosen to leave their loud and glorious leader in the dark.
Biggs and Jess continued to walk in silence until the young mechanic finally said something. "Do you think it was really him?"
"Who?" Biggs asked, though the question was pointless. He knew exactly who she was talking about.
"The guy who shot Marlene."
"Probably."
"Why do you think she was with him?"
"Fuck Jess, how the hell am I supposed to know? Maybe she was ratting us out or something."
"Not much point to that; it's not like we've gotten very far with the plans. Barret just rants and raves a lot of the time."
"I know. I wish we could get something done."
"Me too. A base would help. Y'know, a place to do business."
"Yeah. That'd be cool." He paused, thinking back to one meeting a couple days ago. "Hey Jess, do you think Tifa was right when she said people would help us out if we asked them?"
"You mean when she started talking about the slums banding together to form a massive underground resistance?"
"Yeah. Think it could ever work?"
"I dunno. Seems pretty unlikely, doncha think?"
"I guess. It'd be cool though."
"The thing is, people are afraid of Shinra. Their army rules the world and their financial power is second to none. Shinra could ruin them if they had reason to suspect something."
"You've been arguing with Wedge too much Jess."
"Nah, now I've taken up arguing with Barret."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. But seriously though, couldn't it be worth checking out?"
Jess shook her head. "Shinra scares the people. There's so few who would actually volunteer to stand up to them."
"What about money. Y'know, donations?"
"You seriously think people would part with their hard earned cash to help buy guns for a puny rebel group who's probably only ever gonna go after small stuff, y'know, the odd plant or something?"
"Yeah, you're right. I still think it'd be cool though."
"Sure it would, it's just not gonna happen."
They fell silent once again, each imagining glorious conquests against the company. Infiltrating the Shinra Headquarters, gathering information, blowing up mako reactors, blowing up the headquarters. It was all very nice to think about, but both knew that it would probably never happen. They were just too small, and if they didn't get stuff done in the early stages, there was no reason to believe that things would ever change. They weren't a rebel group, they were an anti-Shinra club, who sat around and argued about how they should do stuff, never getting past the planning stages. They were just too small to get stuff done.
"So he's repairing a tank, huh?"
"Wha? Oh, yeah, I dunno what he's gonna do with it once it's done."
"Heh. Mebbe he'll lend it to us so we can blow up that manufacturing plant in Sector Two."
"Heh heh, yeah right."
They grinned at each other and walked through the gates that led into Sector Six's notorious Wall Market.
"You really just out for a stroll Jess?"
She shrugged and kicked the dirt a couple times with the toe of her boot. "Lookin' for a job. Got laid off a couple days ago."
"That's rough."
"Ah, I'll be fine. Just figured Wall Market was the place to look for jobs, y'know?"
He paused as a thought struck him. "You're not gonna go look at…" he stopped, not wanting to finish the sentence. The very idea of Jess reducing herself to that was just, unthinkable!
"No! No, I heard there was an opening at the Pharmacy."
"Oh, okay, good," he said, chuckling nervously. "That's not your kind of thing though, you sure you wanna work at the Pharmacy?"
"I need some cash to tide me over 'till I find something better."
"Oh. Y'know, we could always lend you some, if ya ever needed it."
She smiled a little and stopped walking. "Biggs?"
"Yeah?"
"The Pharmacy's here."
"Oh, okay, see ya later."
"Yup."
"Bye."
"Bye."
Biggs continued to weave his way through the early morning crowds of Wall Market. He reached the Weapon Shop shortly after separating from Jess. Ignoring the CLOSED sign, he opened the door and walked through the gate to the repair section of the store.
"You need help with the tank huh?"
"Yeah, get over here and hand me my screwdriver."
"That it? You needed someone to fetch your tools?"
"You got some kind of problem with that?"
"Nope. Free weekend for me."
"Yeah, you watch your mouth or you won't get paid for it."
Biggs chuckled and handed him the screwdriver. They worked quietly for a little while, Biggs thinking back to his conversation with Jess and chuckling as he decided to bring the topic up.
"Hey, don't suppose you'd lend me this tank once its done would ya?"
"What for?"
"Blow a plant in Sector Two."
The aging Weapon Shop owner looked up, an earnest expression on his face. "You joined the resistance Biggs?" he asked quietly, setting the screwdriver down on the tank.
"Yeah," he said, half-heartedly punching the shell of the tank. "I joined the fucking resistance."
"Must be an old fashioned group. Whatcha want to use a tank for anyway? I thought bombs were the way to go these days."
"Yeah. I was just joking anyway. Didn't expect ya to lend me anything."
"Oh yeah?" he asked, the seriousness in his voice suddenly gone. "Ya didn't think I'd lend you stuff so you an' yer buddies can go blow stuff up? Let me tell you something mister hotshot rebel, you just tell me if you need anything. If I have it, an' I can afford to give it to ya, it's yours."
"You serious?"
"Why the hell not? I got no reason to like Shinra. Now I ain't saying that I'm willing to put my life on the line to get rid of them, it's the only life I got, but if you ever need any supplies an' stuff, don't be afraid to ask."
Stunned, the young rebel could only stutter his thanks and sit down, waiting for new orders. Chuckling, the rebels' new ally picked up the screwdriver and continued his work. Biggs said nothing, thinking instead about the conversation that had just taken place. Shaking his head, he picked up a screw and tossed it to his boss, wondering what was suddenly right with the world.