Author's Note:

Rude: ...

Tifa: He says 'Tyramir doesn't own the rights to Final Fantasy.' It says so all over his face.

Rude: Only because you wrote on it with a magic marker.

Chapter Thirty One

The Red Wings

Making a narrow life or death escape was normal for Rude. He was used to it by now, having been a member of both Soldier and the Turks. It came with the territory. Battle, espionage, kidnaping, there was always some level of risk involved, and he both understood and respected the consequences. He had managed to survive this long, and for very good reason. He was good at what he did. Plain and simple. And part of what went with that was the ability to keep a level head, which Rude was famous for.

However, despite his quiet exterior, and his ability to keep his emotions in check while 'on the job', he found himself deeply annoyed at the idea of escaping the clutches of a howling army of albinos into safety, only to find that very safety was a pitiful group of villagers, all huddled together and praying, all of them paranoid of intruders.

The display of such was currently pointed directly at Rude's throat in the form of a sword blade. What was worse, the man that held the sword was shaking. He was terrified of the Turk, but didn't even know who or what he was. This stranger held Rude's life in his hands, and now that the Turk had a good look at him, he realized that this man was only a boy, and worse, had probably never held a sword before in his life. This was the person who might very well end Rude's career?

He didn't move, but carefully shifted his vision, searching the room for Tifa. She was what mattered now, but he couldn't see her, only more boys pretending at being men, all holding weapons of some sort, mostly swords, a few spears, a couple even had guns. That made him want to swear even more. What had they done with her?

Instead of waiting for the boy to get some courage, or make a stupid mistake, depending on how smart the person was in charge of Fort Condor, the Turk decided to take matters into his own hands. He was never one for speaking, so instead of trying to rationalize, he did what he was best at.

Both of his fists lashed out, and the boy's sword went spinning end over end through the air. Before anyone could react, Rude was back on his feet, throwing punches and kicks, disabling the rabble and knocking them all about the room. One, already disarmed, managed to get behind him and leap onto his back, striking him about the head and shoulders with his fists. Rude stumbled for a second before he managed to throw his assailant off and into another boy who was reaching for a discarded weapon.

But in the moment it took to relieve himself of his attack, the other boys, fifteen in all, had realized their mistake in depending on weapons. They, like the fellow before him, all leaped at him at once, intent on wrestling him down. They were managing to strike some decent blows, and Rude let out a grunt or two. He was about to throw the lot of them off and start cracking skulls when the door opened, admitting Tifa and an old man. Tifa's face was surprised, while the man's seemed amused.

"I see your friend has met the Red Wings," the man said. "I trust you're all through playing?"

The teenagers all hanging off of Rude managed to give sheepish looks at the old man, and then released the Turk, all backing away. Looking at the retreating boys, Rude slowly stood up and brushed off his shirt sleeves, cracked his knuckles, and followed it up by doing the same with his neck. Some of the boys flinched, but one, around seventeen, maybe as old as eighteen, said, "We're sorry. Your eyes.... the way they glow. We thought you were with them. The White Scourge."

Swearing softly, Rude reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his sunglasses and put them back on. He had forgotten that he'd taken them off while climbing up the mountainous area around Fort Condor. Stupid mistake letting people see his Mako eyes like that, announcing that he used to be in Soldier.

"Takkin," Tifa said to the old man, "you said something about these albinos. They're called the White Scourge? What do you know about them?"

The old man identified as Takkin shrugged and said, "We don't know much about them at all. We've been in on and off contact with Cosmo Canyon over a radio, but the signal will periodically get jammed. They are the ones who came up with the name 'White Scourge', a nickname of sorts, as we know nothing about them. Whatwe do know is that they do not like the light, and they are all albinos, which implies they are from underground. Furthermore, they all turn to ash when they die."

Rude nodded to himself. That would explain the amounts of ash he had found outside prior to the attack.

Tifa suddenly gave a start, as if realizing something, and said, "Oh, I'm so sorry. In all the excitement in getting caught up with you, I nearly forgot that you don't know my companion. Takkin, this is Rude. Rude, this is Takkin. Avalanche met up with him during our travels. We helped him repel a Shinra attack against Fort Condor."

"A pleasure to meet you, Rude," Takkin said. "By your suit, I would say you were a Turk. Am I mistaken?"

Rude shook his head, "Former Turk."

"In the past month, things have been so hectic that I haven't been able to go out and get him a new wardrobe yet, so it's filled with nothing but Turk suits. He doesn't work for Shinra anymore, don't worry."

Takkin smiled. "I was afraid that the Red Wings would give you trouble because of your suit, but not because of your eyes. You were in Soldier, I take it?"

The former Turk didn't let it show on his face, but inwardly he was swearing. Of course the old man would have realized what the eyes meant. He nodded reluctantly, figuring there was no use denying it.

"Hmm, good. As you can see, Fort Condor is under siege. We have a small band of mercenaries here, left over from when we had to keep Shinra from attacking our reactor, and I'm in charge of them, and they may listen to Tifa. We also have a small militia band currently without a leader, and we could certainly use your help in both commanding them and training them. If you are traveling with Tifa, you must be a good man. An experienced member of Soldier like you, and a Turk on top of it, would do well as a leader and trainer of fighters."

Rude nearly flinched at that. He was a fighter, no doubt about that, but a leader? That had always been Tseng, with Reno as the second in command. Rude had always been the intimidation and the brawn. Stand there and look tough.

Tifa smiled at him hopefully, and he inwardly groaned.

"I'll do it," he said. "Who do I have to train?"

"Why," the old man said, "the Red Wings of course."

Author's Note:

I'm sure the hardcore FF fans noticed the significance of the name 'Red Wings' meant, and what that implies of Rude. If not, shame on you. I might tell you, but I'm lazy, and I like people figuring this stuff out for themselves.

I'm gonna go back to my blankets now and die for a little while.