Reno: Aha! We're back to my point of view!

Reeve: Actually, we're not.

Reno: What? But... But Tyramir made a rotation! Rufus, Reno, Rude, Barret, Cloud! That's the way it works now!

Reeve: No, it revolves around those plot lines. So, say he wants to do a chapter on Barret's story, but needs to do it from Red XIII's POV... it'd still be in the right rotation story-wise, just not character-wise.

Reno: This is so unfair! Who's replacing me for this POV?

Reeve: Shera.

Reno: What the FUCK! Shera! Oh come on! This is bullshit!

Reeve: I find it kind of amusing, myself. Remember, you were the one who recruited her into your plan.

Reno: But I didn't mean for it to be at the expense of my popularity!

Reeve: Heh. Tyramir doesn't own the rights to Final Fantasy.

Chapter Thirty Five

Soldier

Shera tightened her lab coat about her, wondering for the hundredth time what she was doing down in this dark sub-basement in the Underwater Reactor by herself, armed with nothing but a tool kit in one hand, and a flashlight in the other. She didn't know the Turks, and she most certainly didn't trust them, but for some reason, she had listened to their story, and now, here she was, ready to help with their hastily constructed plan.

But why?

Frowning, she ran the past few hours through her head again, trying to remember exactly what it was that had convinced her.

Everyone who had ever lived in Midgar had heard of the Turks, and everyone who ever associated with them knew they were trouble. Shera, having been both a resident of Midgar and an employee of Shinra knew that these two official-looking Shinra officers were more than trouble.

The woman named who had introduced herself as Elena had all the air and confidence of someone who thought they knew what they were doing, but really had no clue. She was probably a good fighter, both in hand-to-hand combat and with the pistol that was inevitably under her suit jacket, but as far as being a Turk, she was a rookie, unused to the murky politics of Shinra, and inexperienced in its own type of danger.

But while Elena was probably a danger to no one but herself, her companion, Reno, was a train wreck that was waiting to explode and take a lot of people out nearby with him. She knew of the Turk, had heard of his reputation. This was the man who had brought down Sector 7, the man who disobeyed orders and made merry with whatever woman he could, whenever he could. His reputation as a Turk was something that would be legendary after he died, but would still forever be shadowed under the reputation of others, such as Tseng Kusami, and even more so, Vincent Valentine.

"Come on, doll," Reno said, a slightly wheedling note in his voice. "I'm not asking much."

Sighing, she adjusted her glasses, and tapped her pen against the stack of notes on her desk. "You're asking me to commit sabotage on a Shinra office."

"I am not! I just need the lights off in the building for a little while. I need to flush out a corporate rat, and I figure the best way to do that is to turn the lights off, make him nervous. When unexpected things start to happen, people who are in the business of espionage start to get edgy, and they make mistakes. That's why I'm not going through official channels to do this. Reeve's such a bumbler that he'd let the info leak of what we're doing and why. If it makes you feel any better, sure, think of it as sabotage. You hate Shinra, right?"

Suddenly wary of some sort of trap, she kept her face straight. Was this some sort of loyalty test? Did they know what she was planning?

"Everyone hates Shinra," Reno continued. "It's okay if you don't like it either. Besides, all you'll be doing is shutting off the lights. Tell you what, you do it, and it's dinner for two, just me an' you, at that fancy new Wutaian restaurant that opened up across town. What do you say?"

He flashed a smile at her, and while she had to admit that it was endearing and very attractive, she wanted to lean across the table and slap him. He had been right. She did hate Shinra, but then, so did everyone. But she more so than most.

"I want you to leave my office," she said firmly.

"Don't like Wutaian?" the Turk continued. "Fair enough. I honestly hate the stuff, too. Reminds me of a little Materia thief I once met in the alps. Funny story, that."

She sighed, then said, "If I listen, will that get you to leave any quicker?"

"Sure. This thief, loved Materia a lot. Acted like a real princess, too, you get my meaning?"

His eyes were intent, as if he was trying to make her understand something, but as far as she knew, he was just rambling. Was he trying to say something?

"Well, I met her in the alps by Icicle Inn. She had a couple loud friends, two of them with guns. They liked ot hunt or fight or something, making noise all over the place. But you know what happens in the alps around Icicle Inn when you make a lot of noise? All that snow, makes one big avalanche."

There. The stress again. He was trying to say something to her, in code? She tried to remember. Wutaian princess? She'd never really met many Wutaians before, mostly just Tseng and that one girl that traveled with Cloud and Cid. What was her name? Yuffie. She'd come along with her and Aeris to Junon wearing a Turk suit.

So that was it. The avalanche, the 'Wutaian Princess'. He was trying to say something about Avalanche, but what, she wasn't sure.

"Well, this avalanche, buried some people, especially a friend of mine. Nice guy, although a bit of a cat person. I don't like cats myself, always running around, but this one got caught, y'see? Buried under all that snow, and no one around to help him. Just me and 'Lena here trying to get him out, but we weren't good enough by ourselves. We needed some help, but we were never good at asking for it directly, y'know? Pride and stuff. People might hear us asking for help, and it'd get around, reach the wrong people, and then our reputations would be ruined, and we don't want that, do we?"

She nodded the whole time, taking it in. A cat person. Needed help. Didn't want people to hear them asking for help. So, Reno was afraid that her office might be bugged, and that someone might be listening in. Was his story of some kind of corporate spy true, asking her to turn off the lights in the building like this? Or was there something else?

She had heard whispers of some sort of cat doll being captured, but... of course. Cait Sith. She'd heard Cid talk about him. 'A brilliant machine, if I ever saw one. But don't tell the damn cat that I said that if y'ever meet him.' She smiled wistfully, her memory of Cid fleeting. Her smile abruptly faded, remembering the pack of papers on her desk, covered in a folder to prevent the Turks from seeing them.

"Funny story," she said. "I'll turn off the lights as you've requested. Will that be all? I'm really busy, working on the Highwind project and all."

The Turk made a small, mocking bow, and then turned to leave, Elena just ahead of him. When the blond left the room, Reno abruptly stopped and closed the door behind her, then turned to face Shera once again.

"I looked at the plans for the Highwind the other day, by the way. Interesting stuff, you have there. Can't wait to see the ship try to take off. How long til it's done?"

He knows! The thought raced through her mind like wild-fire, but she managed to keep a straight face. "The plans are all done, and the engineers had most of the work done before I gave them the finishing touches. All that's left to make is the hull, and they have all the pieces made already. They just have to install it. Two days, maybe?"

"Neat. I imagine Rufus will want to throw a celebration when it's up and running. All kinds of fireworks. I won't be riding in it, though. Air travel doesn't agree with me. Anyway, thanks for the help. We'll get our culprit."

Shera grumbled absently to herself as she turned the flashlight to expose the power control box, which looked fairly ordinary. It was meant to fool any potential saboteurs, make them think that this wasn't the main power control station. In the room she had just passed, a room with the lights on no less, there had been a large station marked 'POWER CONTROL', covered in dials and knobs and switches, but she knew better. Trying to fiddle with that would just alert security.

She glanced around in the darkness, and saw a security camera watching her. Wonderful. Hopefully the person at the guard station wasn't paying attention. If he wasn't, she could hack into the logs later and erase all information about her ever being there. If not... Well, she was done here anyway.

Walking to the power control box, Shera put down her tool kit, and set the flashlight down to shine on the grey rectangle on the wall. She opened up the kit, and after a little searching, she found the two-handed wire cutters that she'd need. Only Cid would be able to stash a tool so large into a box this small in such a way that it'd be nearly impossible to find. She'd always had to clean up his little messes in the past, but now... she hadn't the heart to try to tidy of his tool kit.

Taking the wire cutters up, she stood, and then froze. A large man was standing in the doorway she had just come from. It was shadowy, and she couldn't make out his features, but she knew right away she was in trouble. His eyes were softly glowing green.

"Wh-who are you?" she stammered.

The figured shifted, stepping out of the doorway. She quickly bent over and grabbed her flashlight, shining it in his face. The man had a square jaw, and his black hair was cut short. He was large, heavily muscled, and at one of his sides was a sword, the other a dagger.

"Ivon Trask, Ms. Cole," he said, a sneer on his face. "The Professor knows of your attempts to sabotage us. We want to know why."

Professor? she thought, not knowing what he meant.

"I... I'm on orders," she said.

"Orders? Whose orders? No files were put through. We know this attempt is some sad way of avenging your former lover. The Professor anticipated some sort of sabotage attempt from you for some while after reviewing your psychological profile. But why the power?"

She answered him by throwing the flashlight directly at him. It spun through the air, end over end, but abruptly his sword was out of its sheathe, and the projectile fell to the floor in two pieces. But Shera was already moving. She didn't know why Reno really wanted the power shut off, but now she knew it was important that she had to do it. She raced to the box, and spotting the main wire coming out of it, reached out with the wire-cutters and clamped down on it. The wire came free right away, sparks flying from it.

Turning about, Shera took up the wire-cutters and flung them at the Soldier coming at her, who was walking slowly, as if she didn't warrant rushing. The man coldly slapped aside the object with his sword, and with one motion, sheathed the weapon, drawing his dagger with his other hand, a sadistic smile coming across his face.

Panicking, she put her hands into her pockets, and managed to pull out a pair of safety gloves she had secured before coming down here. Hurriedly pulling them on, she saw the man's smile turn into a sneer once more.

"I am a Soldier, woman," Trask said. "Not a dish to be cleaned. What will you do with those?"

"This!" she said, yanking the sparking wire from its secure holding on the wall. Using her momentum from tearing the hissing weapon from the wall, she rushed forward. The man managed to slash her arm as she came into range, but it was too late now. The wire connected solidly with his chest, and Trask jolted as several thousand volts of Mako-induced electricity were fed into his body. Shera closed her eyes, and listened to the man try to scream, and to the sound of burning flesh and sizzling hair.

Finally, when she could stand it no longer, she pulled back, letting the wire come away from the Soldier's chest. The man collapsed instantly. She turned away as she opened her eyes, refusing to look at the sight of the dead man. Killing him wasn't something she was proud of.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

She bent to pick up her tool kit, hurriedly closing it. If Trask had known she was down here, then others would. She had to get out of there quickly if she was to have any chance of making it out at all.

"Not nearly sorry enough," Trask's voice said from behind her.

Shera felt her spine stiffen as she realized that she had not, in fact, killed the man, and felt a rough hand grab her neck from behind, and a sharp pain enter her back. The tool kit, Cid's tool kit, fell to the floor, making a mess everywhere.

So fitting, she thought, shock filling her system. I'll have to clean that up. I always have to clean up Cid's messes.

And she realized she would have to clean up that puddle on the floor, too. Always having to clean up after Cid... my dear Cid...

Author's Notes:

I'm breaking the rotation. Up next is Reno. (And, incidently, this chapter took me 45 minutes to write, heh)