Sinner's Decent
Chapter Two-Dangerous Opposition
"Where the fuck is my coffee?"
"Coming, sir!" Yuffie hurried through the sliding, automatic glass doors of the office, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand, burning her thumb and forefinger, though she didn't dare complain. Complaining meant losing her job, as low as it was, which meant losing her source of income, something she wasn't interested in doing.
"Hurry the fuck up!"
Yuffie refrained from rolling her eyes as she bumped the door open and nearly dropped the coffee on Seifer's desk. He was a complete asshole, yet one of the richest twenty year olds in Midgar. Although Yuffie didn't really go for the spoiled, rich type, Seifer could be tamed. "Coffee, sir," she said sweetly, turning on her heel.
"Don't stare if you don't want me!" Seifer called mockingly, giving a small salute when Yuffie turned straight back around, a flush coloring her cheeks. She muttered under her breath, passing Seifer's Advisor, a young blonde whom she didn't know by name, completely ignoring him as he strutted into the office.
"Seifer, old boy!" Gippal greeted brightly, lifting his hand in greeting. Seifer flashed a cheesy grin, getting up from his seat to clap Gippal on the shoulder.
"How fares the weapons shit, Gippal?" he asked amiably, gesturing toward the seat across from his own. He and Gippal weren't much on formalities, seeing how they had known each other for quite some time.
"Straight to the point, eh, buddy? You're gettin' old!" Gippal scolded, shaking his head as he reached into the pocket of his baggy pants. "I'll show ya the weapons in a minute, but I think you oughtta see this right away," Gippal added, handing a small, folded piece of paper to his boss.
Seifer scanned it quickly, raising his head to meet Gippal's eyes and lift an eyebrow. "I'm impressed you managed to get a personal note from Devil's, but I already know about this," he added, tapping the letter against his palm loudly with a superior look. Gippal's grin widened, and he nodded his head at the paper once again.
"Uh, uh, read further, Seifer. Check the bottom there, with the messy handwriting. After it talks about that sack writin' Gijitsu for help. See it?" he asked, leaning over the desk and shoving his finger under the words where the paragraph started.
The amusement drained from Seifer's face as he studied the writing carefully. "Ain't materia that funny shit Strife and his pals mess around with? Coulda sworn that stuff was banned after some phsyco tried to blow up the world," he added thoughtfully, scratching his freshly shaved chin.
"Yep, but check it out. It says the book was taken. Now, according to my sources, which are really reliable," Gippal added with a wink,"The sack was killed close to mid-morning. Dunno how you could kill that thing though. Heard he had a buncha shit livin' in 'em, like worms and all kinds of flesh-eatin' bugs, and-"
"Gippal! Get to the point," Seifer interjected, rolling his eyes and leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands. Gippal nodded, shaking his head to clear it of cobwebs.
"Yeah, so the sack was killed round mid-morning,and the book was stolen around mid-morning.A guy went back in to check out an intruder alert, and found it missing.The other books on the shelf had been messed with, too. So that means that our intruder guy was pretty good, 'cause he got in when they had the meeting, and snuck out before them. He's a pro. And we only know one person who can do such work, right, old buddy?" Gippal asked, giving a predatory grin toward Seifer.
"That silver-haired guy? No shittin' me! It has to be! He's been doin' stuff with Strife, according to my spies! Shit! You know what we could feed this to Devil's for? Gippal, you're a genius!" Seifer exclaimed, a greedy light coming into his eyes as he rubbed his hands together, chuckling lightly.
"I do try," Gippal said off-handedly, leaning back to airily inspect his nails. "So, when do you wanna hear about the weapons?" Gippal continued, dropping the airy tone and leaning forward in his chair once again to get back down to business. Seifer would have none of it, however.
"Who the fuck cares about that weapons shit! We got information to send! Get me Maleficent or Ansem, or one of them creepy bastards! I gotta set up a deal here!" Seifer added, nodding his head at Gippal and pacing the floor. "Just what I need," he muttered, a smirk settling on his face. "Just what I need."
He was cold. He was cold, shivering, and in desperate need of warmth. Either that, or he was going to freeze his fucking balls off. So much for service. He gazed impatiently at the gates, waiting for them to spring open and let him in. Let him in to warmth, life, and unfrozen balls. He was considering having kids one day.
"The Boss'll see you now," a gruff voice informed him. It was a tall, dark-skinned man, with a burly beard and piercing dark eyes. "Come on, now! We ain't got all fucking day!"
"Excuse me if my limbs are a bit sore," he snapped, giving his shivering frame a pointed look. Whereas the man had on a thick, furry jacket, he had only regular clothing, unaccustomed to the Sector Seven frequent and uncharted cold spells.
"Stop complainin'," the man ordered, nearly shoving him into the elevator. "Fifteenth floor, no higher, no lower," he added, narrowing his eyes in silent warning.
Not bothering to reply as the elevator doors shut in the burly man's face, the other man in the elevator quickly inspected his raw, red hands, holding them up to his mouth and blowing gently to make the feeling return. When the elevator slowed to a step, he stepped out quickly, soaking up the heated rooms of the building. Maybe the service just wasn't good outside.
Almost as soon as he turned the corner, he was assualted by two over-zealous guards, rather young in appearance, who tackled him to the ground and slammed his cheek to the floor. He ground his teeth together to keep from retaliating. He had heard that Strife was a rather moody man.
"Let him up, you dimwits."
Looking up at the sound of the bored tone of voice, the man pinned to the ground bit back a scathing retort. It must be Strife. A messy mop of blonde hair accompanied by Mako-induced eyes, something people new very little of, was known only to one man, and a rather intimidating man he was. Rather short in stature, Strife wasn't even six feet, yet he had a commanding presence about him, as if he were magnatized, drawing the attention of those around him like moths to a light.
"Sorry 'bout that, Leonheart," Strife said, shooting the two guards, who were now scuffing their boots against the plush carpet sheepishly, pitiful looks. "Unfortunately, these two will have to do until I get my personals back," he added, grimacing at a private thought.
Squall nodded in confirmation, not exactly sure what Strife was talking about. Moving a stray lock of dark hair from his face, he stood up, nearly matching Strife in height as he followed him down the hall to two locked, solid metal doors. Following Strife in quickly, Squall assumed that he had already been informed by Haschel that this was urgent, he took a seat uneasily, staring at his leg as he waited for Strife to seat himself.
"So, what's the old coots up to?" Strife asked, getting straight to business as he propped his feet up on his desk. "I hear this was urgent enough to pull me from my own business, and I trust Haschel and Cid's judgement. Fire away," he added, giving Squall a scrutinizing look.
Squall took a deep breath, preparing to start. As one of Haschel's leading Advisors, it was up to him to do this correctly. "As you know, Oogie Boogie was terminated two days ago by his own Advisors. We recieved an urgent letter from him prior to the incident stating that he was in need of assistance-"
"And I'm assuming that Haschel chucked it through the shredder, right?" Strife interjected, raising an eyebrow. Squall bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling at the jab at Oogie. The sack was never taken seriously, and what Strife had said was deathly accurate.
"He didn't take Oogie Boogie up on the offer," Squall continued, straightening in his chair. "We were also informed that a certain book was excluded from the room where the sack was terminated. A book on Ancient Materia, to be exact," Squall said, watching Strife's face closely. He was taken aback to see a small flicker of amusement pass through his eyes before his face went completely blank.
"What of it?" Strife prompted, leaning back casually in his chair. Squall debated which route to take with his next words, finally deciding on a direct one after worrying his bottom lip for some time.
"You, the mercenary Sephiroth, and now Gijitsu, are the only people currently known to have knowledge of materia and it's uses," Squall said rather slowly. Strife let out a hollow laugh, the sound not reaching his eyes.
"I believe we're through here," Strife said, standing abruptly. "Tell Haschel and Cid everything is under control," he added, turning his back, dismissing Squall.
Squall opened his mouth to protest, but he snapped it back shut immediately. It wasn't right for him to say anything more than neccesary, lest he endanger the Alliance. Striding out of Strife's office quickly, he shut the door, making his way to the elevator.
Strife let out a heavy breath when the Advisor left his room. He hadn't been looking forward to the meeting, though it was inevitble. Haschel had tried to snag him on the phone for a personal conversation, but he would have none of it. Apparently, everyone thought he was incapable of handling such a situation. He gave the wooden walls of his office a pensive frown, his brows drawing together as he studied them.
He needed to inform Tifa. She would know what to do. As much as he hated to admit it, he relied on her to keep him sane. She was always there when he needed her, even if it wasn't always the same for him.
Shaking his head to prevent a trip down memory lane, he buzzed for Tifa, who had been promoted to his personal secretary. He had insisted that she take a higher standing job, but she had replied that she was happy working only for him, something that caused his chest to ache. It was all muddled with Tifa, no matter how many times he tried to pick his way through it.
"Cloud?"
He nearly smiled. He hadn't heard the name in a while. Turning around to offer her a smile in greeting, he stopped short, eyes going wide. She looked a mess. Her hair was wild and tangled, not the usual tamed ponytail, as was her custom. Her clothes looked rumpled as well, and she was sagging in her shoes, barely able to stand upright.
"Tifa, you okay?" he asked, forgetting the important matter at hand. She sighed, waving his concern off with a hand, which held a rather thick stack of papers. He narrowed his eyes, looking from the papers, to her face, and then back.
"What did you need?" she asked gently, reminding him what he had buzzed her for. He felt a pang of guilt at his stupidity. How could he not have noticed her horrible condition? And here he was trying to load more work on her already busy schedule.
"I-well-It's nothing, Tifa. Just checking up on you," he lied quickly, averting his eyes when her own narrowed in accord with his. "Look, maybe you should take a few days off or something," he said, shifting uncomfortably. It was very rare that he showed open concern for another.
"I'm fine," she insisted, closing the door after stepping further into the office. "Now, what is it? I'm assuming it had to do with Haschel's Advisor? Anything big?" she asked, reading his expression. He sighed, feeling terrible as he re-seated himself, putting his head in his hands.
"Tifa, I think you should see this," he said quietly, withdrawing the book from his drawer and sliding it across his desk to her. She picked it up, her lips thinning immediately as she slowly lifted her eyes back up to Strife's.
"What is it, Cloud?" she asked, her tone becoming flat and defeated as she stared at the writing on the book cover with a forlorn look.Strife blinked a few times. What did she mean, what was it? "What do you want to tell me that I don't know?" she asked, her every syllable sounding strained. Strife's eyes widened in horror. He had completely forgotten, for one of the very few times in his life, about Aeris.
"Tifa, look, I didn't mean anything about that-" he began, hurrying up from his chair to catch her wrist before she could leave the room. "Look, Sephiroth got it for me," he said uneasily, releasing her wrist when she made no further move to leave his office. "I found something out," he finished, grinding his teeth when she inhaled sharply. Even he could tell she was trying hard to keep from crying.
"You'll take care of it, Cloud. You always do," she said softly,walking quicklyfrom the room. Strife sank down in his chair, putting his face in his hands. How had he managed to fuck things up even worse?
He laughed bitterly, throwing the book a withering look. He always took care of things. It was just that this time there was a chance that he might not be able to.
There! Just a small chapter to explain a bit from our dearly beloved Cloud. Did I mention I'm a Cloud-groupie? Love him, love all silver-haired men. I'm telling you, it's pathetic! Yeah, read and review.