Reno stood triumphant, on the right side of the bars.

He had never felt a bigger surge of complete satisfaction. He had a job battling the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. But what the hell, he thought, and soon enough the trademark smirk soon surfaced.

Much to the aggravation of an obviously vulnerable Cloud Strife.

"What the hell do you want Turk?" Cloud spat, every word squeezed painfully between two clamped rows of gritted teeth.

Reno didn't seem effected in the slightest. Cloud's reaction to him only helped heighten his egotistical stance, and so worsen Cloud's situation.

"Ah Cloud…You are still maintaining you're haphazard theory that barging into a situation with your sword raised valiantly high – " Reno mocked Cloud's stance, then dropped his arm pathetically whilst laughing at the stupidity of it. " –works. Well I am sorry to break this to you, but the best of us learnt a long time ago, that a devious mind can conjure his own victory. And just for today, what do you say I let you into a little priceless secret hmm? Give you a special treat this fine day, a little pearl of my wisdom…" Reno stepped closer, up to the bars. His expression lost any trace of humour, peeling off the carefully layered lie to reveal pure laced hatred. "I know every inch of what is about to happen to your beautiful companion. I've timed it to the very second so she realises just how much she forgot to appreciate her pointless self-absorbed life."

Cloud stopped breathing. His very will to function was overpowered by the anger that was consuming him, like a thick red haze. With an almighty release of voice, he surged forward, slamming his frame against the bars, any pain numbed by the will to murder.

Reno couldn't jump back quick enough. Cloud managed to grip his collar in an iron grip, and wouldn't let go. Missing his enemy's neck by mere inches, Cloud would not let go of his opportunity...

The next moment was sharp and brutal.

The sound of Reno's form being slammed against solid metal echoed along the walls, alive with the screaming pains of revenge.

Somewhere in the plains of Wutai, a certain development was heavily underway.

"Has he contacted you?"

"Prompt to do so as previously promised, Sir."

"So they're coming back when, exactly?"

The young, assistant calmly paused to look down at the hand held computer pad in his palm, tapping and scrolling with the touch of a fine electronic pen. After a few seconds of this, he looked up with the usual businesslike, expressionless face and replied in a matter-of fact tone. "Tomorrow afternoon, on site where the press meetings are organised to commence on schedule, so far, at eighteen hundred hours."

The tall muscular frame of Piasio Diocke stopped pacing at the moment this information was divulged. Since he was away from his normal setting, he had abandoned his alter ego and taken up his own identity once more, now engaging in business matters.

The new, vast scale development of Gerona was something to behold. The planning had been extensive, and a gruellingly detailed task. Diocke, or 'Dio' as his name in the entertainment business was known, had been a healthy financer in the whole project. But he still had never managed to get a strong enough foothold in proceedings, as Reno and the other 'turks' as he still referred to them, made sure they were the ones in control, financially, economically, everything. It could even go far enough to being claimed that they were the owners.

And although Diocke wasn't happy, if he wanted any amount of shared ownership, however slight, and responsibility for the largest development in existence, he had to compromise. It was only natural then, that he had adopted a personal team of researchers, planners and assistants to watch over things and keep his interests firmly in the minds of the Turks. He would not be present during the press hearing in question, and was still in the dark as to what the main purpose for it was. Not even the invited press (who accepted straight away for an insight into the development shrouded in doubt up to now) were fully aware either, Diocke suspected.

"Thank you Callum. Keep an eye on things, I don't want the press to be led into thinking those Turks are the only ones responsible for this project, this New World City. No, I want it known Dio is as much in charge as they are!" And with that, Diocke reluctantly left the bustling site for his private pilot flown plane. He would mull this over thoroughly, because whatever Reno was up to, it would mean more than what the press and everybody expected. No, this was big, whatever it was. There was a reason the Turks had suddenly upped sticks and disappeared 'until further notice' as their polite memo described.

Something was going on. And Diocke had a feeling that the world would get an unexpected shock, come tomorrow.

Somewhere that seemed beneath the rest of the world, in a reluctant hideaway, Vincent Valentine remained in his lair.

Locked up. Lonely. Left behind.

It was a memoir already writing itself; Tales of the night-walking enigma. The next chapter was already sounding just like one long before it, recollecting an equally lonely caged circumstance. Though this time Vincent's prison was more realistic, moved from what was last a mansion coffin, to a cold modern cell.

Nothing moved in the cell, apart from the invisible rise and fall of a silent chest. The room's sole inhabitant sat in the same position he had been in for the past several hours. His back was up against the hard wall, his frame melding with the shadows covering it. His left leg lay flat out along the thin mattress' surface; his right leg was bent at the knee with his elbow rested still on its surface. As a result, his right hand dangled in a frozen position, whilst his left forearm was laid flat against his thigh, hand still.

Here he had waited, unmoving for hours. His eyes were thin slips of red glare, the only aspect of his form piercing through the thick darkness of the tiny room. They focussed on the exact same point in a static glance that seemed as if he were trying to burn a hole through the opposite wall he looked upon. His concentration was intense on one matter: where were Cloud and Tifa? His mind was alive with a constant, pulsating throb. He knew it wouldn't cease until he could come up with a satisfying solution to the mess he figured they were all in.

He had only moved twice since his imprisonment here that he could not even approximate the length of now. Each time he had moved, it was the same steady, intentional ritual. He would stoically rise from the bed, make his way to the cell door and calmly grasp hold of the bars clamped over the mere slip of an opening at the top of the door, allowing sight out into the corridor beyond. Here he would stand for an hour, watching. No guard had yet come though, to his disappointment. And so he would head back to his former position, miraculously in the exact spot, as if he were fitting right back into the frame of a photograph.

He wanted to remain anonymous for the time being. Any false move and he could cost Tifa and Cloud more consequences from his actions, than they had already no doubt earned themselves. So he set about a plan of his own. All he needed was the eventual guard to approach. He had heard a brief discussion between the two guards who had seemingly watched over him until he awoke. Upon slowly stirring into consciousness, he merely caught the words 'return' and 'the indicated time'. Vincent knew they would surely return in time. Whether it was before or after Tifa and Cloud were 'dealt with' judged how Vincent would react. Find out Tifa and Cloud were still alive, he would be more careful in his method of contacting AVALANCHE from here, but if they were dead – the building would turn into a chaotic massacre that history would never forgive itself for.

So in the cold silence surrounding him, Vincent listened.

And waited.

Cloud Strife paced like a caged lion.

His fists were clenched tight, at a pressure that would cause his blunt nails to become an actual injury to himself. This however, was the least possible worry in his pulsing mind.

Where had they taken Tifa?

He prowled the dark confined cell, his eyes burning through the shadows to light the path of his heavy, determined steps.

An unwanted yet frequent visitor began to make his way down the corridor, the sounds coming from his prisoners cell were unnerving, even to him. It was a constant heavy thudding of strong powerful footsteps. The noise was like a constant pounding, growing louder and louder as Reno neared the cell, and never showing signs of ceasing. Reno would not admit it to anyone after tonight, and make a mental note to deny to himself, that in the last few moments walking down the corridor to the confined warrior ahead, he clenched the electric tool in his palm harder than he had ever held onto any gun in his life. Guns were always his safety belt, his escape route, and even though he knew how to wield one, a gun would be no more useful than a worthless tooth pick against the current opponent.

Reno may have always been known for his arrogance, but this time, he knew full well what he was dealing with.

The noises of both footsteps suddenly stopped dead.

Silence.

Two pairs of rival eyes locked together in held breath. Neither wanted to give way to the other one. But it was clear who was going to back down to his impossible challenger.

Reno stepped forward.

"I warned you." He said with malice, as if his arrogance had evolved into a pure hatred and need to prove himself.

Cloud took a step forward also, his raw palms winding around the metal bars of the door window as if one tug would rip them clean off.

Reno paused before he found the strength of the right words. His face bore the signs of an attack, the bruised wounds still delicately vulnerable, yet the cool defiant eyes held his power even now.

"I wanted your co-operation. You were given the one opportunity available. It is your fault you screwed this up Strife, so you needn't hold your stance as if there is another way to save her. There isn't. I assure you. Whether you are ready for one or not. Now you're going to go in blind when you could have known every part of this careful operation. You just lost your back-up."

"You asked me nothing Turk. You offered no so-called opportunity, only the bland and predictable display of your own God damn arrogance." Cloud's voice growled through clenched teeth, his whole demeanour wound tight and ready to murder with bear hands the moment he was triggered.

Reno simply held his gaze locked tight with the enemy opposite him, while he raised his clenched palm to reveal the object being clasped within it.

Immediately Reno's smirk returned, as Cloud Strife's eyes were the one's to give up the fight the moment he saw what he had done.

"Not so tough and demanding now." Reno stated, holding the digital image being displayed to Cloud in a proud triumphant grasp, as if he held the world itself there.

In Cloud's eyes, he did. Because displayed in front of him, in a grainy image, was a slanted aerial view of a familiar small chamber. And bound with restraints at the centre, frail, and unconscious, was Tifa Lockheart.

A gas release was poised, capable of murder – and its focus was directly on her.

Reno snapped the devise shut and stepped closer to the defeated, fallen hero before him.

"I have a feeling that this time, you'll co-operate."

Author's Notes:

Helloooo!

I have been Missing in Action because the best summer of my life took place, the last one I could spend with a good deal of my friends left for university, then after that came the stress of my last year of college and preparing for University myself! So sorry, life took over!

But let me tell you, I am back with a vengeance! I know where these last mere handfuls of chapters are going. I know the content, and the finishing paragraph! This is all very emotional. This thing is nearly over, but it'll hopefully be good enough as a climax to this huuuuuge task. This journey has been great so far, my first ever writing task! But thank you, to everyone who has helped me along the way. My reviewers! I love you! I wouldn't have kept going if it weren't for you.

And a special thanks goes to Gordon, who illustrated me fantastic pieces of Fan Art! You can see one of them displayed proudly on my website! But as for the others, I am thinking of ways to scale them all down, so I can display them all! Yes! It gave me such a buzz to see someone had taken time to do that for me. You have my eternal gratitude!

And my ever-faithful reviewers, and new reviewers, thank you for taking time to read my jumble of words. As always, perhaps even more now, it means the world to me.

Xx Jessie X