Chapter 2
"Rude!" Reno darts down the corridor, choking on smoke. Blood is trickling from some cut in his forehead where a bullet came too close, and he swipes frantically at it, too busy to even take time to pause and use the cure materia strapped to the bracelet in his arm.
His partner is missing. Lost him somewhere back in the smoke and fire, right about the time those Avalanche bastards started bringing out the heavy artillery.
"Reno," Tseng's voice crackles over his headset. "Where are you?"
"Don't know," he gasps back, the smoke tearing its way down his throat with every pant.
"We've lost you off our screens. Head down to the service elevators. We're falling back to the control room."
"Where the fuck is the service elevator?"
He can feel Tseng's frustration. "How far are you from your post?"
"Hell, boss, we were running, I took the nearest staircase, thought it would take me right back and…"
Bullets streak past and he curses, throwing himself to the ground. The pistol is heavy in his hands as he tries to sight through the haze to see who's firing at him. Damnit, where is Rude? He said to rendezvous …somewhere. The directions had made as much sense as Rufus' schematics had.
It wouldn't have helped, he thinks at himself. Diagrams don't translate into the real thing.
He can't help the little nagging feeling that he fucked up big time, though.
He snipes randomly into the darkness, but whoever it is just keeps returning fire. Cursing, he inches forward, when there's a sudden impact that throws him backwards. Dazed, he hits the floor, wondering when the explosion of pain is going to come.
Muzzle flashes give away your location, Veld yells at him from some bygone memory. If they don't know where you are, don't return fire unless you're confident that you can get all of them!
"Yes mum," he groans, shaking his head. No pain. They must have missed. Flopping over onto his belly again, he crawls his way across the service walk, trying to ignore the things blowing up around him.
There's a crackle of static from his headset. He taps it, but it refuses to resolve. "Hey Tseng, speak up, I can't hear you." He taps it again, harder, and reaches up to twiddle the little antenna… when the entire thing abruptly breaks apart in his hand.
"What the…"
He glances down at the headset, now in several pieces, and suddenly realizes what a lucky fucker he is.
The bullet hit him, alright. And was stopped by his comms unit. Which is now, unfortunately, very dead.
"Fuck."
He drops the useless thing, and figures that the best solution would be to run for it. This walkway is bound to lead somewhere. He'll see how it goes from there.
-v-
The call comes when he's just decided to leave the office for the night.
Avalanche has struck at reactor 1.
Avalanche has taken down the perimeter defenses and is inside reactor 1.
Rufus stops short in utter shock, thankful that Veld cannot see his expression over the PHS.
"Everything is going according to plan," Veld continues. "Would you like us to keep you updated?"
"Yes. Thank you." He's amazed that his voice remains as level as it does. After all, everything is not going to according to plan. Avalanche wasn't supposed to have struck at all. He'd warned them, hadn't he? That it was a trap?
Reno, he thinks, suddenly, remembering his charge from the day before. Remembering a certain lapse in the complete and satisfactory fulfillments of his duties. Remembers handing off a file to someone he knows won't read it, skipping over the trip to the reactor which he knows he should have made, except that he'd gone home and fallen asleep instead. Suddenly, he needs more than just sporadic updates. He needs information in real time. He needs to be there.
He reverses direction sharply, heading for the Turk's operations room.
-v-
Reno is officially one very, very lost Turk. He stares at the elevator in front him, cursing his luck. X-698A should ring a bell, and it does, except that that bell is tied to his leg, it seems. He can't remember whether this is the service elevator that Tseng was talking about, or the main one that'll lead straight into the main entrance which Avalanche troopers are swarming all over.
This operation, he reflects, is going to hell in a handbasket. It's not just one lost Turk either. Goodness knows where Rude is. The new Turks dropped out of contact moments ago, and Tseng is probably going utterly crazy in despair. And SOLDIER? Turned out to be completely useless. Or something. He doesn't know what went wrong, except that there were bigger explosions than everyone had expected, and suddenly Avalanche is beyond the front line and everyone is screaming for back up.
Fat lot of good they are doing as backup. As least they managed to stop Avalanche from carrying out its primary objective of blowing up the reactor by hitting the coolant. Although Avalanche seems to have fallen back on plan B, which seems to involve blowing everything up and bringing the reactor down.
Choices.
Risk taking the elevator straight to hell, and hope that Avalanche won't blow it up either, or head back.
Rude's somewhere back there.
So is Avalanche.
"I can handle a few puny Avalanche punks," he snarls, spinning back, the EMR clutched tightly in his left hand and a pistol in his right. There was a stairwell somewhere back there. He'll take it.
-v-
Rufus arrives in Veld's office to find that everything, in fact, is not going according to plan.
Veld is there, of course, along with two other junior Turks whom Rufus spares only a cursory glance for. Tseng isn't – he's on site commander and therefore at the reactor itself. There's the usual controlled chaos that an operations room always has whenever they're in business, one side of the wall taken up by a huge screen conferencing directly with the SOLDIER operations center.
But it's not this that tips Rufus off. It's not even the fact that Veld is screaming at the SOLDIER commander, his usual calm and professional demeanor utterly shattered. It's the schematic of the reactor dominating the center screen, a glowing green version of the one he was trying to show Reno, and most of it is flashing violent red.
Half the reactor is under Avalanche control, he notes with horror, although the Turks are still putting up a good fight over at the control center.
"Rufus-sama," Veld says, noticing him.
"Carry on," Rufus replies, eyes scanning across the status updates flashing in the corner of the screen. Unfamiliar names – those must be the newbies. One critically injured. The other injured but okay. Rude, fine. Reno…
-v-
Sweat and blood are streaming into his eyes now. The pistol is empty, jammed into his belt, and he has no time to reload. He's half deaf, the recent explosions having blown his hearing to hell along with the half the corridor. Three Avalanche troopers are dead at his feet, several more closing in on him. Another bullet hits him, gets snagged by the bulletproof vest, and he spins, smashing the EMR right across the guy's helmet. Electricity crackles, and trooper's helmet explodes, leaving only a headless corpse to fall to the ground. Reno spins, sensing someone else moving, only to see the two remaining troopers falling back. He contemplates setting off in pursuit, then remembers the empty pistol. He pulls it out, jettisoning the empty clip and reaching for a new one—
--when the entire world explodes around him.
-v-
Reno's status flashes from uninjured to flashing blank. Unknown. Possibly dead. Veld notices, curses, and demands a report from Tseng.
"We lost track of him sir. We don't know where he is."
Rufus' fists are clenched so tightly that his nails feel as if they'll break skin soon. This is turning into a bloodbath, the very thing he was trying his utmost to avoid. He'd told Elfe not to attack, warned her, persuaded her, and still…
"It's fine, sir," one of the new Turks says, a girl with auburn hair and a large shuriken strapped to her back. "The reinforcements arrived in time. We'll be able to stop them."
Rufus gives her a distracted nod, noting, indeed, that they appear to have the central entrance under control again. Avalanche is trapped, trying to retreat, unable to break through to their goal and unable to break out.
Caught in the jaws, just like he'd told them would happen. Did they really think that Shinra was so incompetent? And in a war of attrition, Shinra will always win.
Yet not without casualties. Rufus murmurs words of encouragement, almost automatically, as he turns to leave, weaving his way out between tables. It doesn't surprise him that his father is not there at all, or even that Veld would tell him that everything is under control when it is, in fact, not. After all, the President is only interested in good news – telling me you've succeeded, or not at all.
In his spare time, Rufus wonders if that's any way to rule.
For his part, he feels that any distance from the battlefield is way too far.
-
By the time he pulls up beside Reactor 1, the fight is largely over, and the firefighters are going in. Tseng turns to greet him as he climbs out of the car, looking weary. "Mr Vice President. You shouldn't have—"
"How many Turks did we lose?" he asks.
"None, fortunately."
"None?" he glances over. "What about Reno?"
"He was caught in a blast, sir, but he survived. He's on his way to medical right now."
Something that he hadn't noticed was knotted in his chest starts to unwind. "That stupid bastard," he growls.
"I take it that yesterday's preliminary briefing was not successful."
Rufus closes his eyes. "He got lost, didn't he."
"It's always a possibility in these circumstances, sir. There's always a lot of confusion during a fight."
"I was going to bring him to the reactor itself," Rufus mumbles. "Him and Rude. Except that he…" he shakes his head abruptly.
One to bite the bullet later and walk off smiling…
"You shouldn't be here, sir. In case…"
"I understand." Rufus sighs. "Good job, in any event."
"Thank you."
They stand there for a moment, Rufus standing by the open door of his car (sleek white, standard Shinra issue with certain very illegal modifications), and Tseng a few feet away, staring up at the reactor before them. The steady glow that normally enfolds it and its surroundings is flickering sporadically, and the technicians nearby are flinching and discussing rapidly in low voices. Evidently, the area is still not completely secure.
"How long before the situation is nominal?" Rufus asks, watching personnel flood in and out of the doors.
"We hope to have the area under control and power rerouted through the other reactors within the hour." The Turk glances over. "Again, sir, you shouldn't be here. I'll ask someone to accompany you back—"
"No need for that." Rufus lets his fingers slide off the edge of the door. One day, he vows quietly, one day, when he is in charge, none of this will happen again. "I'm heading home."
-v-
He doesn't head home after all. He finds himself back in the Shinra building, back in his office on the 69th floor, staring out over the city. Mako Reactor #1 is illuminated by strobe lights, but the rest of the city is just as it always is. Quiet. Peaceful.
One day, he thinks, pressing a hand up against the glass. One day my beloved city will no longer be plagued by war.
He needs to call Elfe, but figures that that can be left for later. He's suddenly tired, in no mood to pick a fight or listen to excuses. They chose the consequences when they chose to act, after all. He slumps in his chair, watching the flickering lights.
He wants this over with. He wants this conflict resolved in the cleanest, most bloodless way possible. His father needs to sit up and notice, or be disposed of before his insanity costs the world and Midgar any more grief. Avalanche is too large – was too large even by the time he found them – to be carelessly stopped or disposed of.
He lets an arm trail across the armrest of the chair before it falls away to the side. The President will respond quickly, and forcefully, against this new threat. Scapegoats will be found. Large, extravagant gestures will be made. People will be sacrificed, others bribed. Rufus snorts gently. For all that the President professes to rule with money, he utilizes fear to his greatest advantage as well. The promise of swift and deadly retribution, and the promise to the masses that Shinra Company is their best bet, the one that will look after them, the one that they should flock to in this time of need.
Not a bad policy, Rufus reflects, but one that is somewhat reactive in nature, rather than preventative. He frowns, staring out at the sea of lights floating before him. Somewhere, someplace, there has to be a perfect solution to this conundrum. Given its massive technological advantage, the Company has a natural monopoly on a large number of fields, without even need for anti competitive measures. It's been a long time since the last hostile takeover, and all its challengers have died natural deaths from an inability to measure up. Yet certain elements still chafe against it.
Nothing we can do will please them.
He stares out into infinity, moodily reflecting on possibilities and futures and methods of ruling. The darkness of the office wraps around him, enfolding him in the silence, and it is not long before exhaustion pulls him into depths of sleep.
-v-
It's pretty damn cold when he wakes up.
Grumbling about the messed up central heating in the bloody shack that the Turks call housing, Reno attempts to fumble his way out of bed to look for another blanket.
A blast of pain arcing through his arm stops him short, and he blinks blurry eyes in confusion.
"Try not to fall out of bed. I'm not going to tuck you back in," a voice says from somewhere off to his right, sounding almost like Tseng, but yet somehow different. Higher, clearer, perhaps? More stuck up arrogant brattish?
It can't be…
He turns his head, squinting against lights that are way too bright. White fades into white, and he can just make out the outlines of a thin figure standing beside the bed. Blond hair. Black turtleneck. He's sure that if he squints hard enough, he will be able to make out icy blue eyes.
The royal princeling himself.
What the hell…
"Come to nag me about homework?" he asks.
Rufus turns away, glancing at the stack of monitoring devices beside the bed, and says nothing.
"Don't they have visiting hours for this shit?" Reno yawns, wondering if there's a cigarette somewhere and if he can bum it without the doctors going postal.
He can't see Rufus' face from this angle, but from the wry tone in the boy's voice, it sounds as if he might actually be smiling. Or smirking. "Like you said, once, who's going to stop me?"
"Fucking brat," Reno groans. "I don't suppose you have a light."
"And even if I did, I wouldn't give it to you."
"What're you doing here anyway?"
Rufus hesitates just one heartbeat too long, a heartbeat that turns an otherwise flippant response into something too tense, too calculated: "Come to nag you about homework."
"Right. And you're done. See you around, kid."
A low growl sounds from the other. "I am not a kid."
"Whatever you say." He twitches an arm, wondering if he can pull out the IVs. There's the curious tingle in his skin of the effect of a lot of Cure Materia, and he vaguely wonders how bad the damage was before he was brought in. He doesn't particularly care to find out, as long as he's on his feet soon. Lying in a hospital bed is damn bloody boring.
"Yo, Rufus."
"What?"
"Did they get the reactor?"
Rufus moves back into view, a slight frown marring his features and looking way too old for someone who's just passed his sixteenth birthday. "Succinctly, no. The damage has also been repaired and the reactor is expected to be back online—" he pauses, pushing up his sleeve to check his watch. "—should be online now, actually."
"Well, yeah. We lost anyone?"
"Seventeen SOLDIERs. Forty more are presently in medical." Rufus' voice takes on the slightly abstracted tone of someone reporting to a superior, rattling off figures that don't quite mean anything to him.
Yeah well. This is just a handful compared to what we lost in the Wutai war. But still.
The boy is hesitating still, looking as if he wishes to say something more. It's freaking weird, waking up to find the kid Vice President standing beside your bed, instead of another Turk, or Tseng, or Veld fuming quietly and all ready to chew him out for screwing up. After all, surely the VP has better things to do than to stand around visiting invalid Turks?
Right on cue, there's a buzz on the doorbell. Rufus turns, frowning, as a doctor deferentially eases his way in, mumbling something about an emergency board meeting and would the Vice President please attend?
Reno nearly laughs out loud at the expression of distaste that whisks past Rufus' face. It's exactly like the expression he's sure he wears, every time Tseng hands him a stack of paper and tells him to handle acquisitions or post-mission reports, or other bullshit.
Come on, kiddo. Whine a bit. Stall. Act your age for once.
"Well, who's going to make you?" Reno tells him.
Rufus shoots him a sour glare, buttons up the last button of his jacket, and heads for the door. As the doctor scuttles out, the boy pauses, one hand on the door control. "Reno," he says.
"Yeah?"
"It would be a waste if you got killed. Try to avoid it in future."
The door hisses shut behind the him, leaving Reno wondering what the hell all of that was about.