"You're late," Delphine said as Gaspar sidled through the door with the shopping.
It had been too much to ask that he would have escaped unnoticed, but he was disappointed regardless.
"I bumped into an old friend."
Del looked him over, a quick glance. "You weren't in a fight. Are they dead?"
"No. We talked."
"Any good news?"
"I got a possible location for the sniper that shot 1714."
"Uh huh. And what did you give in exchange?"
"Nothing. We talked, he was lonely."
Del heaved a giant sigh, then took off her helmet, carefully setting it to one side facing the wall, and beckoned him to follow her. She had short brown hair fading to grey, kept hacked short by the 'where is the nearest knife' style of hairdressing.
They moved into the other secure room of the tiny shopfront. DG 1184 was sitting on a piece of debris, but left when he saw them come in.
Alone, Del, eyed him, her eyes still hard even when he could actually see them. She didn't have the dramatically overt SOLDIER eyes, but this close, there was still a hint of a glimmer of Mako. It did not make her regard less intimidating.
"What are you scheming?"
Gaspar raised his eyebrows. "I'm not. Truly. I know better."
"That why you keep ranting about the outside?"
"Have to occupy my time somehow..."
"There is that, but…no. You're living in the hope that there's some kind of better world out there to go back to. There isn't."
"We don't know that the world is dead-"
"Maybe it's not. Irrelevant. You forget, I wasn't born in DG. Suppose you find your way out. What next?"
"What…next?"
"Where do you go, what do you do? If Shinra's still standing, do you think they'll just let you walk free?"
"…no. I'd be dead the second I came up for air."
"Dead or a tool. Alright, now. Assume Shinra has fallen. What then?"
"Whoever is in charge does the same."
"Ding fucking ding. Now, suppose you go up there and no one is in charge, that they've all; split into tribes or whatever. Are you going to bake bread? No. You'll sign on with someone and fight, because that's what you know how to do, and it's all you know how to do. Just like the rest of us.
Now, let's say Deepground breaks the surface, you think the rest of the world is going to just leave us be, live in harmony? No. They'll ask us to disarm and then line us up against the nearest wall, unless we seize power from them first. We're too dangerous to leave alive at your back."
"So, two choices. Be someone else's tool, or go out in a blaze of glory. That's all there is for any of us.' A glorious death is still a death."
"And what is your big sales pitch that makes down here so much better?"
"It'S not exactly the Gold Saucer's Executive Lounge, I'll give you that. But we kill or die on our own choices, not as someone else's tool."
Gaspar buried the laugh that had threatened to bubble out. "You think Weiss doesn't see us as a tool?"
"Since you've been here, has he given any commands?"
"…He told the army attacking us to stand down."
"And that let you stand or fall on your merits."
"I got roped into the sparring thing."
"To pay back a debt, then you were let be. Rosso will kill you, but not command you. The border defences are by choice, not by command."
"I'm not seeing the distinction."
Another long suffering sigh."Well, back in the old days, we had chips in our brains. We literally couldn't rebel, the chips would not allow it. When the Tsviets rebelled, they could have put back the chips. They didn't. We are free to rebel if we wish, the consequences may be death, but it is a choice that can be made. Anyone that wishes to fight their way to the top can."
"Not the fairest fight, given their abilities."
Del laughed again. "You're not very self aware, are you?"
He stared at her for a moment, then caught up, and couldn't help but laugh himself. "That's fair."
There was a short silence as he absorbed this information. So, Weiss was not ruling through fear or force, but by genuine loyalty. That was an honest surprise…and it meant any effort to seize the throne was both doomed and worthless.
It was possible that Del was lying or manipulating him, but if this was true, then… well, his choices suddenly became a whole lot easier. Seizing the throne was an even more futile path than he'd believed, and escape was impossible and worthless. Which left this shopfront, these five people, and Deepground. To the death.
He did have one more question, though.
"Why did you take off your helmet?"
"Shelke can see out of it if she wishes. If you were about to talk about a plot, that could kill us all."
"What? Why didn't you say that before?"
"Because I was wearing the helmet!"
"Okay, but won't she have wondered why you took it off now?"
"We'll find out if we die," Del said, quite casually. The corner of her mouth twitched. "Until then, go with romance, that usually works."
Gaspar cracked up, because that was the one thing that was in common with life on the SOLDIER floor and life down here. He had never personally been a big enough name to have a fanclub, but there had been a running rule as to any SOLDIER that wanted a cover story to do something clandestine –romance was accepted as an excuse for absolutely anything.
"The more things change, hey? Romance it is."
