.2.

Standing where he was, before an enormous window on the thirtieth floor of ShinRa Inc. headquarters, Tseng could see Midgar in its entirety. The scene was almost surreal; a landscape of lights which twinkled and glowed as though they were distant stars. This was the way he preferred Midgar: at night, in the dark, with nothing to see but the false beauty of its illumination. Too familiar was he with the truth behind the façade—the corruption, the power struggles, the cesspool of degenerate society that ever haunted this place. Behind him there was suddenly a noise, a throat cleared expectantly, and Tseng gazed upon the city one last time before turning around to face his employer.

Rufus ShinRa sat behind his desk, hands clasped before him, clad as always in an ivory suit tailored perfectly to his frame. Tseng approached and lowered himself into a chair on the other side of the desk. He took a moment to study his superior before speaking. Rufus was young, highly ambitious, and possessed a considerable amount of cunning. He in no way resembled his father, the corpulent, pompous, and merciless president of the massive ShinRa empire. There was no love lost between father and son; indeed, it was publicly known that they despised each other. That aside, President ShinRa had seen it fit to place his son at his side, and had named Rufus Vice President of ShinRaIncorporated. Five years had passed since Rufus came to office, and it was four years ago that the Turks had been created.

The Turks themselves were Rufus' private strike force; an elite group of hitmen that, with the power of ShinRa backing them, had full access to most any place on earth. Rufus himself had hand-picked the two original Turks; from the deadly and cutthroat sub-society of mercenaries and bounty hunters he had found Zhao Tseng, and located Drake Rude through his rising notoriety in the news as violent and murderous prison escapee. Both of them had shown a certain sort of integrity, however misplaced, that had been precisely what Rufus was looking for. Tseng had been cautious when approached by the Vice President, but quickly warmed to Rufus' proposal. Rude had accepted immediately, for by doing so he lost all traces of a criminal record and could do legally what it was he loved to do: raise hell. And so it was the Turks had been born.

Rufus had appointed Tseng as leader, recognizing the shrewd intellect and fierce dominance housed within the Wutain's quiet, subdued form. Rude initially had an issue with this decision, and had challenged Tseng to a fight for authority. It was over in a matter of minutes, and from that point onwards Rude swore absolute obedience to Tseng. Having been established, the Turks were now in need of recruitment, and Rufus gave Tseng the power to choose whoever he saw fit. Tseng and Rude combed Midgar from top plate to the seedy underbelly, and occasionally ventured outside city limits. Anyone they thought showed promise was taken—willingly or not—to a small, rundown warehouse which, at that time, served as Turk headquarters. These "applicants" were put through a number of trials which tested their strength, intelligence, prowess, and most importantly, their ruthless nature. Their standards were high, and almost all of those they chose for these trials failed; failure meant certain execution by Rufus' decree. Almost one year after the birth of the Turks, Rude and Tseng encountered a young street ruffian putting up the fight of his life against Midgar law enforcement. Tseng had intervened, claiming it was official ShinRa business, and the police had stepped aside. The ruffian was young, almost too young, tall and lean and vehemently belligerent. He fought like a cornered hellcat, and seemed for the most part to have no fear. He was taken back to the warehouse, struggling viciously the entire way, and upon arriving there he promptly attacked the two Turks in a furious rage. He was subdued easily, beaten within an inch of his life, and the very next day the ruffian—Thaddeus Reno—became the third member of the Turks.

The fourth member they located not long after; she was a pretty and petite blonde woman who served as an enforcer for an organized crime syndicate that had networked throughout the middle continent. Police had finally gotten tabs on their main location and had raided; hearing of this, and thinking it to be a prime recruiting opportunity, Tseng had tagged along. He witnessed first hand the woman steadfastly gunning down several cops with an air of detached calm. When finally they'd managed to subdue her and the rest of her mob associates, Tseng asserted the power given to him by ShinRa once again and whisked her away. There were to be no trials on her behalf; as Tseng explained the Turks' purpose he saw in her eyes an eager and determined acceptance of her fate. And so it was that day that Elena Meredith Desco became a Turk, and it was that day that the Turks themselves became a whole.

Forcing his reminiscent thoughts aside, aware of Rufus' growing impatience, Tseng said, "I have good news."

Rufus arched one brow, and it was lost in the disheveled fall of his copper hair across his forehead. "And that news would be?"

"Aeris was in town today. She came to Reno for some information." Tseng paused, watching his employer closely. "She was looking for Sephiroth."

For a moment, all was silent. Rufus sighed then, a slow exhale of relief and satisfaction. He said, "And I'm assuming she was told his location?"

Tseng shook his head. "Not at first. Reno wouldn't tell her."

The Vice President's vibrant blue eyes narrowed in sudden displeasure. "Reno is dead, then?"

"No." Tseng said again. "I found them before she could kill him, and I told her what she wanted to know. She will be heading for Nibelheim now."

"Excellent." Rufus said, and a slow smile spread across his face. "For so long, I've been trying to find a way to remove that man … and the answer just fell into my lap." His expression sobered then as thoughts unwanted passed behind his eyes. "Do you think she can do it?"

Tseng did not hesitate in replying. "I do."

Rufus nodded. "Good. Her reputation is impressive … if it is to be believed. Should she succeed, father will have lost his figurehead. And without Sephiroth to come to his defense … I will finally replace that blustering fool. With the Turks at my side, Scarlet and Heidigger won't dare oppose me. Reeve, though … Reeve may give us some grief. And that is unfortunate, because I genuinely like Reeve."

"Perhaps he can be made to see reason?" Tseng offered.

"Perhaps." Rufus stood and began to pace, eyes aglow, fervently dreaming, Tseng knew, of the completion of the plan he had held onto for so long. "Good news, indeed, Tseng. But … what if she should fail? Will Sephiroth know who sold him out?"

"I don't think she will fail, sir."

Rufus turned to regard the Turk with a shrewd, speculative gaze. "You have great faith in her abilities."

"You forget," Tseng replied, "that I have seen her in action."

"Ah yes. In Wutai. She decimated the entire ruling family while you where there on official business … and you made no move to stop her, did you?"

"My ties to Wutai are long severed." Tseng replied in a tight voice, and though there was something slightly bitter within those words, to anyone unfamiliar with him it was barely noticeable.

"Yes." Rufus said. "And fortunate that is; I wouldn't have found you otherwise." The Vice President turned to stare out window. "Thank you for coming to me with this, Tseng. But tell me—if Aeris did not kill Reno, what did she do to him?"

"Shot him. Shattered his kneecap."

"Crude, but effective." Rufus remarked. "Will Reno recover?"

"In time, yes. He will be undergoing surgery come morning; they will give him an artificial joint, and he'll be hobbled for a few weeks."

"He is at times incompetent, Tseng."

"And for that I apologize, sir."

"No need. I trust your judgement. He's useful. Now," Rufus said abruptly, "I must leave for a meeting. Scarlet has some plans she wants approved for the new weapons project."

Tseng stood, inclining his head slightly in deference as he did so. "One more thing—did you want me to send someone to Nibelheim, to monitor the process?"

"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Send Elena." Rufus had returned to his desk, sitting again, and was rifling through a myriad of papers on the surface. He paused and raised his head. "No … Elena can remain. I want you to go."

Mildly surprised, but managing not to show it, Tseng nodded. "Very well. I'll leave first thing in the morning."

"Do so." Rufus replied, again looking through the papers, and Tseng took his words as a dismissal.

Minutes later, leaning against the side of the elevator made entirely of glass, Tseng mused on his new assignment. He wasn't adverse to field work; in fact, he quite enjoyed a change in scenery from time to time. He knew why Rufus was sending him; should Aeris fail in assassinating Sephiroth, he wanted someone there to finish the job. And while the thought of facing the legendary General was enough to unnerve even Tseng, he pushed it aside. As he'd said earlier, he had seen the bounty hunter at work, and he knew what she could do.

A slight, admiring smile curved his lips. She would succeed; therefore this little excursion could be seen as nothing more than a well deserved vacation.

.x.

Nibelheim.

She hadn't been there for awhile, almost a year, by her reckoning. It was a picturesque little town, with cobblestone streets and quaint houses, and the ShinRa mansion looming over it all. The point of interest, she knew, wasn't in the town itself. It lay high in the slopes of Mount Nibel, sucking from its depths the very blood of life like some sort of mechanized parasite. But other secrets lurked in Nibelheim … secrets she knew well.

After her encounter with Reno and Tseng, she had returned to the tiny and cramped hovel that passed as an excuse for a hotel in the lower levels of Midgar. She'd been staying here for several nights, combing the city, questioning indiscriminately whomever she came across for information on Sephiroth. Her knowledge of him was already vast; it had to be, for he was ultimately the target she'd been training for for most of her life. Rumors and hearsay, however, often contained altered fact, and it was for that reason she had remained so long in this city she detested. Only one more night, she thought with a sense of satisfaction, and then she would be free of this hellish mass of civilization.

She was lying on the single bed shoved into the corner of the cramped hotel room, one arm cast across her face, the other at her side. Her coat she had hung off the corner of the sole chair occupying the room, and her shoulder and hip holsters she had laid on the bed beside her. She had removed the spine sheath; it was too uncomfortable to sleep with, and the ten inch blade it held wouldn't be her first choice of weapons should someone barge through the door in the middle of the night anyways. She hadn't bothered undressing; she would sleep clad still in the form-fitting, dark pliable leather clothing she was so accustomed to wearing. It didn't make noise, it was highly durable, and the color did not draw attention—thus it fulfilled all the requirements for the life she led. Along with her clothing, she had left her other weapons intact upon her person; there was a thin garrotte woven intricately into the collar of her shirt, and along the inside of each arm a throwing knife was sheathed. Strapped to the outer thigh of her left leg was another blade, six inch, perfect for stabbing, and that completed her arsenal. She had other weapons, of course: a double barreled tactical shotgun, a variation of a military sniper rifle, and four other automatic handguns. The knives were last resorts; she preferred to eliminate her targets from a distance if at all possible.

With Sephiroth, however …

She sighed, turning onto her side facing the door and pillowing her head on one arm. Her eyes were open, and they were slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room, and soon the lurid glow of the neon signs outside her window seeped through filthy and tattered curtains. She stared into nothingness for a long while, willing herself to sleep, willing the voices she heard constantly to cease their orders, cease their yammering, and simply let her be. But they wouldn't, they never did, and they were excited now. She was close, so close, to total absolution; would they be silenced, she wondered, when it was all over? She fervently hoped so. Sephiroth's death would mean one chapter of her life was over, and another was to begin. And oh, how she looked forward to what the next would offer …

You have to kill him first, an insidious part of her mind interjected.

Her lips thinned, and resolutely she closed her eyes. She wouldn't fail; she never did. And when he was dead …

Sleep claimed her then, and as she drifted away, a faint smile curved her lips.