.7.

Work hours were over, and the ShinRa Inc. building had been mostly emptied of its daily occupants. Situated on the eighty ninth floor, however, was an office with all its lights still on; within that office Rufus ShinRa sat mired deep in his ponderous thoughts. Two weeks had passed since the ill fated attempt on Sephiroth's life, and the aftermath had created a great deal of controversy both within the ranks of ShinRa Inc. and without; Rufus felt a headache coming on just at that the thought of the resulting mess. As powerful as the mega-corporation was, there was simply no way to keep the assassination attempt out of the media; hours after Sephiroth, accompanied by Tseng in a ShinRa Inc. medical chopper, arrived back in Midgar the news was everywhere that the legendary General had been shot and almost killed.

Almost killed. That, more than anything else about this whole fiasco, was what bothered Rufus the most. Tseng had come to his employer immediately upon arrival, detailing all that had happened with vivid clarity. Aeris had done all she had promised she would do; the problem lay with Sephiroth and his unwillingness to die. At first Rufus was skeptical, thinking perhaps Tseng was covering for the assassin, but then he saw the medical reports, witnessed first hand the extent of Sephiroth's wound. All his doubts, his misconceptions, had been assuaged then for there was no denying that on any other man, Aeris' shot would have been a killing blow.

And that was the absolute crux of his current dilemma.

Rufus had met the hype of the media with his typical implacable calm, explaining with purposeful vagueness that yes, the great General had fallen victim to an assassination attempt, but said attempt had failed and he had been seriously wounded but would live. He went on to say that as of the current time, ShinRa Inc. had no idea who was behind the attempt, but were doing their best to discover the responsible entities and bring them to justice. Though it was left unsaid, it was common knowledge exactly what kind of justice ShinRa Inc. was capable of dispensing.

Aside from the huge publicity this incident had drawn, it had brought into light just how much Dr. Aurelius Hojo, head of ShinRa Inc.'s Science Department, had been withholding from his superiors in terms of exactly how advanced Genetically Manipulated and Evolutionized Subject 003—G.M.E.S.003 for short—actually was. Hojo had been given almost free reign in terms of his scientific work and experimentation by President ShinRa, but was required to report and file everything he did with Rufus. Rufus and Hojo did not like each other; Hojo was very much the President's lapdog, a conniving yet undeniably brilliant man who let very little stand in the way of his research. Hojo's arrogance and ruthlessness made him a man to be wary of, and Rufus was ever conscious that he was not the only within this corporate giant to have his own elite band of enforcers. Though Rufus and Hojo constantly butted heads, the President's son had been fairly certain that he knew all there was to know about the Science Department's projects. Upon Sephiroth's wounding, however, it had become evident that Hojo had been hiding a great many things; after demanding an explanation Rufus had been waylaid by his father, who, with a smug, condescending grin, had informed his son that Sephiroth's newest engineered "evolution" had been fully sanctioned by none other than himself. This barb struck home with Rufus, though he did not show it; the fact that the President had seen fit to keep his own son and Vice President in the dark about something so significant was another nail in the coffin.

Rufus' lip twisted savagely. Oh, how he longed to seal the lid on the vile, corpulent waste that was his father. And his one, inarguable chance had lain with the death of Sephiroth … now he was uncertain if Sephiroth could ever be killed or would ever die, and the implications of this made him grit his teeth in utter frustration. He would take over as head of this company, if for no other reason than he deserved it. And on that day, may his only living relation rot in hell forever …So deep was Rufus' introspection that he wasn't aware of the new presence in his office until a throat was cleared politely in order to gain attention. Startled, the Vice President's gaze flew to the door, where there stood someone watching him in motionless silence. Not just anyone, he realized then, coming to his feet in astonishment, but Aeris …

"You're either very confident or incredibly naïve to be coming here," he remarked a moment later, clearing his face of his surprise but remaining on his feet.

Aeris smiled as she crossed the lacquered ebony of the marble floor with measured steps, her long coat drifting slightly behind her as she walked. She sank into one of the two plush leather upholstered chairs on the opposite side of his desk. "You know which, I think."

"I do," he confirmed with an answering smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He seated himself once again, propping both elbows on the desk and regarding her over his clasped hands. "But I have to wonder what's brought you here. Especially now."

"I come for information." She replied quietly, her own gaze as unwavering as his own. She unnerved him in a way; in most every other person he was able to see either the respect or intimidation that he inspired, but Aeris was a closed book—always impassive, always unreadable. It bothered him that she was in no way wary of him, but was simultaneously aware that it was this fearlessness that made her as dangerous as she undeniably was.

"About Sephiroth?" It was more statement than question, but he felt compelled to say it. She gave a single, brief nod, and he sighed in a slow exhale before continuing. "I have no idea, really, just what the General is anymore. Hojo has been somewhat recalcitrant in divulging the true extents of his progress with me, it seems."

"I thought as much."

"Did you?" He stared at her a moment, wondering what thoughts roamed behind her steadfast gaze. He smiled again, a mirthless curling of his lips. "Of course you did." He paused a moment. "As I said, I don't know anymore about Sephiroth at this point than you do ... and that, I would imagine, is quite a bit."

"I need access to Hojo's lab." She said bluntly after a second.

Unruffled, Rufus replied. "You ask a great deal, Aeris. Because of your attempt on the General's life, security has been tripled. I can give you access to the lab, but getting there won't be easy."

"Let me worry about that," she said softly, and the iron determination beneath those words clarified his already existent knowledge that this was a woman not to be trifled with in any way, shape or form.

"Very well," he said, leaning back and assessing her with measured eyes. "But you understand that should you be caught, I won't be able to step in …?"

"Understood, but I won't get caught."

"Is it crazy that I believe you?" He half asked himself, reaching into his upper right desk drawer and removing his own personal ShinRa Inc. executive keyboard and sliding it across the polished mahogany of his desktop towards her. She sat up and took it carefully between two leather gloved fingers, examining it carefully. Looking back to him, she said, "Should they catch me, with your keycard … an awkward situation, wouldn't that be?"

"Indeed." Rufus agreed. "But, as you said—you won't get caught."

They smiled then, genuine smiles, for they understood each other on some level not shared by those who led simpler, less violent lives. Aeris stood then, an effortless unfolding of limbs. As she turned to leave, Rufus said, "The lab is on the fiftieth floor. I advise taking the stairs—the elevators are closely monitored."

She nodded, half turning, before swiftly exiting his office. And as the Vice President rested his head back against his chair, the sigh he emitted was one of satisfaction. The fact that Aeris was here indicated she was still resolute upon ending Sephiroth's life, and Rufus was beginning to find that, like Tseng, he was certain she could complete such a feat. The fact that she'd made it to his office at all without ShinRa Inc.'s formidable security measures detecting her presence told him something about her considerable skills, for the executive offices were under twenty four hour surveillance. The lab, however, was another matter.

Rufus pursed his lips, considering, and then picked up the phone and began to dial.

.x.

Fifteen minutes later Aeris stood within the cavernous laboratory; illuminated only by the auxiliary lights it seemed a haunted, eerie place. Various cylindrical glass observation cells littered the open area, and several mesh cages were situated to the rear and left side of the large room. There was an observation deck to the far right, a room separated from the main part by glass and steel. It was there, Aeris knew, that she'd find what it was she was looking for, and so with a determined stride she skirted the lurid pools of overhead light. Something lingering in this chamber was causing her nerves to sing with heightened apprehension and the voices of the elders to wail in discord within her, but she steeled herself and concentrated on exerting the resonance she felt always as part of her heritage to meld her form with the shadows, to move through the black as though a part of them. It was a parlour trick, one she used often, and it would be enough to keep her from being visible to the many surveillance cameras situated here for the time being. This was also how she'd moved through the building undetected, for after hours only the auxiliary lights lit the many halls.

Coming to the observation deck, she inserted Rufus' keycard into the slot with the blinking red light; there was a small chime, and the light turned green. Aeris slipped swiftly through the door as it slid open; once inside she cast a swift glance about. There were filing cabinets all along the far wall, gleaming dull black in the bright fluorescent lights that had flickered on as soon as she'd entered, and as she stepped before them she caught sight of yet another camera directly overhead. It was too bright here for her to hide herself, and so she had only a small window of time until her presence was noted. It would be enough; it had to be.

She moved to stand in front of one of the cabinets with the label G.M.E.S. in bold letters adorning the front and tried opening one of the drawers. As she suspected, it was locked tight; with a simple flexing of her arm she wrenched it free whilst destroying the locking mechanism. Quickly she began flipping through the manila file folders, scanning the names scrawled on them. She knew all about the G.M.E.S. program; she'd learned from Tseng. There were, however, many more projects in the program than she'd originally realized; hundreds, by the number of files she was currently scanning through. She'd just made an impatient noise when she found what it was she was searching for—a particularly thick folder tagged with: SEPHIROTH: G.M.E.S. 003. She hefted it free of the drawer only to have another come free as well, and it slipped from her fingers to fall to the floor. Frowning, she crouched to see the tag on the other folder, and it read: VINCENT VALENTINE: G.M.E.S. 001. About to separate this unwanted folder from the one she needed, she was distracted by the sudden cacophony of the whispers within her, warning her of somebody's inevitable approach; an instant later the silence was broken by the hissing of the observation door sliding open.

She whirled, forsaking both folders for her semiautomatics. Tseng stepped complacently over the threshold to stand before her, hands tucked casually within his navy suit pockets and a mild smile on his face, hair pulled into a severe braid that fell over his shoulder and down his chest. Lowering her guns after a second and sliding them beneath her coat into their hip holsters, Aeris asked with a raised eyebrow, "Rufus sent you?"

The Turk nodded his head, eyes moving to the folders on the floor behind her to the open cabinet. "Yes, to aid you, but I'm afraid we don't have time for that." He stepped past her and stooped to pick up the folders, not bothering to read their labels. Handing them to her, he said, "You've been detected. You need to leave now."

She gestured to the camera seated above the door with a clear view of them both. "They'll have seen you too."

He shook his head. "I disabled all security cameras in this section of the building. Nobody will know we've spoken. But time is short—you must go now."

She held his gaze for a heartbeat before giving him a quick nod, a small and gratuitous smile swiftly crossing her face. Folders tucked securely under one arm, she reached beneath her coat and withdrew again one of her semiautomatics; she strode quickly to the door, and as it opened before her Tseng's voice swiveled her head back around.

"Aeris—Sephiroth is with them."

Though inwardly the mention of her nemesis had the Ancient ones howling in dismay, Aeris' outward expression was one of stoic calm. "Thank you, Tseng." She said quietly, and without further ado she was hurtling across the lab with a swiftness so great that she seemed but a blur to the Turk's eyes. When she was gone from his vision he turned and slid the cabinet drawer shut before removing himself with his own considerable haste from the observation deck, and then the lab.

.x.

The news that she'd been discovered hadn't been a shock—the fact that Sephiroth was among those sent to stop her was. Considering the wound she'd inflicted upon him, she had thought he'd be rendered immobile for quite some time, but obviously his powers of self rejuvenation rivaled his unimaginable resilience. Aeris knew Tseng would do what he could to waylay the security teams that even now must be attempting to cut off any and all escape routes available to her; thank all that was holy for her greater speed …

It was on the thirty seventh floor that they caught up with her; leaping down from one set of stairs and preparing to launch herself down the other the sound of many boots pounding up metal steps toward her prompted her immediately to spin about and face the door. The access light above it was flashing a lurid red, indicating lock down for security reasons; it took two well-placed, powerful kicks to the center of the door to knock it out and away from the frame with the screech of twisting metal. She cast a furtive glance around, taking in her surroundings before bolting headlong down an empty corridor to her right that was awash in the crimson lights of the building alarm. Taking the elevator wasn't an option; she hoped to lure the security team away from the stairwell and then double back. This plan dissolved almost as soon as it was formulated, however; as she reached an intersection in hallways three blue uniformed ShinRa officers suddenly spilled into view, all of them armed.

"Halt!" The foremost of them shouted, but Aeris didn't bother slowing. She was pulling the trigger even as they began to fire their own weapons; her first two shots struck the leader square in the chest. As she fell she twisted to the side, attempting to avoid the fire from the other two, but a bullet grazed her ribcage as she came up hard against the wall. Dropping to a crouch, still clutching the folders, she emptied the remainder of the clip into one, and as he toppled over backwards with a garbled cry, she lunged for the last. He brought up his assault rifle as she flew at him, using it as a club; she blocked with her free arm before delivering a savage roundhouse kick to his jaw. His head snapped back with the audible sound of bones breaking, and as he fell limply to join his comrades Aeris was off and running once again.

The corridor she was now in possessed a row of large windows which looked out over Midgar in all its evening glory. She had dropped her gun and fumbled beneath her coat for the other as she ran. Shouts went up somewhere behind her; the bodies had been found, and now they knew for certain where she was. Ignoring the external noise and the internal panicked chaos of the elders, she wondered somewhat frantically how she was going to escape this mess …

And from a side hall someone tall, someone white haired stepped out in front of her, and all her thoughts abruptly came to a screeching standstill.

.x.

Sephiroth had been within his personal quarters on the seventieth floor when the security alarm had been sounded. Lying on his bunk, one arm cast over his eyes and in search of sleep so elusive, he'd sat bolt upright and risen, moving to stand before the flashing red screen set into the wall next to his door. Punching in his keycard, he accessed the security files to see what exactly the reason for the disturbance was. Immediately surveillance from the lab popped up, and when he saw the figure rummaging through the many files within the observation deck he stopped only to grab his sword from where it hung on the wall before he was out of his quarters and running for the elevators.

Reaching them, he'd activated the intercom within, speaking on a private channel with the head of night security and ordering that the intruder be detained, not killed. As the glass lift descended swiftly, Sephiroth's only thoughts were those of revenge. He wasn't entirely healed from the wound he'd sustained from this woman; his chest, exposed and bare for the purpose of sleep, bore an angry jagged scar directly over his heart; it still ached from time to time, and sudden movement caused him sharp pain. Nothing, however would deter him from this abrupt opportunity that had so nicely presented itself.

A voice blared over the intercom, alerting him that the intruder was trapped on the thirty seventh floor. Less than a minute later he was standing on said floor, listening intently to the voices raised in alarm, and with the precise, sure confidence for which he was renowned for he began to run down one hall before turning without hesitation and heading down another. His keen hearing made out footsteps then, solitary, rapid and steadily increasing in volume, and with grim satisfaction he moved out of the hallway he was in and into another, turning to face who he knew he would find—his would be assassin.

She stopped short as she caught sight of him, long coat swirling about her legs in the aftermath of her halt. In one hand she held a sleek, dark grey handgun, and it was trained steadily on him. It was what the other hand gripped at her side, however, that caught his attention—thick file folders, and he didn't need to be omniscient to know what information they held.

"I think," he said a trifle mockingly, gesturing to the weapon she held, "we've already ascertained that guns won't work on me."

Her eyes narrowed; he watched as her finger trembled over the trigger. When she abruptly holstered the weapon instead of shooting him as she so obviously longed to do, he was momentarily surprised. She said nothing, merely watched him with a clear gaze that was as hooded and as cryptic as his own tended to be. This angered him, for she was showing no fear. He demanded shortly, "Who are you?"

A ghost of an unpleasant smile flickered about the edges of her mouth. "Does it matter?"

He took a step forward, slow and predatory, idly slicing the air with his blade to indicate his ire. "Who are you, then, that you would want to kill me?"

"One of many, I'd imagine." she replied calmly, seemingly unperturbed by either his nearness or weapon.

"Impertinent." He remarked, recalling his brief interactions with her in Nibelheim, recalling how she had irked him even then. From behind her came the sounds of approaching soldiers, and he allowed himself his own smile. "Surrender, assassin of mine. You're surrounded."

"Maybe." She said, and then she was moving, the folders falling from her hands. Her quickness was astounding; a kick to his forearm jarred the sword from his unsuspecting grip. As she swung for him with one fist he sprang into action; he caught hold of her wrist with one hand and allowed himself a rush of vindictive satisfaction—he could snap her arm like a twig—

His satisfaction faded immediately, for he found he couldn't budge her arm. She was straining against him yes, but on any other human he would easily be able to overcome such exertion. As his eyes widened at the implications of this, her other fist connected with his jaw—hard—and sent him staggering back upon releasing her. For a moment his vision swam; shaking his head to dispel the disorientation he stared upon this woman who stood so defiantly before him with newfound and very unfamiliar trepidation. Such a blow from a normal human would have been nothing to him, a slight discomfort, but this had hurt …

"What's the matter?" She asked, and there was a lilting, taunting note to her voice.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

She lunged for him again; he barely managed to block the flurry of rapid fire punches she rained down upon his upper body. Infuriated, he caught one of her arms, and turning flipped her over his back in a throw. She turned the impact into a shoulder roll, coming up fast and facing him with an expression that could only be described as fierce. For a moment they simply stared at each other, and then she said very slowly and deliberately, "I'm your anathema, Sephiroth."

For a second he regarded her, hearing and recognizing the iron honesty in her words. He made a rude noise then, disbelieving, and threw himself at her; she twisted lithely to the side and dropped, swiping at his feet with one extended leg. The blow knocked him to his back, but as her foot came down where his neck had been he was rolling aside. Like fluid quicksilver he was standing, and this time when she came for him he was ready. He blocked her punch and landed a savage uppercut of his own; she stumbled into the wall with blood trickling from her mouth, but he gave her no time for recovery. His fingers wrapped themselves about her neck and squeezed; the strangled noise she made gave rise to his vicious smile. Lifting her so that she no longer touched the floor, he made to toss her aside when she kicked out; the flat of her boot connected squarely with the still healing wound over his heart, and he let her drop with a harsh, agonized shout.

"Bastard," She snarled as he fell heavily to one knee, clutching at his chest. She approached him with swift strides and delivered another devastating kick to his wound, and for a moment all went black. When he could see again, he was staring at the ceiling; struggling past the searing, constricting pain in his chest he came up into a slow crouch. The woman had folders in hand again and had passed him, apparently content for leaving him there only wounded. Enraged, Sephiroth launched himself towards her, hands catching her shoulders and spinning her around. She ripped herself free from his grasp and had raised one arm to make another blow when he kicked out; he hit her evenly in the abdomen, and the force with which he did so had her airborne. Only when the sound of shattering glass filled his ears did he realize what had happened; he watched stunned as her form crashed through one of the many windows and plummeted from sight, papers from the folders flying everywhere in her wake.

Seconds passed before he approached the now empty pane, boots crunching loudly over the thick shards of glass. One hand fisted over his heart in an attempt to alleviate the new agony which danced there, he stuck his head out the window and attempted to pierce the darkness to see whether the woman's broken form lay on the ground so many stories below. It was useless; night had fallen, and her remains—if there indeed were any—were hidden from him. The occasional paper still flitted through the air, caught on a passing breeze, and with an angry, pained sigh he turned from the window to stare at the mess around him.

When the security team finally arrived, they found one silent General and a broken window, with all traces of the intruder gone.