Good evening. It's probably not evening wherever you are, but it is now. I just got out of a Defense of the Ancients game, on Warcraft III. It's not the best map, but it kills time. I had the Enchantress, fine Hero, I had nine kills and two deaths in thirty minutes, I'd just gotten Boots of Travel to let myself teleport around the map, I was owning.

And then the host left.

cries himself to sleep, then wakes up and gives you Chapter XVIII


"Let me get this straight," Reno finally said, after staring hard at Rude for near a minute. "Now that I handed the Council their asses on a platter, and happened to do it on television, the enemy wants to kill me."

It was the morning of the third day – the next day was the Hancho game – and the three of them were seated in Yuffie's living room, Reno and Yuffie on one couch, Rude on the other.

"Yup."

"An' you want me to scuttle under Makoto's rock so I don't get stepped on."

"Yup."

"If you think –"

"Please, Reno," Yuffie interrupted, worry shrouding her normally bright eyes. "Don't be a macho prick about this. Take the offer and lie low for a bit."

Scowling, Reno looked at the Leviathan material sitting in plain view in a bowl on the coffee table that was filled with other types of materia. "This is no good. I can't sit on my ass at a time like this. We still need to find a use for the Leviathan materia, and…"

"Seiryū never said when he needed his materia back," Yuffie cut him off. "We may have already saved it from misuse, and I think that's good enough. For now, we gotta make sure that you get safely to the Hancho game, Reno."

"We should keep the two of you together at all times, then," Rude observed. "The guy said that you were off-limits, Yuffie, because they have 'ulterior motives' concerning you – which means that if you stick by Reno you might be able to deter any attacks on him."

Reno dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Or get herself shot while trying to do that. Not going to take the chance, thanks. If Makoto's gonna let me drink all his booze, I'll be more'n happy to oblige him."

Yuffie gave him an impish elbow in the side. "You're cute when you're conflicted, sugar."

"I'll take that as a compliment, because nobody in their right mind would ever insult any quality of mine, ever. After all, I am practically perfect in every way."

"But I'm the one with the umbrella," Rude pointed out.


The Shinsengumi base was much more stark than Reno had realized; he and Rude had only seen it once before, at night, when the lights emanating from the many windows made it a sort of welcoming haven, if you were looking for one. In the plain light of day, it was just a boxy, old, two-story warehouse, repainted in Shinsengumi colors and modified to have a garage on the top floor and a sort of social bar on the ground floor.

What he hadn't known was that there were actually two basement levels, for storage by the government of weaponry or other such materiel that might be dangerous to have aboveground in case of an enemy attack. Now that the Shinsengumi had appropriated the warehouse, they'd turned the top basement level into a barracks of sorts, while the very bottom basement level was Makoto's personal lair. Both basements had escape tunnels extending out into nearby sewers.

Expecting to find anything and everything strange and unusual in the subbasement, Reno was surprised to find that he was jealous of the place.

Makoto had essentially turned it into his own private study and lovenest. He'd done up the walls in soothing forest green wallpaper, covering the stark concrete, carpeted the floor in something rich, black, and warm, painted over the ceiling, put lights in all the dark nooks and crannies, and even gone so far as to blow a hole in the wall to construct a fireplace at the far end of the room. It was obvious enough that the fireplace was just a cover for an escape tunnel, but it functioned if you put wood in it. There were two well-worn leather chairs by the fireplace, a couch positioned in front of a television in the middle of the room, and a large bed at the end of the subbasement opposite the fireplace.

Reno immediately thought that the guy was one lucky sunuvabitch when he saw the room. Yuffie's first reaction, on the other hand, was to say, "It's like a room you'd find in Edge, not in Wutai."

The Shinsengumi leader gave a brief shrug. "It's taken me two years to get all of this the way it is now – the way I like it. All of my gang members have their own homes – the barracks on the floor above are just if they want to stay here for the night or if I need support in the morning for something. I'm the only one who actually lives here, so nobody complains about my having good furnishings."

"But why not a traditional Wutainese room, Makoto?"

Before Makoto could reply, Reno plopped himself down on the bed and propelled himself up and down several times, rocking the mattress. It made no sound.

"Nice." Levering himself back to his feet, Reno grinned at Makoto. "You got yourself a fine place here. An' as for the whole 'why-not-Wutainese' question, Yuffie, if you had a special room all to yourself to design, would you go with what you knew or try something new and bold?"

Makoto flushed slightly as he looked around at his accommodations. "My older brother, Jubei… Before the war, he would go traveling sometimes, up until anti-Wutainese sentiment got to the point where he couldn't go anywhere without getting into trouble. He'd always tell me stories about the places he stayed, talk about the weird eastern beds he slept in… I wanted to know, at least once in my life, the kind of experience he was talking about."

The grin on his face sobering slightly, Reno clapped Makoto on the shoulder and said, "You really admired him, didn't you?"

"Yes."

Still scanning the room, Reno's eyes came to rest on a katana, still in its scabbard, leaning up against the wall by the couch. "That thing yours?"

"Yes. It's the Kikuichi-monji, the ancestral sword of the Shiranui style. When I told everyone I'd begun training in it, following the ancient manuals I'd gotten from the Temple of Seiryū, someone left it in the room I was staying in at Grandpa Souta's house. I never found out who did it, either."

Eyes narrowing slightly in thought, the Turk asked, "You got ancient instruction manuals from the Temple with that giant statue?"

"Seiryū is also a god of war, Reno. The monks there have always kept records of our martial history. A sword-style as eminent as Shiranui-ryu could never be abandoned totally, even if the last practitioner – whose identity I've never been able to discover – didn't want to pass it on."

"Maybe he didn't want it passed on for a reason," Yuffie suggested, a worried look flashing across her features. "Could it be a bad style?"

Laughing softly, Makoto shook his head and motioned for the two of them to sit down on the couch, while he dragged a chair over from the fireplace. A moment later they were seated and he replied, "It's not the style that's bad, it's only what you do with it that can be good or evil. A sword's only a weapon, after all. It doesn't murder people on its own."

"Point there," Reno conceded. "But there's the old saying that power corrupts, et cetera. Shiranui-ryu's just another form of power, isn't it?"

"Yes, which is why I acquired it – I needed power in order to be able to bring my ideal of a strong, independent Wutai to life." With a small sigh, Makoto raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, contemplatively, and then added, "That metamorphosis seems to have taken its course without my help, however."

"Don't go bumming yourself out yet. There's a difference between a strong, independent nation and a strong, independent, and bloodthirsty one. You get elected or whatever into politics, Makoto, I think you'll do this town a lot of good." Reno kept his cool turquoise eyes fixed on Makoto's warmer sepia as he said, "The fact that you were out to kill me one day and had apologized and realized yer mistake the next really speaks for you. If all the politicians in the world were that honest and admitted their mistakes that easily, we'd be better off for it."

Makoto looked to be about to protested embarrassedly when a knock sounded on the door to the stairway down from the barracks.

"Enter," he called.

It was Kosuke, the Shinsengumi member that had reported at the incident in the square the day before. "Commander Makoto, you've got a visitor."

"Go ahead, we're fine," Yuffie told Makoto before Reno could put his foot in his mouth.

"Send him in, then," Makoto instructed Kosuke.

A moment later, Reno rose to his feet and exclaimed, "You!"


The espionage agent, watching the Shinsengumi base from a distance of two kilometers on a rooftop, pulled out his radio transmitter and spoke into it. "Still no change, sir. Reno and Kisaragi went in about half an hour ago, and then another man, a well-dressed non-Wutainese, went in about four minutes ago. I think they're holing Reno up in there."

There was a pause, and then an androgynous voice, clearly produced by someone speaking through distortion equipment, replied, "Excellent work, then, Mr. Jobs. Continue monitoring them; make sure that they stay put. This way we get Reno with little to no bloodshed on the part of our forces and we humiliate the young Shinsengumi leader at the same time."

The agent started and then growled, "How do you know –"

"Deman Jobs, former Turk, removed from the unit by Veld before even the current leader, Tseng, joined the unit. I know all about you, Mr. Jobs."

"It certainly makes the fact that you know all about the mole they've infiltrated in the meetings more believable."

That provoked a chuckle, though it could just as easily have been a giggle – the distortion equipment was obviously programmed to output both as a neutral sound so the speaker's gender was impossible to determine. "I do have eyes and ears, Mr. Jobs. I would be a fool not to use them."

Are this man's – or woman's – contacts that extensive? Jobs wondered. Doesn't matter that much, though. I'm getting paid well for this.

"I better not catch any flak for my services rendered here after all this is over. When I disappear, I don't want anyone being able to track me."

"Nobody will be following you when you take your leave, Mr. Jobs. You have my word on that."

The transmission cut off with a quick squeal of static.

Jobs resisted the urge to swallow, packing away his binoculars and moving back down into the building. If I'd known I'd end up dealing with today's Turks, I might not have taken this job.

Then again, not many can promise two hundred fifty grand, half up front, for my services. I've certainly done jobs for a quarter of that.

Not any less, though.

His wounded pride mollified somewhat by the happy prospect of cash, and lots of it, Deman Jobs took the elevator to ground level and disappeared into the crowd.


"What in blue blazes are you doing here, Reeve?"

The Commissioner of the burgeoning World Regenesis Organization laughed and pulled a chair away from the fireplace to sit in. "Nice to see you too, Reno. And you as well, Yuffie."

Reno eyed Rude's getup, an elegant, collared blue coat that extended down to his ankles, and observed, "Not a very interesting outfit."

"I'm working on it," Reeve protested, flicking at invisible bits of lint on his shoulders. "The complete metamorphosis of Shin-Ra into the WRO has been going for almost two years now, and it's going to take even more time still. When all's said and done, we'll need a new face for the organization, and the world isn't quite comfortable with Rufus again yet."

"Can't say I like the idea of working for you, though, Reeve," Reno drawled. "At least with Shin-Ra things are interesting. By the time we Turks start working for the WRO, we'll be distributing moogle balloons at parties."

"We're making plans for the Turks, not to mention Rufus and Shin-Ra's current command structure, to take positions in research and development, as well as military deployment," Reeve assured him. "We predict that, come one year from now, everything will be integrated and Shin-Ra will be just a sort of nightmare memory."

"This is fascinating," Makoto broke in, "but obviously not what you came to discuss, Mr. Tuesti. As Commissioner of this WRO, you must have important business."

Reeve's face fell. "That easy to read, am I?"

"Don't get us started," Yuffie teased him.

Clutching at his heart, the Commissioner groaned melodramatically and proclaimed, "You wound me, Yuffie. After all we've been through together!" Almost instantly he resumed a serious expression and looked at Reno. "You're now something of an international hero, Reno."

That certainly wasn't what Reno had been expecting to hear. He'd been thinking that maybe there was some sort of fallout going on in Shin-Ra, or maybe Sephiroth had risen from the grave again. "Say what?"

"You certainly make a better orator than I'd give you credit for."

Oh, I get it now. "You're tellin' me that you 'n everyone else saw the speech I made to that lame excuse for a Council?" Reno asked, trying not to gape.

"Indeed. Apparently a third party pirated the satellite data from the local Wutainese stations and broadcast them to the satellites directing signals throughout Edge, Kalm, Junon, et cetera." Reeve began to look very much like a man trying his best not to grin and steadily failing. "Anyone who was watching any sort of television immediately had their program cut off by a broadcast of you walking up to the podium and making the speech. Owing to my transmission experiences with Cait Sith, I was working with Cid on a project Rufus has going to enable long-range wireless data transmission between computer terminals, eschewing the more common wired global network. Cid and I were taking a break, watching the chocobo races at the Gold Saucer, when you abruptly cut off the last stretch." His efforts to maintain a straight face failed entirely and he started chuckling. "I've never seen him so angry. He nearly swallowed his cigarette."

Reno threw up his hands. "Great. Not only do I have a bunch of bikers after my ass now that I've made that speech, everyone at home knows I'm really a big softy on the inside and Cid is going to want to stuff my hair down my throat or something unpleasant like that."

Reeve's eyes glowed merrily. "So, on the pretext of investigating the current state of affairs in Wutai that would prompt such a speech from you, I've flown here to tell you all about your rise to stardom. You could be a real top-notch public relations man, Reno."

"Pass. And I'd say get out of Wutai as fast as you can – bad shit's going down here, no doubt about it."

"I could tell. Almost as soon as I landed I was getting dirty looks. Things really have gotten bad here." Reeve looked around, as though to confirm nobody was eavesdropping – a common sort of movement in people who didn't do a lot of high-level classified stuff and thought it was thrilling when they got the chance. Reno resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though he saw Yuffie indulging herself and then some. "Tell me, do you know a certain Maximilian Karsk?"

Perking up a bit, Reno replied, "Yeah. It's a long story, but I actually do. Why?"

"I have a weapons shipment for him in my copter, from Rufus himself. He also told me to give him this." Reeve removed a small envelope from his sleeve and extended it to Reno. "You should probably give it to him. I don't know the contents, only that Rufus wrote it up, sealed it, and handed it to me with a mysterious smile."

"Sounds like a plan. Now you better get out of here – I'm holed up in this pit because some guys are gunning for me and they might attack at any time."

Nodding sympathetically, Reeve rose and shook Reno's hand. "Good to see you again, Reno." He turned to Makoto and shook the young biker's hand as well. "And it's good to meet you, Makoto. I think you and I will be able to help one another a great deal in the future."

"Always good to make new contacts," Makoto replied. "I'll have two of my men see you back to your chopper."

"Thank you." Reeve turned to shake Yuffie's hand and grunted in surprise when she pulled him into a hug.

"Be careful," she said after releasing him from what looked like a chiropractic session. "I'll buy you a drink the next time I see you."

Reeve laughed and made a small gesture of modesty. "I have no tolerance."

"Good, then you'll get drunk and I can steal your wallet and get into your office with your ID and finally figure out how you operate that annoying robot."

The Commissioner chuckled in spite of himself, shook his head, and took his leave.


"We've been waiting for this day for a very long time," Karsk explained to Rude as the Turk watched members of the Sub-General's battalion training in the backyard of the condominium. "General Sephiroth gave me an order to protect Wutai, and we've been lax because there's been nothing to protect it from. Now that there's a clear threat, we have to do everything in our power to combat it."

Rude watched the men effortlessly doing pushups with two fingers and a thumb, and wondered how many of those he could do. "You all sure are eager."

"We've been out of action for a long time. Tomorrow will make or break us, I've no doubt of that. Regardless of what you say about this agent of yours wanting Reno dead, I'm convinced that the gangs are going to try to make an attack on the government somehow while Lord Godo moderating at the Hancho game for Yuffie. We'll be ready for them."

"So what happened to being legalized protectors of the nation and not vigilantes?" Rude asked.

Karsk snorted. "Says the man who was party to the theft of the Leviathan materia. I wouldn't go accusing me on the grounds of subverting the government, Mr. Rude."

Rude said nothing.

"I know you were doing it for a good cause," the Sub-General quickly reassured him. "Frankly, better it be in your hands than that mercenary team's – at least I know that you will return it after this is over. You bring up a good point, though. The day before yesterday I would not have approved of this action, but with the advent of Proposition 209, things have changed. The population is obviously so worked up against foreigners that even if we were employed officially by the government it would not provide an effective shield. The Council itself would condemn us." Karsk's eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth twitched in a grimace. "In the end, Yuffie ends up in a power play of a marriage with three suitors, none of whom need or particularly want her."

"Feeling guilty?"

"I wish I'd seen this coming, I really do. Still, if I end up winning Yuffie in the Hancho game tomorrow, I can assure you I would not even go so far as to marry her. It would be a charade, and a wholly unnecessary one at that – I could tolerate being in a false marriage so my men could fight legally again. However, if we are never to fight with the sanction of the government, better that we fulfill the General's order in any way we can." The old Sub-General's eyes hardened and he murmured, "It's the least I can do for him, and them – the only people ever to believe in me and not my sexuality."

For some reason he couldn't really put his finger on, Rude felt himself impelled to take Karsk's hand and shake it firmly. "I'm glad to have met you, Sub-General Karsk. If nothing else, it was good to know you."

"My men and I call that 'pillow talk,'" Karsk laughed. "Soppy and sentimental, however well-intended. If you want to express appreciation for having known me, help me in this endeavor."

"I will. Reno, Yuffie and I have your back – I can guarantee you that."

"I'm glad." Karsk turned to survey his troops, all of them with their blood fired and ready for war. "Regardless of your feelings on war, the coming battle will certainly be glorious."


Rei shifted frustratedly on her mat. She'd been trying to sleep for almost an hour, now – even though things were going on, she had to work tonight at The Jade Dragon or risk losing her job there. The constant noise from the workshop below as Grandpa Souta put the finishing touches on Reno's and Rude's bikes was keeping her at the very edge of sleep, but not letting her step over it.

If she hadn't been only half-awake, she might have felt the presence in her room before it moved to her side, removed a pouch from its belt, and let the sleeping powder inside waft down over her face.