Charlie tugs at the doors of her father's office.
Locked, she thinks. Of course they are.
She could very well call Rufus to let her out, but he might arrive with guns blazing, prepared to stage a rescue mission that only serves to infuriate their father. She could call Reeve, as well, but the last thing she wants is for him to be anywhere near her father after the stunt President Shinra pulled.
Alone in the president's office, Charlie looks around. She knows there are no cameras in here, likely because her father doesn't want anyone spying on him. She steps up to his desk, where the remains of his slightly smoking cigar linger. She presses it out completely, sitting down in her father's chair and inhaling deeply.
She splays her hands against the cool desktop, imagining herself in this position in earnest, imagining the entirety of Shinra Electric Power Company obeying her every command, living to serve her and her father's legacy in the form of an empire.
Even the Turks would no longer treat her with such flagrant disrespect, calling her "Madam President" instead of "Charlie", like they've been doing for years now. She can't imagine what might happen if any of the Turks called Rufus by his name. In all likelihood, none of them have probably ever had the courage to even try it.
Maybe she wouldn't mind it, the queer friendship they've struck up. Maybe having others call her by her first name would show that her employees are comfortable with her, not at all afraid of her like they are of her father. Fear can only get someone so far, but generosity and kindness . . . those are the types of things that will last forever.
Her curiosity gets the better of her. Charlie opens the topmost drawer of her father's desk, only to find several envelopes addressed to the company, already opened, many of them invoices of some type. He's kept a small stack of old memos dated from years prior, memos in regards to the development of certain weapons.
The middle drawer is locked, but Charlie can't find a key anywhere. She looks underneath the chair, under his keyboard, behind the several monitors he has that show nothing of importance, and even underneath his desk, where she finds a switch marked with the letter 'L', but she leaves that untouched, at least, sure that something will explode or start firing if she touches it.
The bottommost drawer holds a small, wooden box. The box is locked, as well, but the key is in the same drawer, a small bronze thing that slides into the lock satisfyingly, springing open to reveal the inner contents.
There are only two things inside the box—a yellowed, ancient-looking envelope with CHAR written on it in smudged blue ink, and an even older-looking photograph. Charlie removes the envelope and tucks it away in her pocket, closes and locks the box again to put it away, and holds the photograph up to her face.
The coloring isn't as good as it likely was when it was first taken, but it's not completely faded. It's a picture of her family, their complete family, and Charlie looks no older than five, half-turned towards the camera while being held in her father's arms. Rufus stands at their mother's side, wearing a stiff-collared, button-down shirt that's tucked into shorts that show off his skinny little legs, his light blond hair parted severely off to the side.
She doesn't remember the picture ever being taken, but it must have coincided with the buying of the beach house in Costa del Sol, because they're all standing in front of it, looking happy (save for Rufus, who looks rather unhappy with his picture being taken) in the warm summer sun. Even President Shinra is smiling begrudgingly, holding his cigar far away from his daughter.
Charlie brushes the pad of her thumb over her mother's face. She was a beautiful woman, always full of life and seemingly flushed, her hair a pretty strawberry blonde color, her cheeks and nose spattered with light freckles. Her eyes had been green, the color of the forest, with long eyelashes and light eyebrows, a round face and petite frame.
The most beautiful woman in the world.
Neither Charlie nor Rufus have inherited their mother's look, but at least Charlie can say she inherited her mother's personality. She's proud of that, at least.
Before getting up from her father's seat, she attempts to break into his computer, hoping to read a few e-mails or notes that might give her some insight as to what Shinra's really been up to, but it's impossible. She has no idea what her father's password might be, and there's so many of them to bypass that it's no use to keep trying.
She keeps the photograph and continues pacing around the office, waiting for her father to return.
She's overlooking the destruction of the Sector Seven plate when she hears the noise, a noise that cuts through the silence and sends a chill down her spine. A scream—a high-pitched, frightened scream, slightly muffled beyond the doors of the president's office, and cut-off very suddenly, so quickly that it makes her nervous.
Charlie tries to get through the doors again, but to no avail. Instead, she's trapped in this office, and the scream stays with her all the while. It takes her a moment to realize that she's afraid—she's alone, defenseless, vulnerable, trapped, and desperately, desperately afraid.
Is it possible Avalanche managed to free themselves? Could it be possible? They had broken in undetected, and Charlie knows that, among Shinra's enormous staff, there must be collaborators that she doesn't know of. Could they have broken out of their cells? Is it possible that they might be making their slow ascent towards the top floor, eager to repay President Shinra for what he had done to their friends, family, and homes?
And, if they do make it up to the top floor, only to find her here, alone, why wouldn't they kill her? Surely they had seen the speech she gave, threatening immediate execution to those who ally themselves with those eco-terrorists (what a hypocrite, I am).
It's not as if they would show her mercy. Charlie had made it very clear to both Pia and Jessie that her association with Avalanche needed to be kept a heavily-guarded secret, and as far as she's aware, they had kept that secret very admirably and honorably. Is it possible they might believe her if she confessed to building the bombs? Or would they be upset, would they feel betrayed, having been blamed for all the recent destruction and death?
Another scream rips through the still air, cut short just like the last one.
Charlie throws herself into President Shinra's throne again, picking up the telephone and dialing as fast as she can. Rufus answers on the second ring, with a contemptuous, "What?"
"It's me," she breathes into the phone, watching the doors as if waiting for someone to come bursting through them, guns drawn, sword raised high, prepared to strike. "I think something's happening, I need your help, please come get me—"
"What do you mean?" he asks quickly, suddenly far more kinder sounding than before, when he must have thought it was their father calling him. "Charlie, where are you? What's going on? Are you all right?"
"I'm in Father's office," she explains quickly, growing more fearful by the moment. "He's locked me in to go have a look at Avalanche. They've been arrested for trespassing, but I—someone is screaming, and I—I'm locked in and I'm afraid—"
"Hide somewhere safe. I'll be there soon."
Charlie feels even more afraid when her brother hangs up the phone. The line on the other end beeps for a long time in her ear before disconnecting completely, her heart pounding hard against her chest.
The sound of approaching footsteps (quick, fast, heavy, fearful, running) and shouting flips on her fight-or-flight instincts. There's nowhere for her to go, no helicopter to take her away, no possible escape. If she wants to leave the president's office, she'll have to leave through the locked doors, possibly exposing herself to some violent terrorists currently stirring up trouble.
She looks around the massive office, lacking a comfortable amount of furniture and hiding spaces, but there is a tall wardrobe, one that keeps extra suit jackets for her father in case of a wardrobe emergency, just big enough for her to squeeze into.
Upon opening the wardrobe, she pushes the jackets aside, pressing her back against the far wall and closing the doors, leaving them cracked just slightly to see through to the office. She has a perfect view of her father's empty seat and desk, but the doors are closed enough that no one should notice she's even here.
Unless they actively look for her.
Almost immediately after Charlie settles in her hiding spot, hoping that Rufus will arrive within the next few minutes with a helicopter to take her away from here, the doors to the office are very nearly kicked open. She almost screams, but it's only her father and . . . Palmer.
The both of them are muttering to each other, foreheads glistening with sweat. She's never seen her father wear such an expression before, one that almost looks concerned.
"Barricade the door," President Shinra says in a low voice, helping Palmer push some chairs in front of the doors, stacking end tables on top of them, unplugging lamps to add them to the pile of furniture. As Palmer continues stacking whatever he can get his hands on (thankfully, he takes one look at the heavy wardrobe and shakes his head), her father whirls around with wide eyes, scanning the office. "Where the hell is Char?"
Charlie hesitates, prepared to step out of the wardrobe, but something holds her back. The sight of both her father and Palmer looking so distraught is something she's never had the pleasure of witnessing before, but it's the very fact that her father is distraught at all that keeps her from revealing herself.
"How the hell did that girl escape?" President Shinra continues, stooping to look underneath his desk, glancing out one of the nearby windows to check and see if she's outside. "Perhaps . . . it's for the best . . . she must be safe if she's escaped."
"Do you really think this will keep him out?" Palmer asks, stepping away from the doors to mop his forehead with a crinkled handkerchief. ". . . don't know how it's possible . . . died five years ago . . ."
President Shinra seats himself at his desk, clasping his hands together in front of him. There's something in his face that Charlie isn't able to place. It might be fear, but she's never seen her father afraid before, so it's impossible to say for certain.
". . . perhaps we were misled," her father replies in a quiet voice, staring straight ahead at the doors. ". . . wouldn't be the first time . . . odd things . . . those friends of his . . ."
". . . have your daughter speak to him . . . once friends . . ."
With the hushed conversation they have, nearly huddled together behind the president's desk, it becomes harder for Charlie to hear what they're saying. Their voices are slowly becoming drowned out by the pulse that's pounding in her ears.
". . . other one . . . not Sephiroth . . ."
Charlie clamps a hand over her mouth at the mention of Sephiroth. It can't be possible—Sephiroth, back in Shinra Headquarters for the first time in five years? The last she had heard, the First Class SOLDIER had been killed due to a freak accident in some backwoods village called Nibelheim on the western continent.
And if Sephiroth really is here at Headquarters . . . why do her father and Palmer seem so afraid of that fact?
Where are you, Rufus? She tries to look between the doors towards the window, hoping for a glimpse of a helicopter in the sky, hurtling towards the helipad outside, prepared to extract her. Please let Reeve be okay, please let him be safe, please let us go home together tonight, please don't let tonight be the end.
She can hear Palmer's heavy and shaky breathing from across the room, but her father's face remains impassive, his breathing coming rather raggedly, as well. The office falls completely silent, and Charlie can't tell if the steady thumping is her own heart or footsteps outside the barricaded doors.
The doorknob twists slightly, locked, only for a second before its left alone again. Charlie holds her breath, wondering if another effort to get in will be made, or if whoever is on the other side will walk away and leave them be.
Palmer dives behind a column, despite being just as wide as it. He slumps down to his bottom, awkwardly holding his knees to his chest, leaning back against the column and working to control his breathing.
President Shinra is so focused on the stack of furniture blocking the door that he doesn't see the threat that appears suddenly behind him, phasing through the very floor until he's standing directly behind her father. Charlie has to bite down on her knuckles at the very sight, one that frightens her, one that makes her think she might be a little bit crazy.
As far as she knows, the Sephiroth from five years ago couldn't just phase through solid flooring.
But other than that, he's exactly as she remembers him to be five years ago, the last time she had seen him before being sent away to Nibelheim, dressed all in black with his trademark pauldrons, long silver hair shining in the bright white lighting of the office.
He still looks cold and standoffish, but something seems to have twisted his features in some minute way, a way that she can't put her finger on.
And at his left hip, a sword that's longer than her, that's longer than him. A sword she had watched at work several times in the past, when she would visit the SOLDIER floor of Headquarters to watch Angeal train with his friends. Sephiroth had smiled at her all those years ago, had spoken politely to her, had answered her stupid questions with a patience she hadn't expected, had teased her about Angeal . . .
Whatever he had been before, he is no longer, raising his sword so the tip touches President Shinra's back. Her father stiffens, sweating profusely, eyes darting left and right sickeningly fast.
She bites down so hard on her knuckles that she draws blood, the metallic taste of it infected her mouth, keeping her from shouting out for her father.
"You will never—" Sephiroth brings his sword back, his face hardening, bright eyes narrowing—"have the Promised Land."
And in one swift motion, Charlie watches the tip of Sephiroth's sword enter through her father's back with extraordinary ease, the blade slipping between his shoulder blades, pushing through her father's chest cavity, the blade soaked in her father's blood, until it's pinning him to the desk. A surprised little noise escapes the president, half gasp and half scoff, pale blue eyes widening in shock.
President Shinra slumps forward and Charlie closes her eyes for a split second, just to regain her bearings, but when she opens her eyes again, Sephiroth is gone, his sword the only evidence that she hadn't dreamed the entire thing.
She waits a few minutes (it feels like hours), afraid that if she moves too quickly, Sephiroth will return and cut her down just like her father. Once she deems it safe enough, and once Palmer begins to peek out from around the column he's hiding behind, Charlie tumbles out of the wardrobe.
Palmer screams, clapping a hand to his mouth. His face is deathly white, a sheen of sweat making his face sparkle in the light. Charlie ignores him completely, stumbling over to her father.
He's slumped forward on his desk, a pool of blood spreading across the desktop and leaking from his chest onto his shoes. With the length of the sword thrust through him, Charlie isn't even able to reach the handle in order to pull it out of him.
"Daddy?" she croaks. Charlie reaches out to touch him, hesitating at the last moment, fingertips lingering inches from the blotchy skin of his face. His eyes are still open, his lips slightly parted, blood dripping down from the corner of his mouth. "Daddy?"
Palmer makes his way over, standing over her shoulder and looking down at the president. "Oh, Gods . . ." he breathes, more panicked than Charlie is. "Oh, Gods, what are we going to do? Shinra's president . . . dead!"
"What happened to Sephiroth?" Charlie asks, cursing herself for having looked away. "Where did he go?"
"How am I supposed to know?" he shrieks, eyes bulging from his sockets, unable to look away from President Shinra. "I wasn't gonna look at him any longer than I had to!"
Charlie touches her father's arm, ignoring the hot breath on the back of her neck as Palmer hyperventilates behind her. "Papa," she whispers again, her heart beginning to stutter. He's not moving, not even looking at her. No rasping breath is drawn, no last minute jerks or twitches. "Papa, wake up . . . please, wake up . . ."
She shakes him again, harder, smearing the blood around atop his desk. Still, nothing.
"Papa!" she cries in his ear, sighing and resting her forehead lightly against his shoulder. "Papa . . ."
Desperate, Charlie gropes for the phone again, nearly pulling the entire thing down onto the floor as she does so, placing it between her ear and shoulder and dialing Rufus again. He answers almost immediately.
"Hold on, Charlie, I'm almost there—"
At the sound of Rufus's voice, a sob escapes from between Charlie's lips. Her eyes burn, and her chest feels tight. The last time she had felt like this was . . .
"He's gone, Rufus, he's dead—"
"What? What are you going on about?"
"Daddy—he's dead, he's dead—Sephiroth killed him—"
There's a long pause. "Father's dead?"
Charlie touches her father's arm again, gripping it gently. "Please, hurry—"
"I'll be there in a few minutes. Wait for me by the helipad." And with that, he hangs up.
Charlie stares down at the phone in her hand, emitting that awful dial tone. She tosses it aside, uncaring whether or not it makes it back on the receiver. All she cares about now is the fact that her father has Sephiroth's sword stuck in his back, and he's not moving, lying in a puddle of his own blood, the most vulnerable he's ever been in front of her daughter.
"Oh, oh, oh, what are we going to do?" Palmer continues to squeal, dancing back and forth on his feet, drowning in his oversized suit that still manages to seem tight around his stomach, the buttons threatening to pop at any moment. "I never wanted this! I never asked for this! I never even wanted to work for Shinra, and then he gave me the Space Exploration Department! Oh, Char, we're in for it now—"
"We?" Charlie snaps, the rage boiling inside of her. Her neck nearly snaps with how quickly she whirls around to face Palmer, the gray tufts of his hair soaked with sweat. "Don't pretend like we're in this together, you cretin. If you didn't want the job so badly, why didn't you let me have my department back? Why didn't you just quit? Not like you're good for anything, anyway—"
"I'll have you know that the Space Exploration Department has been thriving under me—"
"You've ruined my department, you moron!" Charlie shouts at him, feeling her face go red while Palmer pales. "You have no funding because my father knew what a pathetic, incompetent, little man you are! And I know you were trying to scrap my rocket—"
"What does it matter if the rocket continues to stand? It's not going to space in the near or far future, anyway! We need the scrap metal—"
"That's my rocket! You had no right!"
"It's just junk now—"
Charlie lunges at him, knocking Palmer onto his back and pinning him to the ground underneath her knees. His arms and leg writhe madly in the air, making him look like some overgrown turtle, and she wraps his tie around her hand, pulling tight until he gasps for breath, his face quickly turning purple under the strain.
"This'll teach you to put your grubby little hands all over my things," she hisses down at him, wishing she could toss him off the side of the building, giving his life to have her father back.
Palmer reaches up, smothering her face with a clammy palm, trying to poke her in the eyes. Charlie cries out, rolling off him to roll him over and grab his arm, twisting it painfully behind his back until he begs for mercy, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
"Gods, why are you so strong!" he cries, wriggling against the ground, kicking his legs like a baby. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!"
She glances at her father again, suddenly softening. Releasing Palmer's arm, she crawls away from him, breathing hard. "You're not even worth it," she murmurs, pushing herself to her feet and brushing herself off.
Charlie takes one last look at her father before making for the doorway, tucked between two tall windows. It's cold outside, doubly so with the winter wind blowing at seventy stories above the plate, but she makes for the helipad, hoping that Rufus will come quickly.
Thankfully, she has only to wait no longer than two minutes. A Shinra helicopter rushes to the helipad, landing smoothly. The wind off the propellor makes her eyes water (or maybe she's still crying tears for her father), and when Rufus jumps down from inside, Dark Nation follows him, circling them both protectively.
"Charlie!" He touches her shoulders gently, peering past her in an attempt to see through the tinted windows and into the president's office. After a moment, his eyes fix upon her face again before he pulls her into his chest. "Are you all right?"
She closes her eyes, able to feel Rufus's heart beating against her cheek. "I think so. I was hiding in the wardrobe." Charlie tilts her head back, arms wrapped tight around her brother's waist, afraid to let go. "Reeve's still in there, I think. You'll make sure he's all right, won't you? You'll make sure he's safe?"
Rufus pauses, a muscle jumping in his jaw, but he smiles softly after a moment and nods, kissing her hair and swiping a thumb across her cheek in order to dry her tears. "Get in the helicopter, Charlie. Wait for me. I'll come see you in a few minutes."
"Well, well, well . . . ain't this sweet?"
Charlie releases him, looking over her shoulder at the sound of a gruff voice and rushed footsteps, afraid that it's Sephiroth, coming back to finish the job. It's not Sephiroth, however, but a small group of people, all of them recognizable, save for one, a creature smaller than Dark Nation, covered in red fur.
The man who speaks is one she had seen on the television the other night, when Avalanche had bombed mako reactor five, a heavy gun attached to his right arm and pointing right at them.
She casts a worried look at Rufus again.
"Don't worry," he promises her, stepping between his sister and Avalanche, "I'll be fine."
Charlie takes his word for it, turning her back on the terrorists to run towards the helicopter, where Tseng is already extending a hand for her. She takes it eagerly, allowing him to pull her into the helicopter and to his chest.
"I saw him," she murmurs against the lapel of his suit jacket. "I saw Sephiroth. He killed him—he killed my father."
A hand comes to cradle the back of her head, but it only makes her cry. "Rude, let's go," he says over the noise of the helicopter.
"Where's Reeve?" she asks suddenly, looking up into Tseng's face with tear-filled eyes.
"The director is safe, don't worry." Tseng looks down at her for a long time, not quite sentimental enough to help wipe her tears away. "You know what this means, don't you?"
She only blinks up at him.
"You're the vice president now, Charlotte."
It takes her a moment to fully digest this. The sudden death of her father right before her very eyes had all happened so quickly, and she hasn't even had time to really think about it. All she can think about is the appearance of Sephiroth, returning to Headquarters for the first time in years, supposed to be dead.
"I'm . . ." she rasps, hardly able to believe it. ". . . the vice president."
"So let's see you look like one," Tseng says, moving her away from his chest. He places a finger to her chin, lifting her face.
Charlie swallows loudly, keeping her chin up even as Tseng pulls his finger away. "I'm the vice president," she repeats, watching him nod slightly in return. "I'm the vice president."
She kneels before him, stiffening, holding her shoulders back and tucking her hair behind her ears, stifling all feelings of guilt and sadness while under such critical inspection. She purses her lips and inhales deeply to steady her breathing, fixing Tseng with her own critical stare.
He smiles. "Perfect, Madam Vice President," he says, almost teasingly. It makes her feel a little better. "Now you look just like your brother."
Reeve trails slightly behind Heidegger and Scarlet.
He holds his hands out in front of him, extending his fingers to find that they're shaking. Curling them into fists, he tries not to dwell on the outrageous story his assistant had told him, something about a silver-haired man stalking the halls of Headquarters, making for the top floor while leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
He had seen the trail of blood for himself while making for the conference rooms.
Charlotte was up there. Charlotte was supposed to be in her father's office, and if the rumors are true, and Sephiroth had come back from the dead to exact revenge upon Shinra . . . he can only hope that her friendship with the former SOLDIER's friend had saved her. Perhaps he had shown her mercy, had recognized her as a friend, had shown some kind of sympathy for her.
Or perhaps he had seen fit to finish off whatever Shinras he could while he was up there.
Rude is standing guard outside the largest conference room on the sixty-sixth floor, President Shinra's preferred meeting room. He had always loved to talk about how expensive the table had been, custom-made and imported in pieces. The chairs had arrived weeks late, but President Shinra always said the same thing when telling the story—"but what can you do about that?"
Not really knowing if he's going to walk out of the room alive, Reeve is greeted by a surprising scene upon crossing the threshold.
At the far end of the room, seated side by side at the head of the table in tall-backed chairs, are Charlie and Rufus, the both of them almost regal. Rufus's shotgun sits menacingly in front of them on the table, and Tseng stands tall at his right side, just over his shoulder. The mutated mutt they call Dark Nation watches everyone enter warily from the corner of the conference room.
A king and his queen.
Arrogance permeates off Rufus, a certain vindictive pleasure in his small smile for reasons currently unknown. Hasn't anyone informed him about what's going on? Why aren't they evacuating the entire building? What's going on? Isn't he frightened that Sephiroth will return?
Reeve sits down in the chair closest to Charlie. Scarlet fills the seat on his left, and Heidegger sits across from them, sliding into a chair next to the already-present Palmer, who looks sweatier than usual, and his neck is bright red around his collar. Hojo is conspicuously absent, and Rude is already closing the door, keeping out any unwanted intruders.
So Hojo won't be joining us.
Upon closer inspection, Charlie does not look at all eager to be here. Her eyes are red-rimmed as if she's been crying, but she holds herself well, looking very much her brother's counterpart, and Reeve's first thought is that Rufus has done something to her, that something might happen to him—
She smiles at him, and although it's a small and weak smile, it helps clear his mind. He almost tries to reach for her hand beneath the table, but she turns away from him too soon, waiting for Rufus to speak.
Rufus clears his throat, tapping his fingertips lightly on the table. There's a bit of blood on his white suit, or what looks like blood. Red flags go off in Reeve's head, but what comes out of the vice president's mouth is the very last thing he expects.
"Our father, the president of the Shinra Electric Power Company, is dead." The words are spoken so plainly, so coldly, like his father's death was only a minor inconvenience to him. "Charlotte and Palmer have both given their version of events, and the both of them agree that it was Sephiroth who murdered our father."
It takes a minute for these words to sink in. So it's true . . . but how? As far as Reeve can recall, Sephiroth had died in Nibelheim five years ago under mysterious circumstances. The official report stated it was a freak accident, but he can't imagine what sort of "freak accident" could cause the downfall of the great Shinra war hero.
"As sudden as these events were, we must continue to look to the future." Rufus's eyes scan the faces of his intimate audience, lingering on Reeve. The only person here who seems pleased with this information is Scarlet, but she's at least tactful enough to be subtle about it. "I will pick up what my father has, regrettably, left behind in his wake. I will shoulder the responsibility of the presidency, and with Charlotte as my vice president, Shinra Incorporated will continue to thrive, more successful than ever."
When he pauses, there's a heavy silence sitting over them all. Rufus gets slowly to his feet, looking down at everyone. Charlie refuses to meet Reeve's eyes.
"But don't mistake me," he continues, sounding more like the Rufus that Reeve is more familiar with. His tone becomes sharper and more bitter, scowling at his employees. "I am not my father. Changes will be made in the coming months, changes that should have been made a long time ago."
He picks the shotgun up off the table, cocking it loudly.
"Before I send you all away for the night to reflect on your futures within my company, however, there is one little thing I would like to talk to you all about. Brother, I think you'll like this."
Reeve looks helplessly at Charlie, wanting to take her into his arms. Heidegger fixes him with a scowl.
"I have a very low tolerance for disrespect," Rufus says casually, spinning his gun around on his index finger and pacing back and forth. "Any disrespect towards me, I will not tolerate in the slightest. Any disrespect towards my sister . . ." He stops very suddenly, standing just behind Palmer, who shakes and quivers and closes his eyes. "Palmer, please forgive me if I'm not remembering correctly, but during our last meeting, I believe you had some choice words about my beautiful sister."
Rufus gestures to Charlie, who looks at her brother with a burning intensity, as if trying to silently discourage him from doing something stupid. Palmer blanches, blinking back tears as he stammers and stutters foolishly, the end of Rufus's gun prodding him in the back of the head.
"Remind me what it was that you said," Rufus urges him.
Reeve remembers. When questioned by Rufus about his capability as Director of the Space Exploration Department, Palmer had replied, "Well, seeing as I have delivered on all of my promises—(unlike some people)—I can at least say I'm doing a better job than Char did." It had made Reeve suck in a deep breath between teeth, and had shared the anger that Rufus had a hard time concealing.
Palmer recalls these words, as well, although they're spoken tremulously this time, not at all the confident boast it had been before.
Rufus laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Palmer, let me ask you a question. Do you prefer your foot or your hand?"
"I—I'm sorry?"
"Too late. That's not an answer."
Before Reeve can determine what's happening, it happens. Rufus's shotgun goes off, emitting a puff of smoke and leaving all of his employees' ears ringing. At first, Palmer seems completely fine, but then he screams, falling off his chair. Heidegger pushes away as if Palmer carries something contagious, and both Reeve and Scarlet get to their feet to see what's going on.
Rufus has shot Palmer's foot, his shoe now with a large hole in it, leaking blood onto the carpeting. He feels sick to his stomach, even more so when he glances at Charlie again and sees that all the color has drained from her face.
As Palmer continues to whine and cry on the floor, holding his foot, Reeve slowly regains his seat, biting his tongue as Rufus continues, throwing his gun back on the table.
"Reeve," Rufus says flatly. "Why don't you bring my sweet sister home? She's had a long night, and is surely in need of rest."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Let this be a warning to you all," her brother announces, standing back up and gesturing flippantly towards Palmer, who still writhes, pale and sweaty, on the floor. "Especially to you, brother. Good-night."