I flip on my living room lights with a yawn, ignoring the groans of the disgruntled man on my couch. He whines and pulls his thin blanket over his head. Oh no you don't. I wrestle it away, throwing his wrinkled jacket at him to cover his half-naked body.

"Get up, loser."

"Don't wanna," he grumbles, rubbing his drooly face on my couch cushions. I huff, smacking him across the back of the head and opening the curtains to let the light of the rising sun beam into the room.

"You're the one that came knocking in the middle of the night."

"Hn."

"Up, Reno."

"Mhm."

Rolling my eyes, I leave him be and hit the shower. Damn idiot nearly got public security called on me the way he was pounding on my door at three in the morning. Fucking drunkard. I sigh, letting my eyes close and taking a deep breath. I can do this. Six years. Six whole years since I was among their ranks. You'd think Tseng would force me to redo all the training, but I guess if he's desperate enough to hire me, he needs the help now. They've lost so many people…

Reno's dressed by the time I head to the kitchen, but he doesn't look happy about it. He follows me deeper into the apartment, running from the light, and slumps against the counter. I pull a mug down from my cabinet, raising an eyebrow.

"Coffee?"

"Yeah." He takes it and drinks half the cup in one sip, not caring that it's hot enough to cook him from the inside out. I shake my head and take a more careful approach. This doesn't feel real. "Don't look like you're comin' in with me today," he comments, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well…" I shrug. "I'm assuming Tseng's gonna give me something once I get there."

"Tseng?" Reno snorts, taking another long drink and pouring the last bit of coffee down the drain with a crinkle of his nose. "Hate that shit."

"Tseng what?" I press, wrestling a smile. He only drinks coffee when he's hungover.

"He's not gonna give you shit."

"What do you mean?" Suddenly, I'm panicking. Should I have bought my own uniform yesterday? I don't have money for that.

"You'll see."

"Reno!"

"Don't wanna be late on your first day, do ya?" Reno grins, heading for the door. "Let's get movin'!"

Tseng's office is easy to find. Reno leaves me with a final sly smile, heading to his own space with his shirt untucked and half-buttoned. The circles under his eyes are visible even from across the lobby. I take a deep breath before knocking, listening hard for Tseng's voice. I hear a draw close and a few keys tapping. What's he doing?

"Come in."

"Hiding your naughty photos?" I ask, stepping inside. He pretends not to hear me.

"You actually came."

"Why wouldn't I?" I cross my arms, resting my weight on my left hip. "I'm not that bitchy."

"Yes, well, people change." He stands, leading the way back out.

"Where are we going?"

"The President wants to meet with you."

"Wait, seriously?" Goosebumps prickle across my skin and a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. When I look like this?

"Yes." Tseng steps into the elevator, staring through the tinted glass. "It's been six years."

"Already," I mutter, shaking my head. "Hope he forgot me." He glances up at me, eyes as cold as ever.

"He hasn't." He turns back to the glass. "His son has a large part in our direction with Heidegger."

"The vice president?" I frown. Rufus Shinra? That's a joke. "I thought you were in charge."

"Someone must pull my own strings." You don't sound too happy about it. He sighs when the elevator dings. When I head toward the open doors, he stops me. "Kat."

"Yeah?"

"Be respectful. You are to refer to both of them as 'sir,' understood?"

"Yup."

"Kat—"

"I know, Tseng." I look over my shoulder and offer him a smile. "Trust me."

Two soldiers guard the frosty glass door to the president's office, which is really more of a throne room. Upon seeing Tseng, one nods and opens the door.

"It's Tseng, Mr. President!"

The room is dark, wide, and polished. A thick carpet leads up to the semicircle desk that engulfs a large, round man sitting at its core, surrounded by glowing screens and stacks of paper. Upon seeing us enter, President Shinra looks up, plucking a thick cigar from beneath his bushy blonde mustache. He stands, rounder than I remember, and his eyes are a little emptier. He smashes the end of his cigar on the edge of his shiny desk. Tseng stops a few feet before him, hands clasped behind his back.

"Sir, this is—"

"I know who she is, Tseng." President Shinra looks me up and down, wiry eyebrow quirked. "You're the one who cost me all those soldiers."

"But I—" I stop myself, feeling my face go red. He continues with a grunt.

"They quit after your little spell." He gestures toward us, eyeing Tseng. "So, this is it? She's become like the rest of them?"

"Sir?"

"A poor woman in dirty clothes and a horrible stench." I frown. I thought they smelled fine. "Flowers or something." Oh. "How long has it been since you last fought?" He demands, coming around his desk with long, slow strides. Uncertain if I should look at him, I stare straight ahead.

"I—"

"She's handled herself well," Tseng interrupts. "Weaponless, usually."

"Hm." I flinch when the pudgy old man wraps a meaty hand around my arm and squeezes. "Doesn't feel like there's much to her."

"With all due respect, this isn't SOLDIER."

The President grunts, stepping toward his desk a tracing a finger across its surface to wipe away the ash from his cigar. He rubs it between two fingers, staring at a distant point I can't quite place.

"No, it's not." He looks back at the Turk. "Avalanche took the Sector Eight reactor last night, You're dismissed—go handle it. Kat, you stay."

"O-Oh. Okay…?" I try to catch Tseng's eye but he leaves without another word, closing the door firmly behind him. They blew another one? The President hums to himself and takes his seat behind his desk, pushing a stack of papers aside.

"I trust Tseng's judgement," he says, glancing up at me. "However, there are things we must discuss."

"Okay." I clasp my hands together, unsure what to do with myself. "S-Sir," I add quickly. He raises an eyebrow.

"Six years ago, Kat. The man you shot."

"Carlos."

"Was that his name? Good thing you remember." He intertwines his fingers on his desk, leaning forward. The buttons of his tight burgundy suit look ready to pop open across his rounded stomach. "Your issue. I need assurance you can control yourself."

"It was years ago, sir. I have a better grasp on myself."

"Hm." He leans back in his seat and it creaks, a cry for help. "You're a reporter, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ever do a story on Annabelle Mcgrail?"

"No, sir, but my colleagues have."

"Hmph. Wonder why they never let you." He shakes his head. "How long ago was that?"

"The shootings? Twelve years."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? So much time has passed…" His chubby fingers twirl around the end of his extinguished cigar. "She died, but I wonder about her sometimes. Just what does it take to break a child to that point? Do you know?"

"No, sir. I don't." I frown. "I'm sorry. What are you getting at?" He chuckles, shaking his head.

"I like you, Kat. Tseng will have you on the field soon." He looks up, his dull eyes sparkling. "You're suited should be tailored and ready by tomorrow. We keep extra on hand—haven't had a need for a woman's for some time." Chuckling, he taps his fingers across his desk as if he has nothing better to do. "I'm sure Rufus will want to meet you. In due time, my boy. Go back to Tseng, Kat. I'm sure he's got something for you."

"Okay."

"And Kat?"

"Yes?"

"Manage that temper of yours and you'll be just fine."

"… Okay."

Taking a deep breath and brushing my sweaty fingers on my pants, I hurry back toward the hall, not at all surprised to see Tseng waiting for me there. He raises an eyebrow and I nod.

"It was okay."

"Okay?"

"Said he likes me," I shrug, leading the way to the elevator.

"Hm." He follows, hitting the button for a floor. "Reno's already out on an assignment."

"Already?" I check my phone for the time. "Tseng, it's so early!"

"Yes, well, sometimes the work can't wait."

"Where's Rude?"

"Here. I only needed to send one of them out."

"Okay…"

"What?" He frowns. I shake my head and lean back against the wall.

"Nothing. What's Reno up to?"

"That's not your concern."

"It is my concern, though." I raise an eyebrow, gesturing toward myself. "I'm asking because I'm concerned, Tseng." He sighs, not at all amused by my antics.

"Do you remember the Ancient?"

"Aerith? Yeah, why?"

"She's at a church in Sector Five." Something in his voice changes and I know he's somewhere else entirely in his head. "That's all you need to know."

The elevator dings and I step out onto a floor I don't recognize. Tseng leads the way through a maze of halls and pushes a door open to reveal a giant mess of a room that's covered in diagrams and bolts of cloth. A group of men and women sit on benches, working sewing machines. I frown, turning to the short, spindly man that approaches us.

"This is our new recruit," Tseng says sternly.

"You sure?" The man speaks in an odd, accent, cocking his head to the side and stroking his thin mustache. "She look very small, sir."

"I'll be back in an hour."

"Yes, sir. I will measure the girl."

"I need it done by tomorrow," Tseng adds, abruptly turning to leave.

"But—" The man shakes his head. "Excuse Omid. Wit' all extra tings as well?"

"Yes."

"Of course." The man turns back to me and wipes the sweat off his broad forehead. "Excuse Omid," he repeats. Great. A guy that refers to himself in the third person. "Kat, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Stand over t'ere, please."

I take a deep breath and tolerate his poking and prodding, trying to look anywhere but my reflection in the dirty mirror. All the touching and measuring and squeezing… I take a deep breath, staring hard into my eyes. Cool it.

"Please!" I scream, thrashing on top of the cold, hard table. "Please stop—"

A firm hand strikes me across the face and I cry out, tears streaming past my ears and dampening my hair.

"Quiet!" he snaps. "This is what you deserve." He forces me to sit upright and ties my hands behind my back. Slowly, he drags a chair over and stands behind me, tying the rope around my neck. "You're going to feel what you did to me. You're going to know my pain."

"Please…"

"Step off."

"T—"

"I said walk!"

Sobbing, I squeeze my eyes shut. I know he won't kill me, but I can't do it. Huffing, he shoves me, leaving my feet to dangle above the ground as I choke, hanging from the rungs of the basement ceiling. Why is this what I deserve?

Omid steps back, pinching his chin and looking me over.

"You know, Turks seem very sad to Omid. All do bad tings to better our world, but don't care." He smiles, sympathetic. Pitying. "Is Kat bad too?"

"It's a job requirement," I huff. "I try not to thinking about it."

"Keeping it locked away does no good, lady." He tilts his head. "Ruined Omid's nephew."

"Yeah, well, we're not here to do good."

"No," he laughs, scribbling down a note. "You are not."

"You survived," Tseng comments as I follow him to the elevator.

"He was nice enough," I shrug. "Wouldn't stop talking in the third person, though."

"Don't know where we found him." He shakes his head. "Our next step is Rufus."

"Why do I have to go around meeting all these people?" I huff. Tseng shakes his head.

"Because, ultimately, they decide your fate. Best make a good impression."

We head to another part of the building (I'm never gonna learn my way around here) and stop at another glass door. A soldier lets us in, announcing Tseng's presence but never mine. Weird. A blonde young man sits at a desk with even more papers than his fathers. He stands upon seeing us and I feel my blood run cold at the sight of his eyes. Ruthless, cold, cunning. Definitely not a man to be trusted. A man caught for traitorous acts against his father forgiven and donated a position of power. What the hell is wrong with these people?

"I assume this is Kat," Rufus says, eyeing me.

"Yes," Tseng nods, shooting me a look that makes me straighten my shoulders.

"Yup," I add. Rufus raises an eyebrow and turns back to Tseng.

"You better not have brought me another Reno."

"She's not Reno," Tseng replies, and he's serious—which is an insult, frankly. Despite his laziness and his poor sense of dress, Reno's still second in command to Tseng—he's damn good at his job.

"Friends?" Rufus asks, shaking a strand of loose hair out of his eyes. He walks toward me, his long white suit flowing around his legs with every step. Gods, he's tall. "Looks weak."

"Excuse m—"

"Defensive," Rufus snaps, cutting me off and shooting another harsh look at Tseng. "Which screams impulsive to me. Unless, of course, I'm missing something."

"She—"

"Save it." Rufus sizes me up once more. "I'd like to see you in practice."

"Fine," I answer, my voice biting without an ounce of respect. I don't care what Tseng says; this brat's gonna have to earn it.

"Tseng, you have work to do?" Rufus hints, gesturing toward the door. Tseng nods, shooting me one more look before heading out. He's not happy.

The training center is just how I remember it. Blue, steely, and smelly. I pluck the virtual reality goggles from his hand, refusing to touch him. Taking a deep breath, I step into the square training room, watching Rufus stand on the other side of the glass. I can feel his eyes burning into my back when I put the goggles on, trapped within a dark world of nothing.

"You're searching for a young man that has been reported in the area," Rufus says, his voice steady and bored. I recognize the Sector Six slums when the scene lights up. I have a gun in my right hand and a rod strapped to my left hip.

"What's he look like?" I ask, pressing my back to a wall and hiding in the shadows.

"A young man."

"I can't—"

"That's all I have."

"Fuck's sake," I mutter, peeking my head into an alleyway to see a man in a suit hurrying through the dark streets. Young man? Sighing, I hurry after him, careful to keep my footsteps light and my head low.

"We need him alive."

"Okay—"

"So in other words, don't go rogue."

"Killed a guy once and now suddenly I'm a bloodthirsty monster," I grumble, taking a shortcut to get ahead of the guy.

"If you've only killed one man, I'm concerned that you're here."

Just as I'm about to cut him off and give him a good smack across the head with my rod, Rufus stops me.

"New orders: kill him."

"Those from you or the script?" I huff, watching him run past, oblivious.

"Me."

All too familiar with the slum's streets, I cut a few corners and line the running man up in my sights. It feels too easy. I shoot him and he falls on his back, lifeless. Anxious, I wait for any sign for more, but the screen fades to black. Frowning, I put the goggles off and turn to face Rufus.

"That's it?"

"I had to see you obey orders." Rufus raises an eyebrow. "You're too defiant for me, but I trust Tseng's judgment."

"Too defiant," I repeat under my breath, crossing my arms. I hand the goggles back over and he sets them on the table behind him before walking away.

"Dismissed."