Rufus hadn't really been around Edge the way the Turks had, so he didn't really recognize much at all.
Dark buildings and little street lighting gave way to shadowy passageways and, from what he figured, fiends.
The car ambled along, the engine quietly purring as he looked for any indication of an item shop.
The neon signs of old Midgar were absent, Edge a different place altogether compared to his native city, in their place the heavy desolation of a place that had barely been able to take its first living breath before having it knocked out.
He'd landed on a possibility after only moments of passing through Edge and realizing that he was screwed:
{If I can get through Edge and to Midgar beyond, I can get to the old Tower.
The vaults underneath have medication. Surely they can help. There has to be something.
She'll die…}
He held his breath for a beat before he nodded to himself and prepared his nerves for what was about to be an arduous trek.
One that he didn't have many bullets to conduct.
One that he had no magic to survive.
{Something… Anything…}
He looked up, spotting a weapon shop that had its lights off, and a trickle of encouragement washed through him.
{There… I can get something there..}
He parked the car and got out on unsteady legs, heaving an exhausted sigh as he let the door fall shut with its own momentum.
Circling, he walked up to the store and reached for the door handle only to find it solid and locked- closed.
His fingers froze there for a moment as he regarded the dark windows, tossing his head back to look up at the signage.
"Thought'cha was after items, sweet?"
Rufus screamed in a startled fright when the bass voice spoke beside his ear, causing him to weave to the left and lash out, only to have his injured hand caught and held fast by an iron grip.
Another beat passed in what felt like a small eternity, the pain throbbing from his broken hand, before he jerked to try and free it. "Let go!"
"Nah nah. We're gonna have a talk, Mister. You ain't been truthful with us, an' we noticed it."
Panic sparked in Rufus' chest as he uselessly jerked to be freed, the pain gnawing into his brain to make him useless in the situation.
"Mister Turk, I figure y'might wanna stop tuggin' an' start answerin' some questions f'me."
{He thinks I'm a Turk- He thinks I'm Nunchaku.}
It wasn't unusual for the two to be mistaken when in close quarters, both being exceptionally slender with blond hair and blue eyes. Typically people realized their blunder as soon as Rufus opened his mouth; Reese, the personal name of Nunchaku of the Turks, was altogether more quiet and amicable, so far as to be affectionately called a bubblehead by Reno.
{Better that he thinks I'm a Turk-}
"Why're you here?"
"Some of my friends are injured to the point of near death. I'm here to get items to help them live."
"Then why you here at a weapon shop?"
The pain was battering the doors of his mind, and Rufus was finding it hard to keep himself together, a soft whiny grunt spilling out against his will as he tried to keep focus on the man without appearing as weak as he felt. "Because there aren't any item shops, and I need to make the trip to the Tower to see if I can find something!"
"Oh. No shit?" A shadowy smirk passed over the other man's face as he squeezed a little harder. "Y'mean you're gonna go get somethin' none'a the rest'a us have just so you an' your buddies live, fuck all the rest'a us?"
"NO! You can have what's left over!" Rufus gasped in the breath, having not meant to scream as the pain of bone grinding against bone made his weight sag. He stumbled as he tried not to buckle. "I just need Ether! Just one! Just enough to cure them!"
"How many more Turks are there, sweet? Come on, spill it.
An' where's your boss?"
"I don't know!" Rufus tried to jerk away.
The man, with a grip that was near unholy, held fast, chuckling at the blond's pain. "I can give you some bullets."
"You don't even know if they'll fit my gun! I'll find something somewhere else!"
The man reached into his jacket with his other hand, twisting slightly to unholster his pistol.
It felt like slow motion as Rufus watched him draw it out and raise it. The barrel looked unimaginably big, though it was only a standard-issue weapon.
The metal was cold as it kissed the bridge of his nose, the man's finger brushing the trigger like he was merely caressing the lips of a lover.
The pain in Rufus' hand had fallen away, replaced with resignation for what was set to happen.
{I'm going to d-}
"Bang~"
But nothing.
No other noise, nothing to indicate he was about to die other than a pistol pointed in his face and a cruel man doling out the punishment.
"S'matter, sweet? You don't do so good starin' down the barrel of a gun, do you?
Y'ain't tryin' t'get away no more."
" If you're going to do it, then do it." The words dribbled out with a deadpan cynicism, the panic replaced with resignation.
He'd been caught. He resolved that the man was playing with him, probably knew who he was, and was toying with him under the guise of taunting a Turk.
"I'm just fuckin' with you since it feels like your people love to fuck with us." Visibly annoyed, the man pulled the gun away. "For real. What'cha here for?"
"I already told you."
The pistol began to lower as the man leaned closer. "Y'really think I believe that?"
"I don't care what you believe." Rufus' hand was numb by that point, his brain having faithfully ignored the fact his fingers were bending in on themselves on joints that had been broken to fit the earlier situation. "Either release me and leave me to my task or deal with me as you will."
"We're on the lookout for you assholes. Did you think you could just stroll through?"
"I didn't know anything about that. I personally had no dealings with what happened."
"Didn't you? You're a part'a the Shinra Corporation, ain'tcha? You a Turk, ain'tcha?"
"What does that matter?"
"Well, that means you had a part t'play."
"Even though I had no direct influence? How skewed your notions are-no wonder your city is a trash can. Perhaps the people are garbage, just as you are."
"Big words for a fuckin' Turk." The man squeezed his hand again.
Yet the blond gave no satisfying cry of pain, hate having replaced the fear in his eyes. "Who are you?"
" I'm Corey-of the SOLDIER." A soft giggle filtered out of the man as he reached up with his now-free hand, having holstered the gun, and raised his sunglasses, revealing the brilliant mako blue of his eyes.
"Well, SOLDIER Corey, I have no business with you. I'm just here to help my friends." He wasn't willing to give him the satisfaction of realizing that he'd caught the biggest fish in the pond if he didn't already realize it.
"Y'friends? Which ones?"
" Their names won't matter to you."
"Is it the cute little blonde girl? The dot? Maybe it's the cue ball? Or maybe the fox?
Maybe your President's on death's door? What? He didn't get none'a that rain that fell?
Didn't suck up none'a that good cure that could'a gone t'people that deserved it?" Corey twisted Rufus' wrist, sending him careening into the wall of the shop with a snort.
Rufus grunted as his back hit the wall, but he reached out, shoving his hand outward to press against the other man's chest as he advanced. "...If you let me go and cure them, I'll turn our President in afterward. I'll even let you go so you can get him."
"Oh? A Turk betrayin' his master?"
"What did he ever do for us besides lead us into situations that got us hurt?" The hint of sadness in the tone expressed the feeling of ice in his heart. "What's the use of having a President when there's no company left to run?
We can't live with him, either. He'll do nothing but weigh us down."
"Awww. Poor Turkies-"
"Corey." Another voice chirped up from somewhere behind the man's back. "Let him go, y'fuckin' idiot. We don't torture."
Julian, the other SOLDIER, having waited long enough, had gone to investigate where his partner had gone.
"He said he's gonna give us his boss if we let him cure his friends." Corey finally released the pinched, damaged fingers, dropping the hand violently.
Rufus could practically feel the blood rush out of his face as his hand slapped uselessly against the wall at his back.
"I heard. I was standin' here. Listen, kid. Which one are you?"
Rufus saw no reason to not continue the farce. "Nunchaku of the Turks."
"I'm gonna call you Nunchaku. That shit earlier a deal?"
"It's a deal...if you allow me to cure them and let them go free afterward."
Julian looked at Corey, huffing out a breath. "They ain't nothin' but lapdogs. Without the President, they won't do shit."
"I dunno 'bout this. They get downright vindictive. Y'remember, don'tcha?"
"I remember...but just remember that like Heidegger an' Sephiroth was in charge'a us, Shinra was in charge'a them.
We're not evil, are we?"
"Well… No, but… They're shadier."
"In whose opinion?" Julian flicked his sunshades up, regarding Corey with an incredulous look. "Dude, we're just as shady to these civvies roamin' around lookin' at us like we're freaks. Don't forget why we wear this shit even at night." He rattled the shades.
Julian then turned to 'Nunchaku.' "We'll help you get the goods t'take back t'your friends, help you get 'em cured, an' then you give up the President to us an' we call it even.
How 'bout it, kid?"
"Agreed."
"Good! Corey, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it?" Julian turned back to his companion. "Do we got any Ethers back at the base?"
"Not that I know. He'd said somethin' 'bout some Ethers in the vault under the Tower."
"I'll sweeten the pot." Rufus chirped up. "When I'm done healing them, you and your men can have everything that's in the vault. All the items, all the stashed money. I know the combination, and I can get you through to what you need."
"This kid's really on the up an' up. Fine." Julian sighed. "Who knew we'd hit pay dirt today?"
"Our lucky night, yeah?"
Rufus watched Corey step back as he felt the weight of what he'd just agreed to do-he'd signed his own death certificate and was fine with that.
Anything to save them when they'd done nothing but save him.