Six days had passed since the breakout on the Highwind and the appearance of the impending Meteor. Rufus previously had warned Reeve of "matters to discuss," but so far had spent so little time in Midgar that nothing had yet come of that threat. There were much larger things to worry about, all of them at least thirty feet tall and currently causing havoc worldwide. Reeve had to respect Rufus for stepping up to his duties in protecting the people from the Weapons, even if there was a sense it was to protect his reputation more.

Meanwhile, Reeve returned to busying himself with the daily affairs of Midgar. His staff appreciated his focus on regular duties, especially as the concerns of the city's residents multiplied exponentially by the day. While the Shinra Space and Aeronautics Department had few responsibilities on a consistent basis, they were the first ones able to triangulate the Meteor's path: if unaltered, Midgar would be ground zero. Shinra had made no public announcements to confirm this, of course, but the rising anxiety from the populace certainly indicated Shinra scientists hadn't been the only ones to deduce it.

Burying himself in his responsibilities hadn't been the comfort that Reeve had hoped for, but he had little choice. He didn't have anything else.

Idly reading over printed reports, Reeve stepped into one of the elevators. For a moment he flipped through pages, mumbling to himself.

Tseng's voice interrupted his thoughts: "Director. Are you going to choose a floor?"

Reeve started, noticing for the first time the elevator he had chosen already had an occupant. "Oh! Uh…Sixty-four."

After scanning his ID, Tseng calmly pressed the button and the elevator began to climb. The two rose in silence, Reeve avoiding eye contact. The destruction of the last Cait Sith model had ended his tenuous partnership with the Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department. Reeve hadn't even been aware that Tseng was out of ICU, much less that he was physically capable enough to be back in uniform.

Then again, Turks rarely took lengthy vacations.

"I never had the chance to thank you, Director," Tseng said coolly. "If you had chosen to abandon your reconnaissance when I suggested, no one would have known to come for me."

Clearing his throat softly, Reeve held up a hand. "There's no need." His memory returned to his laments to Marlene, dark musings that Reeve would have absolutely traded Tseng's life for Aerith's. Reeve wasn't entirely sure his opinion had changed in the interim, and he wasn't proud of it.

A subtle smile showed through Tseng's stoneface. "Turks remember favors to our own."

The elevator stopped at the sixty-fourth floor, and to Reeve's discomfort Tseng stepped out with him and matched his pace. "It's not necessary," Reeve assured him as they walked.

"It is," Tseng replied. "You were friends with my predecessor. We haven't forgotten that, either."

Reeve felt a swell of boiling bile in his midsection, a sensation he didn't appreciate. The audacity of Tseng to bring up Chief Veld Dragoon around Reeve. From what he understood, Tseng had carried out the execution orders personally. Reeve hadn't allowed himself to dwell on things he couldn't change for much of his career, but that was before traveling with Cloud and his companions. Being reminded of the Turks' atrocities now very much made Reeve bitter about things he couldn't change.

Especially how complicit Reeve had been in so many of them.

"I'm on my way to a meeting," Reeve said, the sharpness of the syllables belied any attempts at neutrality.

"Of course, Director."

Reeve glanced over his shoulder before entering the boardroom. Tseng had paused in the center of the hall in wait. The collected patience in Tseng's posture made Reeve raise an eyebrow slightly…Their chance meeting hadn't been chance, had it?

Seeing the inquisitive shift in Reeve's expression, Tseng bowed his head. "The Turks will be at your service if you ever need it, Director. Simply ask."

Reeve frowned. "That won't be necessary." He gave no further attention to the Turk as he stepped in the boardroom and closed the doors after him.

The only other two executive board members presently in Midgar awaited him. Seeming to have no idea what to do with his hands, Palmer anxiously alternated between knitting them together on top of the table and taking tentative sips of his tea. Across from him Hojo leaned back in his chair, playing Palmer's opposite as he did nothing beyond yawning boredly and staring at the ceiling.

"Gentlemen," Reeve said calmly as he took his seat.

"My department hasn't seen any change…" Palmer murmured nervously. "What could we have to talk about?"

"Odds say nothing important," Hojo replied with a scoff. "As of late, I increasingly hear nothing in these meetings that couldn't be an email instead."

Opening his folder and taking out several printouts, Reeve briefly glanced in Hojo's direction. "You habitually ignore emails, Professor."

Hojo smirked. "It's done well for me thus far."

The projection screen behind the head of the table lit up. Across the continent in Junon, the remaining three board members sat in front of a camera. Flanked by Scarlet and Heidegger, President Rufus leaned the side of his jaw against his knuckles as he observed his side of the feed. "Gentlemen."

Reeve nodded at the screen, and token greeting came from Hojo and Palmer as well. With a soft clearing of his throat, Reeve began, "I appreciate you taking the time for this, Mr. President."

"This is going to be quick," Rufus said stiffly. "Hojo. Report."

"The readings around the Northern Crater show no change," he replied with a lazy wave of his hand. "The energy surrounding it is unaffected by conventional, military-grade projectiles, and simple, materia-based magic is completely absorbed. Currently, the teams are constructing simulations that will allow us to gauge how effective larger, mako-based blasts would be."

Rufus rolled his eyes. "Predictable. Palmer."

"Th-The, well…" Anxiously drumming his fingers on the table, he cleared his throat sloppily. "All readings suggest Meteor is drawing in space debris to increase its size. The-The, uh…The satellites that went silent seem to have been a direct result."

Scarlet audibly scoffed.

Rufus' face gradually turned into a hard scowl. "Communications must stay online. I expect an outline of a solution from your department in two days."

Turning pale, Palmer's eyes grew larger. "S-Sir, that…That's not nearly enough time for a new solution. It would take far less time to launch replacement sat—"

"I am not authorizing your department for the mako allotment until the Weapons are dealt with. Find another option. You have two days."

His jaw going slack, Palmer sickly croaked, "Of—Of course, Mr. President."

"Reeve."

"The protests in the Sectors 4 and 5 areas of the undercity have been dispersed for now," Reeve said steadily, staring down at his reports. "However, the media division has expressed concerns that the response to Shinra's addressing of Meteor continues to drive down public opinion. Attempts to control the narrative aren't working, sir," he said firmly. "I request you return to Midgar and—"

"The narrative will be controlled soon enough," Scarlet interrupted, her ruby lips curling into a smirk.

Heidegger laughed broadly (much to Rufus' obvious distaste). "The unconscious AVALANCHE woman's condition is turning around," Heidegger announced. "She should be awake in the next few days."

Reeve's thoughts came to a halt, and his brow tightened in sudden dismay. "I fail to see how Tifa Lockhart's condition is relevant," he said, raising his head to the screen.

Scarlet replied, "You wouldn't, Reeve, but thinking of anything other than your very, very creepy and, frankly, very pathetic puppet obsession is apparently beyond you. The only reason public opinion is an issue is because there is currently no one else to blame."

"Once the AVALANCHE members are able to be made an example of," Heidegger added, "then that's exactly what we're doing."

Reeve blinked at the screen dumbly, a cold chill gripping him. "Are you suggesting…?"

"AVALANCHE sympathizers like Veld and Felicia Dragoon should have been dealt with publicly," Scarlet purred. "It would have silenced dissent. We're not making the same mistake twice."

Reeve wasn't sure when he had stood, but now he was on his feet, his palms on the table. "Mr. President, you can't be serious! There's nothing to gain from something as grisly as a public execution, the people will know it's a distraction," he pressed, his hands slipping into white-knuckled fists. "We are supposed to be giving the people answers, we are supposed to be the last bastion of order and civility—"

"It is the most civil decision to punish crimes against the people of Midgar and the world," Rufus spat. "These are the people directly responsible for the bombing of Sector 1's reactor, and they conspired with the forces directly responsible for Meteor." Bitterly, he added in a low voice, "Reeve. Sit."

Swallowing numbly, Reeve forced himself back in his chair.

Heidegger let out another booming laugh, causing Rufus to clench his teeth and rub his temple. "If she's not awake by the 20th," Heidegger said, "then we'll conduct the execution anyway."

Reeve finally noticed his fist was clenched so tightly the nails dug into his palm. Tifa and Barret would be murdered in no later than eight days…why hadn't the others rescued them yet? Could they not reach them?

"So, Reeve," Rufus said coldly. "You will be handling the coordination of press coverage for the event."

In bewilderment Reeve's lip curled. "With all due respect, sir, I'm not sure why you would have me overseeing something so far from my department."

His gaze stabbing through the distance of the stream, Rufus sat up straighter. "With all due respect, Director, I am losing patience with all three of you."

Scarlet and Heidegger exchanged knowing grins.

"I am currently speaking to three ridiculously unqualified men that I should have discarded the instant I took control of the company," Rufus pressed. "This moment, I see a board member whose department's public face is literally spearheading efforts to sabotage my company—"

Palmer stared at the tabletop with a pained grimace and curled in on himself.

"—an espionage agent so incompetent at espionage he can't be bothered to inform his superiors when his assignments put public safety at risk—"

Reeve's lips tightened.

"—and a genetics engineer who has created both a real, living, shape-changing vampire that is breathing down my neck, and an army of clones capable of summoning celestial bodies that threaten all life on Gaia—a man who has done so many projects that break the laws of nature that he cannot begin to keep track of them."

Through this Hojo was unaffected, first glancing at his fingernails and then idly pushing his dark glasses further up his nose. After a pause, Hojo caught on he was meant to make some kind of acknowledgement. He shrugged. "They weren't important enough to remember."

A stunned silence fell, all five of the other executives staring at Hojo in disbelief.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Rufus let out a deep exhale. "So, to readdress your concerns, Mr. Tuesti…I do not care if media liaison is not your department. You are going to do it because I told you to. And I will not allow any of the three of you to have responsibility over anything more dangerous than a stapler."

"Well said, Mr. President!" Heidegger affirmed. His wide shoulders rose and fell as boisterous laughter burst from him.

Gritting his teeth, Rufus again rubbed his temples. "If you laugh in my ear one more time I will personally walk you off the end of the cannon, Heidegger."

Heidegger's face fell awkwardly. Without another sound he reached forward and the boardroom screen went blank.

Hojo let out a haggard sigh. "This meeting would have been a fantastic email to ignore."

His face and balding head dotted with sweat, Palmer rubbed his mouth in trepidation. "D-Do you think he's going to let us go?"

A grim leer crossed Hojo's thin face. "My dear Palmer, employees at our level are not 'let go.' I don't suppose you ever heard any of the Turks refer to my division as 'the Retirement Community'?"

Palmer was now turning a sickly shade of green. "Oh…Oh, surely not…"

"It's certainly cheaper than a separation settlement." Hojo's grin then transformed to a resentful sneer, his face darkening. "My only regret is there is no one under my employ worthy of dissecting me," he growled, his fists clenching. Under his breath he bitterly muttered, "None of those brainless sycophants would appreciate what they'd been given…Would they even know what they were looking at?"

"Rufus wouldn't possibly…!" Palmer blurted in horror, now on his feet. "I've been nothing but loyal to Shinra—I'm the victim. I was hit by a truck!"

Through this Reeve had been recollecting his papers, performing the motions as robotically as any of his machines. He stood and slid his chair back under the table. "Good day, gentlemen."

Hojo pulled himself from his chair and slunk around the table. Still blubbering, Palmer followed Hojo out of the room, pressing him for some kind of assurance of their mutual safety. Neither gave the slightest acknowledgement to Reeve as the three parted ways.

His expression blank and his steps measured, Reeve walked to the elevators. As he rode down in silence his hand gripped the folder in a steadily-tightening vise and his breath struggled to remain even. The effort of quelling his emotions was tearing something apart in his chest, like an engine grinding itself without oil. He drew back his hand to throw a punch at the elevator door, but his arm trembled and rebelled against even the most inconsequential show of violence. Shaking, his hand slipped out of a fist and he could only press it against the metal. As the doors opened he stepped out, oblivious to any sounds around him. He only heard his heart pounding and his forced breathing.

No more. Shinra could take no more from Reeve Tuesti. His youth, his morals and idealism, the hope for a life and family, his dignity, any release from the unrelenting nightmares of the Sector 7 plate's fall…Veld Dragoon…Sephiroth was Shinra's creation, so even Aerith and Cloud were taken by Shinra. Reeve had lost too much.

Shinra would not have Tifa or Barret. Sephiroth would not have this world.

Reeve would not let any more be taken.

His footfalls were like stabs into the floor as he passed his administrative assistant's desk. Her head raised and her mouth opened to speak, but he spun and held up a finger to silence her. "Cancel all of my meetings until further notice."

It hadn't been a shout, but the otherness of his voice caused her to jump slightly and she stared at him in shock. "O-Of course, sir."

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to relax enough to say, "Forgive me. Just…Just keep my schedule free until I say."

"Yes, Director."

He locked the door behind him and immediately loosened his tie and tossed his suit coat on his desk. Rolling up his sleeves, he resolutely moved to the tinkering space he had on the far side of his opulent office. Reeve paused in front his workbench, and placed a hand under the chin of his newest Cait Sith model. Raising its head to study its cheerful face, he grit his teeth.

"It's time to go to work, Cait. Let's save the world."

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