Scarlet
Scarlet always did her best thinking in solitude.
When Scarlet arrives, it has already gone dark. The sea breeze greets her as she steps out of the car, swaddling her in the refreshing scent of brine. Nothing but the distant hum of waves disturbs the silence. With a sigh of relief, she loosens the clasp that has kept her hair trapped all day and lets it fall to her shoulders.
She hears a faint clicking, rapidly growing louder. It spreads, approaching her from all directions; within seconds she's surrounded by a small army of spiderbots and submerged in the red light of their scans.
Scarlet smiles.
"Hello, darlings. Mommy's home."
One of them remains in scanning mode two seconds longer than the others, a barely noticeable flicker in its red eye. Scarlet frowns, running down a mental list of possible causes. Nothing alarming comes to mind, but she will have to run diagnostics on it nonetheless.
That can wait until morning. She had a vision during the long drive to the coast; a jolt of inspiration that might just solve the weight distribution issue with the Clod's beam cannon. Her fingers are itching for a pencil and compass.
As Scarlet strolls up the paved path to her seaside cabin, she runs her fingers through her hair, plucking out the remaining pins. As soon as she is through the front door, she kicks off her high heels, setting her weary feet free at last, and heads to the bedroom in the back.
Shinra has hounded her for weeks for an update. The old fool may have a head for business, but the finer points of technology are hopelessly lost on him. His wayward son isn't much better in that regard, but he has to be less set in his ways. And as rumor has it, she muses as she slips the straps of her dress over her shoulders, less likely to stare at her boobs. Useful as it is to have an easy distraction at her disposal, discussing matters eye to eye would make a pleasant change.
Or not. As long as men are too busy drooling over her physical assets, she doesn't have to listen to their condescending drivel, and snooty little Rufus Shinra mastered the art of condescension a long time ago. A few years in exile is unlikely to have cured that.
Scarlet steps out of the heap of red fabric that has pooled at her feet. She grabs the robe hanging on the door – soft, plush cotton, a treat on her skin after a day in a slinky satin dress – and slips it on.
The Shinra brat's time will come, she muses as she wanders into the kitchen, and sooner than his father wants to believe. There are already whispers around the office concerning his possible – no, probable – return. Scarlet purses her lips in thought as she retrieves a wine glass from its shelf. Perhaps it is time to consider playing nice. If not to Rufus, then to others on the board. Heidegger, perhaps. Of all the executives, he is the only one who wholeheartedly supports and appreciates her work.
But office politics can wait. Scarlet has more enticing problems to solve tonight.
She decides on a Costan red, bold in hue and flavor. Glass in hand, she heads into the living room, where her drafting table is set up in front of the main window. During daytime, the view out over the sea is magnificent. Darkness obscures it now, but Scarlet leaves the drapes pulled back. The darkness doesn't bother her; not when the eyes of her robots twinkle like red stars in the night.
Scarlet pins a fresh sheet of graph paper to the table and takes a seat. Reeve would probably find her setup amusing. He seems like the sort who uses computers for everything. Writing shopping lists. Doodling. Keeping an up-to-date inventory of clean pairs of socks. Scarlet scoffs. Him and his little gadgets. He has a knack for engineering, but as long as he insists on playing with silly toys, he is useless to her.
Scarlet's designs are as far from toys as one can get. They are killing machines, efficient and powerful, brutal when needed. And her latest project will be her greatest triumph yet: ten armored tons of gleaming, unbridled destruction.
Smiling wickedly, Scarlet picks up her pencil and gets to work.