Author's Notes: Because I can.

Released

There was a red tint to the room now, or at least to parts. Half of it was from the crimson of light shining through a bloodied lampshade. The other half was from the blood splattered over the walls, the bed, his hands… his face. Nothing that couldn't be cleaned given time, and possibly bleed, but it was likely always to stain his mind. Well, not his mind. Nothing there was pure anyway. Never had been, despite popular opinion.

He'd never been an angel. Far from it. He wasn't some peace loving, world saving, times changing hero. Or he never would have been, given the choice. But he was loyal, to a fault. Orders were orders, and got him where he was intact, even after ShinRa had fallen. Even now all he was acting upon was orders, though he had to admit, it felt wonderful to have a gun in his hand again. It was ecstasy to see the body before him, bloody and with the light gone from those eyes. They'd been pretty eyes of course, but he always got more out of the fogged glass look that came with death. Death that he had caused.

A tremor ran up his spine at the sight of the body, some ghost of regret maybe, but far from anything worth noticing. A phone was snatched up, which didn't much matter, and dialed the number that would be a dead end after the first time he dialed and waited for the answer.

"And to what do I owe this call?" the voice on the other end asked, cool and collected despite the shock he was sure would come from his call.

"You've got a mess to clean up, President. He got to close…"

"What…"

"Now you know better than to question my meanings, boy. Valentine put his nose where it didn't belong… So I blew it off."

Reeve tossed a look over his shoulder to the body, and couldn't hold back a chuckle. "I think I might have taken a good part of the rest of his head with it."

"You…"

"Weren't supposed to wake up?" Reeve snarled into the phone, reaching out for the holster Valentine had made for Death Penalty. It took a moment to make a new notch so that the new master of the weapon could fit around his waist. Once that was done the rare weapon was placed at his side.

"I'll tell you something, boss-co, I don't know just what you had Hojo do to fuck with my head, but he does good work. Think me and the Death Penalty can do the same for you? I promise it won't hurt, and you won't remember a damn thing about being Rufus ShinRa."

The phone was shut off and smashed under his heel. Reeve Tuesti smirked, a bloody thing, what with Vincent's blood covering the pearly whites, as he headed for the door. When it slammed shut all that was left was the body of a once great gunner, the crimson of the stains, and the old façade of Reeve Tuesti, executive of ShinRa, pushover extraordinaire, and all around nice guy. All that was left was the cold, collected, and murderous Turk whose mind had been locked away behind that cover story for more years than he cared to remember.

Look out world, the real Reeve Tuesti was back after nearly ten years…

…and the fun had only just begun.