Chapter 2: Work

Reno did his best not to lose it, and go on a massive spree of random beat-downs and sharp jabs with the cattle prod. It was one of the more satisfying ways of hurting someone. When he did it, Reno could feel the jolt as it hit the target. Scarlet had designed it that way. That woman was something else. If he didn't know better, he'd say that she was certifiably insane, but you didn't say stuff like that about the top people over at Shinra HQ; people who had decided that he had to come to one of their meetings rather than join the other Turks on whatever they were doing that day. Scarlet could do stuff like that.

She was there in the same room with the same intolerable people, but she had reserves of patience that Reno couldn't fathom. It must've been the beautiful dress. No matter who was she was dealing with or what she was doing, Scarlet always aimed to be the best looking person in the room. Though, he had to admit, when she was in the room with President Shinra, Heidegger, or Palmer, she really had no competition. That was probably her goal, and why there were so few female higher-ups in Shinra.

"I think you'll find us more than willing to do business, Mr. Lentz," said President Shinra, "We only need to guarantee our own investment."

Lentz was the polar opposite of President Shinra. He was very trim with a healthy coloring due to his frequent trips to Wutai and his indulgence in their active and disciplined lifestyle. Little wonder why Shinra and Wutai had clashed so often in the past. Those conflicts were why the president of Shinra was willing to seek deals with Wutai through an intermediary. Lentz wasn't from Wutai, which was why he'd been allowed into Shinra HQ. Even the Turks were weary of the traditional-minded martial artists. Devotion to such strict beliefs could be a dangerous motivator. They didn't need some ninja from Wutai willing to die just so Shinra wouldn't have a president.

"My associates are concerned about the depreciation of your facilities." Lentz spoke with a measured tone that was calm, but projected perfectly.

This brought out a little bit of Scarlet's temper. "Are you saying that Wutai can make better things than we can?"

"Not at all," said Lentz, "But we've all seen the effects of a reactor explosion."

"Minor incidents," said the president, "There is no need to worry."

"Perhaps, but perhaps they are minor only because they were smaller reactors. A larger facility, like the ones is Midgar, could combine strength and toss out devastation everywhere."

"You're worried about the terrorists," sneered Palmer, "They're nothing but ants to be burned."

"Word is: they burned you."

Palmer became even redder in the face than his chubbiness already exuded. He didn't speak though. He waited for the president to do so. Palmer didn't have the confidence, or talent-based credibility that Scarlet did. Few people at Shinra did.

"There have been some unpleasantries, but I can assure you that Shinra Incorporated is in control of the situation. What I would like to know is will Wutai lend support to a group of terrorists, or will they finally choose to be part of the modern world?"

This was what Reno was waiting for. One right look from the president, and Lentz would have to be put down. As much as Tseng's protocol for restraint held Reno back, he wanted some action. He didn't know why he'd been the one summoned to this little meeting. There wasn't even any food. Tseng used to handle all of the posh jobs, and after him it had been Rude. Scarlet and Rude had some big falling out though, so it came down to him. The other guys: new and formerly retired were not trusted as much. And, given the relationship between the former head of the Turks and the former leader of AVALANCHE, Shinra wanted to hold onto those employees that would have no such conflicts of interest. That was the price of job security, he thought.

Lentz took his time, and even learned back a little in his chair. "Wutai is willing to work with Shinra if they are appropriately compensated. They have no relationship with The Avalanche in the past, present, and they don't see one in the future."

The room as a whole seemed to sigh with relief, except for Reno, who was very disappointed with the fortunate turn of events. Business was often so damned boring. The president stood to shake Lentz's hand, and Lentz took the meaty hand in his own and responded kindly—just another business transaction over at Shinra HQ. Reno desperately wanted to go to the gym, and burn his muscles into a mushy fury. If he didn't do something, his high would fizzle into a low, and he would be useless for several hours. Worse: Tseng would hear about it.

"Reno," the president said, his face betraying a slight annoyance with the Turk as though Reno wasn't paying attention or something, "Please escort Mr. Lentz to the station."

"Yes, sir." Reno's voice was soft, but projected well enough to be quite audible. There was nothing to detect in the tone. As a Turk, Reno had to be above the usual foibles of a hired goon. They were not just thugs—they were Turks. They were what Tseng had made them to be.

XXX

After a good three hours of working out, she reached the point when she had to break. Her training had taught her to set pace limits. If it was necessary she could go well beyond those restrictions, but she had been gilled repeatedly not to waste. She'd promised herself that she would out last Shinra. Making peace with the violence of her life, and the harsh circumstances in which she lived. Of course, she still found herself crying sometimes, and wondering why she didn't just leave or die, but Tifa had come to a point where life demanded commitment. Revenge required that she be alive. There would be no gloating if she were dead.

The sweat poured off of her in little flooding rivers. For a moment she forgot where her towel was, and wiped futilely with her fingers. Her small sports shirt was plastered to her body. She already relished in the thought of peeling it off like a molted skin, and showering. Every time she did it, bathing in the sweet release of exhaustion, she felt reborn. Her lessons with Zangan had taught her about the spiritual significance of using one's body. Tifa had since lost a great deal of the patient optimism of those teachings, but she still maintained most of its physical principles. Running a bar had also imbued her with an acquired knowledge of brawls and dirty fighting techniques. Zangan hadn't taught her those, but he made it clear that she would learn them. "The larger portion of your true education," he said, "Will be entirely up to your ability to perceive and remember."

Tifa found the towel, and began to soak up the excess of sweat. She held it over her head for a moment to get it out of her eyebrows and the top of her head, where the sweat tended to flow through her hair like jungle rivers.

Zangan had told her that she had doomed herself through no fault of her own. Terrible things had happened to her, and while she found some coping and peace in the art of Zangan-Ryu, it was this sense of being wronged that drove her. Zangan had seen others destroy themselves over such harmful passions. He disapproved, but he'd continued to teach her anyway. She never asked why because she'd been too afraid that she would fail some silent test he was giving her. She couldn't shake the notion that he'd taken her from the wreck of Nibelheim because he had some further plans for her. For why would he have invested so much of his energy in healing to keep her alive, and then set her up with money and long term medical care in Midgar?

She looked around the lower quarters of the bar. She was supposed to exercise more outside. While anyone could be watching, it didn't matter as long as she was out there and unafraid. Overcoming all fear was the goal of Zangan-Ryu. Yet, she knew why she'd gone down below when all the others were out on errands. In some of her routines she grew violent. Sometimes bestial. She might bite or claw at invisible enemies. One time, Marlene had come down to find her, and witnessed the gruesome spectacle. Marlene had been so frightened that Tifa spent several moments trying to convince the little girl that she hadn't gone insane. Marlene had pointed to the Tifa's face, and Tifa wiped it with her gloved had to come back with foaming drool. She'd horrified even herself. All because of Shinra.

"Why do you have to be like that?" Marlene asked her. "You're not mean, Tifa."

She had no answer for Marlene. Instead, she had smiled, and offered to make the girl something to eat. Since then she'd taken greater care to lock the elevator and other doors leading down. It was a risk, for she and Barrett had planned to use those as emergency entrances to that wonderful hiding place. Only people on the bar staff, who were coincidently members of AVALANCHE, knew about it. There were a number of small lockable nooks that were there for different members if they were staying over, which was frequent. Barrett spoke of raising a larger force to hit more targets at once. Tifa's own instincts said their kind of group was big as it was. They had no official backing like the Turks or other such organizations. There was little reasoning with Barrett though. His commitment to destroying Shinra was sometimes greater than her own. Only one thing marked the difference: Marlene.

His devotion to the little girl took the edge off of his hatred. He could storm into a Shinra Military Police Post, and kill a dozen security guards, but he would always come home to hug that little girl, and listen intently as she told him the significant moments in her day.

Tifa envied him for that. She didn't have to. Marlene had grown to be a kind of daughter to everyone—including Tifa, but it wasn't the same. There was something wrong with Tifa, and even little Marlene knew it. The real question that Tifa asked in her quiet moments, like when she cooled down after a workout, was "how long?". How long until she decided to commit herself completely? When would she strap on a bomb, and give the president of Shinra a kiss goodbye? Sephiroth was dead supposedly, no matter how much she wanted to kill him. But, Sephiroth had come from Shinra. Everything came from Shinra.

The wondering threatened to burn her brain out of its skull. She went and unlocked all of the hatches, and then grabbed some new clothes and another towel. The time had come for her once again to be reborn. If she didn't…well, the image of the final kiss of President Donovan Shinra was so inviting, considering the big surprise she would have for him.

XXX

Reno met up with Rude at the Tree Trees Oasis, a desert-themed bar frequented by Shinra employees and other patrons with money, but also a taste for the unusual in Midgar. The establishment was actually inside one of the main Shinra plazas surrounding Reactor Four. He remembered going there with Tseng several times when they first brought him in. It was part of Tseng's opening routine where he tried to pin-down where a new hire was in their life. After the basic introductions when Tseng decided he had potential, Reno had first met Rude.

He'd been a little put-off by the bald man's silence, but over time, and several cups of coffee, things had lightened up. The Three Trees also had hookahs, which Reno had fallen for immediately.

He found Rude sitting in a padded chair by a window. The bald Turk had a small cup of espresso he was nursing, along with a tray of fruit breads, nuts, and cookies. Being a Turk meant free food at Shinra franchised venues, and their superiors encouraged them to exploit it. The higher-ups at Shinra wanted people, especially Shinra employees, to know that the Turks were around.

Reno found a chair across from a small table from Rude, and sat down. With his fingers he signaled the waiter for a triple espresso and a full hookah bottle. The waiter would know what he liked, which was a rum-soaked blend of tobacco, and if he didn't, then he would learn painfully.

Rude took out a small PDA, and scrolled through it with a tiny stylus. Reno wondered if he'd missed some new report or something.

"So, tell me," Reno said," What did I miss during my very important escort mission?"

"Nothing much: new rumors about AVALANCHE. Some possible connection to people in the prison beneath The Golden Saucer."

"You mean?"

Rude nodded.

No one liked to talk about Corel Prison. Turks knew fear better than most people. There was a chain of command, and they respected it. The old school ways of the original enterprise were little more than a myth. Shinra owned them.

"I really wanted Lentz to turn out to be foolish, and make a threat or something. My day would've been so much better."

It was actually quite louder than normal inside the Tree Trees. Several junior executives were scrambling to get drink, fumbling with their hookahs, and just jabbering on to each other about how stressed their day was working in an office. Reno could barely hear the computer-generated eastern guitar music or saxophone wails coming out of the speakers built into ivy-covered statues of ancient gods and faux antique vases. He could feel the cattle-prod secured away in his jacket. The head office probably wouldn't mind him teaching a lesson in manners to the young office trash. But, he could already imagine Tseng's reaction to such unnecessary drama.

"Tseng" said Rude, finishing his tiny drink, "Is looking at another rehire."

"Is he? I thought we had enough guys for the moment. Ross is still green anyway. We need to get his cherry popped soon."

Some of the more bashful executives looked over at him. Normally, Reno would've ignored it, but he felt unfulfilled with the day, so he stared back at them with his coldest smile. That was enough for most people to look away. The others took one look at the ever-stoic Rude, and cowered in fear. Rude never took the glasses off in public, and his expression never rose above its calm, almost dead nothingness that could've been chiseled onto the most ancient of marble.

"How do we what a guy's going to be like until he has to tip the shoe shiner to scrub the blood off his shoes?"

"I agree, and so would Frost. Tseng believes it too, but Tseng is also accountable to the higher-ups. We're all employees."

"I sometimes forget, so who's the other comeback kid?"

"A woman."

"Are you shitting me? A woman? This has got to be Scarlet's doing again."

"Probably."

"How many of these appointees do we need?"

Rude shrugged, and continued reading his PDA. The past fighting between the Turks at the first incarnation of AVALANCHE had been disastrous for both sides. While the original AVALANCHE had been obliterated, the Turks still managed to keep some of their people, and Tseng had made the previous policies even stricter to guarantee the quality of Turks in the organization. Still, they had to rebuild their numbers as a matter of practicality.

The waiter finally arrived with Reno's drink. He drank it immediately, and placed an order for another plus a bottle of water. His hookah arrived next, and Reno wasted no time in taking a long drag from the mouthpiece of the pipe. He puffed smoke out of his nose and mouth, and it formed a little swirling cloud between him and Rude.

"Where are they at?"

"The backroom as usual."

The backroom was where the interviews began. They later gravitated to the main café area.

"Well?"

"What?" Rude acted as though he didn't know what Reno was asking.

"What does she look like?"

"Blonde. Kind of thin."

He chewed on the mouthpiece on the pipe while he spoke: "It's Elena, isn't it? I can't believe this. And she wants to be a Turk again?"

"You don't make it this far without some serious consideration."

"What's this world coming to?"

"I don't know."

"When I go home tonight, I'm going to need some sleeping pills to choke it all down."