Chapter 1
He knew it had to be important when he heard Heidegger and Veld arguing inside the office. Well, he heard Heidegger arguing: the blustering, shouting voice, incoherent from this side of the door, was unmistakable. The short pauses scattered through the whole tirade where obviously where Veld was arguing back, albeit much more quietly.
Rude raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses to Tseng.
"About an hour," Tseng said, in reply to the unasked question.
"What about?"
"That's why Veld wants to see you."
As if on cue, Heidegger slammed out of Veld's office. He caught sight of Rude and Tseng, gave them both a look of undisguised loathing, then strode away down the corridor. Neither bothered to retaliate, and Tseng led the way into the office. Once inside, he said, "Sir, I've brought Rude to see you, as you ordered."
"Thank you, Tseng," replied Veld. "You can leave us alone now."
"Sir." An instant later, Tseng was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him.
There was a short silence, broken only by the sound of Veld tapping at his computer keyboard, before he stopped and, after opening a drawer in his desk and bringing out a folder, looked up at Rude.
"There's been an incident," he said. "The Sector Three Mako thief was sighted again last night."
Ah. The Mako thief. Two months ago it had come to the attention of the Shinra Electric Power Company that someone was managing to channel reserves of Mako from the Number Three Reactor, and that it was being processed and sold illicitly, and cheaply, in batteries, as materia, and God only knew what else. Guards had managed to catch sight of a figure once or twice in the reactor or the surrounding area, but so far there had been nothing close to resembling a capture, or even a decent description. And now they'd struck again. No doubt the President would be getting a tad uncomfortable up on the seventieth floor.
"The difference is," Veld continued, "the thief has unfortunately shown himself to be far and away more capable than your average reactor guard. They had him cornered in an alleyway last night, guards coming at him from every direction, a helicopter with a searchlight and a thermo-sensor above him - and he still managed to escape."
He opened the folder and flicked through the pages until he reached a couple of photographs tucked neatly inside. He picked them out and pushed them across the desk towards Rude.
"Here. One of the guards managed to capture these on his phone the second time the thief was sighted. We had them enlarged then put on posters which have been distributed around Sector Three. You may want to take a closer look at them, Rude."
Nodding, Rude picked them up and took a look at them. They were dimmed, blurred and indistinct, obviously taken in a great hurry, perhaps even whilst the photographer was running, but in them he could just make out what looked like a thin figure in dark clothes. The face was turned away, but there was the hint of a bony chin, and a mess of red hair brushed into spikes.
"What do you think?" Veld asked.
"Not much of a lead," Rude replied. "It could be any slum kid."
"And therein lies our problem. The soldiers have been unable to apprehend him because he just melts into the shadows, then gets up to no good again when he thinks the coast is clear. It's gotten to the point where even the President has been informed, and he wants to take severe action."
"Us." It wasn't a question.
"More specifically: you."
Rude nodded slowly before asking, "An assassination, or a straightforward capture?"
"Neither. At least, not for the moment."
"Sir?"
"Want I want you to do first, Rude, is to track this kid down. It's unlikely he's working independently; he's probably just be the pilot-fish: the lead to the bigger catch. It's likely there's a whole network of these Mako thieves. If we can expose and... eliminate something like that, we'll really become a force to be reckoned with within the company." He smiled grimly. "We may even be able to get Heidegger off our backs for a while.
"You'll be starting effective immediately. Ensure you make all the necessary preparations. I will send Tseng with a car in three hours' time."
Rude nodded. "Understood, sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
Rude turned to leave, but before he could take a step towards the door, Veld spoke up again: "Please bear in mind that you now hold the company's reputation in your hands, Rude. We can allow nothing to undermine Shinra Inc. Nothing. Failure, as the cliché goes, is not an option."
Sector Three was where the thief had last been sighted, so Sector Three seemed the obvious place to start. Tseng came with the car, as arranged, and they arrived at the reactor within the hour.
"He wasn't spotted within the actual reactor this time," Tseng said, as they flashed their Turk IDs to the guards and went inside, "but it will probably be beneficial to you to try to figure out exactly how he gets in and out. So far, none of the guards have been able."
"Potential for a trap," said Rude.
"Exactly. Veld is determined that nothing, no stone in this mission, should be left unturned."
They were inside the reactor now. The lights were down, the gloom broken only by the almost luminous green glow from the Mako crucible below them, the walls and shadows alike stained with the noisome light, tainting their skin with the same colour. The air was heavy with the oily, choking odour of the processed Mako, and throbbed with the constant hum and growl of machinery, the floor vibrating with it. Rude was already making careful mental notes. The awkward lighting could definitely allow someone to sneak around unseen if they were careful, and noise would definitely be enough to mask clumsy footsteps and all but the loudest noises.
The two Turks followed the maze of walkways, elevators and ladders until they finally reached the hub of the reactor, where the Mako fermented and steamed beneath the walkway, where the reek was at its headiest, and which was at present thronged with blue-uniformed Shinra soldiers with rifles and Guard Hounds, and a handful of figures in white overalls.
"The forensics team is here, as you can see," was Tseng's commentary, "but so far they have very little to show us. You may be better off speaking with the guards.
"I will leave you here," he continued. "You should be able to work out a strategy from here. Any queries, any reports, relay them to me first. I'll make sure they get through to Veld. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Tseng smiled briefly, though the shadows leaped into every angle of his face and made the smile look slightly sinister. "Best of luck, Rude."
With that, he was gone, and Rude was left to his investigation. Deciding to take Tseng's advice, he sought out the senior reactor guard. He found him to one side, a sour-faced little man who looked decidedly offended at the presence of the extra forces and the scientists. He looked even more offended when Rude showed him his ID.
"Turks, huh?" His voice was almost a snarl, and when he spoke, it was more to himself than to Rude. "Dunno what else the bosses think they'll get from your lot. Anyway," now he seemed to be talking to him, "I'm Kirk Lyal, senior officer in charge of the Number Three Reactor. Not that you'd know it, not with the 'special forces' runnin' around..."
That cheap dig was obviously intended for him, but Rude decided to ignore it. "I'm investigating the Mako theft. Do you have any new information for me?"
Keep it cool, he thought. Keep it professional. That was his motto. No matter how much the other party seemed determined to get on his wick.
Lyal's lip curled slightly and when he spoke, it was with ill-disguised hostility. "What, you mean apart from the fact I've reported his appearance here three times? Do the bosses think I'm hidin' something? Is that why they sent in the suits? To arrest me?"
Professionalism, sadly, was a virtue often wasted on lower-ranking goons. Rude had to fight the urge not to slug the man in the face. Still, if this was how he wanted to play it...
"Not at the moment," he replied. Then he allowed his mouth to form a thin, deliberately unpleasant smile. "But if they think you're trying to withhold vital information from them, then maybe they will send me down again. And not to arrest you."
Worked like a charm. The Turks' reputation always preceded them. All enmity and disdain drained from Lyal's face as swiftly as if someone had pulled a plug, and his gaze started flickering across the floor.
"This way." His voice was a reluctant grunt as he turned round and scurried away. Rude followed at his own pace. He was pretty sure the goon would be willing to wait for him.
Lyal led him further along the walkway, past the fenced-off area and the guards, to the central nucleus of the reactor: a dead end. Rude was just about to demand whether this was some sort of stupid joke, when Lyal pointed. "There."
He was able to make out the shape of a crude rope ladder, swinging close to the far wall. Following it with his gaze, he could see that it led up towards the network of cables and piping above the Mako, though because it disappeared into the green-black shadows, it was hard to tell exactly where it ended. One thing was for sure: the pipes would be a handy escape route from the reactor; they criss-crossed over the entire area and ran alongside God-only-knew how many stairs and walkways.
"This was how he got away," Lyal supplied unnecessarily. "Little punk was like a monkey on that ladder. Shot all the way up, and that was with a container full of liquid Mako on his back and a gun in one hand."
Speed. Rude made another mental note. Strength. Agility. He had to admit, despite himself, he was impressed. This kid was good.
"Didn't you or your men attempt to follow him?"
Lyal's face flushed red with indignation. "Whaddya take me for? 'Course we did. Fucker took out two Roboguards and got one of my men in the shoulder before he was even halfway up."
Rude nodded at nothing in particular. "Where does the ladder go? How high?"
Lyal shrugged. "High enough. I got the men to backtrack and go back up and meet him, but by the time they'd got there he was already long gone. There's a few ways out the reactor - main entrance is only one."
Rude didn't reply, but started walking away. He heard Lyal make an indignant noise, but ignored him. He'd gotten everything he needed from Lyal; it was obvious the reactor guards couldn't tell him any more than they'd told Veld already. And the forensics team had little to show for their efforts: he asked one of them and was told to instead check on the team in the alleyway where the thief was last sighted. Satisfied that there was nothing else he could get from the scene of the crime, Rude left the reactor.
Once outside, he pulled his PHS from his jacket pocket and dialled in a number. There were a couple of rings, then a click, then a voice.
"Tseng."
"It's Rude, sir."
"Ah, Rude. Any news?"
"Nothing new in terms of leads. Forensics has a team in the alleyway which may have something, though. But I was calling to report that Veld was right: the thief is far more competent than any reactor guard. This mission looks like it could take some time."
Hark had obviously been looking forward to a lie-in and a bottle of whiskey to himself, but damned if he was going to get one. Reno wanted answers, and he damn well wanted them now.
"Reno." Hark looked both shocked and indignant at the intrusion. "Didn't expect you back so soon. Everything go according to plan?"
"Like fuck it did!" Reno pushed his sunglasses back up his forehead to glare.
"You get the Mako?"
Reno sneered and chucked the sealed container onto the bed. Hark shuffled up against his pillows and picked it up, turned it over in his hands incredulously, then looked up at Reno with narrowed eyes, whiskey-murk replaced by anger.
"What the fuck is this?"
Reno hadn't expected anything different, and so rose to the challenge. Hark wasn't the wisest person to piss off, but then again, neither was he.
"I'll tell you what the fuck that is, Hark," he said. "That's all I could pump out the reactor before security realised I was there and set the Guard Hounds on me, yo. What the fuck happened to Jonsey? And Taj? They were s'posed to be helping me out, but somehow I ended up with two batteries and a fuckin' chopper on my ass!"
"Security found them, too. They had to get outta there."
"And forgot to tell me, when I'm only one fuckin' PHS call away?" Nope, the security excuse wasn't going to cut it with him, not when he'd barely escaped with his life, never mind his Mako.
"Obviously wasn't time," said Hark. "I told you, Reno, the Shinra're getting used to us. Three guys turning up all the time outside the same reactor are gonna get noticed sooner or later."
"Then send someone else!" Reno curled his hands into fists.
"We've been over this. You're the only one able to get inside the reactors without bein' seen."
"Then explain why the Shinra have my goddamn picture pasted on every other wall in Sector Three!"
That forced Hark to sit up and stare. "What'd you say?"
"You heard me. They've got up fuckin' wanted posters in the streets, ain't they? Ones with me on 'em. Offering several grand for information, probably."
"How the fucking hell did they get your picture?" Hark was out of his bed in a heartbeat, pulling what was obviously last night's jeans over his boxers and last night's shirt over his head.
"How the fuck should I know?" Reno snarled. Beneath his anger, he felt a brief of flash of triumph. Anything to rattle Hark's chain. "I was hiding in some back alley and there it was, right in front of me. Someone got a photo of me, and they've blown it up and stuck it on a bunch of posters!"
"Anyone else?"
Reno shook his head. "Didn't see any of anyone else. Just me." He made a sound between a sigh and a groan and started fumbling in his shirt pocket for a packet of cigarettes. Lighting one up, he took a long drag. "Sod's fuckin' law."
Hark groaned. "This is fucking bad."
"You're tellin' me, yo."
"You know what this means, don't you? We're gonna have to wait a damn long time before we're able to go back to the Number Three. And they'll probably have extra security on the rest of them now. Business is gonna go down the goddamn shitter now."
He didn't miss the reproach in Hark's voice, and he knew he wasn't supposed to. Incensed, Reno thrust the cigarette in his leader's direction and snarled, "Don't you fuckin' blame me, Hark. I bust my bastard guts ferrying your Mako from the reactor. I've probably breathed in enough of the stuff to join SOLDIER. I've been shot at by Shinra goons more times than I've fucked girls at the Honeybee Inn. So don't you start blaming me for any of this!"
Hark groaned loudly, rubbing his temples. Reno watched him grimly, wanting nothing more than to smash the bastard's teeth in, but instead settling for flicking his fag ash on the carpet. Fuckin' carpet, he thought contemptuously. Hark was the only one he knew who had a goddamn carpet in his room, let alone a bed with proper pillows. Reno couldn't remember the last time he'd had any of those things, if he'd ever had them at all. Hark could bitch about his Mako business all he wanted, but at the end of the day, if the Shinra came down on their little outfit, it wouldn't be Hark who'd end up biting the kerb courtesy of a suit: it'd be Reno and anyone else Hark found necessary to point the finger at to save his ass. The Shinra would probably fucking reward him for providing information, too.
"Get the fuck out, Reno." Hark's voice was like slap on the face back to reality.
"No sweat, yo."
Seething, Reno slammed his way out of Hark's room and down the stairs, dropping the butt of his cigarette on the warped floorboards and grinding it viciously under his boot, cursing under his breath and damning Hark to hell with every step. A couple of Hark's lackeys brushed past him, and he turned to snarl at them, too.
Damn this whole fucking place to hell.
Hark's gang had picked many a poor, lost kid off the streets, to build up his vastly expanding "army". The gang, aptly called PHANTOM, was good enough to remain hidden in the shadows and, at the same time, have influence in four sectors. It had seemed the ideal place to go when he was thirteen and PHANTOM had taken out most of his old gang. And, for a while, it had been. He was a good fighter, a damn good one, and he was fast, and he could wriggle easily in and out of tight spots - literally and figuratively. Hark had recognised him quickly for the asset he was, and he'd soon gotten high up the pecking order.
Now it hardly seemed worth it.
He was outside now, on the doorstep of Hark's place, looking out over the Sector Five slums disconsolately. He lit another cigarette and leaned back against the wall, taking the occasional drag and looking up, towards the plate that hid the sky from the slums and hid the slums from the rest of the world.
It was so fucking depressing.
He wasn't sure when it had all gone wrong, but somewhere between joining PHANTOM and then becoming Hark's delivery boy, it had all gone downhill. And why, he didn't know. The Mako was a good idea: the folks in the slums jumped at the chance to buy it cheaper than the Shinra offered it, and it was bringing good money to PHANTOM. He wasn't sleeping under old newspapers. He was part of one of the biggest gangs in the slums. For a fucked-up punk who lived under the rotting pizza and couldn't see the sun, he was doing not bad. He had a place. When he was a kid, that was all he'd wanted. A place. Too bad that place was godawful.
Rude stepped out of the alley, followed by the member of the forensics team with whom he had been talking. He took a moment to observe the evening beyond the city. Night was falling now, and while out in the country the night would be velvety-black and sprinkled with stars, this was Midgar, and the night sky would take on the green stain from the Mako reactors and the stars would have to fight to get a look in.
"Sorry I couldn't be more help," the scientist said, head lowered apologetically. The guy probably expected to be beaten up or murdered for not being able to give Rude some decent info.
Rude simply shrugged the apology off. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from the second team, anyway. A ripped poster had been found, and the butt of a cigarette, but those had been sent away to the lab for assessment, and even if they did show up fingerprints, Rude doubted they'd be much help. The likelihood was that he was dealing with a punk from the slums, and the ID management there was, at best, mediocre. Not like above the plate, where Shinra could keep tabs on the population as it pleased.
"Any results, contact Tseng Li, Turks' field leader," was all he said in reply to the scientist before walking away. The day was ending and, to his exasperation, had offered up very little to start with. Practically the only thing he had to follow was the photograph Veld had given him, and God only knew how much help that would be.
Time to call it a day for now, he decided. A quick stop at the nearest bar so he could collect his thoughts and have a couple of drinks, then he could resume his search in the morning. After all, he was a Turk, and one of the best at that. Even if it took him a day or a year, he would get the job done. He'd just have to start looking elsewhere for his info...
Funny how inspiration just kind of hits you like that. In fact, inspiration hit him so hard he almost came to a halt. He smiled slightly. There was one place where he'd be guaranteed some answers.
Author's note: Well? What d'you think? Nothing too exciting, but I'm trying to set the scene a little before the action starts. Feel free to give me some feedback, especially constructive criticism. I'm trying to refine my writing style, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions or comments anyone has to make. Thanks.