The hardest part of this chapter was trying to make Rufus likable but bratty and spoiled at the same time. Not. Easy. Anyhow, I've taken some liberties with the appearance of the Ravens. I needed them to be a bit creepier. So the canon Ravens will be there, but they've brought along some spooky friends. Raven 2.0s you might call them.
EDIT: Reuploaded 'cause the site deleted my lines. .
BC Turks:
Anya – Gun
Marcus – Katana
Kupono – Two Guns
Luthais – Legendary Turk
Warnings: Violence, Gore, Cussing, and bratty Rufus.
Of Tears And Blood
Chapter 1 – Mistakes
Corel, May 8, 1993
The sleek, black sedan clunked and bounced over the desert plateau, jerking sideways as its tires attempted to stay straight on the jagged rocks and uneven terrain. The car's belly scraped on the ground, making a rather unpleasant noise, and its driver was very glad he'd left his Lamborghini back at home.
The near-complete reactor was in sight, and the driver sighed. He hated having to come out all this way to talk to the useless idiots who worked for him. Especially when he knew the Turks would be watching. He was risking a lot. Hence the ridiculous cloak he'd worn to disguise himself. He felt like a moron, or some sort of Goth teenager on his way to a concert. Gods, the things he did to be President.
Blue eyes scanned the area for signs of Turk activity. Nothing on the plateau, nothing near the reactor. There was a shape up on the butte that could be a helicopter, but then again, was just as likely a Diceratops. Damned things were everywhere near Corel.
The AC just wasn't enough either, and the car was getting way too hot for his liking. Call him pampered, but he was used to climate control.
With a final rumble the car slowed to a halt next to the reactor. Finally, some shade. The driver glanced up at the imposing structure. He supposed that destroying it would make a statement, but not one nearly so grand as he wanted. He guessed it was a start.
"Cissnei, report."
"I've got movement all over the place. Most of it civilian. But I've identified three major AVALANCHE leaders and at least a dozen Ravens. I think they're a new batch. They're a little more gruesome…"
"And their numbers?"
"Can't be more than a dozen humans, sir, but I can't be sure about the Ravens."
"Alright, report back if you see anything else."
"Yes, sir."
Cissnei slipped her PHS back in her pocket, returning her gaze to her binoculars, through which she had a bead on the entrance of the almost finished Mako reactor. The blazing Corel sun beat down on the redhead where she lay on her stomach in the dust. From her vantage point—at the edge of a butte roughly a kilometer from the reactor itself—she could see everything that went on around the site. She'd seen AVALANCHE enter; seen the Ravens set up a perimeter. That had been two hours ago. There'd been nothing since, except for the black, unmarked car that had pulled up nearby. No emblems, but Cissnei recognized a Shinra company vehicle when she saw one. No one had exited the sedan, but the Turk kept a close eye on it. If Shinra personnel had been scheduled to be here, the Turks would have known. It was too suspicious to ignore.
Just as she turned the binoculars back toward the reactor, movement caught Cissnei's eye. Snapping back to the car she watched as a figure emerged. A long, black coat concealed most of the body, which she guessed was male by the way it moved. All she could see were a pair of black shoes and the bottom two inches of a pair of pure white slacks.
Cissnei retrieved her PHS. "Cissnei to Tseng. I've got something."
"What is it?" Tseng's slightly accented voice asked.
"Guy just got outta the car. I can't see who he is; he's wearing a big hooded coat. He's definitely in on this."
"Is he headed for the reactor?"
"Yup." Cissnei followed the man with her binoculars. There was something familiar about the way he moved, so she added: "Be careful. It might be someone we know."
"Roger."
The inside of the reactor was a tense bustle of activity. AVALANCHE moved quickly. They knew the Turks were onto them, and didn't waste time as they planted the charges.
The reactor wasn't finished yet, but the ozone charge of Mako already hung heavy in the air. It burned in the lungs of the hard-working men and women and prickled on their skin. Unearthly green light pulsed and glowed amidst the railings and walkways, casting a sickly pallor on everyone's faces.
With the slightest of rackets, despite the hivelike nature of the work, shaped and demolition charges were affixed to support columns and power lines. Pumps, valves, pipes, control panels—everything was tagged with a small destructive device. When AVALANCHE was finished with the Corel Mako reactor there would be nothing but a pile of twisted metal and a crater of glassed earth.
Elfé watched with mild interest as the veritable army went about its work. She knew this had to be done, but she couldn't help but wonder what the consequences for Corel's citizens would be. Fuhito didn't seem to care. He never did. Shears never said anything, but Elfé knew he didn't approve of Fuhito's methods. Robbing people had been one thing, but killing them was another. Especially when they were the very people that AVALANCHE was supposed to free—to protect.
Suppressing a cough, her head swimming with dizziness, Elfé watched as the two twisted, dark shapes at the entrance bristled. Their clawed hands flexed in anticipation; black feathers ruffling up along their spines. Elfé heard the clang of boots on the reactor steps before the Ravens screamed; a haunting, unnatural sound.
"We've got company," a voice called from above her and a svelte, ginger-haired form dropped down beside her. Elfé glanced over at the woman—Tess—blue meeting hazel questioningly.
"A Turk?"
"Don't think so," Tess replied, her hands resting warily, yet confidently, on the hilts of her twin dueling knives.
"Have Shears and the others on standby."
"Yes, ma'am."
Tess obediently bounced away, tapping people and passing orders as she went. She knew the routine. Elfé remained where she was, watching the entrance and the abominations that were the Ravens.
He watched the Ravens carefully as he ascended the reactor steps. He knew what the beasts were capable of. He'd seen them rip a man to pieces without hesitation, and wasn't exactly keen to become the next target of their inhuman temper. Two pairs of red eyes watched his every motion and he noticed them tense, feathers bristling. These two were former SOLDIERs if he wasn't mistaken. That meant extra trouble if he crossed them.
Despite the blood-curdling guardians, the cloaked man ascended the reactor's metal-grate steps. His shoes clanged but he was otherwise silent in his motions. No reason to provoke the beasts. These ones were from the new batch. While their predecessors had been vicious enough, these ones were a whole new breed. Everything human in them was gone. It had initially happened by accident—a strange reaction between Fuhito's process and the Jenova cells in the SOLDIERs. But the scientist had quickly discovered that these accidents were even more powerful, bloodthirsty, and receptive to proper influence. Now he was manufacturing them on purpose.
At least they actually looked like their namesakes.
He approached the entrance carefully, keeping his hands in clear view, and went to speak. Before a single word could leave his mouth, however, an unearthly screeching noise split his head. One of the Ravens let off what he supposed was a warning cry, its entire body tensing in anticipation of combat. Hooked black claws clicked together; razor sharp beaks snapping. The man could see the rows of serrated teeth that betrayed their formally mammalian nature, but couldn't see any trace of the men they'd once been. Despite his refusal to acknowledge emotion, the man felt a chill run down his spine. What had their names been? Jareth and Sayid? Both Second Classes, if memory served.
The man stopped, trying as best he could to keep his posture from being aggressive. "Come now, you two. You've seen me before. You know me."
The one that had been Jareth snarled, red eyes fixing on where a pale, unmarred throat was visible beneath the hood. The man sighed. "Really? Are your avian memories so short? Stop this silliness. I need to get inside before the Turks figure out who I am."
His tone had taken on an icy chill and the Ravens clearly didn't like it. Twin howls echoed into the distance and the creatures advanced on him.
"Stand down!" a commanding female voice ordered; tone like the crack of a whip.
The two Ravens hunched in submission and a slender figure emerged into the feeble red light of sunset. She was dressed in khaki and light, metal armour, a Kalmish sash at her hip, a white cape draped over her shoulders. Elfé. Her elegant head cocked to the side as she placed a hand on her hip. Right above her sheathed katana, the man noticed.
"I'm honestly surprised," Elfé said with a chuckle. "I didn't think you'd have the balls to show yourself here. Not with your Turks on the prowl."
"You underestimate me, Elfé," the man replied, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I wanted to see that my funding has been used well. If I make it past your guards, that is."
Elfé's smile wasn't the sycophantic, adoring grin he was accustomed to seeing on people when they looked at him, but it was good enough. "Come on in, Rufus."
Carefully sidestepping the snarling Ravens, Rufus trailed Elfé into the Corel reactor, waiting until he was within the shadowed structure to throw off the heavy cloak that had concealed his identity from the Turks who were watching. As the two made their way across the walkway of the entry level, Rufus carefully straightened his hair and clothes, brushing non-existent dirt off the perfect white of his suit.
"So?" Elfé prodded. "Well spent?"
Rufus surveyed the hustle and bustle idly, noting the placement of the chirping and beeping charges. "Demolition charges?"
"Absolutely."
Rufus inwardly sighed. He wasn't paying these people to blow up reactors. He was paying them to kill his father. Amateurs.
"Placement is good. You could probably use being closer to the main controls, but I suppose you're not looking to destroy the whole town." Rufus gave a cocky half-smile to Elfé. "Although, piss off my father enough and he might just do that himself."
"I'm hoping we can prevent that."
Rufus smiled. Oh, how perfect that would be. Kill two birds with one stone. Be rid of father and the damned whiny miners.
"That must be our security leak."
"That's what I was thinking, sir. No way AVALANCHE would let a Shinra employee in otherwise." Cissnei dropped her binoculars down. "They're packing up, sir. Recommend we infiltrate and apprehend the traitor."
"That's exactly what I'm doing. Anya, Reno, and Rude are already moving in. Meet us down here."
"You got it."
Cissnei clipped her PHS shut and stuffed it into her pocket. With a last glance at the entrance and the surrounding desert, the young Turk shuffled away from the ledge and toward the large, squat helicopter behind her. Her gaze fixed on the figure standing next to its hull.
The other Turk was tall and slender, with broad shoulders and longish black hair. His face was marred by a long, jagged scar. Glasses obscured his blue eyes; a katana sheathed at his back.
"Marcus. We're movin' in."
"Elfé, the Turks are on the move."
Both Elfé and Rufus looked up at where a scruffy brunette leaned over the railing. Between the khaki and the camouflage bandana he looked like a bandit. Hell, maybe that's what he is, Rufus mused.
"How many?" Elfé asked, but Rufus interrupted her.
"Do any of them have long, dark hair?"
The man—Shears—frowned in confusion. "Yeah. Why?"
Rufus smirked wickedly. "Then it's not a problem. Conceal yourselves and leave it to me." The blond VP could tell that Elfé was suspicious. Her blue eyes were narrowed and studied him perhaps too closely. "Trust me."
Her gaze only grew more scrutinizing. Rufus knew that the woman knew better than to trust him. She was far too intelligent to be that naïve. But nonetheless, she nodded.
"Everyone out. Fuhito, Shears, take a few men and wait on the upper floor. I'll join you momentarily."
As the others turned and scrambled, Rufus glanced at Elfé in mock offense. "What, you don't trust me?"
"For the record," Elfé replied, taking a bold step forward. "I don't." She fixed Rufus with a piercing glare. "Ever since you approached me I've been waiting for you to double-cross us."
"Why would I do that?" There was no mistaking the venom in the blond's voice. His eyes took on a dangerous glint, and his smirk widened.
"Because you're a Shinra."
Rufus felt his brow furrow and a dark anger twisted in his gut. He forced it down. He couldn't let her see that she'd gotten to him. "Are you saying I'm like my father?"
Elfé smiled. "Perhaps. But regardless…" Her fingers brushed the ebony katana at her hip. "If you betray us, or even try, I will kill you."
"I'll keep that in mind," Rufus casually tossed over his shoulder as he walked back toward the entrance, leaving Elfé to scowl at his back. He chuckled softly to himself. Dance, puppets, dance.
His position couldn't have been more perfect. He would have AVALANCHE kill the Turks, then he would send a message to his father claiming that he had been kidnapped. Undoubtedly SOLDIERs would be sent. He'd have the SOLDIERs murder AVALANCHE, and when he was taken to his father there would be no Turks to protect the President. He would be free to kill him and take his place.
Flawless, except for one small thing. Tseng was here. Rufus wasn't sure if he could order Tseng's death—the man who had been there at his side as long as he could remember. A friend, a parent, a sibling, and now a guardian. How cold would he have to be to kill him? And would he be able to live with it?
Of course you will. Don't be silly. He's just a Turk. Dependable yet expendable.
Rufus took a deep breath and plastered his smirk back in place. He was the future President of Shinra. He wanted to look the part.
His eyes fixed on the entrance, and as he noticed that the Ravens were absent he heard the sharp report of gunfire. Cracks, snaps, screams of unearthly rage and the unmistakable sizzle and pop of a magrod echoed from beyond the doorway. With the accompanying creative cursing to go with it, Rufus was able to identify at least one of the Turks with Tseng. Reno; that street rat with attitude who had only recently been promoted into the Turks senior ranks.
Rufus smiled. Too bad the boy wouldn't get to enjoy his new rank for much longer.
Tseng heard the last Raven's neck snap and released its mutated head from his hands, stepping away from the body.
"That's the last of them, sir," Cissnei called.
"Good. Everyone inside before more show up. They obviously know we're here." Four heads nodded in assent. Reno and Anya led the way, weapons drawn. Rude, Cissnei, and Marcus were hot on their heels. Tseng took one last wary glance around, scanning the area for signs of an ambush, before following his subordinates up the steps and into the reactor.
It took the Turk's slanted brown eyes a moment to adjust to the near darkness inside the structure. "Report," he hoarsely demanded, keeping his voice low lest it echo.
"Looks like nobody's home," Anya replied.
"Cissnei, Marcus," Tseng called, keeping his senses tuned to their surroundings. "Head up to the next level. Scout things out for us."
"Yes, sir." The redhead and her partner darted off into the Mako gloom. They'd all studied the plans for the reactor and knew its structure by heart. The two Turks knew where to find the ladder.
They were gone only a moment when Tseng heard footsteps. Reno, Rude, and Anya heard it too and tensed. The steps grew closer and Tseng heard Anya gasp.
"You're…!" She paused, and out of the gloom Tseng made out the silhouette of a man. At first he paused where the light only illuminated his clothes—but for Tseng, that was enough. He knew who it was even before Anya's shocked voice finished.
"Rufus…"
Rufus Shinra stepped fully into the light, his smirk rather sinister in the fading daylight. Blue-grey eyes focused on each of them in turn, but lingered on Tseng the longest. The Wutaian felt his gut twist in worry. What was going on…?
"So you got through all those bully boys outside, did you? I should expect no less from the Turks. You've all caused me enough problems, after all."
Before Tseng could fully appreciate the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Anya spoke up again.
"What are you doing here?"
"AVALANCHE has gone too far."
"Rufus…?" Tseng questioned. He swallowed as the youth's eyes returned to him. Gods, it was him. He was the one who'd been doling out information to AVALANCHE. Without saying a word, Rufus had practically told him everything. The boy he'd spent his own childhood raising was the leak… was a traitor. A traitor to his own father. Though, considering…
"Why?" Reno almost whined.
"Are you…?" Rude breathed, realization dawning on his usually stoic face.
"Sir… What's going on?"
Some small part of Rufus cringed at the look of uncertainty on Tseng's face. There was even fear in his expression; something Rufus had rarely seen on the Wutaian. He couldn't do it… not Tseng… No. He had to. This was his chance.
The blond opened his mouth, about to issue the order to the AVALANCHE members he knew were listening, but he was cut off. Footsteps clanged up the metal grate steps outside and a commanding male voice shouted: "Everybody! Capture the Vice President!"
What? Rufus thought. Dammit! Who the hell…?
"Veld!"
Both Reno and Rude opened their mouths, but Veld bypassed them and paused at Tseng's side. "Vice President Shinra has been controlling AVALANCHE…"
"Rufus is the leak?" Reno exclaimed.
Rufus' mind reeled. If Veld knew, then that meant his father knew. He needed a way out of this, and fast. So much for Plan A. It was time to improvise.
Veld glanced briefly at him. "These are orders directly from the President: Capture Vice President Rufus Shinra and bring him back to headquarters where he will be confined."
While the Turks stared, dumbfounded, Rufus took his chance. Steely eyes narrowed in challenge. He refused to let his smirk disappear. "Hmph. Veld, have you forgotten the situation here?"
A cold laugh followed his words and Rufus noticed the Turks stiffen. They'd probably all had the same thought he'd had. Sounds like Hojo.
"Above us," Anya warned.
"That is correct," a chilly wheeze of a voice called from the shadows above them. "We are occupying this reactor."
"Fuhito…" Reno growled.
"So you are alive," Anya snapped.
Veld held out a hand in warning. The Turks knew it was the signal to back off.
Rufus smiled, but found himself unable to look Tseng in the eye as he spoke. "It looks like the tables have turned. Fuhito, kill them." He noticed Tseng lean to Veld to whisper: "We're completely surrounded."
"Welcome to the frying pan, kids," Reno remarked bitterly.
"I didn't authorize the occupation of this reactor. AVALANCHE has broken our agreement. Normally I would be forced to take harsh action, but now that you're here," Rufus' smirk grew wider as he locked Veld's gaze. "Things have changed." Rufus turned to Fuhito with a manipulative smile. "If you kill the Turks, I'll consider the matter dropped."
Rufus steeled himself for the betrayal he knew he would see in Tseng's eyes as he turned to face his former guardians. Veld's hand was ready and waiting on the butt of his pistol; Anya's and Tseng's clutched around their drawn weapons. Reno's thumb drifted to the activation switch on his EMR as Rufus watched. He smiled as Fuhito laughed again, but the triumph was wiped from his face as the scientist spoke.
"I'm afraid I shall have to refuse."
Had the situation not been so dire, Tseng would have laughed at the almost unnoticeable little twitch in Rufus' right eye. The boy's jaw clenched and he scowled. It was the same look that had once heralded one of the blond's infamous temper tantrums. Now it no doubt signaled the beginning of something darker.
"What?" Rufus snapped, his tone icy, but his composure holding. "So you would betray me? I'll have to cut off your financial support."
"Financial support, you say?" Fuhito replied tauntingly. "We won't be needing any of it anymore. We've organized a new division."
"What?" Now Rufus was spluttering, his face incredulous. His posture resembled that of an animal backed into a corner.
"There would be no merit in keeping our agreement with you. You are no longer needed." Fuhito smiled down at Rufus in a manner far too reminiscent of Hojo for anyone's comfort. The green light of Mako lit him in a sickly glow, shadowing his eyes until he appeared more as a skull than anything else.
"What have I done…?" Rufus whispered, barely audible over the creak and groan of machinery. Tseng swallowed and resisted the urge to approach him.
"Regrets? Now?" Fuhito let out a raucous laugh, his hands gripping the railing like a bird's talons. "That is precisely why you will never surpass your father," he sneered.
Rufus' lost expression hardened at the proclamation and he wheeled around to scowl up at the half-mad scientist. "Excuse me?"
"All right, everyone. Kill them," Fuhito ordered, and the scrape of talons and rustle of feathers sounded in the shadows. Growls, barks, and soft, warbling chuckles grew closer. Some of the sounds were distinctly human, while others just sounded like the calls of massive birds. "I hope you enjoy this. They're a new batch. A little J-substance really does wonders."
"All of you! Protect the Vice President!" Veld roared, rushing forward to flank Rufus, Tseng hot on his heels. Anya, Reno, and Rude darted to join them, barely dodging the raking claws of a particularly large and barely humanoid Raven.
Rufus felt Tseng's back hit his own and heard the clack-clack of his pistol being cocked. Almost immediately the knot in his gut that Fuhito had so successfully tied began to unravel. Tseng's warmth was more reassuring than he wanted to admit. To think he'd almost killed him…
"You've done a magnificent job, Veld," Rufus said, trying to sound as honest and innocent as possible. Gods, weaseling his way out of this was going to be fun.
"That's our boss," Reno called above the screams of several avian monsters.
"Don't get cocky, Reno," Tseng snapped, downing one Raven as it made a leap for Rude. The tall, bald man's focus didn't waver for a second as he shot another when it spread its newly acquired wings and attempted flight.
"More of them are coming," he remarked, jerking his head toward where jagged black shapes were creeping down the walls and out of nooks and crannies.
Three loud barks from Veld's gun later and three of the largest Ravens dropped, bulletholes between their milky, pupiless eyes.
Rufus felt around in his coat for the pistol he had with him. Damn it, why did you leave your shotgun in the car? He refused to admit that his hands were shaking as he cocked and fired. A thin, frail Raven fell, a bullet in its brain.
"Don't let them near the Vice President!" Veld roared. "Guard him and make for the exit!"
"Roger," Anya hoarsely replied, almost cut off by Reno's "You got it."
"Tseng, take point."
"Yes, sir."
Rufus felt Tseng tense like a cat ready to spring. One strong calloused hand reached around to pat the blond's arm.
"Come on, sir. Stay close."
Rufus wordlessly nodded; firing again as a mostly-human Raven launched itself forward. The horror of it was that he recognized it. Her name had been Ziva. She'd been Fuhito's assistant for a few weeks. Now she was a hunched, bloodthirsty animal; her skin scarred and rough, feathers sprouting from her shoulders, arms and along her spine. The tattered remains of her boots no longer hid the hooked claws growing from her rapidly mutating feet.
The bullet through her forehead was the least he could do. And just when did you start thinking like that?
Over the roar of gunfire and the howls and wails of the monstrous creatures, Rufus heard a voice. Its owner was almost directly above them, pounding down the metal grate walkway.
"Preparations are complete." It was Shears.
"We can blow the place any time!" Fuhito turned to look up at the owner of the second voice, who was beginning to frown in confusion. Fierce blue eyes rounded on Fuhito with all the rage of a hurricane. "What the hell are you doing? Rufus is with us! I gave you an order to protect him!"
Next to Rufus, Veld whirled around, his eyes wild with a mix of confusion, surprise, and joy. "That voice… Gods, it can't be." He looked up at Elfé as she shouted at Fuhito. "She sounds just like her mother… Felicia?" The last word was a shout that carried above the sound of battle.
Rufus watched Elfé's head snap around, her eyes fixing on Veld like a hawk and going wide.
"You survived! How did you escape?" Veld called out, the Ravens forgotten.
"What's he talking about?" Rufus demanded, nudging Tseng with his elbow. Tseng shrugged, putting another round into a Raven that was stubbornly advancing despite its blown out kneecap.
Elfé stared at Veld a moment, her mouth working silently before her eyes flickered with recognition. "Dad…?"
A bright flash temporarily blinded them as Elfé collapsed, her eyes fluttering shut.
"Dammit! Not again!" Shears cursed, rushing to the fallen woman's side. "Tess, Kiros! Get her out of here!"
Fuhito watched his fellows work, a smile growing on his features. "With this, all preparations are in order. It looks as if the return of her memories was the key." He turned, leering down at the Turks and meeting Rufus' venomous gaze. "Those that would hurt the Planet. All of you worthless beings, return to the Planet that you may heal her anew!"
The scientist fled with a mad laugh, following the two who carried Elfé. Veld shot down several more Ravens, turning back in time to see Elfé and the others disappear.
"Felicia!" he roared.
"That's his daughter?" Anya questioned, glancing at Tseng.
"She just had to be AVALANCHE's leader! This is bullshit…" Reno grumbled, tossing an empty magazine over the edge of the walkway and slamming another home.
"Last mag!" Rude called from the side.
"Let's move! Get to the exit!" Veld snapped, looking back again before jogging to Tseng's side.
"Sir!" Tseng said, "Elfé—go after Felicia!"
"I can't do that," Veld replied, firing his last rounds.
Rufus backed along the walkway, staying pressed against Tseng the whole way. He nearly fumbled as he slid a new magazine into his pistol, his heart hammering in his chest. He'd never been in such a situation before.
He glanced behind him, over Tseng's shoulder to where Anya and Rude had already slipped outside and were covering their exit. All it would take were a few more steps…
Reno's wild red head popped into view, his crackling magrod dripping with purplish blood. "Go on Boss! If you don't hurry you're gonna lose sight of her!"
"Now isn't the time for this, Reno!" Veld tossed down his empty pistol, withdrawing a magrod from his jacket and activating it. "Go!"
Tseng's hand closed around Rufus' upper arm and dragged him out into the searing desert heat. Reno was right behind them.
As Veld followed he barked into his radio: "Cissnei, Marcus, get out of there!"
The response was broken up and full of static, interspersed with gunfire and the dying shrieks of Ravens.
"We're trying, sir… 's too many! Just go… try to catch up."
The radio cut out in a wail of interference and Veld tossed it aside. "I'll go get them, sir," Anya offered, sliding her last magazine into her pistol. "Get the Vice President to safety."
Veld studied the blond carefully and nodded. "Go."
Anya smiled and took off at a run. Reno and Rude gulped as she vanished into the reactor and gunshots met their ears.
Rufus glanced around, hoping that perhaps there would be a chance for escape while the Turks were distracted, but no such luck. There was a large black SUV waiting a little ways away, but another Turk was at the wheel.
Tseng must have noticed him looking because when Rufus' gaze returned to his captors the Wutaian was glaring at him, betrayal in his eyes.
"Go after her, yo!"
"I'm a Turk. I have a duty…!"
Ignoring Reno's whiny "But…!" Veld turned to Tseng. "Get the Vice President in the car."
"Yes, sir."
Before Rufus could say anything in protest, Tseng had a hold of his arm again and was hauling him toward the SUV. Rufus fumed but decided against arguing. Tseng didn't usually get angry, and when he did it was an unfortunate thing indeed to be the cause of that anger. So he went along with the Turk wordlessly, letting himself be steered around the vehicle.
Tseng opened the back door and just about threw Rufus inside. "Stay here," he ordered, and Rufus gulped. He pulled his legs inside just as the door slammed shut. Silence fell heavily around him for a moment before a voice sounded from up front.
"Pissed him off, did 'ja?"
Rufus refused to answer, even when the young Turk looked back, a single grey eye visible beyond a plait of black hair.
"Silent treatment, huh? Oh well."
"Sir, may I have a word?"
Veld turned, finding himself face-to-face with Tseng, his brown eyes hollow with an emotion Veld couldn't quite decipher.
"Of course."
He followed the young Wutaian off to the side, out of earshot of the other Turks. Tseng's brow was furrowed, and he almost looked afraid. His eyes flicked briefly to the SUV where Rufus waited impatiently.
"What will be done with him, sir?" he asked. "When we return to Midgar."
Veld sighed. "I doubt the President will enforce the usual penalty. Rufus is his only son."
"And if he does?" Yes, it was definitely worry in Tseng's voice. "I can't… What should I do?"
Veld hadn't seen such fear in the other man's face since he was a boy. He looked helpless.
"Well, first, answer this. What should I do? About the situation with Felicia?"
Tseng considered. "You should do what you feel is right."
"Then take your own advice. Should it come to it, do what you feel is right." Veld looked over his shoulder at the retreating AVALANCHE trucks. When he turned back he was smiling.
"Everyone! Take the Vice President back to headquarters safely."
"Yes, sir," Tseng replied.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he heard a car door slam.
"You think you can leave the Turks alive? Impossible." Rufus marched toward the four Turks. "Death is the only way to leave the Turks. You should know that better than anyone else."
Veld sighed in exasperation, and Tseng watched his eyes glint dangerously, the way they usually did during an interrogation.
"Sir, with all due respect, the Turks know everything you've been up to. It is, however, top secret. Not even the executive body knows about your escapades. If, however, they were to find out…" Veld left the sentence hanging and let Rufus imagine the consequences for himself. The blond was silent. When he said nothing, Veld continued. "So this is my final act as Director. The President has asked me to relay this message to you: While you are in confinement, think carefully about what you have done."
Rufus crossed his arms defiantly and stewed. It was a disgrace, he thought. This wasn't the sort of treatment he was supposed to receive as the only Shinra heir.
Veld turned to Tseng. "I wouldn't worry too much, Tseng. The President has always overlooked Rufus' indiscretions. I'm sure this time will be no different. There is no parent who doesn't desire the happiness of their children." He glanced ruefully around, nodding at Reno and Rude and giving a brief wave to Kupono, where he watched from the SUV. "The rest is up to you, Tseng."
"Yes, sir…"
"The Turks are in your hands now. Take care of them."
Rufus gulped. He refused to acknowledge that little part of himself that envied Elfé—having a father who would put his life on the line just to be with her. His father had never been like that. Only his mother…no. Don't think about that.
He couldn't help his voice softening when he spoke. "You should all get moving. Fuhito plans to blow this place up."
"You mean, the whole reactor?" Reno spluttered, his blue eyes widening behind his scarlet hair.
"I gave him the detonator," Rufus admitted.
Tseng looked to the reactor and back to the SUV, silently calculating the distance and estimating the blast radius. He gestured to the jet-black vehicle. "Sir, this way."
Anya tossed the empty pistol aside the second she heard the click. What had Reno called it? Dead Man's Click?
Her magrod was in her hands before even the closest Raven had had a chance to move. The wet crack of its skull was deeply satisfying, but it was unnerving to fight the unnatural monsters in such close quarters.
Evaluate, prioritize, neutralize… those were the three tenants of being a Turk. Evaluate the situation, prioritize the threats, and neutralize them. Right now it was easy. The closer the Raven, the sooner it died.
When the seemingly endless crowd all lay on the grating dead, Anya tapped the radio bud in her ear. "Cissnei, Marcus, do you read?"
There was a long pause before Cissnei's voice answered. "Yeah. We read you. Are you clear?"
"Veld and the others are clear. I came back inside to get you out. Can you get to the entrance level?"
Another pause. "Negative. There's too many hostiles in the area."
"There's an emergency exit—"
"I know. We're heading for it, but it's slow going."
"I'm on my way."
This time it was Marcus' voice that greeted her. "Negative, negative. Get out of here. We have no idea when this place'll blow!"
"Marcus, I'm coming up. Hang tight. Over."
An exasperated sigh was the last thing she heard before she shut the radio off and followed the walkway hugging the wall of the reactor. She winced, glancing at the shiny black orbs clamped to the walls every few feet or so. Shinra demolition charges. Shit, this could get ugly.
She managed to make it to the ladder that led to the second level unmolested. But she could hear the Ravens above; could hear their shrieking and howling and the snap and crack of bone being sliced. A glint of reflected light caught her eye and she snapped around to look.
Two levels above her she could see Cissnei and Marcus, shuriken and katana swinging and dripping dark blood. She grabbed a rung on the ladder, only to feel a gun pressed to her spine, right between her shoulder blades.
"I thought you Turks were always fully aware of your surroundings…"
"What's keeping them…?" Tseng muttered, pacing as he watched the reactor. Veld had already left, and Rude was waiting in the car with Kupono. That left Reno the only one to talk to… not exactly his first choice.
The AVALANCHE trucks were gone; as was the black sedan that Veld had borrowed to pursue them. All that was visible on the desert plateau was the SUV and a barely noticeable helicopter—a mere glint in the sun—waiting on the ledge to the east. In the hot, dusty wind nothing moved.
"You're wasting your time," Rufus' voice called through the open window of the increasingly dusty vehicle. "They're probably already dead. Why don't we just get the hell out of here?"
"Wait a little longer, boss," Reno quietly urged. "They'll come out."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the reactor behind them exploded into a growling fireball.
Rufus watched the flames rise into the air, half awestruck and half repulsed. Gods… there'd been three people in there.
Reno and Tseng were frozen a moment before Reno howled, "Anya!"
Rufus felt the blast wave hit him—a concussive thump in his chest. He was unlatching the SUV's door before he'd even thought about it, and he half-noticed Kupono and Rude doing the same. Reno was already halfway to the smoking wreck.
"Anya, Cissnei, Marcus, does anyone read?" Tseng's eyes didn't once leave the wreckage as he tried his radio. "I repeat, does anyone read me? This is Tseng."
Nothing but silence and static came over the line as secondary explosions brought down the south wall of the reactor complex. The construction crane beside it followed it down.
"Could anyone have survived that?" Rufus softly asked, stopping at Tseng's side.
"There's no way…" Rude began.
"I'm not taking the chance," Tseng replied. "Kupono, radio HQ. Call for a Search and Rescue team. Rude, go get the chopper."
"Yes, sir," both men replied, dashing to their tasks—Rude toward the distant butte and Kupono to the idling SUV.
Rufus glanced over at the burning reactor. "Is there anything I—?"
"No." Tseng didn't even look at him as he spoke. "You've done enough."
Her head throbbed. At first that was all she was aware of. It was quiet, but she was certain that was because of the explosion. All she could hear was a high-pitched ringing and everything else was muffled, like there were cotton balls in her ears.
Her lungs were burning and her throat was scratchy, like she'd swallowed glass. She coughed, and then realized she recognized the sensation. She was breathing in smoke.
Her chest felt tight and her throat tried to seal against it, but she forced it to remain open. Then she tried to open her eyes. With the movement she became aware of the warm wetness on her face. She brought her hand up to wipe it away and it came away smeared with red. Blood.
Blue eyes swept her immediate surroundings… or at least as best they could without her moving her head. There didn't seem to be any threats. What was left of the walkway she had been standing on was still securely bolted to the reactor wall above her. There were no structural faults nearby. Nothing appeared close to falling, and there were no Ravens.
Most important of all, there didn't seem to be any sign of that AVALANCHE member who'd had a gun to her back.
Cautiously, Anya wiggled her fingers and then her toes. Everything seemed in order. She could feel them. Hopefully that meant that the bleeding on her head was her worst injury.
Time for the leap of faith, she thought, and pushed herself onto her side.
Sharp pain erupted on the side of her head and her left thigh, and hot blood soaked into her black slacks. A quick glance over and she found a deep gash; clean cut but thankfully clear of her artery.
"Shit," she cursed, reaching for her radio bud only to find her ear empty of it. With a frustrated noise, she dug into her pocket, withdrawing her med kit and her PHS. She crossed her fingers and flipped it open. Just as she was reading 'no signal', uneven footsteps sounded on the grate walkway and a voice spoke.
"It's no use. Where do you think we are? There's no way you'll get a signal this far down."
Anya whirled around, snatching her magrod from the rubble near her head and pointing it at the stocky, dark-haired man before her. "Shears!"
"You don't know a thing about this place, do you?" Shears sounded almost amused.
"And you do?"
Shears shrugged with a wince. "Rufus gave us the blueprints."
Anya took mental stock of her situation. Shears had a pistol leveled at her, his finger only resting on the trigger, not gripping it. She knew she only had one materia. Fira. If she could catch him off guard then it would serve her well, but…
"The you'll have to guide me out." Anya practically laughed at the absurdity of it. There was no way…
"Bossy one, aren't you?" Shears replied incredulously. His eyebrows went up in a bemused expression. "I didn't come here to help you. I came here to finish you off." He raised the pistol higher, but as his arm straightened his breath caught and pain flickered across his face.
Anya quickly scanned his body. If he was hurt then she could use that to her advantage.
"What?" Shears demanded.
"You're hurt."
"So are you, sweetheart."
"Well, thanks Captain Obvious. You're very observant." She cursed the way her voice shook. "I knew that."
He seemed to consider for a moment before sighing and lowering his gun. "Let me wrap that."
Anya frowned in confusion, her magrod still held in an iron grip. "Why would you do that?"
Shears' pistol was slipped back in its holster without hesitation. "Because, it would be against my honour to kill an enemy who couldn't defend herself."
Anya gulped. How many times had she done such a thing? She'd never thought about anything like honour. She was loath to trust the man. He was AVALANCHE after all. But what choice did she have? She wouldn't make it out of the reactor alone. Not with her head wound.
"How do I know you won't kill me…?"
"You have my word." At her skeptical frown, he laughed. "I know. To someone in Shinra that wouldn't mean very much. But trust me. For someone like me, it means a great deal. I wouldn't give it away so lightly."
Anya gulped. "Okay. Go ahead."
The man knelt, taking the dressing from the kit and unwinding it. He popped the cap of the bottle of peroxide and poured it over the gash, steadying her as she flinched.
"So, you already know who I am, obviously," he said, pressing the padded dressing to the wound and wrapping it around her bloodied thigh. "But I'm afraid I don't know your name."
"Anya," she replied, shaking blonde strands from her face.
"Now, I'm guessing by the lack of a surname that that's just a codename."
Anya watched Shears. She was automatically suspicious of him for looking for that kind of information, but he didn't look like he was interrogating her. By all appearances he was simply making small talk. And Anya had always been good at reading people. So she took a chance.
"Truth be told, it is my real name. I just dropped the surname when I joined the Turks."
Shears looked surprised as he tied the first viciously tight knot.
"What about you?" She asked. "Shears you're real name?"
"No." The man laughed. "It's something I cooked up when I was a bandit. Figured it sounded cool."
He didn't offer up his real name, so Anya didn't ask. Instead she changed the subject to something more comfortable, and a damn sight less personal.
"So what are you still doing here?" she asked, wincing. "I thought that AVALANCHE had bugged out?" Blue eyes caught a flash of pain and bitterness cross his face before he replied.
"They did. Fuhito left me behind to die."
"Oh."
"Pushed me down here for his Ravens." With a final tug, Shears secured the dressing. "I reckon he wants me out of the way."
"Out of the way of what?" Anya asked cautiously as the man eased her to her feet. Before he could answer they heard the scrape of claws and a scream over the growl of the flames above them.
Nearly three-dozen hollow thumps sounded in Cissnei's ears a split second before everything was drowned in an all-consuming roar. Flames and debris blossomed out from the walls, and the floor beneath her feet began to give way.
Concrete and steel rained down and then she was falling. She never got a chance to even call out to Marcus before she found herself plummeting. A sickening zero-gee feeling struck her stomach as a massive ball of fire closed above her. Part of her was thankful she was falling.
It seemed an eternity before the concrete platform of the lowest floor loomed up out of the murky Mako fog. Her brain had only just registered it when she slammed down onto it. She felt a spine-chilling crack and howled as her world dissolved into searing pain. Static danced in her vision and she retched.
When she'd somewhat regained her composure, and could focus on something other than the agony, Cissnei found herself curled on the debris-strewn floor of the reactor's lowest level. Her right leg was limp; jagged, broken bone jutting from a bloody wound in her calf. Her hands shook as she tried to steady herself.
"Shit…" She gasped, her eyes watering with the force of the pain. She groped in her pocket for her PHS, hoping that with most of the reactor destroyed, she might get a signal. Alas, when she drew out the device and flipped it open, the screen read No Signal.
"Dammit!" She snarled, shoving it back into the depths of her pocket.
"Cissnei?"
The voice was weak and wavered on the syllables, but she recognized it nevertheless.
"Marcus? Where are you?"
"Over here," he replied, and Cissnei glanced to her left. Next to a pile of rubble she spotted a head of dark hair and a pale hand holding broken glasses.
Are you okay?" she asked, trying to steady her voice.
"Not really," Marcus replied, bringing his head up. Cuts and scratches marred his face; blue eyes narrowed in discomfort. "But a helluva lot better off than you."
"Well then, why don't you get over here and help me out?"
The hitch in Marcus' breath was very telling as he rolled clumsily from the rubble, leaving a trail of fresh blood. A grunt of pain left him as he hit the floor.
"Marcus?"
"I'm fine," he hissed through gritted teeth. A tiny trickle of blood dripped from his lips and down his chin.
"No, you're not."
Slowly, Marcus dragged himself to Cissnei's side, pale and wobbly and losing blood. When his eyes met hers they were hollow.
"I'm gonna have to wrap the bone or it'll get infected."
Cissnei nodded, choosing to ignore his change of subject. "I know."
Marcus pulled a dressing out of his kit, unraveling it and pressing the pad to the most ragged part of the wound. Cissnei couldn't help the little wavery cry of pain from escaping her throat.
"I'm sorry," Marcus whispered as he began to wrap the bandage around her leg. Stomach-twisting pain arched along every nerve as cracked bone shifted. "It's not too bad," the Gongagan Turk remarked. "You're not bleeding all that badly and it looks like a relatively clean break."
"Wrap it tight, Marcus. We've still gotta drag our asses outta here."
"Can't get a signal?" he asked, blue eyes meeting hers.
"Nothing. I'd hoped that with the structure gone…"
Marcus yanked the bandage tight and tied it off.
"You're done."
"Thanks," she replied, a little breathlessly, the air hitching in her chest as she felt the bone shift again. "Any sign of Anya?"
Marcus shook his head. "I saw her just before the explosion, but…" He turned, wobbling back to the rubble to retrieve his katana. Cissnei could see where his shirt and blazer were soaked with blood. At this rate he wouldn't last long.
"Marc, you're bleeding real bad. Lemme—"
"I'm fine."
"Would you stop saying you're fine! If you were fine you wouldn't be bleeding through your clothes!"
Marcus winced as he lifted his katana, dragging it back with him, checking the blade as he went. He squinted, trying to focus without his glasses.
"I have to help you get out of here. I can't do anything about this right now." He gestured frustratedly at his side.
"At least swallow a bit of a potion…"
"I can't risk things healing wrong."
"For fuck's sake, Marc! You'll die!" Cissnei yelped. "What if some of the Ravens survived? You can't fight like that!"
"I have no choice." Marcus' eyes fixed on Cissnei's. "I'm a Turk. This is what we do."
"You think I don't know that?"
"No!" Marcus sighed dramatically. "I'm just saying. You should know that I have no choice."
Cissnei swallowed, watching a flicker of pain cross her partner's face. He'd only just joined the ranks of the senior Turks. Four months ago he'd only been her student, though he was still older than her. She knew she'd feel like shit if he died here in this godsforsaken wreckage.
"I'm sorry," she croaked. "Just take it easy, okay?"
"No promises," Marcus replied.
"I don't need your help!"
The last Raven fell with a sickening thud and Shears rounded on Anya.
"I don't need yours either!" Anya snapped. Her eyes narrowed fiercely, her grip tight on her magrod.
"Well then," Shears snarled. "If you're gonna go, then go already."
Anya crossed her arms defiantly. "No."
"What?"
"You're coming with me." The pretty, blonde Turk raised her chin as if she were issuing an order to a mere grunt. "This place is falling apart, and I still need you to show me around. Remember?"
Shears sighed, almost laughing. His entire posture relaxed, and he let his gun drop down to his side. She had balls; he'd give her that. "Don't let your guard down." Then, with a cheeky glint in his eye, he added: "No one would know if I killed you."
Anya's expression turned to mock innocence. "Aww. You wouldn't." Then, a split second later, she was back to a determined Turk. "Come on. We'll get out of here if I have to sign a deal with Chaos himself. That's what it means to be a Turk." Without waiting for argument, she turned toward the walkway, looking back expectantly.
Shears shook his head and followed, not quite sure why he was following the Turk, but knowing that it was what his gut was telling him to do. And he'd always trusted his gut. It'd never let him down before.
Anya waited until the AVALANCHE member passed her before letting her uncertainty show. "Rufus has betrayed us," she muttered to herself. "Shears and the Ravens have been tossed down here like pawns… What the hell is Elfé thinking?"
"Elfé is being used by Fuhito."
She hadn't been expecting a response. She'd reckoned she was quiet enough to go unheard. But she didn't let it ruffle her.
"Fuhito? The little shrimpy guy?" She didn't miss the amusement in Shears' eyes.
"His goal is to destroy all life. To return every living thing to the Planet so it can live longer."
"Is that even possible?"
"Seems like. If he uses Elfé's materia, that is."
Anya cocked an eyebrow. "Her materia?"
"Yeah." Shears gave her a half-nod. "The one in the back of her hand."
Anya thought back to the couple of encounters she'd had with the slight, yet unbelievably powerful girl. "In her hand? Is that where the glow came from?"
"Most likely. Fuhito needs it to carry out his plan."
Anya frowned. "He said something about that… something like—'With this, everything is in order.'"
"Crap."
Anya watched a myriad of emotions warring on Shears' face. Dark brown eyes filled with fear and concern. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. She figured he'd like to wrap through fingers around Fuhito's frail neck and squeeze the life from him right about now.
"We can't let that happen," Anya stated.
"No shit," Shears replied. "Who knows what will happen to Elfé if he succeeds."
"I saw her collapse…"
"She's been real sluggish," he interrupted. "It's like it's draining away her life. Fuhito's changed too." He trailed off, and his eyes grew bitter. "All I want now is to protect Elfé."
Anya nodded. "And to do that we need to get out of here. On the double."
"You…"
"I want to save Elfé too." Anya smiled at the confusion on Shears' face. "She's my boss' daughter. And I'd be neglecting my duties as a Turk if I didn't try to stop Fuhito."
Shears opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. He looked thoughtful for a moment, sighing and shrugging. "What the hell. I could use a little help."
"You're so much like Marcus. It's weird." There was affection in Anya's voice, so Shears knew it couldn't be a bad thing.
He smiled, then gestured forward. "Walkway's this way."
"What the hell is that?"
Marcus craned his head around to glance in the direction Cissnei was pointing, straining against the protest his ribs were so insistently making. "What is what?"
"That!"
"So helpful!"
"Well, put me down!" Cissnei barked, keeping her eye on the glowing blue speck as Marcus lowered her to the floor with a wince.
"Okay. What did you see?" He couldn't help sounding a bit frustrated.
"Over there. Something blue and glowing. Looks like a materia." Cissnei nodded in the direction of the light, and Marcus sighed.
Limping past a pile of jagged rubble, the Turk spotted what Cissnei had been talking about. A bright, shining, blue orb; a little smaller than a tennis ball and smooth like glass. A materia. By the colour it'd be a support materia…
"Did you find it?" the redhead called over the creak and groan of the rickety superstructure around them.
"Yeah. You were right. It's a support materia!" Carefully rising, Marcus ambled back to Cissnei, the materia in his hand. "What do you reckon it's for?"
"Fucked if I know," Cissnei replied, taking the proffered materia and rolling it between her palms. "We should get the techs back home to check it out."
"Fine by me," Marcus said, his breath catching. "So, any more shiny things or can we get out of here?"
Cissnei snickered, pocketing the materia. "Yes, we can get out of here. I shall endeavor to restrain my Shiny Thing Disorder."
Marcus smirked as he slung her arm over his shoulder and lifted her. "You know that shortens to STD?"
Cissnei blew a raspberry at him. "Yes, I'm restraining my STD. Now move it. I'm looking forward to some good doses of morphine for this."
"Is it just me, or are these things getting less and less human every time?" Anya looked down at the dead Raven; it's scaled legs splayed, sparsely feathered body limp. Its vaguely human face sported a large, gunmetal grey beak full of serrated teeth. "They certainly do look like ravens now, at least."
"Fuhito's trying to outdo SOLDIER by creating the perfect monster. The first generation Ravens just weren't good enough anymore."
"Sounds like Hojo," Anya replied. "Why didn't you try to stop him? Human experiments—"
"Shinra experiments on humans," Shears retorted.
Anya fell silent, studying the Raven's eye. It was a milky blue and shining with Mako, even in death. Around where its pupil should have been there was a black ring, just like the Genesis copies.
"Why do you work for Shinra?" Shears asked suddenly. His tone sounded genuinely curious. "I mean, you know better than most the kind of things they do… away from the public eye."
Still Anya said nothing. What was she supposed to say? She did know what they did. Assassinations, kidnappings, espionage. They'd even started a war that had very nearly turned to genocide. She thought of Wutai; the number of children she'd seen shot or gutted by a sword or bayonet.
"My parents were killed by Shinra," Shears continued in her silence. "It was only the hate I had for the company that kept me going. That's how I fell in with the thieves. I was just wandering and they took me in. Most of them were orphans too." He paused, eyes sweeping their surroundings for a moment. "Then I met Elfé. She single-handedly took down my entire gang… She was so strong… That was when I decided. I swore to myself that I would stand by her."
Wordlessly, Anya nodded. She could hear the affection in his voice. It reminded her of the way her father had once talked about her mother.
A low, deep rumble in the floor tore Anya out of her reverie. Concrete and rebar rained down around them; glass and pieces of equipment clattering amongst the detritus.
"This place is really starting to come down," she remarked.
Shears nodded, glancing cautiously around. "Come on."
Reno felt his feet slipping and sliding in the rubble, small chunks of concrete rolling down wherever he stepped. Smoke and fumes caught in his throat and he coughed.
"Anya!" he croaked, forcing his way further into the wreckage. With the entrance blocked—caved in and filled with debris—the Turk was forced to climb up a slope of broken concrete and sheet metal. His black slacks caught on exposed rebar, his hands scratched and bleeding from digging through broken glass. Footsteps behind him were the only sign of Rude's presence as the taller man kept pace with him. Tseng wasn't far behind.
"Reno…" Rude began.
"Anya!" Reno called again, scrambling up onto the lip of the slope.
"Reno, godsdammit! Calm down!" Rude snapped, seizing Reno's arm. "That ledge could give way any second—"
"She's still in there! Give me my arm! Give me my fuckin' arm, yo!" Fierce blue eyes fixed on Rude, daring him to restrain him further.
"Please, Reno. Don't get yourself killed…"
"Fuck, Rude! Let go!" Reno roared, trying and failing to wriggle free of his tall, sturdy partner's grip; only succeeding in falling on his ass as rubble slid from beneath his feet.
"We'll get her out, I promise," Rude assured the fiery redhead, pulling him to his feet as Tseng scrambled up beside them.
"Luthais is on his way with a squad of combat engineers," Tseng said as he found purchase amongst the crumbling wreckage. "They should be able to clear the entrance. But we're on the clock. The main structure is collapsing."
"How long?" Reno demanded.
"They're an hour and a half out. Coming straight from Junon." Tseng checked his watch. "Hour and twenty-five now. Hang tight."
"What if they can't wait that long?" the redhead barked.
"He's right," Rude agreed. "If they're injured."
"I know," Tseng replied. "But what do you intend to do? We don't have repelling equipment, and none of this wreckage can be trusted to hold our weight." Tseng's slanted brown eyes met Reno's. "I know you want to get in there, but we can't."
"Like fuck we can't!" Reno snapped, his voice wavering. "We have a godsdamned chopper, yo!"
"It won't fit in the reactor—!"
"Stop thinking so inside the box, man!" Reno gestured toward the reactor. "Hover overhead and lower me down on the line."
Tseng's mouth was open as if to protest, but he stopped. Instead he frowned, considering. "Rude, how long is the line?"
"Thirty-five feet," the dark-skinned man replied. "That'll reach the mid-levels of the reactor."
"You'll have to climb five levels down," Tseng warned, looking at Reno.
"Whatever, yo. Anya's down there. And so are Cissnei and Marcus. I'm going."
Tseng sighed. "Okay. Rude, fly him up there."
"What about you, sir?"
"I'm staying on the ground. I need to talk to the Vice President."
"Yes, sir."
The two younger Turks dashed down the slope, sending pipe, rebar, sheet metal, and glass tumbling down ahead of them like a bow wave. Tseng corrected his footing and peered over the edge, down into the reactor. There wasn't much left of the upper and middle levels, and what remained was falling apart. He couldn't see the lower levels through the Mako haze that obscured them.
Tseng picked up his PHS and dialed Kupono.
"Here, sir," a crackling voice answered.
"Get in touch with the chopper. Tell Luthais that Reno is going in."
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks, Kupono."
The PHS returned to his pocket, and the Wutaian began to carefully pick his way down the pile of rubble.
Rufus tapped his fingers impatiently against his thigh as he watched the jet-black helicopter hover over the smoking wreck of the reactor. Though he would never admit it, he was afraid. The penalty for treason was death and he doubted his father would spare him simply because they were father and son.
He didn't have any options for escape either. Not here, at least. There were too many Turks. He doubted he could overpower the one in the driver's seat of the SUV. He'd been one of Don Corneo's guards before he was a Turk, so he was used to having to fight off young men such as himself. And Rufus had never been trained in close-range combat. He did shotguns; mid-range distance work. If he was in close the Turks protected him. His father hadn't even let him learn to use Materia. That was what the Turks did.
Dammit! How was he supposed to get free? Junon was a veritable fortress, and good luck hijacking the chopper on the way. Not with Tseng there. Especially now that there would be two choppers.
Maybe he could slip free while they dealt with their injured. But Tseng would be expecting that… The damn Wutaian knew him too well. He'd anticipate everything. He had to think differently. Shit.
This is what you get for letting someone in! thought the part of him that was too much like his father. You trusted him, and now you have no way out!
Rufus looked out the tinted window at Tseng's lean figure as he scrambled down off the wreckage. His hair was slipping free from the ponytail, his suit and skin coated in a fine layer of dust and red sand. The wind was picking up, whipping dirt in the Turks' faces. So much so that Tseng looked as if he were shouting to his subordinates just to be heard. Black fabric snapped and whipped at their legs and arms. Did they get sandstorms in Corel? Rufus wondered. That would be a good opportunity to escape. So long as he didn't end up lost in the desert.
As he began concocting a plan of sorts, the passenger door next to him opened, dust and sand blowing in on a howling wind as a lean, powerful figure slipped into the seat. Long-fingered, elegant hands slammed the door shut, plunging the vehicle into silence.
Rufus looked up at the other's face; finding tanned skin and black hair. Chocolate eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, the Wutaian shut the window that separated their compartment from the driver's section.
"So?" Rufus grumbled. "How are you going to help me get out of this one?"
Without warning, Tseng snapped, his voice brittle as he shouted. "There is no getting out of this! Your father already knows! No amount of weaseling is going to change that! Gods damn it Rufus, what the hell were you thinking?"
Rufus blinked in shock, inwardly cursing how he recoiled from the Turk's outburst. His mouth worked silently, his words stuck in his throat as Tseng's head fell into his hands.
"How am I supposed to protect you when you pull stupid stunts like this?" His voice sounded broken and resigned.
"I just—"
"No! No excuses! I don't want to hear all the ridiculous reasons you had for this! I am sick of you trying to outdo your father—"
"I was trying to kill him," Rufus corrected, his voice soft and submissive.
"Why? Because you want that whole damn city to yourself—?"
Rufus' eyes hardened, his expression turning sour and fierce. "You know why I hate him!" he shouted, turning and slamming his hand into the leather of the seat. He waited for Tseng to turn and argue. To lecture him or shout at him or at least hit him. But the Wutaian's face had regained something that at least resembled his former composure.
"You do understand that I can't protect you now?" Tseng questioned. "I have no power to influence your father's decision… not after this."
"Don't worry," Rufus dismissed. "He won't execute me. He doesn't have any other children—"
"He does and you know it. Lazard—"
"I meant legitimate children. There's no way father will acknowledge that half-breed slum brat. Much less give him the company."
Tseng sighed. His eyes were narrowed as if in pain, his knuckles white where his fist was clenched in the leather of the seat. "I think you underestimate just how angry he is." There was a pause and Rufus restrained the urge to shrug off the comment. "If you're so sure he won't execute you," Tseng continued, "why did you ask me to weasel you out of it?"
Rufus snorted. The Turk thought he was afraid? As if. Fuck it, he's right.
"I just didn't want to have to make some sort of televised public apology."
"Maybe it's about time you grew up and faced the consequences of your actions." Tseng's cold tone caught Rufus off guard.
The blond said nothing, his gaze flicking to the desert plain and the still-hovering helicopter. He gulped. He'd never seen Tseng this genuinely angry. It made him worry. Nagging doubts crept into his mind, chewing at his confidence. What if his father did execute him? What if this was too big to forgive and forget? It wasn't like his father hadn't killed people close to him before. He felt his gut twist in anxiety. This had been a royal fuck-up. Gods damn it!
Cissnei felt Marcus' legs give out from under him just in time to put her broken calf out in front of her before her ass hit the floor.
"Fuck!" she howled, agony coursing through her as the force of the impact reverberated down her legs. Her wound throbbed beneath the bandages and fresh blood soaked into the dense material.
All that answered Cissnei's curse was a weak groan beside her. She looked over at where Marcus lay, curled in on himself like a child. His face was scrunched in pain, his arms wrapped around his gut.
"I'm sorry," his raspy voice choked.
"Are you alright?" Cissnei saw fresh blood ooze over Marcus' hands.
"I can't breathe," he replied, a wet, wheezing sound accompanying the few gasping lungfuls of air that he managed.
Cissnei looked up toward where she could see indigo sky above the crumbling wreckage. They were on the highest fully intact level; the rest above them were falling apart. Holes in the walls and floor and shattered pipes obstructed the way up. Naked electrical wires fired sparks along the floor.
"Are we high enough to get a signal?" Marcus coughed.
Cissnei checked her phone. "No."
"What do we do?" The fear in his voice made Cissnei cringe.
"I don't know. I could use my materia—"
"No," Marcus snapped. "That leg needs to be set first!"
"We can't afford to wait for rescue. Either I'm left with a permanent limp or we both die down here…"
"Cissnei—"
"It's a no-brainer, Marcus, and you know it." Cissnei rummaged through her innermost pocket, retrieving several brightly coloured orbs. Fira, Ifrit, and Curaga. The dark green and red orbs returned to her pocket, but Curaga remained in her hand.
"Don't," Marcus barked. "You can still get out of here. Leave me here and go get help."
"There isn't time for—"
The rest of Cissnei's words were drowned out by a sudden, ferocious wind that howled down the reactor. Dust and soot pelted down on the Turks, their hair flying wildly. Cissnei squinted to look above them, barely able to make out a large dark shape against the sky. Lights dotted the front of it. But it was the sound that Cissnei identified—the sound of helicopter blades.
"Well nevermind," she said as a thick rope hit the cement next to her with a thwap. Down it slid a black, white, and red blur; ponytail flailing in the wind.
"You guys okay?" The voice was Reno's, and through the dust and debris Cissnei could vaguely make out his bright, cerulean eyes.
"Broken leg," Cissnei shouted back, barely audible over the helicopter. "Other than that I'm fine. Marcus has internal injuries. He's bleeding pretty bad."
"I gotcha," Reno replied. He tapped the tiny radio in his ear. "Rude, I need a stretcher down here."
"On it," was the succinct reply.
Reno knelt down next to the other redhead, his hand gripping her shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah. Can you give me a hand?" Cissnei gestured toward the rope.
"Course."
Reno's deceptively slender arms wrapped around her; gently pulling her to her feet. She let her weight settle on him as he guided her to the rope. Just as she reached for it, an orange and red harness slid down. Making a silent note to thank Rude when she got up there, she took hold of it.
"Rude, you need to get some altitude. If any of that wreckage falls on the rotors…"
"I'm watching, sir. But Cissnei and Marcus are pretty deep. If I go any higher we won't be able to get to them."
Tseng watched clouds of dust rise up out of the reactor—swiftly carried away on the desert gale. "Any sign of Anya?"
"Not yet." The disappointment was evident in Rude's voice.
"Don't worry. It won't be long now. The rescue team is over halfway here."
"Tell them that Marcus needs immediate medical attention. Internal injuries."
"Understood. Tseng out."
Anya heard the hissing just before they rounded the corner and very nearly walked straight into the boiling cloud of steam. A burst pipe showered the walkway ahead with bubbling, steaming water; a scalding mist filling the air.
"Damn," the blonde cursed, looking around for a detour.
"Talk about a spanner in the works," Shears remarked.
"No kidding."
Anya inspected the wall and railings around them. There were no ladders, no emergency hatches. Not even another ramp to follow. They were on a one-way street.
"Godsdammit…"
Shears considered the break in the pipe, cocking his head to the side. "Can't we just block it off?"
Anya blinked. She hadn't thought of that. "I suppose. But what'll we block it with?"
"We're surrounded by rubble, aren't we? That should do. We'll need concrete and sheet metal."
Anya's eyes narrowed, still inspecting the pipe as Shears went ahead picking through the rubble, tucking a few respectively intact hunks of twisted steel beneath his arm.
"Wait…" the Turk said, trailing off as she carefully picked her way to a small valve. "I might be able to shut it off. Give me a hand."
The brunet propped the metal pieces up against the broken mound of former walkways, poking his head back around the corner to glance at her.
"You sure about that?" he asked as he made his way over. The steam was awful close. "That valve could blow right in your face."
"Yup."
Shears laughed, grabbing the wheel on the valve, opposite where Anya held it. "Bloody Turks."
"Shut up and pull," Anya replied, laughing.
After a moment of futile tugging the Turk and the bandit felt the metal creak and start to give. It took only a few turns to get it spinning, squealing with the grind of metal on metal. It became louder as the hiss of steam subsided; fading into the soft plip-plip of water droplets hitting the concrete. The air around them cooled.
"I say we go while the getting's good."
"Agreed."
"Wait! Did you see that?" Reno leaned out the side of the helicopter, looking down to where a massive cloud of steam had just been choked off.
"What?" Rude asked, knuckled white on the controls as he guided the aircraft up out of the crumbling reactor.
"Someone just turned off that pipe!" Reno exclaimed. "It might be Anya…"
"If she's on the move then she's fine, Reno."
"Yeah, but…"
"Don't worry. We can come back in."
Reno frowned at the bald Turk. "Come on, man! She ain't safe down there!"
"Reno, I'm not going back down until Cissnei and Marcus are on solid ground."
Reno looked back at the reactor as it rapidly fell away, desperately searching for any hint of the blonde Turk. He felt Cissnei's hand come to rest on his shoulder; turning and meeting her reassuring gaze.
"Anya'll be fine. She always is." The redhead winced as the chopper jerked, jostling her leg. "Don't worry."
"I know," Reno replied, running his fingers through the short, spiky, crimson hair on his head.
"Do you feel that?" Anya asked.
Shears froze, feeling the vibration rise from the floor up through the soles of his boots. The rumble grew until they could feel it in their chests.
They'd finally made it up to the lowest floor that had an exit. It wasn't far, but Anya really didn't like the sound of that rumble; the growing roar that was coming from above them.
"That's not good." Shears glanced over as chunks of concrete plummeted past them. The walkway beneath them jerked.
"Crap! Run!"
The two set off at a sprint. Dust and wreckage rained down around them as they left the shelter of the overhead walkways and dashed toward the soft twilight glow that was the exit.
Anya was within ten meters of it when the concrete walkway beneath her feet began to give way. She stumbled, but kept her balance, skidding to a halt on what was now one side of a massive gap in the walkway. Shears was still on the other side.
"You're gonna have to jump!" Anya shouted as the AVALANCHE member dodged a chunk of falling concrete.
"I won't make it. Just go…"
"No! We've worked together this far!" Anya held out her hand. "We can save Elfé."
"Get out of here, Anya." Shears looked around at the shaking structure. "Take care of Elfé for me, okay?"
"Shears…!"
"Go, godsdammit!"
As if Veld himself had snapped at her, Anya jolted into motion. Her legs propelled her to the door just as the structure growled and plummeted, collapsing completely as if it were made of nothing but gravel. She ducked through the doorway, not looking back even when she heard the walkway's supports creak and give way. She didn't want to see Shears fall.
The steps were unsteady, and Anya took them two at a time. She needed to get to a safe dista—
Sharp pain stabbed into the back of her head just as her foot hit the last step, and everything went black.
Reno ducked back under the spinning chopper blades, poking his head into the vehicle.
"Okay, Rude. Let's get back in there." He planted himself down on the edge of the deck; his feet perched on the steel step-up bar beneath the helicopter's belly.
With a high scream, the black chopper lifted off, back into the insanely strong desert wind. Over the fwoop-fwoop of the blades and the whistle of the tail rotor, Reno heard a low growl. It almost sounded like…
"Crap!" Rude hissed.
"What?" Reno snapped, craning his head around to look as the helicopter banked and rotated. When the reactor came into view, Reno felt his heart stop. What was left of the structure was crumbling in upon itself, throwing clouds of dust into the wind. Gouts of flame spouted up from the broken power lines and another small explosion demolished the main entrance.
"No!" Reno howled before he could stop himself. "No! No, Anya!"
The helicopter banked again, sweeping down alongside the disintegrating structure.
"Damn it, Rude! If we'd just got her—!"
"Wait," Rude cut him off. "I see something…"
Rufus idly watched the structure fall—watched the sleek helicopter dart around it. Well that's that, he mused. Anya's dead meat…
Tseng was massaging the bridge of his nose. His way of hiding what he was feeling, Rufus supposed.
Damn it, when did this turn into such a goatfuck…?
The radio hissed and spat for a moment, squealing rather dramatically before producing Rude's deep voice.
"Sir? We've found Anya…" the big man trailed off. Tseng's head had snapped up, his eyes fixing on the radio, and Rufus saw real fear in the man's face. It seemed like an eternity before Rude continued.
"She's in a coma, sir. A girder fell and caught the back of her head."
Reno's voice cut in. "It's cracked her fuckin' skull, yo!"
"Be careful with her," Tseng calmly replied. "I'll let the rescue team know."
"Yes, sir."
The radio cut out and before Tseng even asked him to, Kupono flipped to the other channel.
"You're through to the chopper, sir."
Rufus didn't listen as Tseng relayed the message. He was too busy running over everything that had happened. When had he first gone wrong? Tseng wasn't speaking to him, so he knew the Turk was angry. Really angry. Now he didn't even know what kind of punishment he was going to face.
He sighed, leaning on the car's windowsill. The waiting was killing him.