II

CHAPTER TWO

The Burden of Loyalty

"…yes, Mr. President, I understand."

Closing his PHS slowly over, Tseng let out a lasting sigh. A strange sensation had enveloped his body, weighing him down like a sponge in water. Although a distant hope had always foreseen the rise of such a scenario, President Shinra's news had come as a great shock. His mind was numb and without thought, leaving him as upright and motionless in his chair as he had been when he had first received the phone call. Only with the faint sound of his glass door opening across the soft beige carpet of his office did he stir from his stillness.

"I brought you some coffee, sir." beamed the secretary as she carefully placed a steaming mug at the edge of the mahogany desk.

"Thank you." mumbled Tseng, straining a grateful smile.

With weary eyes, he watched her leave, before turning his attention to his paperwork. In the dim light of the room, he forced himself to read Director Heidegger's report on the recent developments in the Midgar and Junon Armies, skimming the pages without enthusiasm. Squad rotation...the continual reduction of SOLDIER's involvement with priority missions…increased numbers of Gelnikas...this is all bullshit…

His retinas burning with the blank image of nothingness, all was but an illusion around him. As he signed the last page of the document, Tseng yawned, and reached for the coffee. The scalding porcelain burned through his fingertips as he lifted the cup from the table, the seething pain awakening him from his subconscious, causing him to let go. With a dull clink, the mug landed hard on the desk, splashing coffee across the report.

"Godsdammit!" he cursed, jumping from his seat and quickly mopping the spill with the sleeve of his black suit jacket.

He swore again, wringing his arm as the droplets of warm brew fell into the wastebasket. The sharp return to reality had startled him, and the memory of the President's orders quickly found their way back into his head. What the hell's wrong with me? Am I just tired? Or is it the situation…?

Tseng glanced up from the desk, his gaze settling upon the shadowy bookcase on the far wall of the office. With an air of hesitance, he paced the floor to the shelves and trailed a finger over the many hardback spines of Chief Veld's old diaries and journals. Even in the three years the Chief had been missing, and against Heidegger's repeated insistence, Tseng had felt uneasy about removing any of the files from the office. Convincing himself instead that the collection would one day be useful, he had found himself simply adding his own reports to the small library.

Now, as his finger came to rest upon a worn red book, bound in a leather strap, he knew at once it was the journal he sought. On so many occasions he had wanted to open its dusty pages, yet each time he had gathered the mental strength to fight the urge. Cradling the book in his hands, he carried it across the room and set it gently on the desk. Its smooth cover glowered at him with intimidation, void of decoration but for a single word, handwritten in golden ink; 'Nibelheim'.

There came the sound of heavy fluttering from beyond the trio of tall windows at the rear of the office and the room was momentarily swathed in white light as the B1a helicopter passed. Cautiously picking his coffee cup from the desk, Tseng wandered aimlessly over to the large panels of glass, observing the craft as it vanished into the darkened skies above the slumbering city. Beneath him, the Sector7 suburbs were silent, without as much as a flicker of lamplight visible from the height of the Shinra Building.

Sipping the drink, he felt the boiling water race down his throat, warming his insides with a pleasant feeling of relaxation. It was a feeling he knew would quickly dissipate as he gathered the will to alert the Turks to their next assignment. Dreamily staring towards the horizon, the black silhouette of the Midgar Mountains jagged against the overcast heavens, he thought of his new targets.

Because of what happened four years ago, I feel responsible for their imprisonment at the hands of Hojo. If only I had been stronger…that was my mistake. Had it not been for the events at Nibelheim, their fate would not have become so twisted. He was my friend. I'm so sorry…Zack…

Tseng lowered his head, the swell of guilt he had borne for so long erupting inside him. Biting his lip to cease its trembling, he punched the window frame, the panes shuddering loudly with the impact. Turning towards the desk, he gazed at the journal, its thick pages beckoning him. Exhaling deeply, he returned to the table, and slumped into his chair. He placed the mug opposite him and, silently preparing himself, pulled open the cover of the book.

The first number of pages were images that Chief Veld had cut from magazines and newspapers, lain out in order to form a makeshift visual map of the town. Tseng felt his heart sink as he viewed the pictures, reminiscing on his first visit to Nibelheim. He could see Gramps' Inn and the hardware store at the edge of the town square, both overlooking the lone water tower at its centre. Smaller photographs of townspeople, the cheerful faces of men, women and children alike frozen in time, had been lined in rows at the base of the pages. The Chief's homage to the dead…

Skipping to the middle of the journal, he was met by the grim portrayal of a charred and crumbling town. Copies of the snapshots taken for Shinra, Inc.'s secret collection were pasted from corner to corner, the sight of ash-laden streets and burned bodies as horrific to view as it had been then. Tseng closed his eyes for a brief moment, disgusted by the pictures. Even now it saddened him to think of how easily the Company had dismissed the atrocity, remorseless as they rebuilt the town and inhabited it with employees willing to ignore Nibelheim's past.

With a hasty touch, he flicked through the next few pages, suddenly stopping as he reached a photograph more disturbing than any that had come before. Sephiroth's leering smile rose from the page like a ghostly light, draining the blood from Tseng's face as he gulped hard. The profile was incredibly formal, simply listing the honours Sephiroth had achieved in his eleven years as a SOLDIER, the most notable of which being his promotion to Captain while still in his late teens. Now they meant nothing; the unrivalled respect he had demanded as a legend of the Wutai War concealed by the red ink of a single stamped word; 'deceased'. And to think we once called him a hero…

Veld had handwritten a number of short footnotes at the bottom of the profile page, all scribbled and mostly illegible. Narrowing his eyes, Tseng struggled to comprehend the words. They seemed related to Sephiroth and his eventual loss of sanity, possibly theorising what had led to the destruction of Nibelheim. He read the notes carefully, murmuring to himself with each new sentence.

Experiments...Gast…same downfall…inheritance…madness driven like G…

"What the hell?" spluttered Tseng, jumping as his PHS vibrated noisily on the desk. He answered it at once.

"Sir?" came Rude's crackling voice.

"Go ahead, I'm listening…"

"Sir, are the reports true?" asked Rude, his usual calming tone distant. "Have we to intercept the two escapees?"

"I have direct orders from the President." replied Tseng solemnly. "The military are in pursuit as we speak. However, for now, I want you and your team to continue as planned. Where's Reno?"

"Junon, sir." informed Rude. "Tying up some loose ends."

"Who do we have nearest the Nibel region at the moment?"

"Cissnei, I think."

"It figures…" he snorted sardonically. "Alright, put me through to her."

"Hello?" responded Cissnei after a number of seconds, the signal wavering as she spoke.

"Cissnei, it's Tseng. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"I have a new assignment for you."

"I'm glad." she said without amusement. "The tranquillity of Rocket Town is becoming a bit tedious. And don't get me started on Captain Highwind…"

"Cissnei, listen to me." he commanded firmly. "This is important."

"Okay."

"Seventy-two hours ago, two research samples escaped from Professor Hojo's laboratory beneath the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim." Tseng informed her. "Your mission is to locate the targets and stop them from leaving the Nibel region. They are top priority."

"You can rely on me." she answered. "As always."

"This may come as a difficult task for you in particular."

"It doesn't matter. I'll be prepared for anything."

"The samples are two adult males. One of them is a combat expert…once a First Class SOLDIER."

"You don't mean…"

"Cissnei…" sighed Tseng, "your targets are Zack Fair and a young infantryman named Cloud Strife…the former of whom I'm sure you'll remember all too well."

"But…I…"

"The targets have been spotted in Nibel Forest east of the town." Tseng interrupted. "You are to be dropped off by helicopter at that location so that you can scour the area more thoroughly. Be careful, though. Heidegger has mobilised the army to conduct his own search…presumably to justify his overspending. It would be in your interest to avoid the military. And, Cissnei?"

"Yes?"

"If you do find them first, try your best to capture them alive. I about the time you've been spending with Zack's parents. You can't let your relationship with them get in the way of your mission."

"I can't believe we're going to take their freedom away from them a second time." gulped Cissnei, her voice faltering. "What a cruel fate."

"Ever since you were recruited, you knew it was going to be like this." Tseng replied. "I'm sorry, but it is our curse. No matter what our mission may be, no matter the consequences or our personal feelings, we will always carry it out without question. That is the duty of a Turk…"