AN: I like to imagine Bruce Willis in the Dyne role.

Also, I should say, I'm following Square's lead in having Wu-Tai be all Asian countries. I'm very alive to the fact that in reality, the war that this war was transparently based on was fought by Japan against the United States and China. Still, writing Tseng as Chinese gives my inner weaboo a much-needed rest.

Reno decided to light another cigarette. It was an easy decision, the kind he was making less and less of these days. Then he unfolded the note, greasy and crumpled from spending four hours in his palm, and read it for the millionth time.

Come alone to the eighteenth floor of the Shop.

Short and to the point; the King's style. The note had been handed to him by Gan the Fish (named for his drinking habits), a courier at least four steps removed from the King. You had to hand it to him; Reno's request for a parley, and the reply, had been processed with an efficiency Shinra could only dream of. The Shop was an empty office building on the edge of Wall Market, one the King's many fronts, and Reno was standing in the alley behind it, trying to think of a reason for meeting on the eighteenth floor that didn't involve him getting tossed out the window. Failing that, he smoked the cigarette, sighed, tossed it in a puddle, and went inside.

The first seventeen floors of the Shop were full of spooky, deserted offices and cubicles. When Reno climbed to the eighteenth, his arms stuck to his sides with sweat, he emerged into a big room like a warehouse, its windows blacked out with tape. A few old lamps illuminated towers of boxes and crates.

"Yo!" he called. "Anybody home?"

A voice came, disembodied, like an evil spirit's.

"Keep walking, Reno."

He found it difficult, but managed to take a few steps.

"Come on, Dyne…what is this shit? If you're trying to scare me, I'm scared enough."

Dyne's giant shape emerged from the darkness, his shotgun-arm scraping against a shipping crate. Reno stopped dead.

"Now I'm unarmed," he said, "and I aint got the stone. But I know where it is."

Dyne laughed. His eyes, always faintly bloodshot, took in the poor spectacle Reno cut, when he had been so triumphant only a few hours ago. "Nothing you just said means shit to me. If I had my way, what's in this," and he tapped the shotgun against the crate, "would've been in your body the second you walked up those stairs."

"So…why aint it? To whom do I owe this…fortuitous turn of events?"

"Me," came another voice, and Reno realized, his spine turning to granite, that another large man had snuck up behind him with making a sound. "Hands where I can see them."

Reno complied.

"Who're you?"

"Just a big, bald fairy you might be acquainted with."

"Oh…really? Come on. Really?"

He turned his head, and saw Rude's implacable shades, and the barrel of his rifle.

"Really," said Rude.

"Well, the joke's on you, brother Turk. What Dyne here doesn't know? There aint one piece. There's four. All of which I got. And you know what else? I got your boss-man tied to a chair like a fucking damsel in distress. So if you pull that trigger on me, you'll never find one or the other."

Rude blinked behind his shades, then reached up and adjusted them.

"Ignore this kid," said Dyne, "he's got a healthy imagination. Go on and ask him whatever, cause I got a lot of frustration to work out."

"Wait. I'd like to hear what he has to say." And Rude seized Reno by the back of his collar, threw him against a stack of crates, and pressed the riffle barrel to the soft part of his throat.

"Hey, don't damage the goods. I'm a fashion model!"

"I'm supposed to believe you got the drop on Tseng?"

"Try calling him."

Rude took out his phone, staring in Reno's eyes the whole time. He dialed. No answer. Seeming to brush the implications aside, he asked:

"What's this about a fourth piece?"

"My friend, what you don't know could fill every crate in this room."

Dyne stifled a yawn.

"You two schoolgirls done gossiping?"

"It would appear," said Rude, "we're just getting started."

"That wasn't the deal. If I don't care what happens to this little man, I sure as hell don't care what happens to your boss."

"I told you, Dyne, I have the stone! I-I'm not screwing anyone! The King can come pick it up!"

"You know how the King works. A solid man is worth more to him than ten million gil in materia. You? Not solid."

"So you're gonna kill me no matter what."

"Afraid so. Just like Carlos."

"Hang…hang on, what the hell is this about Carlos?"

"Didn't you know? The King took one look at him and blew him away."

"He…what?"

Dyne laughed again. "What did you think would happen, you fucking brain surgeon? Sad part is…it wouldn't have happened, if he hadn't tried to stick up for you."

Reno, for the first time in perhaps many years, was speechless. He stared at Dyne, his expression flexing between disbelief, anger, and fear. Then he said, his voice soft:

"He was saving up to take his girl to the Saucer."

"Yeah, well, looks like she'll have to find another escort. C'mon, Reno. You've been living on this planet for what, twenty years? Does this kind of shit really surprise you?"

"Yo, shut the hell up! Just cause your family died doesn't mean everyone else deserves to."

The shotgun came up, cocked.

"What did you say about Marlene?"

"I…I said fuck your little girl, fuck your little pink princess! I said she's better off in the ground than with a cold-ass, murderous, son-of-a-bitch dad like you! I said it and I'll say it again!"

Rude's gun switched targets.

"Dyne? What you're thinking about doing, I strongly advise you not to do. Reno? Shut up."

"You know what? Shinra deserves a medal for burning your podunk town to the ground, and you all probably had it coming! I'm sick of your maimed soul act, like you're better than us. You chose to do what you did, you fucking psychopath!"

"Turk," said Dyne, "step away from this man, cause I'm gonna blow him into the next sector."

"Reno! Apologize!"

The notion that any apology, however worded, could negate a fraction what Reno had just said, pushed Dyne over the edge. With real madness in his eyes, he screamed:

"Step back or I swear on the lifestream, I'll pop you both!"

The two guns fired at the same time. Reno, clamping his eyes shut, expected pain, but felt only shock as Rude's body collapsed on him.

Dyne was bent over, clutching his bleeding stomach. Rude shot upright, the front of his suit speckled with angry red wounds, and was on him in a second. The shotgun collided with Rude's forearm; Dyne dealt him a kick that made his whole frame buckle. But he was moving slowly, as if the air around him had turned to water. Rude punched him once, then twice, forcing him back several feet. Then he wound up and delivered a haymaker right to the center of Dyne's hugely muscled chest.

The force of the blow sent him through the stacked crates like a bowling ball. He struck the window behind them, cracked the glass, and tore the black making tape. Immediately he pulled himself away; but Rude leapt over the crates, pulling back his fist, and drove it home one last time. The window gave way in a shriek of breaking glass, and Dyne vanished from sight.

Reno, his jaw hanging loose, made no attempt to recover Rude's gun from within arm's reach. He remained speechless as Rude came unsteadily back, brushing blood and fragments of metal off his body. Rude picked up his gun, inspected it, and tucked it back under his arm.

In a voice like a wondering child, Reno said: "You just took a shotgun blast to the face."

"Slow magic," said Rude, touching his brass knuckle; then he winced. "Cure helps too. Still stings like a bitch."

"You…think he's dead?"

"I wouldn't count on it. Dyne's a notorious survivor. Let's get out of here before we find out."

"Why'd you…why'd you do it? You saved my life."

Rude cocked his eyebrow. "Did you forget everything you just told me?"

In the excitement, Reno had, in fact, almost forgotten. Rude reached out his hand. Reno took it, and got to his feet.

"Besides," added Rude, "I may think you're a scumbag…but when it comes to it, I like you a bit better than I liked him."

"Huh. Thanks…I guess."

"Oh, one more thing."

And as he spoke, Rude swung his fist. The still-dazed Reno managed to duck, then caught a second blow on his forearm, and howled with pain.

"Woah, hey, wh-what gives!"

"Just wanted to see if you could fight," said Rude, and cracked his knuckles. "A bit, it turns out."

"What…for…? Ow."

"As a matter of fact, I checked up on you. Don't worry. Your given name can be our secret. But you used to be an MP. Twelfth division, under Styles. Discharged for drunk and disorderly."

"So…so what?"

"So, you still think like a cop." It might have been Reno's imagination, but he thought Rude smiled. "You're loyal to your employer. You never thought about ripping him off, did you? Even when you knew he was trying to kill you, you tried to fix things up. In fact, to do one little job…you took on one so big, you might be the first lucky bastard in the history of the world to pull it off. You went Turk-hunting. Some might call that stupid. And as a matter of fact, it is incredibly stupid. But the problem…as I understand it…is the nature of your employer."

"What're you getting at, exactly?"

"I'm saying, we might not have to do this the hard way. And, I might have a proposition for you."

Yuffie was trying to eat a ham sandwich. She sat as far as possible from the chair where Tseng remained, motionless and menacing, in the opposite corner. In between each bite, she cast a nervous glance at him.

"Stop looking at me."

"What makes you think," he purred, "I'm looking at you?"

"I can feel it."

"Are you really Godo's daughter?"

"What's it to you?"

"If you really are the daughter of my old friend, I have an obligation to protect you."

"Oh…that's rich!" She took a resolute bite of the sandwich. "I don't need your help, thanks. Nobody does."

"You have his shard of the stone, don't you?"

"Y-yeah. Maybe. But I'm not telling you where it is."

"I didn't ask. Tell me…why do you hate me so much?"

She sputtered. "H-how can you even ask that! You haven't been back to Wu-Tai…have you? You haven't seen people queuing up…begging for rice from foreigners. And the women…"

"Do you think I betrayed Wu-Tai because I hated it?"

"No," she said, looking straight at him. "I think you did it because you liked yourself more."

"I betrayed Wu-Tai because I loved it. I still do."

"Oh…bull-shit!"

"Yuffie," he said, almost gently, "what good would it have done if the Heaven Stone had been used? Imagine. What if it summoned the Guardians themselves? Huge, magical beasts fighting over Wu-Tai. When the battle was over, would there be anything left to protect?"

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses."

"I'll never eat roast chestnuts again," said Tseng. "I'll never bathe in the holy waters. But because of what I did, tens of thousand of people, old men, young men, and sweet little girls like you, are still alive. And do you think Wu-Tai was so blameless? Have you heard about what we did in the occupied territories? The Emperor and his generals were suicidal, and full of pride. They were as bad as Shinra, if not worse…"

Yuffie put the sandwich down. She stood up, and stalked cautiously across the room toward Tseng.

"You shut your dirty mouth," she said. "Don't you d-dare speak the Emperor's name."

"The Emperor is a stupid old man. I don't owe him anything. Neither do you. What has the Emperor ever done for you?"

Yuffie lowered her eyes, and said in an uneasy voice:

"Nothing…I guess."

"You know what I'm saying is right."

She took another step.

It was close enough. With one fluid heave of his body, Tseng snapped the chair, a feat for which his physical strength was more than sufficient. His foot shot out; in a moment Yuffie was lying prone, writhing helplessly, and Tseng straddled her, his hands still trussed to the remnants of the chair behind his back.

"Remove the amulets. Now."

"N-nothing doing!"

"Remove the amulets. Now."

Although her eyes were beginning to tear up in panic, she bit her lip and said:

"One condition."

"No conditions."

"You…you're not really gonna spank me, are you? Cause that'd be all kinds of gross and pervy."

"I promise I won't spank you," he said, "now take off these fucking amulets before I head-butt you through the floor."

Raising one shaking hand, Yuffie touched each scrap of paper in turn. Her finger glowed blue, and one by one they fell away. With each removal, Tseng's arms tightened against his bonds, and the air around him began to flex as if from heat distortion; until finally, with the last, he tore the sheets, jackets and shower curtains to shreds, reached up and pulled the sweater off his head, and took a deep, satisfied breath. Then his eyes fell on Yuffie.

"Remember….y-you promised!"

Tseng spoke very slowly: "In case no one informed you, I'm not very good at keeping my word."

Dispassionate, he pulled the struggling Yuffie over his knee.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! I am so telling your boss about this!"

There was a knock on the door.

Tseng paused, his open hand raised. Then, without bothering to lower it, he called out:

"Come in."

Three armed men barged into the room. Wearing motley clothes, and carrying guns of varying size and quality, they didn't look like the Rat King's well-groomed henchman. They stopped short in confusion.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Tseng. "I'd better like what I hear."

Then from behind, came a distinctive, chortling laugh.

"Oh-ho! Ho-hee! Saucy! I had no idea you liked 'em so young, Tseng. No wonder you're so resistant to my ladies', ah, charms."

Don Corneo, draped in his usual, faux-regal red fur coat, waddled into view. Tseng shut his eyes. He gave a profound sigh.

"Listen, Corneo. I've had a long day, so if you step to me, I will get the stick from the cupboard and give you ten times the beating this little brat gets."

The Don tossed his flabby hands in the air. "I had no idea you were here! Honest! Like I told your studly friend, I don't want any trouble with the Turks. A man hired me to find this…delicate flower."

Yuffie pretended to gag.

"A man?" Tseng's eyes suddenly sharpened. "What are you talking about?"

"You have got to be kidding me!" squealed Yuffie. "How many nasty old men are there in this lousy berg!"

"This girl is my prisoner. She's not going anywhere."

As Tseng had said before, the Don was not a hard man. Standing there, wringing his hands, he looked almost apologetic; although a patina of greed, lust, and dark amusement never left his face. Finally he spread his hands and said:

"Throw the old Don a bone, Tseng, hmm? This man paid me a lot of money. Why don't you come with us. If you don't like what happens, you can take it up with him. I'm sure he's no match for a great and mighty Turk."

"What exactly do you know about this man, Corneo? I want every detail."

"I think he's a Wu-Tai businessman. He looked very ordinary. But he had a whole suitcase full of clean bills! What was I supposed to do!"

"He was probably some kind of sex trafficker. How else would he know you?"

"I'll have you know," said the Don, drawing himself up, "I'm still a big name here. If you want something done without a lot of nasty bloodshed, you go to me, not the King."

"Arrest me already!" Yuffie pleaded. "I don't want to meet this guy! I don't want any more of you sleaze-o-ramas messing with me!"

"Be silent." Tseng shut his eyes, placed a finger to his temple, and took several breaths. Then he said: "Fine, Corneo, you helped us out, so I'll return the favor. But any funny business, and you'll get whatever's coming to him. Where does he want to meet?"

"The train graveyard. It won't take up more than an hour of your precious time."

"Let's go."

Don Corneo and his guards left them at the entrance to the sullen, empty collection of boxcars. Tseng breathed a sigh of relief when he finally vanished from sight, still chuckling inanely to himself; and Yuffie, for all she remained terrified, shot his retreating form a mean glance.

The train graveyard had an atmosphere of misery unequaled even in the slums. Here, in a place already full of society's waste products, the people, or rather things Shinra had discarded, were objects that had outlived even that usefulness. There was no wind under the plate, and the wrecked trains sat there, fallen out of time. It was a graveyard in the truest sense of the word.

"This place is so creepy."

"Want me to hold your hand?"

"Um, no."

"Then lead the way. And if your pace so much as quickens…"

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, I don't want any more trouble, okay?"

Yuffie began to walk between the cars, casting glances in every direction. Jagged shadows covered them. Tseng kept his hand near his gun. When they had gone into the graveyard some distance, he called out:

"Anyone who has business with his girl, show yourself!" He added: "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. Five minutes, then we're leaving."

There was no sound.

"That was five minutes, right? Can we go now?"

"That was fifteen seconds."

"Look, whatever!"

Then they heard footsteps. Tseng drew his gun and turned, slowly, catching Yuffie by the wrist. She didn't complain.

"Who's there!"

A voice, sounding old and tired, but powerful, echoed off the hollow metal.

"Is that you?"

"I am myself, last time I checked," said Tseng.

"You…what evil dream is this. What are you doing with her? Have you taken even this away from me…Oath-breaker?"

Tseng's eyes widened in alarm. He aimed his gun in the direction of the voice, and a moment later, moving with slow, purposeful steps, a man came into view.

He wore a blue coat over white robes, looking out of place, and very much like a ghost, among the trains. Unarmed, he appeared defenseless, but there was something in his presence that made even Tseng draw back. He was a Wu-Tai man, with a thick beard, powerful jaw, and burning eyes. He stopped ten paces away, and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

Yuffie hid behind Tseng.

"Come over here, foolish girl," said the man. "This instant."

"H-hi…daddy."

Tseng's voice was faint, weighed down by emotion. "Is this your daughter? The apple didn't fall far from the tree. She's devious, fast, and very skilled."

"Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"You always were as good as me…Godo."

"I never thought I'd see your face again. I imagined you really were dead. Certainly…the person you were died a very long time ago. Now I see a demon…possessing the body of my dead friend. I abjure you! What is your name, and what circle of hell did you crawl out of! What did you do to make a good man throw away everything he held dear, and damn his people to ruin under the heel of Shinra!"

"Walk away, Godo. We already have the stone. There's no reason to throw your life away as well."

Godo burst of laughing, bitterly.

"Do you believe, for one instant, I would allow the Heaven Stone…the last legacy of the sacred gods that watch over us…to fall into the hands of the enemy!"

"There is no enemy anymore. No us and them. The war is over. What does it matter if Shinra commands the Heaven Stone?"

"Why am I standing here trading words with you? Put up your fists."

"I won't fight you, Godo."

"You will fight me, or you will die!"

Then Godo loosed his sleeves, and the fabric flexed like metal. He drew back one foot, his motions fluid as water, and his hands formed claws as he assumed a stance.

"Dad!" shouted Yuffie. "No!"

"Stay out of this, girl. You have caused me a lot of trouble…but, I should thank you. Now I can take revenge for Kuri, and Zhang…for myself…and for you, and this cursed world you have to live in, all because of this man."

Tseng glanced around. They were alone in the swamp-like light filtering down from the plate. Godo had chosen his arena unthinkingly, but perhaps, after all, there was something like fate, and he was in its grip. He laughed himself, and it sounded free.

"This just couldn't be any more perfect, could it?"

"You once fought me to earn your place," said Godo. "Climb up out of hell, Tseng. Climb the pagoda once more."

"Very well." Tseng pushed Yuffie back, with the same hand still cuffed to the briefcase. He limbered his joints, rolled his head, and once again the air around him wavered, as if heat were rising off his body. He planted his feet, then put out one hand, palm open, facing skywards.

"Godo!" he said. "Come at me with all your power."