Fight

They had cornered him again. Cornered him in a building with eight stories, above, below, surrounding. Helicopters whirred overhead, meaning more men in the air and harder escape routes. Trucks drove on empty streets, meaning roped off areas and a block radius, making escape impossible.

He guessed about five hundred men, total. Probably about eight Turks.

Not for the first time, Rude wondered if he had finally been pinned down.

Four months. He had been running for four months, leading Shinra in a desperate race across the planet, back and forth, from Wutai to Edge to Midgar to the mountains and back. Each time the forces got bigger, and each time his escape was that much more unheard of. The Turks were getting frustrated. Shinra was getting frustrated.

Rude was getting frustrated.

Sometimes, he wanted to just throw himself at the forces and let them shoot him, stab him, or whatever they did to convicts on the run. Those times were usually right before a guard turned the wrong corner, or a Turk stepped too close to his hiding spot.

Then, in a flash, he'd make his move, take a hostage, grab a gun, subdue a man. He'd run and they'd chase him. He'd escape and they'd follow.

This time, he was in Edge. An upper class office. He'd lost track of how many times he'd run through the schematics of the building, looking for the best spot to sleep the night. He was lucky if he got four hours a night, now.

He was camped out on the sixth floor, not too close to the roof, but high enough that snipers were rendered useless. He was pretty confident in his ability to outshoot any sniper the guardship threw at him, but the Turks were another story. They were elite. They were hard.

They were… startlingly predictable.

It was what had kept him alive so far, his ability to improvise. He had the potential to turn anything into a weapon, if given the motivation. He'd used it unflinchingly so far, and the Turks had feared him for it, been more cautious. Still, they still used tactics like sending an entire unit in an elevator, not realising that elevator cables could be cut.

He was standing atop the elevator, going upwards, with a saw in his right hand. His torn and tattered bomber's jacket fluttered with the motion of the elevator, and strained with the movement of his arm, frantically sawing through the cable. When it was suitably frayed, Rude jumped off, grabbing the service ladder and squishing his body against the wall, narrowly avoiding the elevator as it rose past his head.

Three seconds later, the elevator came hurtling back down, complete with the sound of screaming men.

--

The two turks outside heard the thump of the elevator crashing down in it's shaft, and decided that now was a really good time to call for assistance. The subject inside the building was dangerous, even though they were all pretty sure he had run out of ammo for that standard issue handgun of his two months ago. The black haired Turk, cradling a shotgun in elegant fingers, looked up in the direction of the sixth floor.

"We go to him, then." She said, index finger curling around the shotgun's trigger.

The blonde Turk beside her nodded, worrying his lower lip. He checked his dual pistols ammo, and kicked open the doors to the office building.

"Take fifty guards with you. I'll stay down here if you need backup." He checked his watch. "Reno and Tseng should be here soon, and they're bringing most of the reinforcements with them. Good luck."

The Turk with the shotgun raced to the stairwell, fifty armed and armoured guards ran with her.

The blonde bit his lip again. This looked like there was no end in sight.

--

Rude heard pounding feet on the stairs, and decided that furniture was better than any weaponry he could've found at that moment. He hurtled chairs, couches, computers - anything he could get his hands on that wasn't nailed down, went sailing down the stairs.

Below, he heard shouts and grunts as men dodged and failed to avoid the incoming obstacles. A round erupted into the wall near his perch, forcing him to instinctively dive to the side. Another shotgun blast erupted where his head should've been.

Unnatural aim, check. Quick reload, check.

Turk.

He crouched, hands curled into fists, below the sightline of the stairwells. The guards couldn't see him in this stance, and he was able to lunge and hopefully take the Turk and her shotgun by surprise.

Footsteps drew near. Not boot heel stomping, but the careful stepping of designer shoes.

When one of those shoes were in view, Rude lunged.

All the black haired Turk saw was a black mess before slamming into the opposite wall. A knee hit her in the face. She tried to counter with an open handed blow, but he grabbed her hand, used it as counterbalance, and head butted her in the nose. She staggered backwards, tripped down the stairs, and fell into the oncoming Guards. Chaos erupted around her, with guards opening fire and running, boots and green pants surrounded her head. When she was helped up, she swayed on her feet, radioing the Turk downstairs about what happened.

She realised suddenly that she no longer was in possession of her shotgun.

--

Rude returned fire at the top of the stairs, firing blast after blast into the crowd of Guards. Some fell, others pulled back. When the shotgun was empty, he threw it, spinning, at a guard who was on one knee, aiming for his chest.

The shotgun collided with the guard's helmed head, making the poor soldier slump over, unconscious.

The rest of the guards retreated, calling down the stairs, dragging their wounded. Rude let them go. He needed to find his next choke point.

--

When Tseng and Reno had arrived, the Blonde had nearly fallen to pieces with worry. The raven haired Turk came in first, surrounded by three other suited warriors. He put his hand on the blonde Turk's shoulder, smiling.

"Relax. We have a plan." He jerked his thumb behind him. A helicopter was unloading three passengers; Reno and two others. One of them was in armor, carrying a sword that seemed too big for his body. The other was in a guard's uniform, but was older, at least fifty, and had a scar on his jaw.

Tseng smiled. "Drill Commander Woodstock, and his personal escort. This guy apparently trained our fugitive. He can help us nab him."

"I feel ridiculous."

The words slipped out of Rude as he and Yuffie walked to one of the three men's clothing stores in Midgar. Yuffie gave him a once-over. Tattered shirt, same pants as yesterday - the last three days, in fact - black combat boods that were muddy and scuffed. Rude had insisted on the shirt - despite having two holes in it and being cut down the center. Yuffie hadn't objected, but had to admit his outfit was a little ridiculous. Plus, she kind of missed seeing him shirtless.

"You look fine. Stop worrying so much." She linked her arm through his, pulling him into the store's entrance. She talked to the clerk about clothes, sunglasses, shoes, basically anything that Rude had on before he was shot and forced to run in the rain.

Rude busied himself looking through the racks, idly searching for anything that closely resembled a suit jacket. The closest he found was a Hawaiian shirt, blue with pictures of birds and sea in the background. He picked it off the hanger, and something caught his eye.

After discussing brand names with the clerk, Yuffie hunted through the sunglasses rack, looking for that essential touch to Rude's look. She found a black pair of sunglasses almost exactly the same as the ones he'd lost. She brought those and a black pair of jeans to him, finding him facing away from her. She nudged his arm, handing him the items.

He turned to face her, holding the sleeve of a black bomber jacket, complete with hood. He was looking at her closely, smiling a sort of reminiscent smile. She looked at the jacket, and back at him. He held up the blue shirt in his other hand, the smile becoming a grin.

"Instead of the suit and shirt." he said. She grinned back at him, and nodded.

When he came out of the dressing room, dirty old pants folded over an arm, she squealed and clapped, deciding that this look was much better suited to him. She told him so, and he laughed, telling her that what she was wearing wasn't too bad either.

She had the grace to blush at the compliment, and then paid for the clothes and left the store, him trailing behind. She gave him a once over as he donned his sunglasses, and she grinned. She liked this outfit even better.

--

Tifa nearly had a heart attack at the site of Rude walking into her bar in black jeans, a hooded bomber jacket, and a blue Hawaiian shirt. He looked relaxed without his suit and tie getup, that and a smile, though small, lit up his face.

Yuffie walked by his side, humming tunelessly. She sat down at the bar and ordered something fruity and alcoholic. Tifa happily obliged, and then shot a pointed questioning glance at the Turk's back. Yuffie grinned.

"I think we're… bonding." She said, insanely happy at the concept. "He's a nice man."

Tifa shook her head at her young friend, sliding the drink to the ninja. "Drink up, Yuf. You're only getting the one."

Rude walked past the bar and to Cloud's office. Finding Cloud in the middle of a sales call, he leaned against the doorframe until the call concluded.

Cloud turned around, and did a double take at Rude's outfit. Rude shrugged. "Yuffie." He said, by way of explanation. Cloud smirked and let it slide.

"I'm declaring it Hunting season, Cloud." Rude said, standing to his full height. Cloud understood the innuendo, but was still a little cautious.

"Hunting season?" He asked, his eyebrow cocked. Rude nodded. "In your condition? Rude, I think you should wait a few more days before-"

"They killed someone close to me." Rude interrupted, flatly. "The longer they're alive, the longer I can't sleep."

Cloud nodded in understanding. "Well… are you even armed? I know you're good at fist fighting, Rude, but the less you have to strain that shoulder the better."

"I know a guy." The Turk said, making it clear that his contact would remain nameless. Cloud sighed.

"Well… Good luck, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck. "When it's done, come back and see us. You're always welcome here."

Rude nodded, and walked out the bar door, passing Yuffie happily sipping her drink and chatting with a customer. He looked at her for a moment, savouring the sight of her, before ducking out the door on his mission. Determination gripped him in a way it hadn't since he had been stuck in that office building.

There was no more stalling. Tonight, he would hunt for the people who had shot him, left him for dead. He would hunt for those who had killed one of his friends, and one of his employers. His mind raced with questions, possible answers, plans of attack.

Tonight, he would finally fulfill his duty.

A/N: If you give me a review, I'll give you the answer to life, the universe, and everything.