A note from the author: Hello, readers! I know it's been, well, quite a while, but when you're taking your final classes required to graduate with your bachelor's, things can get pretty hectic. Oh, also, I'll be in Italy in about a week. Updates may be sporadic, but we're nearing the end now, and I think it's high time we speed this up. Another chapter will be posted in a couple of days, once this one's had time to percolate.
Hope I haven't lost y'all in the hiatus.
Ready, set, go!
…
They tethered the chocobo to a tree a few miles outside the garden wall. Tseng was instantly suspicious of how quiet it seemed. He could see no guards patrolling.
Shake squinted at him. "I'm thinking..."
"Yes." Tseng pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. They'd been sitting in the bushes for a quarter of an hour, and the chill morning air had numbed the tips of his fingers. "They're waiting for us."
"It's just too quiet." Shake rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from right to left. Tseng heard the distinct crack of vertebrae. "Well. Looks like it's time for my skills." Tseng lifted his eyebrows in question, and Shake grinned. "I'm going to be the distraction. They'll never catch me."
"You're sure." It was phrased like a question, but Tseng was secretly glad. He was going to suggest it, but it would work better with Shake if the younger man thought it was his idea.
"I'll make a bunch of noise and draw them off, and you go in and snatch one of 'em."
Tseng nodded. "How will I know if you've been captured?"
"You'll know if it's going well," Shake said with a glint in his eyes. "I'm gonna do a little song and dance."
Tseng watched him disappear quietly into the trees, marveling at his lightness of foot. He didn't really like Shake, but there was a reason he had the title "Mighty God." He was rough around the edges, but Tseng thought in a few years, Shake could be as formidable as Yuffie. If he could get over his romantic attachment to the Empress and begin smoothing his emotional outbursts.
After about ten minutes of waiting in tense silence in the underbrush, Tseng heard Shake bellowing the twangy tones of a traditional Kalmish folk song. "SHE'LL BE COMING 'ROUND THE MOUNTAIN WHEN SHE COOOOOMES!"
In his mind's eye, Tseng formulated what he thought was probably an accurate picture of Shake doing a little ho-down dance, and he grimaced. He had to hand it to Shake. The alarm had been raised. He could hear the commotion from his position outside of the palace.
It wasn't long before a pair of guards came around the back of the garden wall, looking cautious and a little too fresh-faced to best a seasoned Turk. Smiling a tiny smile, Tseng waited until they had passed his spot in the foliage. Quick as a snake, he sprang for their legs and knocked both off balance at once.
The first man put his foot down on an uneven section of ground and fell in an unfortunate tangle of limbs. Tseng had his hands around the man's throat before he understood the guard was dead, his head having struck a rock on the descent. Before the other could recover completely, Tseng levered himself to his feet and tackled the second man.
He went down with a half-strangled yelp that made Tseng wince and clap a hand over his mouth. The younger man struggled admirably, but a few knocks around the head made him slow, then go limp.
Quickly, so as not to be discovered, Tseng dragged the dead one into the underbrush where he had been previously hidden, then grabbed the still-breathing partner and shoved him in there as well. It took some doing—deadweight was no fun for anyone, and these weren't scrawny individuals, but he managed. Just as he heard noise coming his direction again, Tseng stashed himself in the niche with the two bodies and hoped that the other one wouldn't wake before they passed.
The corpse was still warm, and Tseng had the frivolous and almost irresistible urge to make sure no part of his body touched the dead man. Dealing with corpses for a living hadn't made them any more pleasant to the touch.
Tseng settled in to wait. According to his rough sense of time, around twenty minutes passed with him crouched awkwardly in the thicket. Several times, frantic guards passed, the only noise their hurried, hushed voices and their tromping footsteps. They all wore the same uniform: the black robes with the Wave emblem emblazoned on the chest.
Then, he heard noise approaching from behind, the smallest crackling of twigs and leaves as Shake sidled up beside him. Tseng didn't bother drawing a weapon. Only Shake or Yuffie could be that close to soundless, and one of them was currently MIA.
"Oh, you got one," Shake murmured, looking at the other guard, still out cold from the solid knock to the head he'd taken. "And... is that a dead guy? Augh." Shake inched away from the corpse. "Did you have to kill him?"
"Would you rather he awoke and reported that we'd been here?"
"I mean, it's not like they wouldn't have known, after my little show."
Tseng didn't answer. He wasn't about to correct Shake's assumption that he'd killed the man. He was there to find Yuffie.
"Help me move him," Tseng said, inching out from their nook in the ground. The commotion had died down as much as he thought it would, and it was time to get out before they were discovered or their chocobo was found.
"What about the other one?"
"Leave him."
"And if they find him?"
"It makes no difference. As you said, they know we're here. As long as he can't tell them with his own mouth."
Shake helped Tseng drag the young guard out with some difficulty. They hefted his limp, lolling body between them, watching his head swing on his relaxed neck. For a moment, he stirred, murmuring, but pressing on the knot on his head ended that rather effectively. Shake's eyes narrowed, and Tseng resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The boy just didn't have the heart for the business.
To tell the truth, Tseng had grown somewhat fond of the whole thing. Gaia always had something for him to do.
Several times, they heard voices in the forest and were forced to hunker down. Once, Tseng was sure they'd be caught, but the guards became distracted by something else and went in another direction. If the Wuteng belief in Leviathan had any basis, he hoped the god was watching over them. He needed someone on his side, for once in his life.
This sort of thinking was frivolity, though. He directed his thoughts toward how they should proceed with their newly acquired hostage. He wished for Rude, who would have thrown the guard over his shoulder with ease. He and Shake would not be able to move silently and quickly with the deadweight between them.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of tromping through the brush and stopping at any hint of danger, they reached Fluffy. With their limited supplies, they bound the unconscious man—one rope for his hands, some shredded clothes around his ankles. They gagged him and threw him unceremoniously over the chocobo's rump.
Putting some distance between himself and the palace eased his nerves a fraction. After a few hours of travel, they found themselves, once again, in the general area of Mayumi and Keiji's village.
"We can't take him back to them," Shake muttered, dismounting and almost letting the guard slide off the bird. After a moment of unwieldy work, the younger man was on the ground. If the muffled sounds coming from him were any indication, he was awake. "We can't risk Wave discovering they're helping us."
Without further ado, Shake put one sandaled foot on the guard's chest and leaned in, what he apparently thought was a dangerous smile on his face. Tseng was unimpressed, but the guard's eyes widened at Shake's theatrics.
"You're gonna tell us what we need to know. And maybe we won't hurt you too much."
Tseng thought if he snorted, perhaps the effect would be ruined. He refrained. "We're going to take the gag off," Tseng said. He had decided he would include Shake in the process, as they needed the guard to take them both seriously. A united front would be the best approach. "If you scream, I'll cut your throat," he said, pulling the small blade out from inside his sleeve. It wasn't good for much, but under duress it could harm someone. With wary eyes, the guard nodded.
Repressing his distaste, Tseng reached into the guard's mouth and removed the soggy gag. The younger man lunged for his hands with teeth bared, but Tseng boxed his ears before any real damage could be done. "None of that. Let's have a civil conversation. Next time, I won't be as nice."
Shake had moved from atop the man's chest, and he struggled to sit up, his tied fists in his lap. "How do I know you won't just kill me if I tell you?"
"So you'll tell us, then," Shake said, pouncing on the phrasing.
"Who says I even know where she is? I'm still the lowest tier of the organization. I don't get told anything. You kidnapped the wrong guy." Tseng noticed the way their prisoner stared at a point over Shake's shoulder, how a muscle in his jaw jumped just once.
"You know something," Tseng said.
"I just said I don't—"
Crouching to eye level with the blade out, he said, "I think you know who I am."
"I know you're a traitorous son of a b—"
He pushed the knife into the guard's neck slightly, watching with lazy eyes as a drop of blood welled and slipped into his collar. "This is your last chance before I dispose of you."
Fear widened the whites of his eyes, caused his voice to crack in the middle. Those who knew Tseng enough to call him a dog knew him enough to be afraid. "If I tell you, you'll let me go?"
"You shouldn't give your loyalty to something unless you'd lose your life for it," Tseng said in a low voice. "Tell me."
"I... I don't know where they're keeping the Empress." When Tseng pressed, he said breathlessly, "I have an idea, though!"
"Go on," Shake said from behind him. Tseng wasn't accustomed to having an assistant to his interrogations, and he found he didn't like it.
"The warehouses on the docks—that's where we receive weapons shipments. You might find something there."
"And why does that matter to me in the least?" Tseng asked.
"I don't know! I'm just telling you all I've heard. Please, don't kill me," he blurted. "I-I think I made a mistake."
"Oh, really?" Shake said, leaning in. Tseng glanced at his busy hands, where he deliberately toyed with a small shuriken.
The young man's eyes darted rapidly between them, lit with a tiny spark of hope that they might release him. "They… they keep talking about a new order, giving the Planet to the people. But the weapons, kidnapping the Empress—it just doesn't seem right."
Shake scowled, and the young man cowered. Perhaps the guard thought Shake would empathize with him; they were similar ages, Shake was a Mighty God born and raised in Wutai as opposed to Tseng's status as an "ex"-Turk and traitor to the country.
Sensing he would get nothing of further use from this source, Tseng rose. He thought he was missing some of the puzzle pieces, but the warehouses on the docks seemed like the best place to start.
"We should dispose of him now," Tseng said dispassionately, trying to hold in his amusement at Shake's instant disgust.
"There's no need for murder, your highness," he hissed.
"Very well. Gag him and tie him to a tree. If he survives the cold, we risk a patrol finding him."
"We'll just have to take that chance," Shake said, his mind obviously made up.
Tseng didn't like it. He much preferred to dispose of loose ends and not take "chances." But he realized if he were going to get Shake to cooperate with his next move, he would have to get on his good side. Shake, as much as he didn't enjoy it, was crucial to rescuing Yuffie. He thought Furthermore, Yuffie might disapprove of him indiscriminately killing these younger members of Wave. Like it or not, misguided or not, they were still people of Wutai.
Tseng fed the bird some greens and scratched its neck as Shake secured the prisoner. The man struggled, but it was a halfhearted attempt in light of his clear defeat. Tseng adjusted Fluffy's saddle and reins, made sure his feet were still in good condition. They would have some complex maneuvering ahead of them.
…
An hour into their observation of the docks, Tseng was sure they were in the right place.
Clearly not all the warehouses were being used for Wave operations, but three of the central buildings seemed busier than possibly warranted for sunset. By now, most of the shipyard workers would have punched out and returned to their homes for dinner and preparations for nighttime. But in the jagged light of a descending sun, Tseng could see a set of inconspicuous—but unmistakably armed—men at each door. Most individuals who exited carried wrapped bundles, suitcases. It was low key and subtle. He saw now how they had been overlooked for so long.
He had a feeling Yuffie was close. Turks weren't trained to deal in "feelings." They worked based on facts. Nevertheless, he felt the security was unusually high for a shipping operation that looked relatively small. There was more going on here, and now was as good a time as any to initiate his plan.
Tseng turned to where Shake had hunkered down beside him. A palette of crates, filled with straw packing and what looked like regular boxes of table salt, blocked them from view. They had deposited their mount at the outskirts of the city, after looping around the perimeter to come out of the forest at the docks.
The younger man directed his gaze to Tseng. "What now?"
Tseng steeled himself. "This is where we part ways."
Shake's was instantly on guard, his brown eyes narrowing. "I'm not going anywhere."
Tseng opted for hoping Shake would understand if he explained himself. "I need you to retrieve backup—maybe AVALANCHE or my Turks—while I infiltrate the compound and attend to the Empress."
"And you're going to avoid getting caught how, exactly?"
"That's why you're going to make sure we have capable allies. Go find the chocobo and ride out to our waiting friends."
But Shake held up a hand, his expression a mix of anger and incredulity. "You expect me to leave Yuffie's life in your hands? Just trust you with the Empress?"
Serious as the grave, Tseng said, "That's exactly what I expect you to do."
"How about you go get your little cronies and AVALANCHE while I take care of Yuffie?"
"You will fail in this case." Tseng was concerned that Shake's rapidly rising voice would alert the guards before he could convince the younger man to go with his idea.
"And you won't? What about the people holding the palace? How do you know they won't just kill you if they catch you?"
"Precisely why you must find a way to free AVALANCHE and the Turks." Tseng was struggling to remain civil, to keep his tone tame and respectful. "If you will listen for a moment—"
"Do you honestly think the Turks or even AVALANCHE will be able to help if you get caught? We can't just charge in there and hope they won't execute the two of you."
"That outcome is unlikely."
"You're missing the point," Shake snarled. He was once again invading Tseng's personal space, inching closer and closer to his superior's face.
"No, you are missing the point, First Tier of the Mighty Gods," Tseng shot back. "Your first and foremost mission is to protect the ruling Empress. The best way you can fulfill your duties is to get help while I do my work."
The real truth was: Tseng didn't want to tell Shake his plan. There was no way, even looking at the place from a distance, that he would be able to successfully sneak Yuffie out. The few guards in front indicated there would be more to follow once inside. Furthermore, he had no idea how to locate her. She might not even be in this particular building. He operated at least half under educated guesswork.
His plan was going to be much riskier than he felt sensible, but he had no other choice.
Shake would not have given him the opportunity to respond even if Tseng decided to share his thoughts. Instead, he lunged for Tseng's throat, obviously intending to incapacitate him and proceed with his own plan.
This initiated a silent struggle, in which Tseng grappled with the younger, more flexible man while trying to keep quiet. If they aroused the guards' suspicions, his plan B would be eliminated before it could even begin. It was essential that he keep Shake's location a secret from Wave. He was sure he and Yuffie would fare better in the long run if they had the Turks and AVALANCHE to offer assistance.
Shake managed to roll Tseng over and straddle his hips, his hands around Tseng's throat. Tseng could feel his windpipe being crushed. If he could just bend Shake's pinky finger like—
Crack. Shake released him, gasping with eyes watering, and Tseng took that time to switch their positions. Now he was straddling Shake, though there was not much need to hold the young man as he attempted to cradle his broken finger.
He saw now there would be no verbally convincing Shake to do what he asked, pleaded, and/or commanded. He was too set on rescuing Yuffie himself, could not see that there were uses for him other than rushing into the jaws of death and dying some sort of martyr. He made a split second decision. Before Shake could sufficiently recover from having his pinky broken, Tseng pulled out his handgun and brought the butt down on Shake's temple. He went limp.
He searched around Shake's person until he located a mobile phone, then punched in Reno's number and left a note in the texting section for him to call the redheaded Turk for further instructions on how to proceed. Tseng only hoped that when Shake came to, he would have a change of heart and go for help.
Now was the time to approach, when the daylight was still good and there was less chance of him being shot on sight. He would leave behind his handguns and also the Twin Viper with its materia equipped. Perhaps Shake would take them, he didn't know, but he wanted to be sure not to give the guards any reason to attack first and ask questions later.
So it was with great apprehension at his foolhardy plan that he chose the most direct route—thinking all the while that Yuffie would be laughing until she cried to see him do this—and walked out from behind the crates and down the main dock. There would be no tragically unattended back staircase for this mission, so he walked forward with his hands in the air until someone noticed his approach.
The response was immediate. "Lay down on the ground with your hands out!" one guard shouted as three men rushed toward him. He did not comply with the demand; he had already demonstrated his unarmed status, and he refused to lay in the dirt for these people. He was the Emperor, coerced or not.
"I am unarmed," Tseng said, stiffening as two of the men stood on either side of him and pointed guns. "Take me to the Empress."
"Captain," said one of the smaller ones. His face still held the traces of baby fat which remained after puberty, and Tseng felt a momentary disgust for the teenagers who had been roped into this nonsense. "I think that's…"
"Emperor Kisaragi," the Captain of the guards acknowledged, his lips thinning in recognition. He was a tall, broad man with a hard face, and Tseng wondered where this man had come from—where all the members of Wave had come from. "You would just surrender? I thought a dog of the Shinra would use more interesting tactics."
Tseng could feel all the blood had drained from his arms, so he let them drop smoothly to his sides. The guards twitched a little, but no bullets entered his brain. "I only wish to see my wife."
"You heard the man," barked the Captain with no small amount of amusement. "The Emperor wants to see his wife."
Tseng followed the Captain, the guards moving as a tense unit around him. The noise of their armor clanking in the still air did nothing to help his feelings of unease at this plan. Tseng wished the nervous-looking one would relax a little; his trigger finger seemed a mite jumpy. As they walked, Tseng could feel the gun's snout jabbing his side.
"How did you find us?" the Captain asked as they entered the front doors. The inside was a bustle of activity—men moving shipments, stacking crates, unpacking weapons. The place was a veritable hive.
"Lucky guess," Tseng said, only half-lying. The Captain did not seem satisfied by this answer, but he didn't question further. "What are you shipping?"
"We ask the questions here, Emperor."
Tseng lapsed into silence. If he couldn't get answers from them, he would observe. They came to a back wall with another door, this too heavily guarded. At some signal from the Captain, the two guards moved aside. As they were opening the door, however, a crash sounded.
They turned in unison at the commotion. Men were yelling and scrambling to pick up the pieces of a stack of shipping crates that a forklift had glanced, tipping them to the concrete ground. Several of the crates had shattered, or the lids had popped off, their contents littering the floor. The Captain of the guards was ushering him out of the room almost before Tseng saw the familiar shimmering white powder drifting out of the cracked glass phials.
Weapons? Diamond Dust? What sort of operation is this?
"Get a move on," said one of the guards, shoving him down the corridor. They didn't have far to travel before they arrived at a set of stairs which descended a flight into a dim, carpeted corridor. The place looked bland, and he thought the doors lining the hallway might be offices, judging by the scratched-off nameplates.
The guards chose one of these doors to unlock and shove him through. He hit the carpeted ground in complete darkness. After groping for a moment, he came upon a lamp, which he switched on. There was a small cot in one corner and a comfortable-looking chair to sit in. The décor was not expensive; it was meant to house a prisoner or prisoners.
Tseng hoped this Superior came to see him soon. He needed to find Yuffie. The thought that she could be somewhere in this building bolstered him, and a feeling he tried not to label hope churned in his gut. Tseng had learned to fear hope, over the years. It always ended in disappointment.