Snowball Effect

by Tiffany Park

Once upon a time in his youth, Angeal posed as the centerfold for an obscure porn magazine. When he made SOLDIER First Class, Shinra decided to erase its history for PR reasons. A few years later, Reno and Rude find an old copy in a used bookstore and purchase it so it can be safely destroyed. This results in many more complications than if they'd just left it to molder there.

24. Here There Be Dragons

Chapter 24: Here There Be Dragons

Veld had a very long afternoon that was unlikely to conclude before midnight. Not that Turks weren't always on the clock, even during what was jokingly referred to as "down time," but despite the useful plans that came out of the rushed strategy meeting, things hadn't exactly settled down.

He'd barely made it back to his desk when his computer chimed to announce the arrival of an official email from the President himself. That missive had contained exactly one sentence:

"Fix it."

The note, terse to the point of rudeness (rudeness not being unusual for President Shinra, who was always more interested in results than social niceties), also contained a single link to the current online edition of The Midgar Mirror. Veld didn't bother opening it. He had seen it enough already to recognize it immediately.

The President's email held no other explanations or demands, but then, none were needed, were they?

Veld banged his head on his desk once before sitting up and considering the bright side of the unholy mess. One good thing had come of that stupid tabloid exposé: The centerfold had lost all value as potential blackmail material now that the whole world knew of it. Heidegger could no longer use it as leverage against Director Lazard Deusericus, SOLDIERs Hewley and Sephiroth, and the entire SOLDIER organization. With luck, those stupid orders to deliver any found copies of the porn magazine to Heidegger would be rescinded, and even if they weren't, it didn't matter. Heidegger could do nothing more than read the magazine or deposit it in the nearest waste bin, probably after a great deal of uncouth cussing. And then rescind the orders.

Not that Veld planned to ever follow them no matter what happened. It just didn't matter anymore. His Turks could continue to follow standard procedures and destroy the damned things. He smiled viciously, tempted to call that nosy scandal-sheet reporter and thank her. Of course, he wouldn't do that, either.

He sent a reply back to the President that was almost as terse but far more polite: "Sir. Corrective measures are already underway. Expect preliminary results within the week." Unlike President Shinra, Veld included his name and formal title at the end. It was nothing more than a passive-aggressive nod to courtesy that the President hadn't extended to him, and a reminder that his position, at least, was due some respect. Not that it would matter to President Shinra, who probably wouldn't even notice, but it made Veld feel better.

With IT and Cyberweapons safely in Tseng's capable hands, Veld turned his attention to coordinating with PR and Propaganda. As it turned out, they'd been expecting his calls. Recent events having been so insanely public, they'd anticipated their orders and were already prepping and planning their own campaigns. It wasn't their first rodeo thank-you-very-much, as a PR and image consultant informed him more caustically than he'd felt necessary. They only needed official sanctions, and had, in fact, already compiled instructions for what they wanted from the Turks, the SOLDIER organization, and the company, as well as a list of—to put it baldly—nonnegotiable demands.

The top of that list was unlimited access to SOLDIER First Class Hewley, amounting to every minute of his time for the next two weeks. Minimum. Potentially to be extended to an entire month.

He was just going to love that, Veld thought with a snicker.

His next call was to Director Deusericus, who picked up on the very first ring.

"So what do you need from me, Veld?" Lazard said without preamble. No surprise that the Director of SOLDIER knew about the latest public relations disaster.

Veld explained the need to have Hewley temporarily reassigned to PR and Propaganda, and grimaced when Lazard let out a burst of almost hysterical laughter. He must have had a bad day, too.

"I never thought it would turn into such a nightmare," Lazard admitted, "but we all have to pull together on this one, don't we? I'll write the orders after this call and they'll be in Angeal's inbox within the hour."

"I'll go talk to Hewley myself to update him on the measures my Turks are taking on his behalf," Veld said. "It seems courteous to have a direct conversation and impress upon him the need for discretion and cooperation. Could you take care of informing Sephiroth about Hewley's new orders?" He preferred to avoid the largest, strongest, and most unnerving SOLDIER in the entire company, since he was basically hijacking one of said SOLDIER's friends for the foreseeable future.

"Naturally," said Lazard, undeceived by the blandness of Veld's stated intentions. "I'll cc Sephiroth with Angeal's new orders. But Veld, please don't intimidate Angeal too much. You know what everyone says about the Turks. You people have a certain reputation and I'd hate for my team to take your activities the wrong way. Some of them can be...less than reasonable under the wrong circumstances."

"I doubt he's intimidated at all," Veld muttered, not missing the implied threat regarding the safety of his Turks. In his experience, no SOLDIER First or Second Class was ever intimidated by mere Turks. Maybe the Thirds, but even that might be pushing it. "I suppose if he is, Sephiroth will skewer those responsible and Rhapsodos will torch the remains."

Lazard only laughed and didn't say anything to deny the likelihood, which made Veld feel just so much better about the entire operation. He made a note to inform his people to take more care than usual to avoid upsetting certain relevant SOLDIERs.

Despite the underlying threats, the call was more amiable than Veld's other contacts that afternoon, and Lazard shared a bit of gossip circulating about how Scarlet had actually matted and framed the Mirror's picture of Hewley and hung it in a prominent position in her office. Veld didn't doubt it at all. He did doubt that Lazard would ever share that tidbit with Hewley.

He'd made significant progress updating the preliminary plan and timetable when Tseng got back to him around four in the afternoon to touch base.

"Sir, it turns out that The Midgar Mirror made a mistake that should work in our favor," Tseng said over the phone.

"Oh?" said Veld. A tabloid had screwed up? Color him shocked.

"IT informed me that the Mirror verified that the image they received wasn't tampered with, but they had no way to prove that the original image in the magazine was not itself a fake. Whether they knew it or not, they published under false pretenses."

"Interesting." Veld smiled to himself. "It's surprising that their forensics team didn't think of that."

"Perhaps they were in too much of a rush to think things through properly."

"Probably. Plus, they're a Gaia damned tabloid. They don't care much if their information is sketchy or invented."

"I doubt they'd invent this story themselves," Tseng pointed out. "There's too much risk of offending Shinra over such a fabrication."

"So they got sloppy, then." Veld didn't particularly care, as long as it didn't interfere with his plans. "Unfortunately, we all know the centerfold was real, and sooner or later someone was going to dig up a copy." Even if this time a copy of that wretched picture had fallen into the tabloid's lap. "It makes no difference to us. We'll still plant the manipulated data then announce to the world the Mirror published a fake. We can paint them as either incompetent or malicious." He smiled. "Or both."

"Indeed," Tseng agreed, sounding quite satisfied. "Perhaps their mistake can be used as leverage to induce them to drop any further stories about Hewley they might be planning, and to avoid indulging in any retaliatory slander or protestations of innocence."

"Perfect," said Veld. It was always good to have blackmail material in your back pocket.

Tseng then carefully related his conversations and conclusions with some experts from IT and Cyberweapons. The expert digital editors could only give a rough guess that the required image manipulation might take a minimum of twenty-four hours. They needed to actually see the data before they could provide a more accurate estimate, but it wouldn't be less. In addition, it seemed the necessary adaptations to the SEPNET worm would take two or three days before it could be released.

None of these things, Tseng said, could be done any faster if they wanted the alterations to pass muster. They promised to work around the clock if necessary.

That all suited Veld just fine and worked well with his own, tentative timeline, anyway. His Turks would need a few days to obtain copies of the Mirror's master image, update them, and then substitute them throughout the tabloid's servers and offline storage.

Before ending the call, he instructed Tseng to ask IT and Cyberweapons to also hack into the Mirror's offices, obtain personnel schedules, and get into the security systems. When the time came for his Turks to break into the building, he wanted everything ready and for the operation to go as smoothly and quickly as possible. They'd need tight coordination.

As his last person-to-person contact of the day—and thank goodness that his remaining tasks after this only involved paperwork—Veld stalked through the corridors of the SOLDIER First Class housing area until he came to Hewley's apartment.

It was after six thirty, so Hewley should be home. Veld had no idea, though, if the SOLDIER knew about the current uproar. It seemed impossible that he didn't, but Hewley didn't spend a lot of time online and hadn't been reported to have left the HQ all day. It might come as a shock.

It would be a short conversation, Veld promised himself. He planned only to give the kid a quick, off the record briefing, some instructions on what to do next and, more importantly, what not to do next. No attempted intimidation. He'd taken Lazard's hint to heart, though the warning really hadn't been necessary. Hewley had been cooperative from the start; Veld saw no reason why that might change.

Veld paused, listening. It sounded quiet inside. Good. He'd half feared he'd be walking in on a tantrum in progress. An understated one, given Hewley's reputation, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be some form of destructive venting.

He knocked on Hewley's door.

It opened, and Veld found himself confronted with the tall, broad wall of solid muscle known as Sephiroth. Mako eyes fixed on him icily. Veld's first instinct was to take a step back, but he was too well-trained and experienced to expose the fleeting moment of natural fear. He always forgot how large Sephiroth was, despite knowing all the SOLDIER's specs. Sephiroth's elegant build and features, long silver hair, preternatural grace, and even his relative youth always fooled people into thinking he was smaller, even svelte when he was in uniform and at a reasonable distance. It was an illusion. In reality, he was a bit bigger than Hewley—and physically stronger, too.

Veld had been expecting a giant SOLDIER to answer the door. Just not this one. He noted absently that Sephiroth was wearing casual gray sweats and had his hair in a ponytail. Weird.

"Who is it, Seph?" a recognizable tenor asked from somewhere inside, making Veld twitch. Rhapsodos. Of course. Because why on the Planet would he and Sephiroth spend the evening in their own homes when they could be in Hewley's?

Sephiroth shifted a little bit to the side so Rhapsodos could see their visitor from his seat on the couch. Rhapsodos looked calm but also displeased. Hewley was nowhere in sight.

Here there be dragons, Veld thought with resignation. So much for a quiet briefing and discussion of new orders—not to mention swallowing his pride enough to ask Lazard to run interference. Veld would have to brief Sephiroth himself now. Was Hewley never without his bodyguards?

"I'd like to speak with SOLDIER First Class Hewley," Veld said.

"No," said Sephiroth impassively.

"It's important, SOLDIER," Veld insisted, putting the authority of over two decades as a Turk into his tone while still remaining polite. "I'm sure you've already guessed what it's about. May I come in?"

"No," said Sephiroth again, as immoveable as a granite statue. "He's busy. It can wait until tomorrow."

"I'd rather keep it off the record. Hewley needs this information before tomorrow morning."

"No," said Sephiroth a third time. He moved to close the door in Veld's face.

"Oh, for Gaia's sake, Sephiroth, let him in," came Hewley's welcome voice. "I'm off the phone now, anyway."

An instant later Hewley appeared and nudged Sephiroth out of the way. "Come in, Mister Veld." He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't hostile, either. Just wary, like any sane person confronted with a Turk, especially their chief.

So Veld entered the dragons' den. "Thank you, SOLDIER." He ignored the way Sephiroth loomed behind him.

He picked his way through the strewn armor on the floor, and did not miss the crumpled newspaper on the coffee table, along with the opened and undamaged copy lying next to it. He shot Hewley a knowing glance. Taking this a little more seriously now, aren't you? he thought cynically, but saying that out loud would be counterproductive, especially considering the little SOLDIER coffee klatch present. He kept his lips zipped.

"Have a seat," said Hewley, indicating the couch and the armchair near it. As the couch was entirely occupied by the sprawled form of a deceptively relaxed-looking Genesis Rhapsodos, Veld opted for the chair.

"You should have called first," said Rhapsodos, eyes sharp despite the half-mast lids, "but I suppose skulking, sneaking, and surprise appearances come naturally to all Turks."

"Shush, Gen," said Hewley. "Don't mind him," he said to Veld. "He's hungry and disappointed that our take-out hasn't arrived yet. They both hoped you might be the delivery person, somehow magically having gotten past reception and through secured elevators to reach my doorstep with dinner."

"Whatever." Rhapsodos waved a dismissive hand. Sephiroth continued to loom near Veld, who for all his years as a Turk and time spent around SOLDIERs couldn't control the way the hairs on his neck rose in response to the quiet intimidation.

"Would you like something to drink?" Hewley asked, playing the part of a polite host, attempting to impose a certain amount of semi-normalcy onto the uncomfortable gathering. "I have tea and several kinds of juice. Or water, if you prefer."

Veld almost smiled. Almost. "No thank you. This visit shall be brief."

"Move over, Genesis," Hewley said. Rhapsodos reluctantly shifted aside, and Hewley sat down on the spot nearest Veld's chair. Hewley said, "Now, pleasantries aside, I believe you told Sephiroth that you have some information for me about, well, I imagine it's about the situation that's going on now?" He let out a self-deprecating little huff.

"Yes, SOLDIER Hewley," Veld began.

"You might as well call me Angeal when we're off the record. I have a feeling we're going to have a few more of these unofficial meetings before this mess is finally cleared up."

As Veld had recognized during their last meeting, Hewley deserved his reputation for calm affability. It helped, compensating somewhat for the suspicion and danger radiating in thick waves off his friends. "That's very likely. In these private meetings, you may call me Veld." He noticed that neither of the other SOLDIERs offered him the use of casual names.

"So," he continued, "we have a plan for de-escalation and sanitation. We've already begun work but we'll need extensive cooperation from you."

Rhapsodos sat up a little straighter but maintained his detached manner, keeping his eyes half lidded. Sephiroth didn't move or change his expression. Nonetheless, Veld swore he felt those two sets of mako gazes searing holes through his skull like high-powered laser beams.

"Go on," said Hewley, either not noticing or ignoring his friends' charming behavior.

It occurred to Veld that actual dragons might be less intimidating that the three people he faced. Lazard's warning rang through his head, mocking his previous confidence that this meeting might possibly go well.

"Keep in mind that everything we are about to discuss has already been approved by Director Deusericus," he said, throwing the SOLDIERs' boss under the proverbial bus and not caring that it was a cowardly way to proceed.

Hewley nodded, so Veld went on, keeping things factual, "At this point, suppression is impossible—"

Rhapsodos burst out laughing and finally sat all the way up like a normal human being. "There's the understatement of the decade!"

"Shut up, Genesis," Hewley said, annoyed. "I want to hear this."

Hewley didn't tell either of his friends to leave, which was disappointing. Sephiroth stepped a little closer, the better to loom menacingly, Veld assumed. Well, the other two would find out everything anyway. "In fact, you all need to hear this, so it's just as well you're here." Technically, Rhapsodos didn't need to hear the details, but Veld accepted that no matter what, Rhapsodos would be told everything—probably in excruciating detail and with an absurd amount of commentary and editorializing. Better that he get the straight story along with the other two.

"The current plan," Veld stated, "is to discredit both the story and the picture that The Midgar Mirror printed."

"Discredit it how?" asked Sephiroth, still looming but giving off slightly fewer terrifying vibes.

"The details are need to know, but in essence, we will plant evidence with the Mirror and in online public spaces that the photograph was manipulated. Our story is that someone maliciously edited Hewley's head onto another man's body and submitted it to the Mirror. This nasty, no-good person belongs to a previously unknown anti-Shinra organization and was attempting to discredit Shinra and SOLDIER. The editing job was very skillful, which is why it wasn't detected before the tabloid article ran. The Mirror's staff will of course double check, discover their error and with luck will print a retraction."

"You're going to rely on a tabloid to do the right thing?" Rhapsodos snorted inelegantly. "That's cute. A little too naïve for me to believe, though. Especially from the Turks."

"Nothing of the sort." Veld grinned like a Belzecue showing off its Death Fangs. "We also will be utilizing friendly outlets and social media to discredit the story. Over the next few weeks, the physical copies of the tabloid will mysteriously start vanishing. We will be obtaining as many of the available copies as possible to limit their distribution."

"The better to be forgotten," said Rhapsodos. "Just like what happened to Barely Legal. Out of sight, out of mind."

"Just so. Should the Mirror continue to press their story, we have other means at our disposal to bring them into line."

"I do not want to know those kinds of details," Hewley stated, shaking his head.

Veld agreed with him about that and thought it an intelligent and practical attitude to take. "You won't. You only need to know that it will be happening. The PR people say you need to behave naturally, as though the tabloid stories are nothing more than an irritation to you."

"That means you can't keep hiding in your apartment," teased Rhapsodos. Hewley shot him a glare.

"Well, you probably shouldn't go out on the public streets for a week or so," Veld temporized. "Just to avoid being swarmed by reporters and groupies, and to give my Turks some time to work. Aside from that, do not make a fuss or try to defend yourself publicly," he added with emphasis. "It will only make things worse and hinder our own operations. Just treat it as a bother. If anyone brings it up to you, you can just roll your eyes, act a little contemptuous like you think only an utter moron would believe such a thing, and change the subject. Keep it subtle. No drama. If you can't manage that, then just walk away without engaging at all."

Hewley and Sephiroth both stiffened up and gave curt nods, demonstrating just how poorly they would do at the required playacting. On the other hand, Rhapsodos curled his lip at the instructions and inspected his fingernails. Perfect, thought Veld. If only Rhapsodos could be trusted to avoid engaging in theatrics, he'd be the ideal wingman. Alas, he'd probably throw fits instead of indulging in personal grooming.

Veld went on: "PR also says that your image will require a little rehabilitation and...redesign. An update, as they say." Veld hesitated over mentioning that, but PR had used that word exactly and Hewley would soon be hearing it from them for himself.

"Ugh." Hewley ran a hand over his face.

"Not much from what I understand," Veld reassured him, though that wasn't precisely true. PR and Propaganda had an entire campaign already planned out. "However, the most, ah, the loudest, most widely known story wins out in these situations, or so the Propaganda people tell me. They want to use their usual channels to..." He cleared his throat at the way Hewley's mako stare bored into him. "They want to promote you more, but subtly. Not as a household word, but just enough to make it natural for everyone to assume that you'd never do something as foolhardy as pose for a pornographic magazine. If anyone ever sees that centerfold again, their first thought will be to dismiss it as a ridiculous fake."

"I suppose that's logical..."

"PsyOps," Sephiroth stated matter-of-factly. "Against the general public."

"In essence, yes," Veld acknowledged. "Along with a little cyberwarfare as needed to manipulate the image to appear fake in as many secondary and tertiary online sources as possible."

Rhapsodos said cynically, "And probably indulging in some good, old-fashioned theft, too. Breaking and entering."

Veld didn't respond to that.

"Turks," Sephiroth huffed, almost but not quite openly sneering. At least he'd backed off a step and wasn't looming over Veld anymore. He must've agreed with the plans he'd heard.

"I really, really, really don't want to know," Hewley grumbled.

"This is all being done for your own good, SOLDIER. And Shinra's," Veld told him. He couldn't resist leaning on Hewley just a little to ensure maximal cooperation—he was a Turk, after all, and it was second nature. But Lazard's warnings in mind—and the other two SOLDIERs present—kept the worst of his base instincts under control. "It will save your reputation, SOLDIER's, and even those of your friends." He deliberately looked at all three, one at a time, and said, "I hope you realize you could all get caught up in this clusterfuck if it isn't handled properly."

Hewley looked a little sick at that idea, though Sephiroth and Rhapsodos didn't seem particularly concerned. Unlike Hewley, who generally kept his nose clean, they were accustomed to media notoriety and clearly didn't let it bother them.

"Honestly, we're already involved," Rhapsodos said. "We were both mentioned explicitly by that miserable rag."

"Though everything that was written was pure fiction," Sephiroth added. He looked at Hewley. "I assure you, I was not livid." His lips quirked up, cracking his deadpan expression into something resembling human.

Rhapsodos chortled. "But I was definitely devastated and wailing that I never knew about your sordid past and how could you possibly keep something like that from your very bestest childhood friend?" He gestured dramatically, laying the back of a hand against his forehead and feigning a tragic swoon, which conveniently didn't require him to move his lazy ass off the couch.

"Anything else?" Hewley asked Veld, ignoring the overacting ham beside him.

Veld smiled slyly. "As a matter of fact, yes. You should see your new orders sometime tonight. Starting tomorrow morning at nine, you are on special assignment coordinating with the PR and Propaganda department for at least two weeks, up to possibly a month."

Hewley groaned outright, gripping his hands together and dropping his head.

"If you need any pointers," Rhapsodos said oh-so-thoughtfully, "Sephiroth and I can help you out."

"Why can't you just take my place?" Hewley whined childishly at them. "You guys are the media darlings."

"Because neither of us ever posed nude for a dirty magazine," Rhapsodos retorted. He guffawed. "At least, I've never posed nude. I can't vouch for Seph. Have you, Seph?"

Hewley huffed a little laugh. Sephiroth glared at Rhapsodos and said, "That's not even worth a response."

"But you did respond."

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, I have never posed nude."

"Not even as the model for an art class?" Rhapsodos pressed with an evil gleam in his eye. "I'm sure you've gotten plenty of requests."

"You are being contemptible."

"He's being a pain in the ass, like usual," Hewley said to Sephiroth. "You ought to know better by now than to take the bait."

"I'm just pointing out the obvious," Rhapsodos said. "I'm sure he gets requests all the time and just ignores them. That's what I do."

Three heads swiveled to stare at him. He shrugged. "And as for you," he pointed a finger at Hewley. "You need to suck it up and deal."

"Veld's plans do sound reasonable to me, Angeal," said Sephiroth, smoothly following the change of subject back to its original track. "We should proceed without delay."

Hewley scowled but didn't protest. Veld gaped up at Sephiroth. "We?" Veld didn't like the sound of that. While he appreciated Rhapsodos and Sephiroth's unexpected support, the only SOLDIER he needed was Hewley. He did not want either of the others. And all three, which Sephiroth seemed to imply? Horrifying thought.

"We," Sephiroth confirmed with a tiny, implacable smile. "After all, Angeal has designated me and Genesis as his moral support in this endeavor, and I am also his direct superior. I get to call the shots."

Actually, when it came to assignments, the only person with real authority was Lazard, given the rather ambiguous command structure within the three SOLDIER classes. Nonetheless, Veld didn't argue. Sephiroth was the top of that unusual quasi-not-quite-a-formal-hierarchy under Lazard, and even if he didn't cut orders or assign missions, he was correct that he was Hewley's superior.

It wasn't his problem, Veld decided. It was going to be PR and Propaganda's problem. They'd handled these three before; they could do it again. If the PR folks had any issues, they could jolly well take them to Lazard and let him sort out whatever complications the terrible trio might engender.

"It's not nice to spy on other people's phone conversations," Hewley said reproachfully.

"You knew we were listening," Sephiroth said with an impossible air of superior serenity. Veld wondered how he did that. Maybe he practiced in front of a mirror.

"I heard you say it, too," Rhapsodos put in, failing to control his smirk.

Exhaling through his nose—quite loudly—Hewley folded his arms across his chest, muttered something about honor and the lack thereof, and slumped back against the sofa in a huff.

Veld got to his feet. While seeing the three most intimidating First Class SOLDIERs in the Shinra Electric Power Company bicker like schoolchildren was fascinating, he decided that retreat really was the better part of valor. All were now briefed, and he had secured the trio's cooperation. Whether he wanted all three of them or not.

"Is there anything else, Veld?" Hewley asked upon noticing him standing.

"Those were the basics you need to know," said Veld. He stepped toward the door. "I'll keep you informed as more details concerning you personally come to light."

Rhapsodos's phone rang. He answered, and after listening let out a shout of "About time!"

"Genesis?" Sephiroth asked. "What was that about?"

"Our food's arrived!" Rhapsodos leapt off the couch, over the coffee table, and to the door. "I'll get it. Back in a flash!" And out he bolted, not bothering to close the door after him. It remained wide open, a tantalizing escape route.

"I guess he's really hungry," Hewley said with a chuckle. "Veld, would you care to stay? I'm pretty sure Genesis ordered enough to feed an army."

Veld felt only alarm at that invitation, especially since Sephiroth's renewed looming indicated that despite Hewley's offer, he was not particularly welcome. "Thank you, but no," he said, thankful for a graceful opportunity to depart. "I'll leave you gentlemen to enjoy your meal."

And with that, he escaped through the still open door.