"Keep the change."
"...yes, ma'am." The carriage driver replied in disbelief, but smart enough to not look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, he stuffed the extra Gil in his vest and snapped the reins in a hurry, no doubt eager to get as far away from her as possible, lest she change her mind and demand the rest of the money back.
Cissnei should only shake her head in amusement as the man sped away on his Chocobo.
Sometimes, the redhead Wutain forgot what it was like in the city, in the slums, where things like charity and basic human kindness were... far and few.
A dog eats dog world.
'Or a cat scratch cat… maybe fish, nibble on fish?' She thought humorously, trying her hand at small-town humor. 'Kind of like during basics.'
The fact that she could find laughter in her rough upbringing at the orphanage, and later harsh training at The Facility… only reinforced how detached she was from her past life, and how readily she embraced the new.
Gongaga, and its village kindness, had truly spoiled her.
Yet, here she was. Dipping a toe back into that dark world… based on nothing but a rumor, a half-baked hunch, and desperate hope.
Tugging the hood of her cloak down lower, she made the short walk past one of the few working security gates between sectors 5 and 6, letting the AI scan her fake passports as she strolled along. She internally breathed a sigh of relief that she was able to get into Midgar –and its lower city– without incident. The only speed bump was that one caravan smuggler who demanded she pay for his services with something a little more physical.
So she did… although, a broken jaw and fractured wrists probably wasn't what he had intended.
Taking a deep gulp of polluted air, Cissnei mentally went over what she needed to do… and followed the crowd towards Wall Market.
Well, not before picking up a broken 2-by-4 to use as a cane.
Stretching out her left hand, palm up, the former Turk lowered her shoulders, hunched her back, and slowed her pace till she was basically just limping along. But made sure each step was uneven to emphasize how unsteady and awkward her rhythm was… just another broken tramp looking for coin or a handout.
An on-in-a-million slum girl down on her luck. But with a countenance that said it wasn't worth the time or effort to traffic this vagabond, no matter how easy the score was. Didn't need to even look under the hood to tell she was probably an ugly one, the body language alone basically screamed that, so… not worth much Gil even if you were inclined.
Especially, if she was desperate –or mental– enough to come to this den of "thieves and whores" looking for kindness.
And as it were… no one gave her a second glance.
Even had a group of street toughs give the redhead a wide berth, probably in fear of catching something… which wasn't an unreasonable concern under the plate, all things considered. Due to the smog, pollution, and general uncleanness, half the people in the slums were sick with something or other. Still, the assassin made sure to cough extra hard when they passed, enjoying the sight of them picking up their pace, all while trying to keep their nonchalant swagger.
Shaking her head, with just a hint of a smile, Cissnei pushed on, keeping to the edges of the moving throng of people… eventually entering the heart of Don Corneo's territory.
She took a moment to glance around, eyes constantly flickering and searching for anything out of the ordinary.
Metal shanty buildings and retrofitted shipping containers lined the streets hazardously, creating odd and somewhat confusing turns and alleyways. Hanging lights and neon signs covered everything, giving the illusion of clean and exciting, the brightness hiding the rust and dirt just below the illumination. Various carts, merchants, and ne'doers –selling everything from foods to trinkets, and other "services" of all kinds– took up posts around the bigger shops in an obvious attempt to find business and victims. And of course, the signs advertising the bigger shops and its entertainments covered every inch of bare wall, with the Corneo Cup being the most obnoxious.
However, it was the people she was most aware of.
There was the typical clientele –outsider criminals going from one job to the next with shoulders hunched, terrified newbies who trailed along after (no doubt realizing how deep in the shit they were), over-indulgent young people enjoying the pleasures and debauchery of Wall Market.
And of course the locals… all bright smiles and hard eyes. Their backs, always to the walls as much as they can manage, and their hands always hovering around certain body parts, no doubt near concealed weapons. Happy for the continuous influx of tourism and gil from these outside thrill seekers, but with no delusions of what these "out-of-towners" may think they could get away with if they flashed enough money around.
And considering the horrifyingly high missing people rates in sector 6… the locals had legitimate concerns.
Although… to be fair, two-thirds of those cases were just Shinra snatching up people off the streets for experimentation or recruitment.
Cissnei herself was an example of a kid getting bagged when she strayed too far from her orphanage.
But no time to ponder over her terrible childhood, because once she confirmed that she wasn't being followed, even the locals dismissed her after one glance… she took a sharp left on Silken Road, before entering a dark alleyway towards her destination. Plate light was nearly blacked out in a pseudo-tunnel, the opening overhead covered by hanging rooftops and clothing on strings left out to dry. As the redhead walked the stretch of dirt to the other side, she kept a firm hand on one of her shuriken under the cloak. After all, you never really knew what was hidden in one of these dark passages –a prime place to set a trap– and even a Turk, former or not, could get overwhelmed if they aren't prepared.
Thankfully, she made it to the other side without incident, the back entrance of the massage parlor just up ahead.
Taking one last cautionary glance around, she made it to the entrance in record time, knuckles already beating out a signal knock for identification–
"Password!"
Cissnei could only blink in confusion as the voice on the other side of the metal demanded some codeword… at least till she remembered who she was dealing with, and the redhead rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Open up… before I break your fancy door." The assassin said, no real heat behind her words, but already tired of the city and its people… and it's only been a day! She couldn't wait to go back to Gongaga… hopefully with a few extra people in tow if her luck held out. "You got five seconds before I put my foot through the–"
The door swung open immediately.
There stood an older Wutain woman, somewhere in her mid to late thirties –with the typical dark hair and pale skin usually associated with most of their people– beautiful, tall, slender, with quite the bosom. All wrapped up in a fancy dark kimono reminiscent of old Wutain culture, with one sleeve pulled down to show a tantalizing, if tasteful amount of skin.
A bewitching package meant to beguile the gullible and take a sucker for all they were worth.
Unfortunately for the matron, all was wasted on the redhead.
"Fine, fine! Just get in you brat!" Madam M almost shouted, gesturing frantically for Cissnei to enter. Once the redhead stepped into the hallway, the older Wutain quickly shut the entrance and locked it, before rounding on the younger woman. "I thought you Blacksuits were all about secrecy and stealth! You know, discretion?"
"I'm more of a cloak-and-dagger kind of girl." The assassin said dismissively, taking a moment to shrug off her actual cloak and look around the narrow hallway. And not at all true, Cissnei was an expert at going undercover. Practically half her jobs under Shinra had been long-term spy missions. "Not seeing me till it's too late is all the stealth I need. And dead men tell no tales, so there's your secrecy. But I'm sure I don't need to tell you that, Maru."
Also not technically true… she's only done about maybe a dozen assassination missions in her lifetime despite it being one of her more pronounced skills. A shockingly low amount compared to her former coworkers. It was mainly due to the fact that when Shinra wanted you dead, they'd want you –and everyone else- to be very aware of who was responsible… if not outright spell it out.
Plausible deniability or something.
So… more execution than assassination, if the redhead was splitting hairs.
And the loud stuff tended to be left up to Rude or Reno, with her as a backup in case the unexpected happened.
But Cissnei made sure to look at the other woman as she said that last part, making certain an impression was left. They held eye contact for a brief moment before the shopkeeper broke away in agitation. The redhead didn't necessarily enjoy threatening people -implied or explicit- but never could be too careful with these Wall Market people. Especially the ones who sat in positions of power and made it a habit of sacrificing their own people to Corneo.
Cissnei understood doing what it took to survive… but that was a little much even for her.
Say what you will about Shinra –and she knew enough horror stories about them to fill a library– at least when they no longer had use for you, they gave you a clean death.
Er… cleanish death.
Madam M may be a pillar of stability and authority in sector 6, but all that net good didn't wash out the terrible things the woman has done -will keep doing- in defense of said autonomy.
So no, while Cissnei didn't like threatening people (or even being rude in general), this was one of those situations she didn't regret reminding the Matron of the implied violence she was capable of.
Seeing that the woman was sufficiently cowed – for now – she turned her attention to her surroundings, trying to analyze what she saw.
The walls were well maintained if worn. A clock on the left near some stairs, a painting on the right, a few cabinets and desks scattered about, a fake potted plant or two… nothing obviously out of place. No indication of people close by, well… outside of a few muffled voices coming from the other side of the building, where the parlor business was.
It didn't seem like an ambush. Still… she made sure the knives under her sleeves were nice and loose.
Casually hanging up the disguise on a hook, she nodded to the proprietress. "Where is she?"
Even as the woman avoided her eyes, it did nothing to curb the acid on her tongue.
"Hmph! No finesse with these young ones!" Madam M complained under her breath, even as she began walking towards the stairs, making sure not to touch Cissnei as she passed (smart woman), and led them up. "Your better half showed up thirty minutes ago… with a password ready! And she has been waiting very quietly and demurely since then… all without a single threat of kicking down other people's doors. You could stand to learn a lesson or two about etiquette from her!"
The ex-Turk could only roll her eyes as she followed the woman up the steps and down the hall to the far-end door.
They stopped just in front of it, with the proprietress giving a sharp rhythmic knock to announce themselves.
There was no answer.
Maru glanced nervously at Cissnei as the silence stretched on, hand half raised to open the door and fidgeting in place as she stalled. And, for what felt like the hundredth time today, Cissnei rolled her eyes, reaching for the handle even as she palmed one of her blades.
The door swung open and in just a split second, the redhead assessed the threat.
A basic room –windowless for privacy, a beaten-up couch on one side, and a center table with a few chairs in the middle– very sparse and utilitarian.
Nothing really dangerous, thankfully.
Well, except for the blonde girl eating a bowl of soup in the middle.
Now that… was danger incarnate.
Early twenties, slim, kind of short, blonde with blue eyes that falsely sparkled as if in humor. A cute girl who didn't look out of place in general, despite the overdone "slum people" disguise she was wearing. Although… that may have been to hide the athletic build underneath, or the three gun outlines Cissnei could just make out from where she stood.
A woman truly living up to her former code Turk codename of "Gun".
"Howdy," Emma said, with a limp wave of her hand, her focus still completely on her food as she spooned up another mouthful.
"Nice disguise… you got rooting in someone's garbage for that?" Cissnei teased, trying to gauge the woman's reaction.
They were sort of friends, and had good camaraderie… but months of no contact could change a lot of circumstances.
"At least it's practical. You look like you took a dip in a very pink rainbow." The blonde shot back with a grin, licking her utensil. With an over-exaggerated jerk of her head, as if she just remembered something important, the blonde pointed with her spoon down at her soup. "Oh darn, where are my manners… want some?"
The redhead almost smiled at the other woman's own weak attempt to throw her off balance.
Nothing malicious of course, just a little dance among Shinra's former black ops.
"...I'll pass but thank you." Cissnei said politely, playing along as she crossed the distance of the room and sat in the opposite chair from the "exiled" Turk. Settling into her seat, the redhead half-turned to the masseuse. "Make sure we're not disturbed, nobody up those stairs for at least a few hours. Use any excuse you want… but I won't be held responsible if someone stumbles across us. That includes you."
One last parting threat against any attempts at eavesdropping. The assassin didn't think the woman would… but people were always unpredictable, even in the best of times.
"Fine." Madam M grumbled, clearly irritated at being banned from certain parts of her own establishment. Despite her huffines, and keen awareness of the two killers in the room, she still hesitated by the door frame. "So… about what we spoke about…."
Cissnei could only raise an eyebrow in confusion, before turning back towards her former companion for an explanation.
Gun only smiled.
"Already done." She answered, raising her cup in mock salute before downing the water. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand rather uncouthly, she added. "Check the secret compartment of your office desk. The one hidden under your finance ledgers and blackmail. I left proof and a note with all the details."
Well, that wasn't ominous.
"Excellent!" Maru said happily with a clap of her hand, not even fazed by the invasion of her privacy. But to be fair, when dealing with Turks, who really expected them not to snoop? Smiling for the first time today, she slowly backed out of the room now that she didn't have to force herself to stay. "We'll… don't mind me then ladies! I'll leave you two to get on with it!"
And without another word she turned around and left, closing the door behind her with aplomb.
"Do I want to know?" Cisnnei asked her coworker with raised brows, once she turned back to face the blonde.
"Meh, typical criminal power plays. A dime a dozen." Emma said nonchalantly, scooping up the last of her meal before dropping the spoon back into the bowl and dry-rubbing her hands. She crossed her arms (Cissnei, keenly conscious of how close her right hand was to her left holster) and slouched a little in her chair to regard the redhead. "A big deal for Madam M, an afternoon stroll for me… but pointless information for a "country girl" like you. And absolutely nothing to do with the job you had me do."
The subtle rebuke to mind her own business was noted.
"Fair enough." Cissnei conceded, before laying her kunai between them as a symbolic peace offering. Both girls knew that one knife did not at all lower the potential violence should things turn ugly between the former companions… but from the way Gun jovially plopped a bullet shell on the opposite of the blade, the gesture was appreciated nonetheless. They were friends to a point… but it was nice to have an understanding. "So… all our cards on the table. What do you got for me?"
"No sign of Zack Fair… and Cloud Strife seems to be fucking half of Midgar."
The redhead could only blink in surprise at the blunt answer, her heart dropping even as her molars nearly cracked in an effort to not ask a thousand questions. Instead, she answered simply. "Oh."
"Fair's trail went cold in the wastelands just outside of the city." Emma elaborated, reaching beneath the table to pull out a notebook and slide it towards her fellow Turk. "There was a hell of a battle with lots of dead infantrymen –the 13 infantry unit nearly wiped out to the man– despite how hard Shinra tried to hide that fact. Trunks full of bodies… but your boyfriend? Vanished. Officially KIA in the Company's records, though… that was from when we cleaned up Nibelheim."
"Not my boyfriend," Cissnei muttered dispassionately, even as her hands tightened ever so slightly as she cracked open the paperback to read the notes. The... reminder of those two disappearing, despite how hard she searched for them before the battle, still cut her deep. "And I already knew that much."
"So you did." The blonde responded, some sympathy bleeding through despite trying to stay professional. "I dug Cissnei… trust me I did, no stone unturned. But the records seem legit… and nothing to indicate that even took the body after the battle. Either your boy's in the wind… or some compassionate fool buried him somewhere out in the desert. I'm sorry."
Cissnei only nodded to acknowledge the words, her heart cracking under her blank expression.
Again.
The "official" records Shinra kept, and the doctored words written tended to be worth less than the paper used in those files. But if both she and Gun couldn't find anything hidden within the Company's servers and black sites…
Then there just wasn't any point in denying it, despite how much it hurt… Zack was dead.
Some small part of her always hoped –despite the logical side of her telling her to face reality– if only for his parent's sake, and not hers. Such kind and generous people didn't deserve the unfairness of it all.
And wasn't that just another knife into her heart… the memory of their sad faces when she told the village she had to leave for a time.
Made her wonder why she did this to herself –get her hopes up at the cost of others– after coming to terms with reality months ago. But the sudden rumors of a Soldier doing mercenary work in Midgar… and a certain blonde infantryman's sexual exploits reaching her contacts, had set her mind abuzz till she couldn't ignore the wild stories anymore.
Cissnei knew traveling all the way to the capital from Gongaga was likely going to result in heartbreak and fresh wounds… but she also knew she'd regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't at least try.
But at least there was some good news.
"And Cloud Strife? You're certain he's alive?"
"More than that… he's living his best life as far as I can tell," Emma explained, tossing another composition book the redhead's way. "Can't speak much on the validity of those rumors… no way to confirm some of them without getting in too close or traveling outside of the city. And since you wanted this one to be a "hands-off" investigation, a week of just following the guy was only going to get me so far. Though, if I was a betting woman, it seems like some of those stories just got blown out of proportion. Details getting exaggerated as it went from word to month. You know how it is with your beautiful elite… all sorts of things get said about you people."
"Not really." Cissnei absentmindedly, flipping a page idly even as she heard the other woman scoff.
Mild bitterness, from the blonde.
It wasn't her fault that the Shinra's office grunts and military unofficially ranked her as one of the most beautiful people in the city, the person they most wanted to date. She certainly didn't ask for that dubious honor. Or the subsequent attempts at "wooing" her after the results came out.
What made people think giving her flowers was going to up their chances?
Besides, the assassin herself didn't take those polls seriously. Beauty was subjective… how does one even go about quantifying such a thing?
"On the other hand, the basis seems to be true enough…"
The blonde let the sentence trail, milking the moment and catching the redhead's attention.
"You gonna make me ask, you drama queen?" Cissnei asked rhetorically but only got a grin in response. "Well then, blow my mind… what's the big reveal?"
"Your other boy's got a pretty girl or two practically hanging off his arms," Gun said with a wide smile, very amused by that portion of her mission. "Typical handsome guy behavior, I suppose. Even lives next to one of them, a Tifa Lockhart or something, where she's allowed to go into his room whenever she wants apparently. Which she does… a lot. And no, I didn't peek on them before you ask, you perv." The blonde only grinned at Cissnei's unimpressed look. "Those ladies are head over heels for the guy, that's clear enough, but it all seems fairly innocent as far as I can tell. So those rumors could be true, but I don't think they are. Not that I blame those girls, even if they were. After seeing that pretty face, it makes me wonder if I should have gotten a little more personal in the investigation… just to separate fact from fiction, you know what I mean?"
"I don't," Cissnei said flatly, even as she was hit with relief and anxiety in equal measure at Cloud being alive.
The multiple women rumor when she first heard it, was… strange, and she didn't quite know how to respond to that. Or even if she should. It was hard for her to reconcile that shy infantryman she had met long ago… doing those kinds of things. He had been too tongue-tied to even speak to girls, she half-remembered. The first time they met, Cloud couldn't even look her in the eyes.
Then again… years of captivity was plenty of time to change a person…
And it wasn't really her place to judge or interfere if it had been true.
When she had first heard those salacious rumors about the man, she had thought it was a simple case of gossip mutating out of control as it crossed the continent and finally arrived in Gongaga. Didn't really take the time to consider the implications… other than it meant there was a possible lead on the two's location. But even knowing there was some truth to it, the redhead focused on the most important part, the undeniable good news… he was alive!
And apparently recovered… if maybe drowning himself in sex.
Likely due to depression over the death of his best friend.
But Cissnei couldn't judge… when she found out about Zack's last stand, her response had been to burn bridges with her old life and hide from the world in a remote village.
It eased her guilt somewhat at not having done more for the two friends… for not having found them first before the 13th attacked.
It was a complicated feeling, knowing the man who had been unconscious and at death's door, somehow managed to survive despite the odds, yet the First Class didn't. A small, illogical part of her resented Cloud for his survival, and another was happy for him too … she wanted to talk to him, yet was scared of what he would say to her, if he was angry… wanted to make sure he was alright and cared for, wanted to run back to Gongaga and bury her head in the sand…
But regret was a terrible thing, and she knew she had to see him, despite whatever justified anger he may have when he saw her face.
It'd be worth it if only to apologize and seek forgiveness. And if it wasn't too painful… to see if she could ask Cloud about Zack's final moments. Cissnei knew it was asking a lot, but she hoped he would indulge her, and help her to find closure. But only if he remembered anything and it wasn't too painful. He had, after all, been a barely breathing corpse the last time she saw him.
And who knows? If things went well… maybe even beg him to come with her back to Gongaga where she could keep him safe… and live the rest of their lives away from Shinra's machinations. Grow old in obscurity.
Misery loves company, after all.
A final favor to their fallen friend. She owed them both that much.
In her musing on how she was going to convince the infantryman to come home with her, she didn't realize her friend hadn't finished giving her report.
"-told me he was some type of secret Soldier," Emma complained, taking a sip of water. "Spent hours in the archives trying to find his files because you told me about his infantryman days. Almost got caught on the first day because of that stupid super hearing–"
"I'm sorry." Cissnei interrupted, wondering if the blonde woman was messing with her. "Did you say, Soldier?"
000
In the dark, damp caverns of the abandoned North Corel Mines a captive and captor stared each other down.
"Let's make a deal Rui."
Shalua's head shot up tiredly as she regarded the Avalanche commander speaking to her through her cell bars.
Tall, slim, if somewhat emaciated due to lack of food, and haggard if the bags underneath his eyes were any indication. Scars on half his body from here he had sacrificed himself to save Elfe. And surprising everyone for surviving an attack from a summon. Dark hair peeking just underneath his bandana. Knife and gun strapped to his belt, each lined with Materia. A duffle bag slung over one shoulder. A mission bag?
The former bandit Shears –now the Old Guard's leader– had a look of grim determination on his face. And the scraggly beard was new.
Overall, he did not paint a pretty picture.
The redhead herself knew she wasn't much to look at too… what with the constant fatigue from months of captivity, malnourished due to the unit's scarce food supplies (and they certainly weren't going to give her their best), and missing a goddamn arm and eye. None of that, the bone-deep weariness or otherwise, did much to curb the rolling anger in her gut. A sensible person would wait to hear what this "deal" was, to analyze the situation and work it to her advantage.
And for a long moment… Shalua just stared at Shears, as if to do just that.
But, doing the reasonable thing, after months of captivity… just wasn't her style.
Unfortunately, or not, Shalua Rui had never been good at thinking with her head in these critical situations, not when her heart decided it needed to be heard. She was "intelligent", for all the good that did her, but no one would ever accuse her of being "smart."
So with that bit of self-assessment out of the way, the redhead bared her teeth at the stupid man, before working up some saliva and hawking a dry spit that landed just inches from his boots.
Eh, good enough.
"Fuck you and fuck Avalanche."
It came out more like a weedy rasp than the roar of defiance she was hoping for… but considering the grimace on the old man's face, it got the message across.
"Harsh words…" The man began, opening the cell and pulling a stool over to sit, glaring at the young woman on the far side of the cage. Unslinging his bad and dropping in next to his feet, her curious eyes following. "Especially coming from someone who used to be a true believer. You don't want to save the planet anymore?"
A question that didn't really need answering, especially with how vocal she had been since they threw her in here.
It was more of an attempt to open a dialogue with her… after her harsh response.
Well… if Shears wanted to talk, this girl wasn't above being petty.
"I never did. And even if I might have entertained it for a hot second… you eco-terrorists don't exactly practice what you preach." Shalua said flatly, forcing herself to sit up straighter along the cavern way, despite her muscle soreness. The redhead really should've tried stretching a bit during her captivity. But too late for regrets now. "I joined because I thought you idiots were all about beating down Shinra, and were going to Midgar. You know? Where they live?" She asked sarcastically to keep their attention as her right hand fumbled behind her for her sharpened stone. "And don't stand there and lie to my face. Not after I got dragged halfway across the planet… in your mad attempt to blow up Gaia!"
The former bandit rubbed his face tiredly, taking a deep breath before answering.
"To be fair… none of us –not even those in the inner circle– really knew what Fuhito was planning…"
"Oh, that's great to hear." She said with a sarcastic roll of her one eye. "So~, Command isn't just a bunch of planetary psychopaths… just chumps!" Gods! What she wouldn't give to punch this idiot in the face! "Fuhito bats his eyelashes, whispers shit in your ears behind Elfe's back, and none of you wonder why you weren't getting the orders directly from our leader!?"
Stone in hand, she waited patiently for an opportunity. Shalua would have to wait till he was closer before making a move. With her depth perception being in the gutter now, she didn't fancy her chances of dinging him with a throw. She had to make sure it counted… she only had one rock, after all.
He was unarmed, but credit where credit was due, the jerk could fight.
Maybe there was a gun in the bag she could lounge for?
"Now you're being unreasonable." Shears shot back, crossing his arms grumpily as he regarded his prisoner. "He was her second in command… there was no reason to think his orders didn't come from here. And not all of us are you Shalua, not everyone got a chance to speak to Elfe whenever we wanted."
"The wonders of having an actual personality."
"Or being the only other girl in the Unit"
"Yeah, yeah. And maybe if every guy didn't look at her like they never saw a woman before." Shalua said casually, eyeing how he seemed to grow more relaxed as they talked. He must think they were becoming friends or something equally impossible. "So what's your excuse for blowing up the Corel reactor?"
"Unavoidable at the time, but… we've been escalating for months, it was bound to happen. Expected even. If it wasn't Corel, it would have been some other village caught in the crossfire, I'm sure. Besides, what was that you said? Avalanche is all about taking down Shinra? Couldn't let them build that thing unopposed. "
Fair counterarguments… reasonable even.
She still hated him.
"They burned that village down." The redhead shot back, hoping to see it unbalance him, maybe gain her a bit more of an edge. "All because of what you did. And you didn't need those miners anymore, you all went about your merry way, dragging me behind in chains–"
"First of many times were we had to throw you in a cell." Shears cut in, face impassive, but lips drawn down into a hard line. "We can hash this out all we want… but it's not going to change what happened. So let's skip the trip down memory lane and get down to business." The ex-bandit leaned forward, forcing eye contact. "And let's put the tiny rock down. Even if you manage to get a couple of lucky shots in –and you're not– I got about ten guards out there that'll cut down the moment they see that you're alone."
Shalua only grimaced, not at all letting go of her "tiny" rock.
"...what are you even doing here?" She asked, mind trying to scramble for a different way to escape, since the whole... braining him scheme, was started to seem less like a sure thing.
For a brief moment, her eyes flickered to the mystery bag by his feet.
"Like I said, I want to make a deal."
"Well then, spit it out."
Leaning back, the former bandit looked her over, no doubt trying to collect her thoughts.
"I'm sure you've heard from your guards that Avalanche's new "Command" has reached out to us." Not a question, a statement of fact… because she had. But she waited for him to continue his preamble. "They offered a truce… and a chance to return to the fold. Full clemency all around, past sins and disagreements all forgiven."
"Why?" Shalua asked plainly, not quite believing her ears.
"Because… they're getting their asses kicked at Fort Condor." Shears said simply, not even a smile despite the people who branded him and his group as "traitors" and "extremists" to the cause. Accurate, since they did try summoning a monster to destroy the planet. And the man had some tact at least and the self-awareness that he was, in fact… in the wrong. "It's getting desperate, so they're reaching out to any potential allies they can scrape together. Which, funny enough, means us."
"Shinra must be six inches deep in their gut if they consider you a friendly."
"Nine if the reports are true." He joked, playing along with her crude humor. "However, despite the situation, Command is keeping their head on a swivel… and are limiting the number of people each group can bring to the fight."
"Smart…" Shalua admitted slowly, curiosity getting the best of her. "No point in doing all this to defend against Shinra, only then to get taken out from the inside by you and other supposed "allies" because they were outnumbered."
"Truthfully, I wouldn't but…"
"...but your record speaks for itself, making it hard not to doubt…"
"...so I'll play along. Show them the "Old Guard" isn't like that and gain some goodwill." Shears finished, nodding in acknowledgment at her interruption. "And it's no skin off my back if I'm being honest. Our numbers aren't quite what they used to be. Over the last couple of months, a lot of people who stuck with me after Ziconaide defeat… have been having second thoughts."
"You mean, they abandon you?" She asked bluntly, grinning a little at the admission.
He tapped his nose in confirmation. "Some sneak off in the middle of the night, others group up and tell me to my face they're leaving."
Shalua raised a red eyebrow at that honest answer. "I'm surprised I don't have any cellmates then. Unless… you've been trying to make an example of them?"
With this crazy group –and the fact that they still had a couple of Ravens hanging around– anything was possible with this splitter cell.
"Not at all," Shears said, dismissing her implication with a wave of his hand. "If their hearts aren't in it, they're free to go. I'm not gonna force anyone who isn't committed to the cause to stay and fight. It's a waste of all our time."
The blood in her ears started pounding, her anger rising as his words sunk in.
"Then why the fuck am I still here?" The scientist asked between gritted teeth, trying not to blow her gasket.
"...because you stabbed three people on your way out the door?" He asked rhetorically as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And…maybe it was. She did raise quite a bit of hell when they caught her trying to sneak away… and she reacted out of instinct and fear. It was a regret that she couldn't take back. "I understand wanting to leave, things were getting intense. We were doing things nobody signed up for. I had moments where I considered just making a clean break from it all myself. So, had you just left, I would have let you walk… no matter what Fuhito may have wanted. But you didn't… and well, the punishment needed to fit the crime."
He finished by taking a look around her cell.
'Fuck.' She thought.
The revelation that her months of imprisonment were… self-inflicted had some of that constant anger in her gut, redirected back at herself. Why did she always do this? Doing without thinking?
"You should've just killed me…"
It caused her captivity because of reckless action.
It made her waste years with Avalanche, trying to inflict pain on Shinra, instead of going straight to Midgar to rescue her sister.
It was the reason Shelke was able to get kidnapped in the first place. All because she wanted to run off and do shitty teenager things instead of looking after the baby of the family.
"It certainly was discussed," Shear answered quietly, eyes trained intently on her face. "And had those boys not lived, more might have pushed for it. But they did… and I'm not in the habit of killing comrades, former or not."
"...so, just shitty living conditions for me."
"At least till I could figure out what to do with you."
"And now you have?"
"Yes… and it comes back to Command wanting us to limit our numbers." He explained, rolling his left shoulder where the scars were, working out the kinks as he once again leaned forward. "Believe it or not, we almost meet their requirements as we currently are… just one extra body over, unfortunately. And the burning question in camp was, what do we do about that?"
Shalua wasn't sure if she should feel dread or hope at those words. Shears just said he wasn't in the habit of killing former comrades… but that didn't mean he wouldn't. Not if he could square the mental calculus and justify it.
And it'd solve so many of his problems in one fell swoop.
After all, between a lifeline for his starving soldiers and the nuisance Shalua Rui, it was a simple choice… even to her.
"So… liberty or death?" The redhead asked sarcastically, head held up high for the worst outcome.
"A little bit of column A, a little bit of column B," Shears answered, surprising her, who had half expected him to unholster his gun. "Like many things when it comes to you Shalua, it's never simple. Because when everyone was pushing for me to make a decision about you, I came up with a third solution."
She could only watch him warily as he smiled.
"Shinra is apparently about to do something nasty going on in Midgar." The former bandit elaborated, no doubt noting how she piped up at the mention of the capital. "Don't know all the details but the fact that the Company had been pulling infantry companies from other cities… and considering our spies have heard words like troops, guns, slums, and Avalanche being thrown around… well, it's nothing good."
"So why doesn't Command do something about it?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, steepling his fingers, he looked at her over his hands, smiling knowingly as if she just answered her own question.
'No… he couldn't possibly mean…'
"The Midgar team has… maybe a dozen people to combat all of that." He continued, ignoring her question for the moment. "A few spies, some ninjas apparently, Wallace's split cell… and maybe a Soldier if they aren't just blowing smoke."
"That little? Sounds like a death sentence." Shalua said slowly, hope blossoming in her chest. "A suicide mission for anyone stupid enough to volunteer."
"Might very well be. They're definitely hurting for people willing to go…" Shears said casually, finally tossing that bag of his towards her. "And I told Command that you were going to leave at first light to assist our brothers-in-arms. With a bit of my encouragement of course, so I can win some favor with them."
"Gotta win those brownie points somehow…" The redhead said, staring numbly as she pulled her personal items and ration supplies out of the knapsack, before looking up with a grin. "A little bit of A, a little of B, huh?"
"Nobody was happy that I split the difference… but nobody argued against it either." He said with a shrug, before standing up and dragging the stool with him out the door, before calling out over his shoulder. "I like to think this solves all of our problems quite nicely. And who knows? Maybe if you survive this death run, you'll have time to commit to… personal projects."
Shelke…
"Hey!" Shalua called out, finding her glasses and placing them back on her face, finally seeing clearly for the first time in months. Tapping a finger to her left shoulder, she said with a grin. "I'm gonna need an arm."
Shears half turned to look at her, eyes trailing to where she was pointing, before smiling bemusedly at her with a raised brow.
"...I'm fresh out."
"I meant I'll build one, asshole."
000
Deep in the heart of Midgar – and then a 100,000 feet deep into its crust– carnage and death abounded in the training facility of the Third Generation of Soldiers was common.
Especially among the two women who fought in The Maze.
"Please, please don't–!"
Shelke sabers came down, ending the poor woman's life.
No, clone … she ended the clone's life…
She had to remember that these… that these things weren't people. They were just constructs created in a lab to serve singular purposes. Some were for experimentation, others as spare parts, but the vast majority were used as a sacrifice for the strong.
One of the numerous ways Shinra forced the Tsviets to justify their continued existence.
They were kindling for the Deepground Soldiers to prove themselves better than their regular counterparts above ground. And a constant reminder that strength wasn't just given, it was strived for, perfected… earned. That even the best of them could fall if they let something as asinine as sympathy cloud their judgment.
Just like the one bleeding before her did.
The blonde woman (clone) had gotten the drop on Shelke. This was one of the more advanced prototypes, the worryingly growing number of clones that came with enhancements. Far superior to her own in almost every way. They were no longer just standard bodies simply being regurgitated by the scientist for slaughter, the weak and disposable, thrown into the meat grinder that was Deepground's "elite".
Now… the scientists had gotten creative, inspired even, and it forced the Third generation of Soldiers to truly fight for their lives.
Or at least it did for Shelke…
The clone had been stronger and faster than the psionic by a frightening degree. Every clash of their blades had nearly ripped her sabers from her hands. Even her ability to turn invisible had given a marginal advantage countered by the blonde woman's fast reflexes. It had her dead to rights by all accounts, with her gunblade only a second away from firing… only the construct not to pull the trigger. It hesitated… had lowered its weapon… had tried to talk to the Tsviets and reason with the little redhead.
Had even offered to work together to escape the bunker.
As if it could reason with her humanity.
And for the briefest of moments… Shelke had hesitated, bladed lowering ever so slightly…
But then she saw a flash of Crimson down the corridor being the blonde… and the decision was made.
The redhead severed the arms, the legs… and then a final swing to the head.
A mocking clap echoed across the maze.
"Well, well little one. Once again you survive another day by the skin of your teeth."
Shelke's eyes trailed up from the dead body, meeting the golden iris of Rosso the Crimson.
A beautiful woman with similar red hair to the teen, but one that was slicked back into a long flow down her back, unlike the hacker's own short bob. Tall, graceful, slim, with ample curves that bespoke of having matured beautifully into a young woman, and with a tight crimson outfit that was cut to accentuate the body.
A contrast to her own body of a ten-year-old child… the same age and body she's had for the last six years…
But Shelke knew that underneath the beautiful package of The Crimson was the deranged mind of a serial killer.
One need only see those golden eyes to see the insanity behind them, a predator who saw everyone as prey… the blood-soaked gunblade by her side only adding to the horrific sight. Shelke didn't even want to know what may have happened to the older woman's opponent to be… so covered in the red fluid.
The Transparent gripped her blades just a little harder in fear.
"Tsk, tsk such a mess you left," Rosso said in mock admonishment, having strolled closer with a sway of her hips as she looked at the corpse.
She fully turned her back to Shelke, not an ounce of concern for what her fellow Tsviets might do with such a vulnerability. And she wouldn't be wrong, the older woman's ability to sense blood meant she was never truly defenseless… at least not against any living creature. The psionic knew that should she even make the attempt, a strike at the "open" back… it would not end well for her.
Rosso turned around to look at Shelke with a sharp grin, stepping closer as she spoke
"If I'm being honest, I didn't think you'd win." The woman said with a fake titer, stepping playfully into the bloody ground as she walked closer. "This was one of Hollander's stronger prototypes, you know? Supposedly capable of taking one of the Second Classes above ground in a fair fight. Though… I suppose that Dr. Fatty is going to have to go back to the drawing board if our little Shelke could beat it in a fight."
Another step closer.
Shelke felt her shoulders hit the wall of the training room Maze… she had subconsciously backed away from The Crimson's approach.
"Although, fighting you is never simple… is it?" Rosso continued, body practically pressed into Shelke's own, as the woman looked down to meet the teen's blue eyes with her gold, uncaring that the sabers were within striking range. "Everyone always seems to hesitate when fighting a child, even a fake one like you. You just need to look up at them with those pretty blues… and they hesitate. Just for a moment, just for a breath… but that's all you really need, isn't it Shelke?"
"I will use whatever tool is at my disposal." The psionic began, reciting her long practice speech. "My survival is–"
Rosso's uproarious laugh cut her off mid-sentence.
"For all that vaunted intelligence… you can be so stupid sometimes, little Shelke." She said with a sharp grin, casually trailing one finger up the teen's arm… her throat… before forcing her chin up. "We are the next step in humanity, the future inheritors of this planet. Something as mundane as survival shouldn't even be a question for us." Her right hand dropped back down till it was wrapped firmly around The Transparent's neck. The woman leaned down, just to the side of her face, cheek to cheek as she whispered into the psionic's ear. Her mad grin was apparent, even when out of sight. "And the fact you believe you must justify it with every breath you take… is more than enough proof that you don't belong with the Tsviets."
"My use lies in my other abilities, regardless of my strength–"
"Oh, you're so right… you have so many uses." Rosso mocked, finally leaning back, yet her hand was still firm around Shelke's neck. "But always to the benefit of others, never yourself. But even that has an expiration date, As Shinra unravels the secrets of your abilities, your uniqueness as a psionic starts to yield diminishing returns… it's only a matter of time till one day, no one needs you. Like a tissue to be used and thrown away."
She laughed at her own analogy, but the look in the mad woman's eyes made it clear what she found funny… what would happen should that day come, of who would be doing the disposing.
"But till then…" Shelke countered almost boldly, a spark of defiance even as she forced her tone flat, uncaring. "I'm untouchable."
The grin on Rosso's face smoldered that spark in an instant.
"So you say…" The manic whispered in vague acknowledgment. "But even you see that you're on borrowed time."
"Things can change…"
"Ah, and there's your "survival" instincts kicking back in," Rosso said, finally removing her hand… only to move her right index up and brush one of Shelke's bangs away from her face. "The odds are never in your favor, destined to be little more than collateral damage… so you must have a plan then… but what?" A teasing light in her eyes, a sharp contrast to the sharp look of cracked sanity in the gold. "Let's play a guessing game… What will Shelke do? Will she… try to escape? But to where? And who will even take her in? She's as friendless up there as she is down here."
Unfortunately, it was true.
She'd only be marginally safer up there, compared to down here. Especially once Shinra caught wind of her trying to run.
"Maybe she'll throw herself at that pervert Hollander's mercy? Try and fulfill all of his disgusting fantasies with that tiny body of hers? Possible, maybe… he has been staring rather hard at you lately, hasn't he?"
A… potential option, but not one that would keep her safe for long. Not once the Colors finally enacted their plan to take over Deepground and brand her a traitor for joining the scientists.
"Perhaps another pitiful attempt to get into Weiss's good graces? But then again, you haven't exactly gotten stronger since the last time you tried. And your little abilities offer him nothing…"
Also true, The Immaculate only cared for his brother and begrudgingly tolerated the other Tsviets for their strength in his plans. Strength that Shelke did not have and couldn't tolerate the painful procedures to gain more of. Her ability to turn invisible a constant source of humor and derision among the Third Generation… and her unique SND drive meant nothing to the man now that he was capable of using it himself.
"The other Colors would kill you for even approaching them…" Rosso mused idly, twisting one finger into a tuft of short red hair almost playful, before stiffening as if in surprise. "You know… I just realized you've never asked me! Now why is that?"
Ask a woman who quite literally drank the blood of her enemies for protection? A rabbit with a broken foot had a better chance of asking a wolf for mercy.
Those golden eyes seem to sparkle with amusement, practically hearing the thought.
"...what would I even have to offer you?" Shelke asked slowly and a bit rhetorically, playing along with her whims but keenly aware that the woman's hand was still on her.
"Ah, now there's a bit of the supposed intelligence that Shinra loves," Rosso said happily, the sharpness of her smile all too apparent in The Maze's light. "As for what… let's work that out together! Mmhh… now you're worthless as an ally. With your strength, you're more of a liability in a fight than anything. Likely to get me killed." She laughed as she leaned her gunblade along her side, unmindful of the blood that dripped on her as she tapped her lips with her free hand. "Maybe as a tool? Spy? No, no… your invisibility is useless among the Soldiers who can hear you. And your SND is so… specific to the situation. It's like carrying a wrench in your pocket, in the hopes that you'd get to use it someday."
Cruel words, yet brutally truthful.
"Mmmhh… now this is a conundrum." The Crimson said in mock sadness. "No ability as a warrior, worthless as an ally, barely useful as a tool… and that's stretching it." The taller woman looked down forlorn at Shelke as if she had come to a depressing conclusion. "It's like you were tailor-made to be someone's prey! Oh Shelke, what am I supposed to do with you?" She asked with a sad sigh, lips pouting and her head down… at least till her eyes flickered up, as if in brilliant thought. "But of course! What does humanity do with all useless living creatures we don't kill… we make them into pets."
Shelke could barely hold back her shiver at the wide grin the woman was giving her.
"Now how does that sound? I'll brush your hair in the morning, feed you from my hands in the afternoon…" Rosso's body leaned forward, pushing into Shelke's body, till the redheads could practically feel each other's pulse. "Bath you in the evening… play with you at night… I'll do so much more than keep you safe. We can have so much fun together. Doesn't that just sound fantastic, little Shelke?"
It most certainly did not, it was a sweet offer that held poison behind it. Her body for protection… too good to be true, because it was. Shelke had seen enough poor souls fall for Rosso's offer, only to disappear a week later as if they never existed in the first place. And no one –not Shinra, the Restrictors, or other Tsviets– seem to care.
Rosso must feel truly secure in Weiss' plans if she was bold enough to offer another Color this tainted apple.
… but how can she answer in any other way that wouldn't end up with her hurt?
Killing among the third generation wasn't allowed without permission… but a beating or two? Now that was almost encouraged by the Deepground scientist. Truly any excuse to get the Soldiers to use their enhancements against each other... only safeguarded by barely defined guidelines.
And The Crimson was known to break even that fragile rule.
Shelke had to dry swallow to even find her voice.
"I-I–"
"Now, now… you may look like a child but we both know you can use big girl words." Rosso admonished, her tone light, but a spark of true anger reflected in her eyes as she pressed closer. "This is your chance to come to me willingly… before I hunt for my food. And what a bloody mess it'll have to be if you make me–"
The head snapped up, not in the mocking actions of before, but with the expression of something real catching her attention. As if a voice was speaking directly into her ear, and demanded she listen. A voice that was pointedly not speaking to Shelke. A look of true frustration crossed the beautiful psychopath's face as she finally pushed away from the wall and teen.
All that could only mean one thing…
Weiss was calling his trusted Tsviets… and Shelke wasn't invited.
"Saved by the bell again." Rosso sighed forlorn, not even looking in The Transparent's direction as she began walking towards the entrance of the room. Practically stepping into the long cold corpse as she made her way out. Shelke almost took a breath in relief, before the woman turned to face her at the door with a sharp grin. "But tik-tok, little one. My offer doesn't stand forever, and when it does run out… no second chances."
Hours later would see Shelke hidden in the clone template storage units… a collection of macabre bodies, either as kidnapped victims or nearly dead Shinra personnel repurposed for the Company's experimentation. Rows and rows of tubed people lined the walls and shells, each floating in either green stasis gel or mako. Some whole bodies, others just bits of pieces of their former selves cut and sliced repeatedly for harvest. Even worse, each tank was meticulously labeled with names, descriptions of where they were collected from, and a list of experiments to be done on them, both future and present.
And some of those labels were a mile long…
This row, in particular, was a loose collection of poor village people whose bodies were dragged across the Gaia from whatever tragedy Shinra inflicted on them. Very few were intact, with the vast majority sliced, cut, or burned. Some beyond recognition beyond the vaguest shape…
It was a horrific sight to most… for Shelke it was the only place she could hide and feel safe for a moment. At least till the Restrictors and scientists came calling…
It was a place for her to collect and sort through her thoughts and feelings away from prying eyes. Weaknesses of any kind, even something as simple as emotion, could be used against you. Everyone used it to their advantage –the other experiments to gain an edge in a fight, the scientist to dissect why a tool would feel anything– and it was a hard lesson the former Modeoheim girl had to learn in her first years of captivity to survive.
But here –in the silent tomb of Shinra's victims– she could let herself go, without fear of recrimination.
"How do I survive?" Shelke asked the corpse behind her. "I don't want to die."
Sitting on the ground –back leaning on one of the tube people for support– the redhead had her knees pulled up in front of her, arms hugging them close to her body, and her head buried into her knees.
As terrible as it was to say, the beautiful blonde woman floating in the tank was her favorite of the clone templates. Even with a vicious cut down her torso, there was just something… so motherly about her. Almost made the redhead feel wanted. An odd thing to seek when Shelke never even knew her own mother. Her earliest memory of any parental love had been her aunt and uncle, now dead, and older sister… also likely killed in Shinra's attack on her village.
She was alone in every conceivable way… with only the imagined love of a corpse for comfort.
Even now, her heart had been beating uncontrollably from her confrontation with Rosso.
Hee breath labored as she tried to force calm and control back into her being… to try and think logically, even when her emotions were in flux.
"Every time I step out there, I'm a dead person walking." Shelke was living on borrowed time! She had to do something, anything! But what? Turning around to follow and look at the floating body of the woman in the pod, she let her desperation bleed into her voice. "What do I do Claudia?"
000000
Wow, that got dark at the end... but one that I felt reflected Shelke's situation, especially before Dirge happened. And double wow, why did I write so much? Lol. These redheads really took on a life of their own.
I thought about trying to add a short Jessie section to lighten the mood but decided that was too much of a whiplash. That if things were going to get dark, might as well let it cook.
Fun Fact: Originally Cissnei was going to do a lot of that investigation herself, but another user Meaningless_Us3rname, was curious if I was going to add Emma at some point. And I thought... why not? Plus it gave me an excuse to write dialogue for Cissnei instead of her monolouging her whole POV lol.