Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another day in the bag. Reno stepped inside his apartment, slamming the door shut with a foot and then dropping onto the couch to sprawl.

Tseng was on an assignment over in Wutai, so Reno had far more paperwork than he liked. Hunting escaped monsters from Science? Sniffing out Corneo’s thugs? Getting lectured by random old ladies for his haircut? All more fun than organizing Shinra’s paperwork. He couldn’t wait for Tseng to get back and take his usual spot managing Verdot’s overflow.

After a bare minute his stomach reminded Reno that he’d had a greasy sandwich for lunch and nothing since, so he lurched to his feet and headed to the kitchen to see what was in the fridge. Halfway there, the world suddenly tilted and greyed out. Blackness crept in around him as Reno groped for a chair and missed. He slammed into the floor, excruciating cold wracking his body from the inside out.

Passing out was a relief.

There was a pounding on a door and also Reno’s head. He groaned, rolled over, levered himself up from the surprisingly clean floor.

Surprisingly bright, too.

As in, not in some dark underground cave.

He brushed himself off and noticed he wasn’t wearing the same suit he’d last had on, either.

This was his old suit. His classic suit. His “back in the day” suit. He hadn’t worn one of these in years.

He was almost mentally prepared for it when he opened up the front door of the apartment to see a very young Rude waiting there.

Reno was tempted to swear off cleaning up Shinra’s Science messes ever again. But that was a part of the job, and Turks did their jobs.

Rude stared at him. Reno knew his partner’s silences. This one was concern dressed up as judgement so nobody would realize Rude actually liked Reno.

“Reno,” Rude said.

Reno leaned casually against the door frame, belatedly adopting his normal slouch. “Yeah?”

“You’re late.”

Reno ran a hand through his hair and winced slightly as he brushed a large bruise on his head. “Damn. Gimme a moment.” He left Rude standing in the doorway as he collected his gear. Mag-rod, phone, everything right where it should be.

Should he really know this old place this well anymore? His thoughts raced along parallel tracks as he tried to make sense of it, piecing together two sets of memories. He remembered investigating Deepground’s leftovers, the weird pool of stagnant mako with the dimly glowing greyish materia. He also remembered a day of paperwork and messing with secretaries, running around looking into things for Verdot. It lined up jaggedly, like a zipper that wasn’t seated right before being pulled.

Reno headed for the door with his gear but Rude didn’t step aside to let him out. Instead, his partner looked Reno up and down with another long silence.

“You okay?” he asked flatly.

Man, Reno must look terrible if Rude was asking out loud.

“Fine,” he said. “Forgot to eat, yo.”

The excuse must have been good enough since Rude let him pass. Reno closed up and began extolling the virtues of donuts for breakfast as they headed towards work. One little detour wouldn’t hurt too much if he was already late.

Reno was grateful for paperwork for the first time in his entire life. Every file brought into focus long buried memories, reminded him what had been going on back when he was twenty-one. Old memories combined with the weirdly fresh ones of his own doings from the past week or two in this time, leaving his head slightly swimmy.

It was a good thing nobody was watching him work. He’d brazened his way through all the raised eyebrows from the handful of Turks in the building, bulling through with sheer confidence as usual. But when he took a break and went to the bathroom, the sight in the mirror was a bit of a shock.

First, he felt a jarring sense of both displacement and continuity at seeing his much younger face, tattooed lines on his cheeks fresh but the red hair still too short to sport a ponytail. He needed to grow that out, definitely.

Second, he looked terrible. Between his pallor and the circles under his eyes, he looked like he hadn’t slept for a week. Either that or he’d just got up from a major illness.

Given that stagnant mako was supposed to practically eat people, Reno supposed he’d gotten off light by merely looking like the walking dead. He hadn’t even touched any of it, just fished out one of the grey orbs with a stick and BAM, cold and dark and pain forever. Then waking up more than a decade before he passed out, in what looked like the same world it ever was. Shinra in its prime.

What the hells was he supposed to do now?

Rude put up only a token protest when Reno dragged him out onto the Plate for lunch. There was a burger joint that served drippy, delightful burgers that Reno had long since learned how to eat without getting any stains on his suit.

Rude stuck close. Reno appreciated it, even if it was only because he knew he looked like he was going to pass out again at any moment. Partners took care of each other in the Turks. That’s why Reno was telling Rude first.

They got their burgers, fries, and shakes and took a seat. The vicinity cleared out remarkably, the regular people of Midgar giving a pair of Turks their space. Nobody close enough to overhear, and with food to hold between bites, no way for someone to read lips.

Plus, the food was really, really good. Reno had missed this place so much.

He took the time to really savor the first few bites before getting into it.

“So, ever since last night,” he practically felt Rude’s attention focus, “I’ve got two sets of memories, yo. Normal memories, and some from another me that lived about twelve more years and saw some serious shit go down.” Reno felt more like the older Reno than the younger, but it was easier to explain it the other way around.

Rude’s silence was as skeptical as Reno expected. After a bite of his own, Rude asked, “What kind of shit?”

Reno smirked at him. He figured Rude couldn’t resist asking. “Well for starters, as soon as we win the war against Wutai, both Rufus and Lazard start their own little rebellions against Shinra Sr.” He munched on a fry thoughtfully. “Both of them end up wrecking a lot of property, but I guess you might say Lazard’s worked better since it gets Sephiroth to turn on Shinra in the end.”

Rude tilted his head to look at Reno over the top of his shades. “Sephiroth?”

Reno shrugged. “I know, right? Who knew he had it in him?”

He waited out the next silence patiently. Years of experience had taught him Rude couldn’t be rushed. That was just how he was.

“Do you have any actionable intel from those twelve years?” Rude asked flatly.

Reno chuckled. “Man, do I. Who can I tell, though?” He shook his head and took another bite of his burger. “So, there’s a couple of things the boss would be interested in right away. First, there’s a Turk buried under Shinra Manor in Nibelheim named Vincent Valentine. But he’s actually alive, yo.”

Rude nodded. “And the second?”

Reno finished his burger and wiped his mouth. “Boss’s daughter survived the Kalm firebombing but lost her memory. Some scientist named, uh, Fajita?” Reno snapped his fingers. “No, Fuhito. He’s got her, yo. She goes by the name of Elfe these days.”

Reno stole some of Rude’s fries while his partner sat and thought that over.

“Do you know where she is?” Rude asked.

Reno shook his head. “Not a clue. She and Fuhito and another guy led this anti-Shinra group called Avalanche. Rufus was leaking information to them. I dunno if he contacted them this early, though. We still got another year and change of war to get through if things go the same way.” Reno chewed it over as well as a few more fries. “I bet he made contact after he got promoted to veep, yo. I think he went on a ‘business trip’ right after, and our problems with Avalanche started about the time he started showing up for board meetings.”

He realized his tenses were wandering a bit, but time travel made things complicated.

“We’re going to have to tell the chief,” Rude observed.

Reno nodded. He expected that.

It was probably even a good idea.

Veld Verdot had speculated about Reno’s sudden turn of ill health. He had placed the highest likelihood on a debilitating hangover- Reno was much better about avoiding overindulging than when he’d been a teenager, but he'd been chasing budget expenditures half the day yesterday. Those certainly made Veld want to drink.

Still, he’d come up with a few other possibilities and patiently waited to see if Reno would fess up to any of them.

Time travel hadn’t even been on the list.

Reno outlined betrayals, assassinations, and apocalyptic attacks, and it was aggravating how few details Veld recognized. But even worse...

“You don’t actually have proof of any of this,” Veld observed calmly.

Reno shrugged at him. “Nah, haven’t had time to go pokin’ around yet.”

Rude stood impassively at his side, neither filling in nor commenting, just listening.

“What do you propose, then?” Veld said, throwing the ball back in Reno’s court. The kid was intelligent, surely he had ideas.

Reno leaned forward, resting a hand on Veld’s desk and drumming his fingers. “Easiest proof to dig up would probably be Valentine, yo. Do a little reactor check in Nibelheim, stay in the mansion there. I’d have plenty of time to find the basement where he’s supposed to be.”

Veld nodded. He would personally like to see Vincent again. “I could arrange a review of the personnel there. That’s well within our department’s purview. What else?”

Reno hmmed. “A lot of it hasn’t even started yet, but Deepground should be there.” He frowned. “Thing is, it looked like that was Heidegger and Hojo’s little playground. Gettin’ information about it’s probably gonna piss them off.” He considered it a bit longer, then grinned a shark grin.

“We should just tell Reeve, yo. I bet if he knew there was a secret reactor under Midgar, he wouldn’t rest until he knew why.”

Veld leaned back in his chair to consider the idea. Certainly Reeve hadn’t shown much initiative in his post as head of Urban Development, but there was appeal in tossing this to another Director and making it his problem.

“Very well,” Veld agreed. “I will arrange a mission for both of you to Nibelheim soon.” Rude opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again and nodded. Good. “And I’ll ensure Reeve hears about Deepground. We’ll see what he turns up.” He stood. “Until then, Reno, I have more reports for you to process.” He selected a couple inches of paperwork from his inbox and handed them over.

Reno’s face fell, but he nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”

“Dismissed.”

The rest of the day went by as if Reno hadn’t spent the afternoon debriefing his boss (his boss’s ex-boss, some day) about a bunch of things that hadn’t happened yet.

Rude kept giving him looks. Nearly every time they were in the same room. Before lunch, they’d been making sure he wasn’t about to pass out. Now that the truth was spilled, though?

This Rude didn’t have the advantage of all those years, but they still knew each other pretty well. Reno talked a good game, but he was sure that his partner, at least, suspected his loyalties were compromised.

They weren’t- not on Reno’s terms. It’s just that if he was going to work for a Shinra, he liked Rufus a lot more than the old man.

And maybe he didn’t want things to get to the point where Sephiroth was trying to blow up the world again. He liked the world better intact.

Which meant that the reactors probably had to go somehow before they sucked all the life out of the planet, not to mention Hojo’s alien.

Damn, he was compromised.

Shit.

Reeve sorted through the papers in his inbox. Budget, expenses, blueprints to be finalized, vacation requests… all the usual. He started with the easiest things first- the personnel questions- then worked his way down through the blueprints, the materials tests, and then the budget.

He was eating a cold supper in his office when he stumbled across a page from somebody else’s budget report. It wasn’t his handwriting or that of any of the supervisors in his division.

But he recognized the equipment. Those were reactor parts. He looked to see which reactor the parts were requested for and couldn’t match it to any of the ones he knew about.

Which was wrong. So very, very wrong.

A few minutes of tracing shipping numbers and he was pretty sure the mystery reactor was in Midgar, but was absolutely sure none of the parts were going to reactors one through eight.

There were some other items listed, too, and those looked less like reactor parts and more like the sorts of things that got sent to the Drum.

Several of them were labeled “Deepground”.

Reeve paused, rubbed his eyes, and checked the time. Almost seven. If he were a sensible man, he’d close this all up, go home, get a good night’s sleep, and try to hunt down the mystery in the morning.

He got up and started a new pot of coffee.

Reno did his best to act natural the next few days. Well, natural for a Turk with a lot to think about- if he acted totally normal around other Turks, they’d know he was hiding something.

It sucked not being on the same page with everybody else. It made things complicated .

If he didn’t have to deal with the consequences of his actions, he’d just do in old man Shinra, tell Rufus what needed to be done, and let the kid get on with it.

There were two problems with that plan- first, Rufus was still living in Junon at this point. He wasn’t vice president and hadn’t even been to a single board meeting yet. He needed a couple of years to get established. Second, Reno did have to live with the consequences of his actions, and that would mean a messy end if he just up and assassinated President Shinra. For himself, and maybe some other Turks just to be sure his treason wasn’t contagious.

Not a great plan.

So a lot was riding on proving to Veld that the information he had was reliable- if he could demonstrate some credibility here, then the boss would listen to him later.

That meant Reno really needed to find Valentine when he and Rude went to Nibelheim.

Unfortunately, nobody ever told Reno exactly where the ex-Turk had been buried beyond in a coffin in the basement somewhere. That was it. Barrett’s Avalanche hadn’t had a lot of talkers in it. It was a damn shame Zack hadn’t survived that mess- the dude would have told everybody down to the last door opened or button pressed, if asked.

Reno couldn’t just look up the records, either- most of them didn’t even exist yet, but what did would be in Hojo’s hands. No thanks.

He took a break to get a snack, and that was when he remembered the sahagin. Everybody who’d known about the passages and sewers under Nibelheim mentioned the sahagin, even if the rest of the mansion was clear.

Reno stared at the vending machine. Rude was coming with him.

He didn’t know how well they’d fight together.

Normally they knew exactly what the other one was going to do- they’d been paired early in their careers and knew each other’s moves by heart. But they were unsynced now- Reno had more experience. Well, in theory, anyway.

Better find out how it worked in practice. Rude was sticking close to keep an eye on him. That meant he was free to go do a little monster hunting in the slums.

Reno hummed cheerfully as he went to fetch his partner. It’d be nice to beat something up.

Reeve was not getting a lot of sleep.

He thought it was bad the first night, when he confirmed the existence of an underground reactor beneath Midgar and the associated Deepground project.

He got in just deep enough to recognize Scarlet’s hand in the technology. He took the next three nights to upgrade his own computer security before going back- he wasn’t going to risk getting caught .

Then another long night looking deep into Deepground’s records. After that, he decided it was high time to take a personal day.

He was supposed to be resting, catching up on all the sleep he’s missed the last few nights. But whenever he tried, he ended up staring at nothing, unable to stop thinking about the medical reports.

Children. Children bred and trained underground, with no sight of the sun. Enslaved children with chips in their heads so they couldn’t possibly escape or disobey.

He’d known that some of the other board members weren’t terribly principled, but he’d also really believed that more and cheaper power was improving people’s lives. Light, medical care, cheaper goods- all made possible by a steady supply of electricity.

Could all of that justify what he’d found, though? Could anything justify those horrors?

Well, if he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, maybe he could resolve some of the issues he’d been having with the Cait Sith project instead.

Reeve went to his workbench.

Monster hunting was never Reno’s favorite job. He didn’t bitch about it much, but he also tended to leave it to the infantry unless it was something really nasty. So Rude raised eyebrows when Reno decided to spend their afternoon taking out trash in the slums.

It took one fight for him to see why.

Reno was… off. Part of the time, they fought side-by-side like normal. Part of the time, Reno executed moves he’d never done before, smooth and precise. And the rest of the time?

Rude’s partner was tripping over himself like a rookie. He was getting upset by it, too, by the grumpy pout he was sporting.

Muscle memory problem. Rude knew how many hours it took to get a particular move down pat, until you didn’t even think when something came at you. Reno looked like he was training himself into new moves, but he acted like he ought to already know them cold.

Rude hadn’t entirely bought into his partner’s story about getting memories from the future. But this?

Yeah. It fit. It was convincing in a way that words weren’t.

Rude finished off an oversized rat and looked around. All clear. “Take a break,” he advised, and watched Reno snarl but nod, scowling as he slumped against a wall to mutter to himself. Give the hot-head a minute or two to cool off, he’d figure it out.

Reno’d been tense, lately. Rude could even understand why. But out here, with nobody to watch him but Rude, Reno relaxed, and Rude got a chance to watch him unguarded. Rude had been concerned about some weird new kind of infiltration- you never knew what could happen when Science got involved. But habits stuck. The way a person smiled or laughed, the way they moved their hands when they got frustrated, the little things somebody did to assert themselves against the world, those were hard to fake.

Rude had seen enough. Even in the middle of a fight, even when he missed a step and snarled in frustration, his partner’s body language was still all Reno . Rude adjusted his sunglasses, saw his partner tilt his head in question.

“All out of enemies,” he observed, lifting his hands. “Want to go a round?”

Reno gave him a crooked grin. “Let’s do it, yo.”

Something was patting Reeve’s face. Something soft, with tiny claw points. He was worried, no, someone else was worried. About him?

He stirred, waving away the paw and unsticking some tiny parts from his cheek. His back ached from sleeping at his workbench.

“Are ye okay?” asked a warbly voice.

Wait. He’d been alone in his house, hadn’t he?

Adrenaline jolted Reeve fully awake. He looked up, right into the plush face of his latest project.

The Cait Sith robot blinked back at him with curiosity and concern.

Reeve turned away from it and pawed through his notes. It shouldn’t be active- he’d only had some ideas, vaguely remembered a Eureka moment amid a sleep-deprived haze, but he hadn’t meant to turn it on . Frantically, he scanned over what he’d written down, traced how his handwriting deteriorated into gibberish with disappointment. Frankly, he drew better diagrams when drunk.

“Somethin’ wrong?” the robot asked.

“I’m not sure,” he told it. “Cait Sith?”

“Tha’s me, right?” it warbled in its odd accent. “I’m Cait Sith.”

“Y-yes.” And now that he’d admitted that much, he could also admit that he could feel Cait’s presence, right in front of him. That it was worried, maybe a little scared.

What the hell did he do?

And then, he recalled the reports he’d been reading, about tests of psychic abilities, enhancements, vivisections, all the things that happened underground, unseen, to people with some odd or interesting capability.

He absolutely could not let the Director of Science know about this.

Chapter Text

Veld walked with Reno and Rude out to the helipad, passing Rude the personnel files that were the official reason for the visit.

“Reno. Rude.” He made sure they were paying attention. “The mansion was abandoned because personnel went missing inside. Stick together in there.” Be careful didn’t need to be said. They’d hear it anyway.

The chance of getting a long-buried Turk back, even his old partner, wasn’t worth it if he lost two of his team in the bargain.

Cait Sith was curious, asking all kinds of questions, and Reeve found himself explaining more and more as he got ready to go back to the office. Honestly, it helped, in the same way as explaining an engineering problem to one of the fake plants in his office helped him figure out what he’d overlooked.

Neither one of them were eager to be separated at the moment. Reeve wasn’t sure who he could trust, and Cait Sith was new to the world. It would be a comfort to keep him close.

It would also be a terrible risk, so that was the topic of most of their conversation while Reeve ate breakfast. Fortunately, Cait Sith quickly grasped the idea of ‘playing dead’, so Reeve loaded him in a box with a small toolkit. When they arrived at Shinra tower, people easily accepted that Reeve was doing the finishing work on a project.

The secretaries thought Cait was cute.

Once in his office, Reeve swept it for bugs. He and Scarlet sometimes attempted to spy on each other to steal ideas, almost like a game, normally, but this time the consequences were much more serious than her getting credit for the latest development. Once Reeve finished his check and disabled the pair of devices he’d found, he let Cait Sith out and asked him to try looking.

Cait’s ears picked out one more hidden bug in the corner vent, but nothing else. Reassured that they were as safe as they could get, Reeve settled in to get some work done. No matter what else was going on, he still had to keep up on his duties. Meanwhile, Cait Sith investigated the vent.

Reno was stoked to be flying. He couldn’t resist livening up the trip a little bit when it looked like Rude was about to take a nap, and cackled at being flipped off. It was the most excitement they got the whole way to Nibelheim. No dragons, no weird flying Genesis copies, no chunks of building getting thrown at them. Didn’t even hit any bad weather.

When the little town finally came into view though, he felt that weird pang of things not quite lining up. For young him, this was the first time he’d seen Nibelheim. For older Reno, the first visit had featured a mess of still smoldering buildings. The mismatch wasn’t bad enough to ruin his piloting, but it killed his mood.

He wondered if every time he visited a place he’d seen in those future memories, he’d be in for the same headache. It’d be just his luck.

He spotted the ropeway that took workers up to the reactor and set down next to the platform where people boarded the car. Firmly on Shinra territory, plus the walk into the town proper gave him a chance to ditch the grumpiness for something friendlier. It was always easier to schmooze if you didn’t have to fake the attitude.

Mayor Lockhart caught up to them before they got to the town’s sole inn, eager to ingratiate himself while also trying to defend his own meagre authority. The conversation went nearly on autopilot- toadies like him were a dime a dozen in Midgar. No, the oddest part of their walk through town was spotting a twelve year old Tifa wearing a knee-length skirt and a blouse with actual sleeves . She had her own little entourage of boys that followed her around, vying for her attention. None of them were Cloud.

It was downright uncanny. Still, they had a few days. No need to rush things.

Cait Sith continued to gingerly explore the vents, going a certain distance out then coming back to peek at Reeve or touch his leg before going out again. He could feel the toy cat’s desire to help but also his nervousness. Reeve tried to be reassuring, offering a pat or word of encouragement, but all this was new to him, too. A nebulous idea that Cait might be able to do more in the future hovered in the back of his thoughts next to the helpless horror at what was beneath the city.

There had to be something he could do. Maybe something they could do.

They couldn’t do anything without more information. So once Reeve caught up some on his regular work, he braced himself and went back to looking through Deepground’s records.

Instead of torturing himself with investigating the experiments, he focused on logistics. If he knew how they took in supplies, maybe he could smuggle something else in with them.

Reno and Rude took some time to relax and strategize a bit. They might really be here to find Valentine, but they still had to do the official mission. Fortunately, checking into the backgrounds of the various reactor workers gave them good reason to look into two potential terrorists.

So after reviewing the personnel files, the two of them split up to look around town. Reno let Rude take the main road while he skulked about the outskirts. Skulking was fun, after all.

And that’s how he spotted the second of his targets getting beaten by a trio of other boys at the edge of town.

Huh. Cloud was kinda adorable at thirteen. The long braid of blonde hair suited him a whole lot better than the haystack he had as an adult. Pint-sized and still a bit soft, Reno could see the frame for those muscles mako put on him later.

Shame that the kid didn’t know how to use any of it. Poor Cloud was trying to take on three opponents with sheer spite and stubbornness and all it was getting him was more scrapes and bruises. Did nobody ever teach him how to properly throw a punch?

Reno watched for a little longer and adjusted his question- did any of these kids get taught how to fight? Was Tifa the only one?

He moved to make an audible step on a stone and let his shadow fall over the scene. Predictably, the offensive gang bolted at the first sign of an adult. Probably worried about getting into trouble for fighting. Reno crouched down near Cloud, but not too close.

“Damn, kid,” he said, fishing out an alcohol wipe from the tiny first aid supply he kept in his pockets. He tossed it to the blonde, who looked at it for a moment in puzzlement before picking it up. “Your hand-to-hand sucks, yo. Why not use a stick?”

Cloud gave the ground the dirty look Reno was expecting. “If I had a stick, they’d use sticks, too.” He held up the packet with the wipe. “What’s this for?”

Such a backwater. “It’s for cleanin’ up your scrapes so they don’t get infected, yo. Stings like hell but it works.”

Cloud managed to get it open and began scrubbing at the blood without even unfolding the wipe, hissing a little at the burn but stubbornly going at it all the same. “Why do you talk like that?”

“Talk like what, yo?”

Cloud glared at him and Reno laughed. It didn’t have a tenth of the murder behind it as grown-up Cloud’s glares.

“So why use this?” Cloud asked about the wipe. “Why not just use soap?”

Reno shrugged. “Hard to carry a sink around in your pocket, yo.” He nodded in the direction the other boys had fled. “This happen a lot?”

Cloud muttered something affirmative at the ground.

Reno put on a friendly smile. “Well, how about I show you a few moves to use on ‘em, yo? C’mon, your fighting style’s pathetic.”

The kid looked torn and settled on suspicious. “You can fight?”

“Of course I can, I’m a Turk. We got all kinds of skills, yo.”

Reeve was having trouble tracing the shipments. He had expected that, given the secrecy surrounding the Deepground installation, but it was frustrating all the same.

He tried working backwards from the stray budget paper that’d started him on his quest, only to discover none of the information matched anything he could find in the Deepground systems.

None of it. In fact, the style wasn't even the same. It had just enough information to imply what was there, but you'd need someone with Reeve's skills to actually find the hidden subsystems within Shinra's network.

Was it bait? A test? A trap? Who had left it for Reeve to discover?

Cait Sith seemed to catch onto his dismay judging by the worry he felt as the little cat made its way back to his office.

Cait Sith worried a lot. Was that a side effect of how he'd activated, or was Reeve's life just that worrisome?

He stared at the guilty piece of paper and decided that Cait Sith's level of concern was probably appropriate.

But it was Reeve's job to figure it out.

If he was being set up, then he needed allies. President Shinra, Hojo, Scarlet, and Heidegger were all mentioned in Deepground's files, but what about Lazard? Was the Director of SOLDIER unaware of the other enhancement project under their feet?

Rude woke up to the sound of birds cheeping, something that never happened in Midgar. He got up and got dressed, ready for the day by the time the first gleam of dawn lightened the sky out the window.

Reno barely opened one eye at him before rolling over into his blankets and going back to sleep. Lazy ass.

The morning air was sharp with frost outside, enough to make Rude’s breath steam. A distant coughing roar echoed down from somewhere up the mountain, a reminder that Mt. Nibel had more than its share of dangerous predators, but the town itself was quiet. A few houses had smoke drifting from their chimneys, signs of the early risers getting ready for their day.

Someone was climbing out of one of the upper windows of the Mayor’s house.

Rude tucked himself against a building and watched the cloaked figure clamber down the side of the house as if they did it every day, dropping easily to the ground. They weren’t worried about being seen, taking a twisting route through the buildings that avoided neighboring windows but not bothering to stick to shadows or hide their steps the way Rude was.

He’d already guessed who it was before a stray tree branch pulled her hood down at the edge of town. Not a burglar- the mayor’s daughter, Tifa Lockhart, sneaking off to a little clearing just beyond the edge of town.

She took off her cloak and left it on a stump, revealing a sleeveless shirt, shorts, and tights. It seemed a poor choice considering the frosty morning air, but made sense the moment she began warming up. Practicing in secret.

Her situational awareness needed work, though. She didn’t even notice Rude until he stepped into the clearing and joined her.

Shinra’s ventilation system was extensive . Cait Sith was making excellent progress in mapping it out, armed with only a feather duster and a screwdriver. There were errors in the official blueprints, places where some builder had taken shortcuts and probably pocketed the money. Reeve made note of them when Cait Sith reported back, but it was far too late to track down who’d been at fault.

The shoddy construction practices were helpful in at least one way, though- the vents connected more than they should. Cait Sith could travel through large sections of the tower without being seen. He put that to use, skittering unsuspected from one side of the building to another with a very important note.

Lazard, the Director of SOLDIER, wasn’t alone when Cait Sith peered down into his office. He was briefing two First Class SOLDIERs in his office.

There was a listening device in this vent, too, tucked about the same distance inside as the one that’d been in Reeve’s office. Same design, too. Not Scarlet’s. Turks, maybe?

He asked Reeve, in that quiet way they were connected together. It took a moment to get a response, but after a sort of conferral, they both agreed that it was best to leave the bug alone. Its absence would be just as remarkable as whatever it was likely to capture.

Cait Sith moved back to the opening to take another look.

The red-haired, red clad First Class was looking right back, giving the vent a speculative look. Cait Sith froze, still as only a toy cat could be. Could a SOLDIER see him through the grate inside the dark vent? Was he caught?

“Is there something interesting about the ceiling, Genesis?”

The First Class scoffed. “Hardly.”

Cait Sith continued to not move as Lazard wrapped up the briefing (something about a training exercise). The director walked the two SOLDIERs to the door, then turned around and gave the vent a puzzled look.

Cait Sith dropped the note.

Lazard blinked at the envelope but walked over to pick it up and open it. After a moment, he walked to his desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper, then stood on a chair to reach the vent.

Cait Sith accepted the paper and gave Lazard a little wave before turning around to head back to Reeve. Mission accomplished!

Reno spent the morning doing the official mission, checking out the information he’d obtained the day before. He was impressed with its accuracy. So he made a point to track down his little budding informant again. He found Cloud lingering at the edges of town, looking no worse for wear.

“What, no fight today, yo?”

Cloud wrinkled his nose at Reno, which was adorable. Reno was going to keep exaggerating his habits as long as it got the little guy to react.

“Nah,” Cloud said. “I stayed out of sight today.”

“Good plan, yo. Want to practice some more?”

Cloud ducked his head but nodded, so Reno started walking him back through the stuff they’d covered the day before. Pretty soon he managed to get the conversation rolling again so he could slip in the part he wanted to ask.

“So where do you pick up all this stuff? You seem to know everything goin’ on, yo.”

Cloud ducked again to hide his reaction, which was a bad habit and Reno thwapped him on the forehead to let him know. He had to stop taking his eyes off his opponents. The kid skipped back a little to rub his head. “Eh, people don’t have much to do when ma’s pinnin’ up their clothes, so they talk a lot.”

Reno ‘huh’ed, putting things together. “Your mom’s a tailor, yo?” He did not say seamstress . That word carried a reputation in a lot of places, and a single mom in a small town where everybody could watch who stopped by to get fitted for how long, well, there’d be rumors. And he was trying to get the kid to like him.

Cloud nodded warily, waiting.

Reno shrugged. “So I’m guessin’ you start a lotta those fights after people talk shit, yo.”

Cloud blushed bright red but nodded again.

Reno smirked. “Well, if you’re gonna go around pickin’ fights, you’d better get good enough to survive ‘em. Get back over here. An’ keep your head up, yo.”

It didn’t take long for Cloud to wear himself out. Country living might mean he was used to running up and down hills all day, but that wasn’t the same as a proper training regimen. Plus, Reno had plenty of reach on the kid. Even taking things easy, there really wasn’t much contest. If Reno didn’t already know what Cloud could be, he might not have noticed the potential there.

“Do you think I could get into SOLDIER?”

Reno paused mid-stretch and turned to look at the undersized thirteen-year-old sitting on the ground. “Hmm. Well, you’re fast, and ya learn fast, too, which is good.” Reno crouched down. “But you’re kinda small. They’d want you to bulk up before they’d take ya, yo.”

“So, no.”

Reno shrugged at him. “Eh, I wouldn’t say that. You’d probably be a demon with some mako in ya, yo.” No probably about it- he’d seen it. “But why SOLDIER? There’s other things you could do, yo.”

Cloud made a face at him and then dropped his gaze, prodding the ground with his shoe. “If I were in SOLDIER, I’d be better. People here, I could show them how much better I’d be.”

Reno clicked his tongue. “Revenge, huh? Well, that can be fun.” Okay, so that was probably not the nice thing to say, but, well, Reno wasn’t always a nice person. “Nobody ever tell ya the best revenge is livin’ well? Just go on with your life and do better’n what people think of ya, yo.”

He could see the kid turning over that idea. “But ma…”

“Look,” Reno interrupted, struck by a thought. “If they’re so shitty to you an’ your mom and you’re plannin’ on leavin’ anyway, why not earn some extra money so she can leave, too? Get both of you outta this town, yo.”

He could see that Cloud was thinking about it, so Reno let it stand there. Who knew how that’d change things, but hell, maybe it’d be one more person out of Hojo’s labs.

Tseng’s mission had some complications, but nothing unusual. Legend would have to cool his heels for a while, but at least there wasn’t any need for further measures. Tseng’s report was, as usual, complete and concise.

And then it was Veld’s turn, where he informed Tseng that Reno apparently had information from the future.

Tseng blinked. Twice. “Sir?” he asked in disbelief.

Veld gave his second in command a rueful smile. “We’re taking steps to verify some of the information.” He produced a file of what Reno had outlined so far and observations on the matter and passed it over. “Reno and Rude are in Nibelheim at the moment.”

Tseng accepted the file and began to read through it. When he didn’t immediately begin asking questions, Veld scooped up another, much thinner folder. “Take your time. I’ll return later.”

Veld was pleased to note that not only was Reeve in his office, but the door was invitingly open. Good to know the Director was keeping up with his regular habits again. Reeve looked a little tired, but he smiled and rose to greet Veld as he entered.

"Veld. How can I assist the Turks today?"

Veld gestured to the door. Reeve nodded assent, so he closed it before sliding the thin folder across Reeve's desk. "I was hoping to obtain your opinion on a matter."

They both sat before Reeve flicked open the folder to look over the single sheet of paper inside.

Reeve froze. “You…?” He looked up at Veld, anger hardening his eyes as he dropped the fake budget sheet onto the desk. “Do you know what’s down there?” he growled, tone low so it wouldn’t carry outside the office.

Veld held up a placating hand. “Nothing confirmed.” He watched Reeve’s shoulders relax slightly and continued. “One of my Turks brought in some information, but we didn’t have the resources to investigate it ourselves.”

Reeve looked down at the sheet again and shook his head with a humorless huff. “And of course you couldn’t just ask . Not about something like this.” He replaced the paper in the folder and passed it back. “Better not let any of the people actually involved see that. It’s obviously fake compared to the real records.”

Veld accepted the folder and tucked it away. “And those are?”

Reeve blinked at him in surprise. “President Shinra, Heidegger, Scarlet, and Hojo.” He frowned. “If you didn’t know which directors were involved, why pass this to me?”

A little truth wouldn’t hurt in this situation. “Reno suggested it,” Veld answered.

“Reno?” Reeve said, puzzled again. “I can’t imagine why.”

Veld smirked. “He said that with a reactor involved, you’d be sure to get to the bottom of it.”

That seemed to reassure the man. “Alright, I can admit to that,” Reeve said ruefully before his expression sobered. “Veld. That place is a nightmare. The reactor is the least of its problems.” He sighed. “I arranged a meeting with Lazard tomorrow to sound him out on the matter.”

Veld nodded thoughtfully. Reeve being already on top of the matter made it one less thing he needed to manage personally. “I’d like a copy of what you’ve found and to be kept informed.”

Reeve nodded. “Of course. I have a new courier.” He smiled boyishly and produced a black and white plush toy cat with a grinning face. “Meet Cait Sith. I finally got him working this week.”

The toy came alive the moment Reeve set it down, bouncing on booted feet and waving to Veld. “Pleased to meet ya,” it said in a chipper tone.

Veld took a closer look as the robot swung its arms carelessly. “Pleased to meet you as well,” he told it, humoring Reeve who’d no doubt spent hours programming such social niceties.

“I look forward tae workin’ wit’ ye!” the little cat said, waving its hands in emphasis.

“I’ll send him over with the disk once I’ve copied all the information,” Reeve said. “I’ll use the old encryption since I haven’t had a chance to pass you anything more secure.”

Veld felt his eyebrows raise. “Well, if anybody asks for the reason why I came by, perhaps you could tell them I requested some upgrades for our monitoring systems.”

Reeve nodded. “Of course. I’ll put it in the budget.” He paused and pulled open a drawer. “I’d forgotten- I found this in the vent. It’s not Scarlet’s work, and it’s not one of mine. Do you recognize it?” He offered Veld a small contraption.

A simple bug, Veld thought. Little more than a microphone and transmitter. “No,” he admitted. “I’ll look into it.”

Chapter Text

Reno unlocked the gate to Shinra Manor and took a moment to look back at all the kids who thought they were well hidden. Up at the asscrack of dawn and these little snots didn’t have anything better to do than watch a couple of people enter the reputedly haunted mansion. He and Rude took turns glaring just long enough at each of the gawkers so they’d know they’d been spotted and weren’t fooling anybody before the two of them went inside and Reno relocked the gate.

The mansion itself was dark and cobwebby, dust motes drifting through what little light made it past the windows. Reno wondered if anybody ever cleaned the glass in this place even when it was in use.

“Okay,” he said. “One thing I do remember Shotgun sayin’ about this place is that it’s near impossible to pin down the monsters in it with the lights off, yo.”

Rude nodded. “So lights first.”

“Yeah.”

Rude found a switch and flipped it, causing the opposite effect of turning on the lights in a crappy flat. Instead of all the creepies running off into the shadows to hide, suddenly a bunch of dorkyfaces gathered to charge at anything that wasn’t another dorkyface.

Reno smashed his way through his half of the pumpkin-faced monsters, his earlier troubles behind him. He and Rude fell into rhythm easily, moving from room to room and clearing the riffraff while they looked for a way down. They found a set of stairs that looked promising, but when they walked through the door at the bottom, they walked out right back at the landing at the top.

It suited the creepy, backwards nature of the place that the way down turned out to be behind a hidden panel in one of the rooms on the top floor. This set of stairs took them all the way down to a neglected laboratory.

Rude found and flipped on the lights, and suddenly they were in Junon.

Unmistakably Junon, right down to the smell of grease and salt and fish in the air. Reno and Rude stood in a side street in front of one of the hotels.

Reno’s phone rang and he answered it on reflex.

“Patrol the streets,” Heidegger’s voice told him. “If you see Avalanche, inform me and I’ll send in the army.”

Reno stared at the phone. “What the fuck , yo.”

He remembered this day. Shinra, fed up with a lack of results against Avalanche, had removed Veld from his post as chief to place Heidegger in charge instead. Heidegger’s big plan had been to use the army in a major city without first bothering to secure anything. Not a single Turk had actually called him back, even though-

Avalanche members showed up on cue, half a dozen people in the terrorist group’s rough approximation of uniforms. One of them pointed at Reno. “It’s a Turk!” and they charged, just like Reno remembered.

“Enemies?” Rude asked as Reno readied for a fight.

“Probably,” Reno answered, taking a swing. He connected and the Avalanche footsoldier became a dorkyface. Another dorkyface tried to take a bite out of Rude. “It’s an illusion, yo!”

Reno’d had to fall back here when it’d actually happened, facing too many by himself to keep up. But Rude was with him this time, not on the other side of the city. They battered their way through the disguised dorkyfaces, and the illusion wavered slightly.

“Stubborn ones, aren’t you?” a voice said.

Junon melted away. It was replaced with the inside of a Shinra helicopter. Rude was at the controls while Tseng stood at the open door, one hand on the frame and the other hanging onto Aerith. Reno felt his stomach drop. This memory was familiar, too.

They were in mid-flight, pulling away from an enormous manufactured pillar. The pillar. The Sector 7 pillar, under Midgar, the one that supported one eighth of Midgar’s upper city.

Explosions crackled up the pillar’s length, shattering it into pieces. Secondary explosions traced the wedge of sector 7’s plate, and then nothing was left to hold it. Metal shrieked in protest, enormous cables snapping loose as a slab the size of a small town ripped itself free to drop onto the slums below.

Screams reached them even through the noise of the chopper blades. Metal and stone popped and groaned below, unable to withstand the impact of so much machinery, so much steel. Fires bloomed at the edges, thick plumes of smoke erupting as patches of tainted ground caught.

It was so real, Reno could feel the bite of the chair frame where he gripped it too hard, smell the tang of ozone and smoke in the air, feel the steady whump-whump-whump of the helicopter’s blades overhead.

He couldn’t breathe. Older Reno had seen Avalanche tear its way through people and reactors, had known what Shinra did to Turks who didn’t fall in line, had been the one to actually go press the damn button. But he was also a younger Reno who hadn’t seen Nibelheim as a smouldering wreck, hadn’t been at Corel, hadn’t- hadn’t faced down the board of directors standing next to Rufus Shinra. Looking at it with fresh eyes, without seven years of history behind it, that part of him stared at the sheer scale of flames and death knowing that it was his fault and refused to accept it.

His eyes darted across the scene, looking at everything but the wreckage. Rude sat twisted in the pilot’s chair to look, face slack as he stared. Aerith was wearing a pink dress, hiding her face. Tseng-

Tseng had his hair down.

It was such a little detail. Such an inconsequential thing. But Tseng never wore his hair down- not until after the inquiry that spared the Turks from execution.

This hadn’t happened yet.

It wasn’t happening now.

It was a damn trick.

Reno reached out, grabbed Rude’s arm and felt the fabric of his suit, the firm muscle underneath. Partner real, accounted for, not actually sitting down even if that’s what it looked like.

He gripped the handle of his mag rod hard enough to make his own hand hurt and pushed all he had into the Bolt materia inside. He cut loose with a scream, throwing lightning blindly at everything that wasn’t him and Rude.

Electricity spattered across the scene, shattering the sight and sound of Midgar’s destruction and replacing it with singed paper, muddy floors, and flickering, broken lights. The afterimages faded to reveal a hulking humanoid shape, half red, half purple, bigger than both him and Rude combined.

“You broke it,” the creature said in a gurgling, unearthly voice.

Rude shook himself and grunted, orienting on the threat in front of them. Reno panted but grinned, faced with the right target at last.

“You’re next, yo.”

Deep within the corridors of Shinra tower, Tseng reviewed files in the Turk headquarters. It was quiet- Reno and Rude were in Nibelheim, Balto and Emma were investigating activity in Junon, Legend had been confined to house arrest. Nobody was in except for him and the chief.

As much as he appreciated the others, he cherished the quiet.

Someone knocked on the door, but Tseng ignored it. If the visitor were authorized, they’d have called first. He looked up when Veld emerged from the monitor room.

“Go ahead and let him in, Tseng. He’s expected.”

Tseng nodded. “Sir.” He opened the door to see a plush cat toy on the other side, gloved hands holding onto a laptop case.

The toy waved and awkwardly dragged the case inside. Tseng closed the door behind it.

“Pleased tae meet ya!” The cat set the case down and sat on it instead as if exhausted from its trip, even wiping its perfectly dry brow. “I’m Cait Sith. And you are?”

“Tseng.” He studied the toy. It flicked its ears and tail and kicked its feet smoothly, like it was alive. It seemed to be nervous, possibly intimidated? It was surprising how natural the body language was.

Veld crouched down and the cat hopped off to let the chief take the case. “I thought Reeve was sending a disk,” Veld said, arching an eyebrow at it.

Cait Sith shrugged. “He was! But there was too much, an’ this is safer anyhow.” The cat wrung his hands together. “Should I go now that it’s delivered?”

Veld shook his head. “No, stay. We might want to send a message back.” He opened up the case and began setting up the laptop on a free desk. Tseng pulled over an extra chair. The toy cat jumped up and climbed onto the desk with a ‘hup’ and several exclamations before it settled.

He doubted he’d get any more quiet today.

Reno and Rude managed to work the red and purple creature down, box it in where they could combine their attacks and beat it until it fell apart, dissolving away into goo that quickly evaporated as if it’d never existed.

Reno kicked at it one last time as it disappeared, then groaned and sat down right on the floor, resting his head in his hands. He looked pale and shaky; Rude suspected he’d burned through his entire mana pool, not something either of them did often.

Rude found a wastebasket tipped over by a desk full of notes and nudged it in Reno’s direction. The red-head looked down at it and shook his head.

“Alright?”

“I need a drink, yo.” After a shuddering breath, Reno pulled himself together and rolled back onto his feet. “But it’s gotta wait until we’re done here.”

Rude shrugged his agreement and took out a first aid kit. The two of them spent some time cleaning and patching up wounds, double-checking each other in silence. The light was terrible- indiscriminate lightning was bad for both wiring and bulbs and only a few dimly hung on- but neither complained.

It wasn’t like Reno to be so quiet, so Rude bumped his shoulder while putting away the unused supplies. “Want to talk?” he prompted.

“Eugh,” Reno said, ruffling his own hair to make it even messier. “The scenes were fake, but the memories are real, yo.”

Rude nodded. “Who did it?”

Reno’s expression turned grim. “We did. President Shinra ordered it, but it was the Turks who had to make it happen.”

Rude grunted a response. What was there to say to that? Turks finished their missions, even the ugly ones.

It was still hard to believe.

“Gonna try to avoid it happenin’ again, yo.” Reno stretched and walked over to a door to open and peer through it. Rude let the conversation go, and soon Reno was contributing inane commentary on what they found as usual, noting items and pocketing a few as they went. He seemed very pleased with something he found in a crate near a service elevator, but tucked it in his jacket before Rude could see what it was. He was also delighted to find an odd materia with a pyramid shape in its center, muttering that they’d need it later. They found a small natural cave soon after that, scared off a handful of sahagin, and discovered five coffins in a hollowed out space at one end.

Reno tapped the one in the middle. “Whatcha wanna bet it’s this one, yo?”

The lid was heavy, but once Rude got it started it slid free easily enough to reveal a man with long, unruly black hair wearing black clothes covered by a red cape with a high collar. He was awake, red eyes narrowing at being disturbed.

Reno leaned over the coffin. “Get up, Valentine. You’re bein’ recalled, yo.”

“Turks,” the man said in a gravelly tone. “Leave me alone.” He reached out and effortlessly slid the lid shut again. Rude barely snatched his fingers back in time.

Reno hummed. “Well, if you’re gonna play it that way.” He pulled out a coil of something ropelike and showed it to Rude.

“Detcord?” Rude asked, eyebrows climbing.

“Can’t sulk in a coffin if there’s no more coffin, yo,” Reno said cheerfully. “And a little bitty explosive like this ain’t gonna kill him, right?”

Rude took a few steps back as Reno began tacking down one end of the detcord at a corner of the coffin. He barely unrolled a couple feet of it before the lid slid open again, the coffin’s inhabitant sitting up to give them both a look of disbelief.

“You’re serious,” Vincent said, wide-eyed.

“As a heart attack,” Reno cheerfully replied. “C’mon, now that Verdot knows you aren’t dead, there’s no way he’s gonna just leave you to rot, yo.”

“Veld.” Vincent looked around. “He’s here?”

Rude shook his head. “Back at Midgar,” he explained.

“Hard for the chief to get away without gettin’ noticed,” Reno agreed.

Vincent eyed them both. “He made director. This is official, then?”

“Eh.” Reno waggled his free hand. “I mean, he told us to come find you, but officially we’re here to check on the reactor. Nobody knows you’re alive ‘cept for some of us Turks, yo. And whoever put you in the coffin.”

“Hojo.”

“He wasn’t informed,” Rude said firmly. It was bad enough that Hojo had experimented on a Turk in the first place. They weren’t going to give him another shot at it.

Vincent stilled, but his eyes flickered over them both, indecisive.

Reno swung the coil of explosives. “You know, with all the shit we’re diggin’ into, I bet somebody’s gonna shoot Hojo before it’s all over. If you’re back workin’ with us, there’s a good chance you could get the honors, yo.”

Vincent appraised them a moment longer before answering. “Fine.”

Rude eyed Reno, aware that saying that in front of almost anybody else in Shinra could have signed their death warrants. That went well beyond the Turk mandate of keeping Shinra’s secrets.

Then again, dead men were very hard to interrogate.

Lazard was bursting with curiosity. He had an invitation to lunch at a restaurant outside of Shinra from the Director of Urban Development, delivered by a small thing in the vents that had little gloved hands. He didn’t think Director Tuesti bothered with such luxuries for his own sake, which meant that this was probably a business meeting of some kind.

The delivery method?

Well, perhaps he’d finally found a crack to split this monstrous juggernaut of a company in half. So clumsy to give away such a blatant desire for secrecy.

It wasn’t an extravagant restaurant, so his estimation of his fellow Director was still on point. Tuesti arrived soon after he did, and they spent the time until the food arrived discussing pleasantries and commiserating about paperwork and budgets.

Once the food arrived and the waiter was likely to stay away for a while, Lazard decided that was enough dancing around.

"So, for what purpose are we meeting today?"

Tuesti smiled. "I was hoping to review the facilities your men use. If I have a better understanding of how they're being put to use, I can rework the designs to make them more effective or simply last longer."

"Not to complain," Lazard replied with a pointed lift of his wine glass, "But this conversation could have happened at my office."

"Possibly." Tuesti paused. "But would you really want to have that conversation where the other Directors might be able to interrupt? It's difficult enough to obtain funding without giving them more tools."

Money. How disappointing. It all came down to money. But then again, any amount pried away from Scarlet and Hojo would be a little less power in their bloodthirsty hands. If Director Tuesti wanted an ally in those efforts, then Urban Development was a relatively harmless place for those funds.

"No, you have a point. It's ruthless, isn't it?"

Tuesti's smile didn't reach his eyes. "It is. I think a little kindness wouldn't hurt, but it seems I'm in the minority."

An admission? An offer? "I try to at least be fair," Lazard answered. "To oversee my men without undue favor and make certain that all of them receive what they need. Even that is often difficult."

Tuesti nodded. "That's why we're here. Where can I help?"

The rest of the meal involved a broad and necessarily shallow discussion of the SOLDIER facilities. Housing, training, food- all of interest. Lazard surprised himself with all that he remembered. Reeve took out a small notebook to jot down reminders to himself, but it was good to talk without ever-present computer screens, paperwork, and fluorescent lights.

As they were winding down, Tuesti paused and held up a finger. "One more thing. When I was reviewing some of these items earlier, I came across a name I didn't recognize. Deepground. Have you heard of it?"

It did ring a bell. "Deepground," Lazard mused. "I saw that somewhere… ah! It was a medical facility." Something buried deep in the division's history, but he'd read through everything he could to make the most of his position. "There were many injuries and unusual side effects during the early days of the program, so there was a long-term care facility to treat those affected. The process is much more developed and we have better materia to heal injuries, so SOLDIERs rarely suffer these days. There's no longer a need for such long-term care."

"Really?" Tuesti asked thoughtfully. "What I found suggested it's still in use."

Lazard frowned. "It's not funded through my department." Nor did anybody report to him about it.

"Nor through mine."

Likely Hojo, then. Lazard wished he could wrestle medical care away from Science. "How large of a facility is it?"

“Enormous,” Tuesti answered. “I don’t know the exact extent, but Midgar is practically built on top of it.”

Lazard clasped his hands together. “That…” He cut himself off before he could commit to anything treasonous just yet. “Let me investigate a bit.”

The look Tuesti gave him was somber. “Alright, but be careful, Director.”

Lazard stood. “If I’m to take care at your request, perhaps you should call me Lazard.” He offered his hand.

Tuesti rose as well. “Then call me Reeve.” They shook hands and Lazard took his leave.

Just when he thought he knew what depths his father could sink to, another level always seemed to appear. What would he find? What did Reeve know, to caution him?

Perhaps the invitation wasn’t quite so clumsy as it seemed.

Chapter Text

Reno and Rude led the way back out of the mansion and Vincent followed. In spite of the signs that the two Turks had cleared the rooms on the way in, more monsters appeared out of every shadowy corner. The mansion seemed to hold an inexhaustible supply.

His limbs were a little stiff from lying in the coffin for so long, but Vincent’s reflexes were as good or better than ever. He shot down the majority of the creatures before they could get close enough for the other two. The exercise was good, mindless- each bullet fired was its own moment of stillness, easy as the pause between one breath and the next.

Reno outlined the plan for the rest of the day as they worked their way to the entrance. Vincent needed to stay hidden so that word of his retrieval didn’t pass back to others (Hojo). The red-head dropped his own room key in Vincent’s hand. The careless trust burned; Vincent had failed spectacularly at his last task and yet he saw not a hint of doubt in his capabilities. Did they not know?

He didn’t disabuse them. He’d agreed to come. All that was left was to carry on.

The others left the mansion first for the benefit of any prying eyes. Vincent ghosted through Nibelheim soon after. He arrived at the inn first and slipped into the empty room. Two beds, one with the covers smoothed back into place, the other a messy nest of rumpled blankets. The scent of coffee from an empty carafe and mugs. A chair by the window. Vincent closed his eyes. The fights in the mansion and the trip outside had caused the Galian Beast to stir, but at least the others were quiescent for now.

Reno and Rude brought lunch with them when they arrived, a crock of the local stew and some unsliced bread. They settled in to eat and review, making sure they had everything sorted out before leaving in the morning. Vincent felt the heat of the bowl warm his gauntleted hand, listened to them talk about familiar work, and marveled at how something so ordinary could feel precious and strange.

Rude gathered up the dishes after lunch. "I got this," he said, and gave Reno a look that clearly said Stay Here with a side of Get Some Rest .

Reno flipped him off before closing the door behind him. Even if it was probably a good idea, being fussed at always made Reno want to dig in his heels. It took effort to sit on that urge. He hoped Rude appreciated it.

It was therefore a sign of great maturity that he focused on Valentine instead of running off. That was the other reason for at least one of them to stick around- the man had been alone a long time. It wouldn't be right to drag him up out of that hole just to treat him like luggage. Vincent was one of theirs, and Turks took care of their own.

Reno turned around a chair so he could sit and rest his arms on the back. "So, Vincent."

Red eyes looked up as the pale man was drawn from his thoughts. Vincent frowned at Reno. "Yes?"

"I'm sure the boss'll want to fill you in on a lot of shit himself, but you got any burnin' questions?"

Vincent was silent, his gaze measuring Reno for just long enough for it to feel vaguely judgemental before shifting it away.

"Lucrecia. Lucrecia Crescent. What happened to her?"

Reno blew out a breath and thought it over, trying to sift through everything he’d seen or heard to connect it to the name. “I know she ain’t workin’ for Shinra. I think I heard somebody mention a cave named after her, once, but that’s just hearsay, yo.” He shrugged apologetically.

“What about her son, Sephiroth?”

Reno did his best not to stare as he mentally shifted gears. “Okay, that one’s easy. He’s Shinra’s strongest SOLDIER, the one they put on all the posters. Right now, he’s over in Wutai takin’ territory, yo.”

Vincent frowned, leaning forward. “But his mother is unknown.”

“She ain’t even listed on his birth certificate.” Not for the first time, Reno wished he’d had more chances to get information out of Barret’s bomb buddies. Sure, he’d known about the Jenova bullshit, but this looked like one of those gaps that would be important at some point.

Also, Vincent’s eyes were glowing really red and he was holding really still and Reno was uncomfortably aware how worn out he was from burning all that mana blowing up stupid illusions.

“There’s no father listed either, yo. Just Jenova,” he blurted out.

Reno wasn’t sure if that was entirely helpful, but Vincent’s aura of murder seemed to dim just a bit.

“Bullets are too good for him,” Vincent muttered to himself.

“For who?”

“Hojo.”

After about half an hour of looking through the data and images Reeve had sent over on Deepground, Veld sent Cait Sith back with a message of thanks and to keep in touch.

After two hours that included footage of what looked like seven- or eight-year-old children fighting each other to the death, he declared it was time to take a break. He didn’t know how much more there was, but the details were infinitely worse than Reno’s vague overview.

Gods, he felt old.

“What are we going to do, sir?” Tseng asked. He looked and sounded so young in comparison, lost against the enormity of the situation and looking to Veld for answers.

He wished he had better ones. Veld had worked for Shinra long enough to accumulate a thorough portfolio of the President, enough to sink the man in the eyes of the public forever if published, but Veld had never used it.

Doing so would be as good as declaring war and he had only a handful of troops. Skilled, brave, and tough as they were, the Turks couldn’t take on the rest of Shinra and win. Not that way.

No, they’d have to do it the slow, careful route.

“Reeve has command of this situation. We’ll do our part by keeping him alive,” Veld decided. “In the meantime, we’ll begin an audit on Heidegger, see what turns up.” Scarlet was a bigger threat- smarter, more vicious, less sloppy. Hojo was practically untouchable with the President’s backing. Heidegger was a greedy and frequently stupid man, comfortable in his habits.

Still dangerous, but easier prey than the other two.

“I’ll start pulling records, sir.”

Reno jolted awake with his heart pounding and the memory of a gunshot ringing in his ears. He cursed under his breath and rubbed his forehead- he hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

A quick glance around the room and Reno confirmed that Vincent was sitting in exactly the right position to block the light and chill from the window. Damn subtle. It made him wonder what being Veld’s partner must have been like.

The chief.

Reno got up and headed to the bathroom, rolling a shoulder to stretch the ache out of his back from falling asleep in such a weird position. He had plenty of fuel for nightmares- firefights, dead friends, the fucking plate . But there was one in particular that never failed to wake him up in a cold sweat, one that he’d been avoiding ever since that thing had started pulling up memories.

(“Sir! I am so very sorry. But this is the only way.”)

Even years after, he never really understood how Tseng did it. He knew why . Shinra wouldn’t have spared any Turks otherwise, not after their very modest little rebellion (they had done their jobs , all of it except one, but that one thing had been enough).

But how?

("Etch this into your memories!")

How did Tseng shoot the chief and not fall apart afterwards?

("I want to pay my last respects.")

Reno washed the sweat off and ran through a familiar litany. Veld hadn’t died. It had been a cheat- real enough to fool those watching. Him included. But neither Veld nor Felicia had died there. None of the Turks listed as KIA in that mess had- it’d been a way to slip away safely, to hide without being hunted.

And to that he added that it hadn’t happened yet. Tseng was on his way, but wouldn’t be that man for years yet. It struck Reno that while he was one of the younger Turks physically, those extra dozen years of memories gave him more experience than almost all of the active members. It was going to be strange to see Tseng with that wide-eyed, uncertain look he got back when he was younger and trying to hold things together the rare times Veld was out.

("This begins a new era for the Turks.")

It was going to be very strange.

Reno shoved the thoughts back where they belonged, put himself back together before leaving the privacy of the bathroom. Vincent was still reclining on a bench, arm resting on his knee so his cloak draped in front of the window, a convincingly coincidental perch that just happened to make the room darker and warmer. The few rays of light that squeezed through the dirty glass backlit Vincent’s long, wild hair.

“You look like the cover of a trashy romance novel, yo,” Reno told him.

Vincent glanced over. “You read trashy romance novels?”

Reno laughed. “There’s a whole pile of ‘em back at HQ. Knife and Katana find the worst bedroom scenes and take turns reading ‘em out loud to see who can keep a straight face the longest.”

Vincent smiled the tiniest smile, a bare crinkle of the eyes. “Naga’s stash?”

Reno shrugged. “I guess. It keeps growin’ even though she’s been off the active list since I was a rookie, yo.”

Vincent turned, letting more light in as he abandoned his ridiculous pose. “What happened?”

“Building fell on her; she’s in a wheelchair these days.” If Reno remembered right, she’d be in Costa del Sol. Avalanche got her the first time around. If they could nip Fuhito’s omnicidal army in the bud, she’d probably be around to collect and trade gossip for years. He made a mental note about that and wondered if he should start writing some of this shit down. It was too easy to forget something. Then again, stuff that was written down could get misplaced. He wouldn't want to accidentally give the wrong person ideas.

Rude's return interrupted Reno before he could get too far down that gloomy path. His partner nodded to the two of them and set down a bag. Reno grabbed for it immediately just to pester him, which led to some good natured scuffling about. Rude managed to hold Reno back at arm's length and opened the bag up with his other hand, producing a set of glasses and a fifth of whiskey.

Oh, sweet alcohol. “Booze! I could kiss you, yo.”

“Please don’t,” Rude deadpanned. Reno cackled.

Lazard limited his visits to Science, but since he was the Director of SOLDIER and Science made SOLDIERs, he wasn’t entirely unknown there. He’d been slowly courting Hollander- the man had lived as second fiddle to Hojo for years and was ripe for rebellion of some kind. The scientist barely stirred from his computer screen when Lazard knocked on the doorframe of his office and then walked inside.

Lazard shut the door behind himself in spite of the chaos spilling across Hollander’s desk and floor. The man was a slob, but the sound proofing in the Science levels was second to none. The mess in Hollander’s office could be endured for the sake of privacy.

Hollander kept him waiting, of course. Lazard didn’t bother to complain about it. If wasting some of Lazard’s time made Hollander more inclined to do what he was asked, Lazard could spare a piece of his afternoon.

At last Hollander looked up from his work. “Yes, what is it?” he asked churlishly.

“Thank you for giving me some of your time,” Lazard began, determined to be exactly as polite as Hollander wasn’t. “I wanted to review some of the facilities used to treat SOLDIERs and was hoping you could provide me with a list.”

Hollander harrumphed. “You could ask Hojo. It’s his responsibility.”

Lazard offered his best conspiratorial smile. “It is, but he’s determined to make the process of obtaining information from him as painful as possible. I believe we both know who has the better touch when it comes to management.”

Hollander preened at the implied compliment. He was laughably easy to manipulate- appeal to his ego and his envy, and he’d do half the work himself. “Well, I suppose I could pull that together. Is there any way you can get Angeal and Genesis some more prominent assignments?”

Lazard sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. Shinra focuses too much on Sephiroth. It’s unfair to all three of them. Sephiroth needs more rest than he gets, and Angeal and Genesis are valuable parts of the SOLDIER program.”

“They are,” Hollander concurred. “Alright, give me a couple of days and I’ll send you some files.”

Mission accomplished. Lazard made his excuses and ran into Hojo as soon as he left Hollander’s office. Science rivalries. He made sure to pass on some praise for Sephiroth’s performance to soothe the Science Director’s ruffled feathers for not coming to him first.

He strolled away from the department all the way back to the privacy of his office. Once inside he could seethe out of view. Arrogant, selfish, rude… Shinra’s directors were a waste of oxygen.

The morning came far too soon for Reno’s liking.

The only good part about crashing so hard the night before was that he had plenty of time to wake up and shake off most of the hangover before he had to be properly functional for the day.

Rude was going to be doing the flying, anyway.

After a few days to learn how the place worked, Reno wasn’t surprised to see that there were people up and going about their business before the sunlight got all the way down past the mountain ridges. He was surprised to see somebody waiting for them by the ropeway: Cloud Strife, his grumpy expression entirely at odds with the way he was kicking his heels over the edge of the platform.

“What’re you here for, yo?”

Cloud got to his feet. There was a bag behind him, a little shapeless rucksack. “I want to go to Midgar with you guys.”

Reno jammed his hands in his pockets and stepped up to loom over the kid. “Yeah? We’re not a taxi service, yo. What for?”

Cloud folded his arms and glared back. “I want a job. Like you. I want to be a Turk.”

A day ago Reno would have been ready for this, to give him some pointers and let the kid figure the rest out on his own. But now? He was too fried to be nice about it. “Kid, you got potential, but you’re too young an’ you gotta ways to go before you’re ready for this kinda work. Why should we burn the extra fuel to take you, yo?”

For a moment Cloud’s expression fell, but then the grumpy expression returned, a smaller, poutier version of grown-up Cloud’s stubborn refusal to back down. He took a deep breath, planted his feet, and looked Reno right in the eyes. “Because I’d be good at it, an’ I’m not gonna learn it here. And if I hafta wait to start till I get all the way to Midgar on my own, it’ll take a whole lot longer. You said it- I’m fast. I learn fast. If I get workin’ on it now, I can be ready in no time an’ make things better for me an’ my ma.”

Reno had to admit, it was a fine demonstration of nerve. And it was very tempting to have Cloud Strife on their team this time. “Your mom know?”

Cloud rocked back, surprised by the question. “Uh, that I was gonna try to go with ya an’ get a job in Midgar, yeah.”

Reno grinned at him, sharp. “A’ight. But there ain’t no quittin’ the Turks. Once you’re in, you’re in to stay. So if you’re sure you’re sure then get your shit and come on, yo.” He turned and headed for the helicopter, already planning how to get away with this particular surprise.

It didn’t take long for Cloud’s footsteps to scramble after him.

Cloud was excited to ride in the helicopter. At first.

An actual dragon came chasing after them. The guy in the red cape (Cloud didn’t get his name) just opened the door and leaned out to shoot. He nailed the dragon’s eye with his revolver. Then he did it to the other eye. Cloud had been impressed… and then sick. Somehow Reno had a little bag in front of his face just in time to catch what came up. 

The rest of the flight was torture. Reno assured Cloud that Rude flew ‘like somebody’s grandma’, but that didn’t seem to help. There were half a dozen squishy bags Cloud wasn’t thinking too hard about by the time they got to Junon. He had to carry them out himself to dispose of them in the trash.

Still, he was going to do this. He was going to make a better life for him and ma.

He hoped the car ride to Midgar would be better.

He was wrong.

His phone rang. Veld set aside the report he was reading to answer it.

“We’re here, yo.”

Reno, easily one of the most identifiable Turks over the phone.

“Stay put. We’ll come meet you.”

“You got it, boss.”

Arranging for the helicopter to land at Junon (officially to keep the equipment numbers there in line with their logistical needs) had been a bit of a hassle, but it avoided the problem of how to secretly meet a dead man on the Shinra landing pad.

The garages were much easier to secure.

Veld made sure the security footage would be edited and then took Tseng with him. He was surprised to see four people waiting by the car. Reno, looking particularly smug. Rude, fading into the background behind him. A blonde kid that looked like he’d had better days, which probably meant that there was a heartburn inducing story involved.

And Vincent.

Thinner- he’d lost far too much weight. Pale. But alive.

Damn. Reno was two for two. Though Deepground was a little easier to take with Vincent also confirmed.

“Vincent. It’s good to see you.”

“Veld.” Vincent looked wary, which was entirely sensible. Veld owed him some shouting, maybe a punch. But there was also the barest smile, a tentative shadow of the old days.

He pulled his gaze away from his old partner to return to the kid. “And who’s this?”

“New trainee, yo,” Reno said.

“Cloud Strife,” the kid introduced himself, pulling himself upright and giving Veld a properly determined look even if he did look a little green still.

Cloud Strife. That name was in Reno’s report about the future. He looked at Reno.

Reno grinned back at him shamelessly. “I know we got room at th’school, yo.”

Shinra’s private training school. Yes, they had room. There was a promising candidate there already, but they could add another. “Fine. Get with Tseng to handle the paperwork. You’re responsible for this one, Reno.” Reno didn’t bat an eye, giving him a mock salute before all three of the younger Turks led the kid towards the elevator. “Vincent. You’re with me.”

“Alright.”

Chapter Text

Veld had a small apartment on the Plate for those times when he wanted to be close but didn’t want to be in the Tower. The perfect place for a chat with an old friend. It’d been a while since he’d last used it, though. There was dust on the furniture.

Veld secured the door, swept the apartment for bugs. Vincent joined him.

As soon as he was sure they’d go unheard, Veld turned to face his old partner. “Vincent. I-”

“I’m sorry.”

“ You’re sorry?” Veld couldn’t believe it. “I left you there! I didn’t know- how did I not know?”

Vincent grimaced. “I made a mistake. I was shot-”

“By who?”

“Hojo.”

Cold certainty settled in Veld’s veins. “He’s going to die.” He’d already decided that when looking through the Deepground files, but this was far more than the calculated decision in his office. Hojo was going to die. Maybe not right away. There was a lot to arrange first. But it was going to happen.

Vincent paused, eyes narrowing as he searched Veld’s face. “You didn’t know already.”

“Not that he fired on you,” Veld admitted.

Vincent hesitated. Veld eyed him.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Veld asked.

“Yes.”

Veld sighed. “Sit.” He headed for the kitchenette and pulled down a half-empty bottle and two glasses. “I have a feeling we’re going to need this.”

“Not a bad idea,” Vincent agreed. “That might not be enough, though.”

Cait Sith and Reeve were both learning a lot about how things were hidden. Every layer of paperwork Reeve found wrapped around Deepground revealed more ways to make large chunks of budget and even people disappear.

Cait Sith was learning that really sneaky people, like the Turks, didn’t do their work skulking around in the dead of night. They just met up in a garage in the middle of the day and went about their business as if parking in the corner that didn’t show on any security feeds was mere coincidence.

No security cameras, but there was a vent. Small- even he’d have a rough time squeezing through if he wanted- but more than enough for him to see the odd gathering, to watch them split up into groups. He had to hurry a little to keep pace with the larger group, but he knew where they were headed.

He found a clear section of hallway to cut off a lot of looping around and backtracking and dashed from one vent cover to another, taking the time to close things behind him. Even at his best speed, he only barely made it to the interview room as the Turks were sitting down.

Tseng had a pile of papers already, so they must have had time to fetch that before Cait caught up to them. The toy cat watched closely. The Turks didn’t look like they were going to make this new kid disappear. Instead, they were sending him to a school.

School? he thought to Reeve, prodding at him.

Reeve must not have been busy. Cait felt the sensation of being gently moved aside and they both listened to the conversation below.

They were working with the Turks. But the Turks were still very sneaky people, and Reeve was learning a lot about how people hide things.

We’ll look into it, Reeve promised.

That we will, Cait agreed.

Lazard managed to finagle a deployment for both Angeal and Genesis to Wutai while Sephiroth returned to Midgar for a rest. He couldn’t properly call it a furlough because Sephiroth never seemed to leave company property except to do assignments or wage war, but at least he could get the man off the field for a little while.

Hollander would probably take a week to fulfill his side of the bargain. Lazard discreetly checked with other sources in the meantime, making a few extra stops as he headed in to work and dropping a couple of messages in reliable hands.

His computer mail included a message from Rufus that morning. No text, just pictures of bees. It was a very Rufus sort of message- half taunt, half bait, and completely innocent without context. Lazard could almost hear his half-brother say, “Buzz, buzz, you’re so busy.” Rufus had certainly noticed that Lazard was up to something, but this was just fishing for details.

Lazard found a picture of a jar of honey and sent it back.

“A’ight, kid, this is where you’ll be livin’ the next couple of years, yo.”

The double-story building looked clean and well-maintained, its design similar to the large houses close by. Little touches of metal trim gleamed any time the sun broke through the hazy air.

Somebody had to keep those clean, didn’t they? Or was there some way to keep the smog from making everything dirty?

Everything on top of the plate looked expensive to Cloud, but somehow this school and the estates on either side of it seemed even more so. And he was going to live here?

But he was, wasn’t he? He was going to live here, in this expensive, exclusive boarding school. Because the Turks wanted him there.

“Paperwork’s already done, so all you hafta do is walk in, tell whoever meets ya at the door your name, and they’ll do the rest.” Reno’s smirk turned serious. “But first, three things, yo.”

Cloud tore himself away from his gawking to pay attention.

“One, your job for the next few weeks is to learn what you can. They’ll test you to try to place your skills, but you’re gonna have a lotta catchup. So you gotta work hard. Don’t get distracted, yo.”

Cloud nodded.

“Two, the teachers know you’re one of us, but the kids won’t. Don’t spread it around. It won’t get you any favors an’ it’ll annoy the Boss.”

He nodded again.

“Three. A lot of the kids in this place are rich. They got rich parents. They and the teachers are gonna go on about how you have to watch out for yourself an’ you can’t trust no one. Probably true for most of ‘em. But that’s a load of shit. You’re one of us , and we watch out for each other.” Reno met Cloud’s gaze. “There’s a girl, a couple years older than you, named Cissnei. She’s one of ours, too. She probably believes all that shit ‘cause she’s been livin’ here a while, but if she gets into trouble, you back her up anyway, got it?”

Cloud nodded again, a bit weirded out by how serious Reno was being. He’d even dropped the ‘yo’s. But then Reno grinned and the solemnity vanished like mist on a sunny day.

“Then that’s it. Me an’ Rude’ll check in on you from time to time, but this is all your show for now. Don’t take any shit you don’t hafta, an’ give as good as you get, yo.” He clapped Cloud on the shoulder.

“I got this,” Cloud affirmed. After all the fights and rumors in Nibelheim, this wouldn’t be so hard. He picked up the brand new luggage with its brand new uniforms and supplies and walked up to the oversized doors. Reno waved at him when he looked back, but Cloud pulled open the door and went inside by himself.

Veld stayed at the apartment long enough to make sure Vincent actually ate breakfast, which meant Veld ate more of a breakfast than he usually did. Doubtless there were people who’d notice he was coming in late, but Vincent was important, damnit.

And the reminiscing and joking about the old days as they ate, that was important, too. Even if Shinra wouldn’t see it that way.

He was all business by the time he was in sight of the tower, though. Tseng met him the moment he entered the office, filled him in on Strife’s enrollment and a couple of agents that’d reported in last night. Nothing urgent.

Good.

He had Tseng sweep the office for bugs, then called in Reno and Rude to give their report on Nibelheim. The official and the unofficial.

The personnel passed muster for now (that gambling habit could be a problem later but wasn’t cause for a firing yet). Reno and Rude had confirmed not only the existence of Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart, but also Master Zangan’s visits to the small town and, most importantly, recovered Vincent when he’d been missing for nearly twenty years.

A success by any measure.

“So now that I’ve proven I ain’t fulla shit, I’m guessin’ you want all the gritty little details I can remember, yo.”

Veld nodded. “Yes. All of them.”

“Gonna take a while,” Reno warned.

Tseng was already passing out notebooks. Reno grabbed one and passed it on to Rude.

Veld made himself comfortable. It promised to be a hell of a report.

The trains ran late, even if there was only one passenger. Cait Sith took advantage of that to ride in an empty car with nobody the wiser.

The security systems in the train were spotty. That could be an issue later but it was an opportunity now. So long as Cait went unseen, nobody would know he’d been there. He slipped off the train and began making his way towards the ventilation shaft Reeve noticed among Deepground’s blueprints.

Voices. Cait flopped on the ground, limp.

“What’s that?”

If he’d been human and not a robot, Cait Sith would have trembled when rough hands picked him up and turned him over. It was hard to stay limp, to let them treat him as just another toy. Help was far away if anything went wrong.

“Tch, it’s kinda ugly, isn’t it?”

It was even harder not to growl. He was stylish and well-made! His Papa worked hard on him! He even had an excellent cape and crown!

Being tossed in the garbage hurt his body less than his pride. He landed face up, at least, and got the chance to watch them walk away, to see which way they went.

As soon as they were out of sight, he got up and wiggled his butt in their direction. If he ever met them again…

But he had a job to do. He dusted himself off and resumed his trek.

It took a couple of hours to find the place. The grating was in the side of a secondary support, one of many that housed other pipes and wires and necessary parts of infrastructure. Hidden in plain sight. It was completely normal on the outside, but Cait could just see the bumps of sensors on the interior.

He signaled Reeve and got his attention immediately. Still awake, then. The two of them took another look, careful not to disturb anything.

Someone will notice if we use this. We’d only get one chance, Reeve mused.

Sometimes a chance is all ye need.

True, but we’ll have to save it for when we really need it. At least we verified that part of the blueprints are accurate. Good work, Cait.

Cait Sith purred happily. Whit now?

Trains are stopped for the night. You’ll have to catch the first one back in the morning. Reeve sent apologies with the thought, but Cait had known he’d be out all night.

It was a little scary, being out on his own so far from his Papa. But he had an idea.

Nae problem. I’ll jus’ take a wee look ‘round while I’m here, aye?

Okay. Be careful, Cait.

Oh, aye, always careful!

It took another two hours to get back to the trash pile he’d landed in earlier that night. Cait grinned to himself. Now he could practice some hunting!

Reno prowled around the Sector 3 slums, his old stomping grounds from his street punk days. Before the Turks. Rude shadowed him quietly, giving him some space but close enough to intervene if anything happened.

He hadn’t stuck so close at this point the previous time around. They would finish their work and part ways for the night, heading to bars or their own apartments. But that had been when Reno didn’t have a bunch of secrets from the future.

Rude was keeping an eye on him. To protect him or to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid on his own, Reno didn’t know. But it was good to have Rude watching his back.

The thing about a proper debriefing where you went over everything was that details you’d barely noticed before suddenly stood out.

Like Shelke. When Deepground came boiling out of the ruins of Midgar, she looked exactly the same as she did when she was nine. She’d turn nine about a year from now. And Titan went missing on a mission that year.

Turks got sent to bring back SOLDIER candidates. Azul was originally a SOLDIER candidate Reno and Rude had brought in. Azul ended up in Deepground somehow.

Shelke was retrieved, and ended up in Deepground. And one of the old guard, Rude’s mentor, never came home from that job.

The dots finally connected, and the picture pissed Reno off.

Vincent wasn’t the only Turk Shinra screwed over. Titan must have been considered expendable. So Shinra could keep his secrets, even from the Turks.

Compared to that, finally settling the question of whether or not Cloud was Rufus’s half-brother seemed kind of silly. Yes, Rupert Shinra had a number of bastards around. Would it make that much difference?

Well, if they needed to replace Rupert and Rufus wouldn’t play ball, maybe. But Lazard, stupid and angry as he was, was a better option than someone barely learning the ropes.

Chief said he’d find a way to get the tests done without using Science, at least. No point in exposing their baby Turk to more risk than necessary. Cloud was theirs , this time. Hojo wasn’t going to get him without a fight.

Everybody knew the Turks were loyal. And they were. To the Turks. Fuck any one of them over and there was retribution coming. With Vincent pried out of Nibelheim to show Veld? He and Tseng were on board. The only question was when and how.

Veld looked around the medical center. The Turks’ clinic. Nobody else was treated here, and nobody from Science knew where it was. At least, so far.

There was a lot you could hide in the Tower if you had the right connections, but this didn’t feel nearly secure enough anymore.

Veld sat down next to the only occupied bed. It’d been a good month with few injuries, so only Shiva was still in the ward, still in his coma from the mako poisoning that ended his last mission. He was thin the way Vincent was. Veld shuddered at the thought. At least his body hadn’t shrunk the way they did when someone was past hope. People did wake up from mako comas, sometimes. So long as there was a chance, there was a reason to come here, to sit a while with an old friend.

“Jim. I’m about to tell you the most important news of the day. Cerberus is back.” Vincent was back and there was so much to do. Veld had phone calls to make before he headed back to the apartment he’d stashed his old partner in. “You should finally get your ass out of bed so you can say hello.” He sighed. “I could use you, here. I’m too high profile for the work that needs to get done, and Trish… could use some supervision of her own. Kell’s not getting out of that wheelchair any time soon. There’s too few of us.”

He had a list of candidates, of course. People he could recruit. People he would recruit, even with the threats looming on the horizon. The threats had always been there. He needed adequate manpower to face them.

(“Boss, do it the smart way this time,” Reno said, eyes old in a way his face wasn’t. “We’ll back ya no matter what, but it was a hell of an act to pull off last time ‘round, yo.”)

“I think it’s time to offer Judet a steady paycheck,” he said decisively. “How were you related again? Some kind of second cousin once removed bullshit? She’s got the right skills. I just need more people to ride herd on the recruits, train them up properly. The kids I have here are barely seasoned as it is.”

He sat a little longer, gave the arm a squeeze. Even if Shiva woke up tomorrow, he’d take weeks to get back into fighting shape.

In the meantime, there was work to do. Veld left the clinic. There was one takeout place still open that time of night that was worth the effort. While he was waiting for his order, he took out his spare phone and dialed.

“The hell, you little shit? You know what time it is?”

“Thoth. It’s just as late here.”

“I got a class in the morning. What’d’you need?”

“Safehouses, a fresh set of codes, and an excuse to send Naga your way.”

“What are you up to, lizard?”

“I got a three-headed dog in my apartment.”

Veld accepted his order while his one-time mentor cursed softly at him through the phone.

“I’ll send him around in a few days if he’s up to it.”

“Right. I’ll prep a doghouse. Anybody else coming back from the dead?”

“I don’t know, yet. But an icebox wouldn’t hurt, just in case.”

“Alright, it’ll get done. Send some answers around with the pup while you’re at it.”

Veld agreed and hung up. According to Reno, Naga would have been killed by terrorists. Titan would have disappeared on a job and Shiva followed his partner without waking up. Vincent wouldn’t have shown up again until another batch of terrorists stumbled over his casket while chasing after an undead Sephiroth.

But Reno didn’t know about Thoth. The only one of the kids Veld had introduced to the old buzzard was Tseng. Odds were that nobody else remembered the man, either, which made him a good choice to work outside their usual connections.

Now he just had to get Vincent healthy enough to travel.

Cait Sith was supposed to be able to use materia. Reeve designed him with that in mind. He perched in what passed for a window and looked down at the man who’d thrown him in the trash.

He had an Ice. He should be able to use it. But he didn’t want to actually hurt the man, just his ego.

Could he cast Ice on just the bed the man was lying on?

Cait grinned to himself. No time like the present to find out!

Chapter Text

There was little to do in the tiny apartment. Vincent cleaned and uncovered a few hidey holes and no bugs. Food was delivered around lunchtime, left at the door: a large order of stuffed ziti with salad and garlic bread. It had a note: "Busy with work, but I'll see you this evening. OXOX"

Vincent snorted at it and ate, sitting at the table like a civilized human being. He napped through the afternoon, resting better after eating than he ever had lying restlessly in a coffin.

It was only after all that that he finally felt ready to attempt to remove the gold gauntlet that covered his arm.

It was stiff and awkward, the joints creaky and the seams mortared with aged grime. Vincent found it difficult not to bend the pieces when he used his strength to open it up.

The arm inside was not his.

It was attached to him. It moved to his intentions. But it was hard and leathery, a dusky appendage that ended in short claws. It was both too long and too small.

He stared at it a long time. Long enough for his thoughts to drift, and then it moved and startled him before he remembered it was attached to him. That it moved because he wanted to adjust his cloak.

He flexed his fingers, watched the gnarled digits curl and shuddered. Then he sat next to the pieces of the gauntlet and carefully reassembled it around the foreign arm. That was better. He knew what was inside but it was easier to bear when out of sight.

Vincent rolled himself up within his cape and slept again until a knock on the door woke him up. The pattern was familiar, one he and Veld used to use often. One they'd agreed upon over breakfast.

The sight of Veld with several bags of takeout- Wutaian, from the smell- drew a small smile from Vincent. This, at least, was something he recognized, even with how much Veld had aged.

He stepped aside so Veld could enter and asked, "Hugs and kisses?"

"Sorry, sweetheart, not tonight," Veld joked, closing the door. "I take it you got lunch. Good." He spread out his bounty on the coffee table and they demolished the takeout together, passing each other favorite dishes. Vincent let the normality of it drive out thoughts of how he’d changed. For now, it was just him and Veld, eating a hasty meal long past when they should have gone to bed.

He checked the clock on the wall. Long, long past. “It’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”

“That’s fine,” Veld said. “I’m taking care of business in the city tomorrow, not the Tower. Tseng can handle the paperwork for a day.” He cracked open a fortune cookie and snorted. “A thrilling time is in your immediate future,” he quoted. “Gods, no more thrills. I have enough work on my plate as it is.”

Vincent huffed, not quite a laugh. “What has you so busy?” They’d spoken of past days, of people who’d gone and those few who were left, but nothing of current events yet.

“You might not believe this, but one of my Turks had visions of some future timeline. Like he’d lived it.”

A curl of something familiar whispered to Vincent, an impulse from those buried depths that he mostly avoided. “The redhead. Reno,” he guessed. No, not guessed. Knew.

Veld gave him a sharp look. “He let something slip?”

Vincent shook his head.

Veld let out a relieved breath. “Kid’s a bit of a disaster sometimes but he always seems to know where the line is. Kelly likes him. Trish thinks he’s a pain in the ass.”

Vincent nodded in agreement. “Some dumbasses are likable. You were.”

“I try not to be a dumbass these days. Too much riding on my job.” Veld’s smile faded. “Science is keeping secrets from the rest of us and Shinra’s letting them. Not just that lab in Nibelheim where you were. There’s a whole complex buried under Midgar called Deepground.”

Vincent suppressed a flinch at the memory of the lab, shoved that away to stay focused on the present. “The President’s backing it?”

Veld nodded, frowning. “And a couple of the other heavyweights on the board. That’s not going to be a quick fix. We’ll have to pick them off one at a time. And that’s my job. I have other things in mind for you to handle.” He paused. “If you’re up for it.”

The idea of spending days in an apartment with little to do but contemplate his scars repelled him. “I am.”

“Alright. We’ll go over the details in the morning.”

Tseng could tell exactly how much sleep any given Turk had had by how they approached the coffee pot in the breakroom. He himself had decided to have some of his strongest tea, something to give him the calm he needed when Veld handed him the office for the day. Especially after the previous day’s revelations.

Reno and Rude showed up on time that morning in spite of how late the debriefing had run. Reno walked over to the pot, poured two mugs, handed them both to Rude, and then walked away with the carafe.

Tseng hadn’t seen that one before. He thought that perhaps this deserved some intervention.

“If you empty the pot, you’re supposed to make more.”

Reno sighed dramatically and slouched his way back to retrieve the spare carafe from its shelf. He set up a fresh pot with the efficiency of long practice.

“Did you do this a lot?”

“Drink coffee? Pretty sure we’re all caffeine addicts, yo.”

Among other things. Tseng held back a twitch of a smile. “Claim half a pot for yourself,” he clarified.

Reno just saluted him with the carafe and began chugging. He paused partway through. “Don’t worry, I’ll wash it.”

“Fine. Come by the office in fifteen for your assignments.”

Reno had barely gotten started and he’d already managed to tease a smile out of Tseng. His one good deed for the day.

Which was promptly punished by being sent to dig through the archives. Old records from back when Sephiroth wasn’t born yet, when the scientists were sticking bits of alien into people for the first time. Sure, somebody had to do it. Probably somebody in the loop on the whole time travel business. But Reno wasn’t exactly a fan of digging through stacks of old records while Mayor Domino hovered around suspiciously.

Reno glanced over at the old man out of the corner of his eyes. He should probably pull some other records, just to muddle the trail.

The thing about the archives in the Tower is that they were deliberately unhelpful. They contained useful information; lots of it. But it was all fragmented into pieces spread across multiple locations and usually without much in the way of cross references. This was for two reasons: first, to keep most people from realizing just what Shinra was up to, and second, to keep old man Domino employed. This was his domain, and if nobody needed him to look things up Shinra could decide to dispense with even the illusion of his office. He had a strong incentive to keep the filing system as confusing as possible.

Hojo’s logs were elsewhere, of course. Any records of his activities in the archives were because somebody else put it there. There was just enough that the Turks had been fooled into thinking they knew what he was up to, last time Reno was this age. This time, they knew better. Hojo kept his own secret libraries full of juicy details.

But there were other secrets. And that’s why Reno was sorting through a personnel listing for Project G. Sooner or later that whole SOLDIER mess was going to blow up in their faces. Gillian was under surveillance and Hollander was a mess on his best days, but they were only the two people at the center.

Any good Turk knew the value of the overlooked guy in the corner, the one who saw everything and kept his mouth shut.

Which reminded Reno. He needed to leave a bottle of booze out for the janitors again. He hadn’t done that since the whole memories from the future thing started.

Anyway. Project G had a long list of personnel. Housekeeping and food prep, low priority. Lab techs and assistants, though… Gillian was listed as an assistant, and she was one of the big players in the project.

Nobody listed from their Department, though. Hojo and Crescent rated a Turk on site as a bodyguard, and Hollander and Gillian didn’t?

Reno hummed to himself. Discrepancies meant fuckery afoot. Somebody pulling strings?

The personnel report did come from the Department of Administrative Research, so they’d at least been keeping track of Project G. Possibly just check-in and review, the way they did with a lot of things.

Where was it? Reno checked through the records and finally found it listed in tiny print in a corner. Banora.

Reno hunted through the archives for history on Banora.

Lazard suppressed a sigh as Genesis barged into his office without even the briefest knock.

“Genesis. I could have been on a phone call,” he reproved.

“It would serve you right for treating me like some errand boy,” Genesis said with a toss of his head. “Next time you need something from Hollander, you can get it yourself.”

Lazard retrieved the folder and flipped it open. A list and some site profiles. “My apologies. I made a request of him but failed to arrange the delivery. I hope that the prospect of some well-deserved action in Wutai makes up for the inconvenience.” He couldn’t keep his tone from leaning dry.

“ There is no hate, only joy, or will be if I actually get the credit for my actions this time,” the First Class carped.

“I do all I can,” Lazard said, standing up to shoo the man back out of his office. “I value the contributions you make to the war effort and share your frustrations at how the public relations offices choose to report the news. All First Class SOLDIERs are invaluable, not just the shiniest.”

Genesis didn’t look convinced but he was mollified enough to leave.

Lazard closed the door behind him and sprawled in his chair, softly cursing Hollander. Genesis undoubtedly took a look at the papers he was delivering.

But then, there wasn’t anything incriminating in the request. Lazard flipped through Hollander’s list of medical facilities. Midgar, naturally. Junon, of course. Mideel for mako poisoning, though most of the facilities were civilian run. Even the temporary camp in Wutai. But then it got interesting. Banora listed as on standby. Nibelheim and Deepground listed, but no longer available. There was a note about potential conversion of the Modeoheim research facilities into treatment grounds in an emergency.

Hollander had been surprisingly thorough. Lazard hadn’t heard of half of the places listed, at least not as medical or research facilities.

Either his small attempts to court Hollander’s cooperation were paying off, or the scientist had his own agenda in mind.

Probably both.

It did confirm that Deepground existed, but that much was confirmed by the official SOLDIER history if you looked far enough back. Strange that it and Nibelheim were listed as unavailable rather than closed the way Modeoheim was. Possibly that was just standard bet-hedging; Modeoheim was too remote to easily resume common use, especially since there weren’t any reactors there. But Shinra had once been run out of Nibelheim and Deepground was somewhere in Midgar, so reopening those locations would be mostly a matter of reassigning personnel.

But now he was suspicious.

He decided to mirror Reeve’s move and secure a reservation at one of the restaurants on the plate. Something almost as modest as Reeve’s own choice.

“Reeve, hello! I found some additional information on those topics we discussed and thought we could delve a little deeper.”

Misdirection and deception was at the heart of both stage magic and espionage.

Veld brought back an enormous quantity of food from his errands and started asking Vincent for recipes. When that began to fail as a distraction, he switched to talking about work- laying out the whole situation at Shinra, catching Vincent up on the various members of the Board and their positions, what they’d learned about Deepground, how many Turks they had and their status.

“Shiva’s in a mako coma. He’d been the last one keeping an eye on things in Modeoheim when they were shutting things down and one of their experiments started leaking mako into the air. Nobody was badly injured, but he and a few others in the area were exposed to the mako they were using there.”

Vincent growled, a not entirely human noise.

“I know. Titan and I checked it out personally and it really was just stupid, sloppy work.”

Vincent sighed. His gaze swept over the kitchen and he noticed the sheer quantity of sliced meat and vegetables they’d generated. “How much does this recipe make?”

“Enough. I’m practically restocking this fridge from scratch and you know how suspicious it gets to keep ordering take out.”

“We’re not going to be able to eat all this before it starts to go bad.”

“It’ll go faster than you think.” Veld had seen SOLDIERs eat. Vincent didn’t have an ounce of fat on him and it’d take a lot of food to change that.

When the food began to come out of the oven, Veld deployed his next distraction- the small listening device Reeve had found. Vincent noticed him toying with it right away.

“Is that a bug?”

“Yeah.”

“Smaller than I remember.”

“All the tech’s gotten smaller.” Veld offered it to Vincent.

He turned it over. “Amateur work.”

“That’s what I thought. Good enough, but looks messy. Not the kind of thing somebody who does this all the time makes.”

Vincent nodded. “Where’d you find it?” He ate as they talked, focused more on the bug than the food.

“I didn’t. Director Tuesti did. In his office.”

“One of his people?”

Veld smiled. “My first thought, but they’re loyal. If somebody shows up who doesn’t belong, they watch the visitor like a hawk.”

Vincent blinked at him. “What department does he head again?”

“Urban Development.”

“They weren’t that loyal to the last director.”

Veld chuckled. “He was some kind of wonder kid- started working there when he was still a squeaky little thing. People kept trying to find ways to squeeze him out and would end up getting themselves fired.” He couldn’t keep from feeling smug about it. “By the time he made Director, pretty much anybody who wanted to take him out was already gone.”

Vincent gave him a flat look. “He had help.”

“Nothing that isn’t due to any of Shinra’s employees.”

“You like him.”

“What can I say? He’s talented and he’s helpful. At least if you ask him nicely.” Veld served Vincent another portion. “And other than some eccentricities like the little cat robot he made, he’s sane . That’s rare among the higher ups.”

Vincent shrugged his agreement. “So, if it’s not one of his people, then cleaning staff?”

“Maybe. Other than them and us, the only people who’d have access after hours would be the other Board members. Reeve and Scarlet already have some kind of rivalry going, but he knows her work. He didn’t recognize this one.”

The continued speculation got them through several more servings of dinner. Veld was incredibly pleased with himself as they washed up and put the leftovers (not nearly so many as Vincent expected by the look of it) in the fridge.

If Veld was going to send his old partner out to do some leg work, the first step was getting him in better shape. A few days of him eating properly and he might stop looking like he’d blow away in a strong breeze.

Tseng was expecting Reno back within an hour with nothing much other than some whining and excuses.

He was surprised when Reno didn’t emerge all morning.

He went and checked the monitors when Reno hadn’t returned by two o’clock.

The redhead was still in the archives, flipping through a rather large stack of records. It was almost comical to watch Mayor Domino fuming in the background as Reno pulled out a folder, skimmed through it, and tucked it in with the others in his hand before placing a different folder from his stack on top of the shelf. Tseng amused himself by watching the mayor scuttle over to check and re-shelve the item halfway across the room.

Had they been doing this all day? That certainly helped explain why Reno was still at it; he rarely missed a chance to aggravate someone. Tseng decided he could let Reno keep tormenting the old man a while longer before sending Rude in after him.

Looking up which schools had Shinra funding was almost relaxing after days of digging through Deepground records. Reeve was a little dismayed but not surprised to discover the answer, at least above the Plate, was “all of them”.

A few months ago, he might have been proud of Shinra’s efforts to provide knowledge and literacy to the population of the city. Recent revelations had punctured a hole in that sentiment and left it bleeding with little hope of recovery. He promised himself that eventually he’d send Cait Sith to check out the other schools, but today he was looking into one in particular; an exclusive ‘private’ school full of wealthy social climbers and a handful of people directly sponsored by Shinra.

Some of his education had been sponsored by Shinra, but he hadn’t attended there. Rufus had, though, according to the oldest computer records he could pull.

There was absolutely no point in feeling snubbed by it. Shinra had done far more upsetting things- at least if Rufus had once attended the school, then the children there probably weren’t being tortured by amoral scientists.

Probably.

Cait Sith was eager to take a closer look. Reeve relaxed in the safety of his home and followed along as the toy cat found a way in without being spotted by the cameras. A human would have had a hard time squeezing through the gaps but Cait’s size worked in their favor. He slipped in through a half open window and dodged a night guard to find the security system’s control room. The door was locked, but it used the same kind of security card system Shinra Tower did. Cait found an extra card in the receptionist’s desk that did the job.

Thank small gods for lazy, overconfident administrators.

It took Cait less than ten minutes to add their own hardware to the system so Reeve could access the school’s private computer network and cameras from his own laptop. Job well done.

Reeve sorted through records while Cait made his way to the dorms. Reeve found the room number for the kid the Turks placed there - Cloud Strife. It didn’t take long for Cait to scamper through the hallways and find the door. It was locked with an ordinary interior lock, the kind that unlocked itself when opened from the inside. Slipping the lock with a card was easy.

Opening the door knocked a hefty book onto the floor with a loud thump. In a heartbeat, the boy inside pulled a hunting knife from under his pillow and rolled out of bed. Cait Sith froze, the point of the blade inches in front of his eyes.

“S-sorry, lad, I dinnae mean t’wake ye.”

Chapter Text

Cloud stared at the cat in the doorway. Not a normal cat. It stood on its hind legs and wore a cape, boots, gloves, and a little crown. Its eyes were closed, or almost closed, and yet its surprise was obvious.

“What are you?” Cloud asked, keeping the knife pointed at it.

“My name’s Cait Sith,” the creature said, holding its hands up. “An’ nae harm to ye, I swear.” It pressed one hand to its chest. “D’ye mind if I step oot o’ the hall?”

Cloud backed up enough to let Cait Sith inside. It closed the door behind itself. “You still didn’t say what you are, just your name.”

“Ah, weel, that’s a wee secret.” The cat sat down in a very human-like posture, wrapping its paws around its knees.

“Why’re you here?”

“Am lookin’ into things for my Papa.”

“What kinda things?”

“You, actually.”

Cloud blinked and eyed the cat. “Why me?”

Cait Sith rocked from side to side thoughtfully for a moment. “Papa got some information for th’Turks, but he disnae ken how it’s bein’ used. And here ye are, showin’ oop right in the middle of’t. Noone hurt ye?”

Was this cat and his Papa worried about him?

“Nah, you get in trouble for fightin’ so nobody’s taken a swing at me yet.”

“Then fit’s wit’ the book?”

Cloud relaxed a bit, picking up the heavy textbook from the floor. “Some asses were talkin’ shit, that’s all. Sayin’ that I should go back to the country an’ talkin’ up how big an’ important they are. Thought they might try somethin’ after light’s out.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m from the middle of nowhere an’ I talk like it.”

The cat looked so comically puzzled that Cloud couldn’t help but smile. “They don’ like ye ‘cause of how ye talk?”

“Yeah.”

“‘At’s a strange way to pick yer friends. Do ye mind the way I talk?”

“Nah, it’s kinda nice. Musical.”

“Oh, thank ye!” The cat jumped to its feet, spinning around happily. “Someone called me ugly yesterday, the bastich!” Cait stopped and held out a hand. “Can we be friends?”

Cloud hesitated, but his gut told him the cat was sincere. He set the knife down and carefully shook Cait’s hand. “Okay. Friends. Name’s Cloud.”

“It’s nice t’meet ye, Cloud!”

“Boss, didja know that Banora’s a company town?”

Veld paused just long enough to glare at Reno for interrupting his trek to the coffee pot. Unfortunately, the redhead took this as a sign Veld was listening.

“Land bought off of the Rhapsodoses, town built for a study of the big WEAPON buried down in the caves. Also the site of Project G, yo.”

Veld poured himself a mug of coffee and doctored it up enough to cover the overbrewed taste. Some of this wasn’t exactly news, but it’d been years since he’d heard those rumors. The reminder was probably necessary. He silently debated if it was a good enough excuse to justify interrupting his coffee.

“And if these two aren’t Genesis’s birth parents, I’ll dye my hair green , yo.” Reno smacked down a couple of photos on the counter. Old employee mugshots. A redhead and a blonde.

Veld picked up the photos and looked at them more closely. The features were certainly suggestive. The curve of the eye there, the tilt of the nose on the other. If not Genesis’s parents, at least some kind of relative. “Who are they?”

“Shirano and Kisera Rui. They were part of the staff at Banora but quit a couple of months after Genesis was born. File’s still kept up to date, though- got ‘em listed as livin’ near Mideel. Shirano’s dead now but they had two kids first, Shalua and Shelke .”

Veld sipped his coffee and waited for the information to bubble up out of all the things he was tracking. He frowned the moment he connected the dots. “A Tsviet from your list.”

“Not yet. She’s eight now. She stopped agin’ at nine, yo.”

“Got a timeframe?”

Reno shrugged. “Spring sometime.”

Veld sighed and headed for his office. Reno slouched after him and Tseng joined them along the way. “This isn’t something we can handle in-office with someone keeping tabs on the family, but we’ll handle it.” He waved Reno out again. “Shoo, let me drink my coffee and do paperwork in peace. Tseng, send Balto in in half an hour.”

They definitely needed more people.

Reno’s partner was waiting for him when he got back from delivering his news. Rude gave him the stare that said he was pushing his luck.

But why not push his luck? Veld could give him paperwork until his eyes bled, but it was nothing compared to watching Zirconiade explode and not knowing if anybody survived it. Or being stuck in the hospital while the rookie chased after the undead Sephiroth and Avalanche Mark Two in his place.

Elena would still be a cute little student at school, wouldn’t she? Not even serving drinks at the bar yet. They could just happen to go past her classes if they were busy under the Plate, couldn’t they?

Reno grinned at Rude. “Let’s go patrol, yo.”

“Not yet,” Tseng interrupted with a very familiar sense of timing. Reno had never been able to prove that Tseng listened around corners for the perfect moment to spoil someone’s fun, but the assumption had never let him down. “I’ve read your report on Genesis Rhapsodos, but you haven’t delivered one on Zack Fair.”

Reno eyed Tseng. “Yeah? Why don’t you come with us and stretch your legs a little? Sector Five hasn’t been cleared in a while, right? We can talk on patrol.”

Tseng glared at him, but Reno had long developed immunity to Tseng’s glares. He waited it out, and Tseng gave in first.

Sure, it was unfair to use Aerith against him, but the Turks didn’t play fair. Not even with each other.

The trip under the plate wasn’t difficult. Three Turks were overkill for the few creatures that hid in the debris, and human opponents gave them a wide berth. It afforded them a different kind of privacy than that found in offices that were carefully inspected for bugs.

Aerith was in the church again. Tseng didn’t approach. She sometimes fled when it was just him; bringing two other Turks even for a casual visit would make her fear the worst.

“I dunno exactly what it was about Fair; you worked with him more than I did. But she got brave after they started dating. Even more when he vanished, yo.” Reno’s voice was low so it wouldn’t carry. He and Rude stationed themselves at the perfect points to keep watch; Tseng could use binoculars without worrying about what might sneak up on him.

A rare luxury.

“Does that mean you recommend introducing them?” Tseng kept his tone dry.

“Aw, you know I ain’t much for matchmakin’, yo.”

Tseng sighed at the dodge, put away the binoculars. “What do you recommend?”

Reno’s smile turned sharp. “If you wanna keep her safe? Prob’ly oughta shoot both President Shinra and Hojo. Maybe Hollander, too, just to make sure.”

The bald, treasonous statement sent a shock through Tseng. He needed a moment to recover his voice, to ask, “Is that what you want?”

Reno rolled his neck thoughtfully. “It’s gonna be necessary if we’re gonna survive,” he said. “But prob’ly not yet. Rufus is a little brat still an’ Heidegger’d try to yank the reins if he had a shot. Lazard wouldn’t sit still, either.”

Rude shifted closer, giving Reno a look through his sunglasses that was probably similar to Tseng’s own expression. No matter what someone might think privately, saying this kind of thing out loud was dangerous.

“Why do you think it’s necessary?” Tseng asked.

Reno sobered. “Turks are loyal, right? We do what we’re told. But that only works if the boss is loyal to us back. And the pres ain’t. He’ll ditch us in a second if he ever thinks we’re more dangerous than useful to him. And the chief is fuckin’ dangerous , yo.”

Tseng acknowledged the truth of that and made a mental note not to leave Reno alone with the President. “So what is it that you want to do?”

Reno’s grin returned. “Right now? I wanna see how little Laney’s growin’ up. Worryin’ about the big stuff’s your job, yo.”

Tseng closed his eyes and suppressed a sigh. Reno’s priorities were reassuring in a way, but they also gave him a headache.

“Then let’s head towards Sector 8.”

Katana, twenty-five years old and already scarred, was no rookie. Still, it made Vincent pause to think that this was who Veld meant when he said he was sending one of his more experienced Turks. They’d never been numerous and the job had its risks, but that still meant Veld had buried quite a number of friends and peers in the years Vincent had been missing.

Their briefing before the mission was short; most of the information was in ciphered folders. It was strange to be Cerberus again, to don his Turk codename for the veneer of anonymity it gave him. But it was safer. At the mansion in Nibelheim he’d been Vincent, or Valentine, or boy . Not even Lucrecia had known Cerberus.

Katana was too young to know about Cerberus either, or to have heard any of the rumors about Valentine , whether Vincent or Grimoire. The wakes he and his father left behind them in Shinra had long since subsided; now it was better to move without making waves.

Veld saw them off for their departure, his presence made routine by a stack of budget items going to Junon. They were too sensitive to be sent with anybody but a Turk but not important enough to require a guard escort. The three of them loaded up papers and luggage into the trunk of a thoroughly unremarkable car and Katana slid into the driver’s seat. Vincent stopped long enough for a handshake with Veld that held more meaning than most embraces, then settled into the passenger side to read his folder of orders and reports.

The cipher invoked a rare smile. It was one from his early days; they stopped using it when a crime boss in Costa del Sol figured it out but that was more than two decades ago. The man’s entire syndicate was gone and the cipher was practically unknown now, paradoxically safer for having once been discarded. And the man who invented it was their contact in Junon.

A sentimental touch from his old partner, a reminder of when they were young and stupid and didn’t have so many scars. A whisper of better times, better days.

The past had so much in it that a man could drown.

Vincent made himself breathe and focus on the present instead. Cerberus wasn’t being sent out to be forgotten; he had work to do.

Reeve arrived for his lunch appointment with Lazard a little early. The SOLDIER Director had picked a more expensive restaurant and scheduled it later in the day than Reeve had for their first lunch meeting. Reeve wondered if the man had intended to send an impression of lazy indulgence or if it was just habit.

Shinra had certain expectations for its directors and thrift wasn’t one of them.

They reviewed Lazard’s requests and the necessary budget and supplies to meet SOLDIER’s needs, catching up on the items they’d covered from the previous meeting. It wasn’t the main reason Reeve had pursued this contact, but it was good, solid work. Something useful in the face of the other departments’ constant demands for more funding. Reeve wished he’d thought of this ages ago, but then, most of his efforts had been spent on trying to meet other people’s expectations. Going on the attack was a different game entirely.

“I did get a review of medical facilities, as you suggested,” Lazard said as they sampled a small plate of bite-sized desserts. “They’re mostly run by Science, of course, but it’s good to know what kind of capacity is available for those in need of care. It looks like there are several facilities that could be opened or reopened to expand services as needed. Deepground was on that list. I couldn’t find much on it, though. The map I found didn’t match any maps of Midgar.”

“It wouldn’t,” Reeve told him. “It’s not in Midgar, it’s under Midgar.”

Lazard raised his eyebrows. “Might be difficult to locate then.”

Reeve shook his head. “I’ve found some vents. What I can’t find is how they’re getting supplies in and out.”

The SOLDIER Director smiled. “I do know a few people who specialize in unusual shipment items. Perhaps I could speak to them discreetly.”

Reeve wasn’t entirely surprised to find out that Lazard had Black Market contacts. He thought guiltily about Cait Sith and conceded that he also sometimes needed items that were off the books . “By all means,” he replied. “If we find out what they’re sending in and out, we’ll know more about what’s going on there. Just-”

“I shall be careful,” Lazard said with an indulgent smile.

There was so much Reeve hadn’t told him yet. He summoned a smile back and considered the best way to properly warn the other director as they wrapped up their meeting.

The University at Junon was a modest set of buildings crammed in between the apartments and manufacturing and everything else built up between the seashore below and the cliffs above. The vertical nature of the buildings made it possible to hide a great deal more architecture in the cliffs themselves, hidden beneath the streets of the upper city.

Vincent was not surprised to find that the old hidden door in the upper city, the one he and Veld once referred to as the ‘rat subway’, was still there. The weather stained wooden door wasn’t even locked and the bottom had rotted out, allowing the small creatures of the city to scuttle in and out. It did tend to swell up and stick in its frame, but a sharp smack to the upper-left corner opened it with a shudder.

Vincent ignored the crack he left in the wood in favor of unloading the crates of papers from the car. Katana tore his gaze away and moved to help. “I’ve never heard of this place.”

“Before your time,” Vincent replied. The steps down were cracked and hazardous, but the metal door at the bottom had clean edges. Vincent didn’t even have to knock before the door slid open.

“You need a haircut, pup,” Thoth said, his tone gentler than the words. The old Turk’s face was lined, his long ponytail almost all white with only a few blonde streaks giving it an odd yellow tint in places.

Vincent needed a moment to catch his breath, to adjust to the clear evidence of the years that had passed. “You always say that,” he said, his voice rough.

“It’s always true,” Thoth grumped. “Come on, bring it all in and we’ll get it in storage.”

It took about an hour to tote all the files out of the car and all the way to the university’s archival stacks. That meant lugging them through a sealed door to tuck them away on a set of shelves that rested at the very back of several sets of shelves that needed to be shoved out of the way on their tracks first. Thoth noted the locations down in a small notebook and closed up everything behind them once they were done.

“Alright. Now.” He tossed Vincent a set of keys. “Let’s take you to your new digs.”

It was cramped but clean, the kitchen tiny but freshly stocked, the bedroom just big enough for a pair of desks that converted to beds with a little effort. One narrow window peered out across three feet to the next building.

“That’s my office,” Thoth said, nodding across the gap. “There’s usually a TA or two living over here, but my current one happens to be local and wants to live somewhere with a tub. On paper, I’m subletting this space. You can come up with whatever reason you want for why you’re renting it. Assuming anybody asks. You,” he pointed at Katana. “Ditch the suit while you’re here and dress like the idiot grad students if you want to blend in.” He eyed Vincent. “You’ll do as you are.”

Vincent didn’t quite know how to take that, but it was a relief to not have to immediately go out clothes shopping. Not yet. He settled his small duffel in the bedroom and began looking around for decent hiding spots for sensitive information while Katana left to deal with the car.

“If that bastard Sobek hadn’t told me it was you, I’d assume you’d had a kid,” Thoth grumbled from the hallway.

“I might have,” Vincent said thoughtfully. The timing was close enough that it was just barely possible.

“You can tell me about it in a minute. Nancy would skin my hide whenever I see her in the afterlife if I didn’t give you a hug.” Thoth’s arms were gentler than his words. “Holy shit, kid, you need to eat.”

Vincent tensed at the hug and made himself relax. Thoth wasn’t a threat. Even when he was a more active Turk, he’d been more of a paperwork guy than a field agent. The only people who really remembered him were the handful of Turks still around from those days. This was probably the safest place Veld could find without shutting Vincent out of the loop.

“I’d say I’ll cook you a meal,” Thoth said, “But I managed to get distracted and ruin spaghetti the other day. It might be safer if you did the cooking.”

Vincent laughed softly. “Alright.” At least the kitchen was well stocked.

Veld took a deep breath. Vincent was safely off to Junon. Naga would be there soon. They could handle a few things that needed to be kept off books. Reeve was working with Lazard to investigate Deepground. Avalanche probably didn’t have Rufus’ backing yet but would likely be a problem with or without it, which meant they needed to track down that Fuhito character for the sake of more people than just Felicia.

And there was still a war on with Wutai. It was going about as well as wars did so far, but according to Reno they had maybe a year before things went haywire with Genesis and Angeal.

Veld handed the newest recruit an envelope. “This goes to Gillian Hewley, nobody else. Stick with her and make sure she stays alive.”

Chapter Text

School wasn’t so bad. There was a lot of work to catch up on; Cloud’s spelling wasn’t the greatest and he’d never had any kind of ‘advanced math’ before. The other kids quickly decided he was a hick and therefore not worth cultivating as an acquaintance, but the taunts didn’t hurt the same way when Cloud had secrets that they didn’t know.

Two secrets.

Reno and Rude checked up on him after a week, an appointment arranged with the principal’s cooperation. They gave him some pointers but mostly just listened to him grumble about schoolwork and idiots who think they’re better than other people.

“Those are the best kind, yo,” Reno said. “They get so overconfident, you can slip anything past ‘em.”

A few words made a big difference. Not just seeing the braggarts in a new way, but also knowing that the Turks really would check up on him, would listen to him. That they sat down and gave him pointers rather than leave him to figure it all out on his own. The meeting even included some practice with hand-to-hand and knife combat. “Stay out of trouble if you can,” Reno said, “but if you can’t, make it count, yo.”

Good as that was, the second secret was even better . Almost every night after Cloud went back to his dorm room, Cait Sith showed up at his window. The little robot cat helped him figure out the gaps in his math knowledge, came up with ideas for pranks, and cracked jokes or danced around to cheer him up.

They hadn’t enacted any of the pranks yet; Cloud was waiting to see who really deserved it. But they had a lot of fun coming up with ideas, and it made the frustrating piles of schoolwork go a lot faster.

####

Establishing himself as a Director had been surprisingly easy. Cracking the company open was much harder than Lazard expected. One would think so many poisonous, competing personalities would be easier to divide. He found himself questioning Reeve’s overtures. Was the other man sincere?

He was a damn good actor if he wasn’t.

Then again, Lazard was a decent actor, himself.

What was Deepground? Two of Lazard’s contacts come up with nothing. The third simply disappeared. No notice, no notes, no rumors left in his wake. Gone.

People in the slums disappeared like that sometimes. Their neighbors never seemed to notice.

Because noticing was dangerous.

Lazard wondered if the thrill he felt was the same thing SOLDIERs felt when they found their prey on a monster hunting mission. Here at last was something big, something worthy. Something that might swallow him whole and leave no traces behind.

It might be the key to bringing down Shinra.

It might be his death.

Not for the first time in his life, he asked himself how far he was willing to go. But the answer was always the same. After how he and his mother had been treated, he’d risk everything .

Lazard made sure all his paperwork was in order and sent out another encouraging message to SOLDIER before leaving the office for the rest of the day.

He needed to make some more contacts.

####

Junon had changed a lot in the time Vincent had slept but the university grounds hadn’t. The ‘new’ hall the students gathered in for study sessions and meals was thirty years old and reassuringly familiar.

He and Katana met there to study the latest cipher Thoth dreamed up rather than the usual university assignments, but they blended right in with the other students clustered around tables with notebooks and coffee and snacks.

It was ideal camouflage to meet up with one of the Turks that had fallen off the active roster.

Vincent half dreaded seeing Kelly in a wheelchair, but the truth was that he barely noticed the difference in person. She rolled into the room like she was swaggering into a fashion show, her dress sleeveless to show off well-toned arms. Her hair was the same bright blonde it’d always been, elegantly styled but too short to match her younger cousin Scarlett anymore. No point in keeping up the look if she couldn’t body double, but the assertive posture and confident smirk were more than just an act. She maneuvered around chairs with the kind of artful ease that came with plenty of practice and complete confidence in her capabilities.

“Get over here, Cerberus, and give me a hug. Don’t keep a lady waiting.”

Even with all that she’d been through she was much less changed than Vincent was, a thought that sent a painful twinge through his chest as he acquiesced to the embrace.

“Hardly a lady,” he bantered automatically. Kelly’s hug was firm; she cuffed his shoulder lightly as she let go.

“You should know by now; it’s all about the attitude.”

They covered the basics with Katana there, but soon retired back to the tiny apartment. Vincent finally gave up pretending his strength was anything but abnormal in order to carry Kelly and the wheelchair up the narrow staircase. Kelly leaned back in the chair and made lewd comments the entire way, abandoning her proper persona the moment the only listening ears were other Turks. Katana was a delicate shade of pink by the time Vincent set her down, and he was sure he was his own shade of red.

“Alright, young’un, go get lost for a bit. I need to catch up with my old cohort here and I prefer only one partner at a time.”

Vincent contained the way his skin crawled at the thought. She wasn’t serious. It didn’t stop him from breathing a shuddering breath when the younger Turk shut the door. “Did they ever assign you a partner?”

“Naw. Scarlett’s a jealous bitch and I never had the time. They did give me a pup to train, though. Not as long as I needed, but..” she sighs. “There’s no way I was staying in the office after all that. Sometimes, things happen and you need time away.”

Vincent started making tea, more to keep himself calm than any other reason. “Who did they give you to mentor? I’d think you’d swallow most of them whole.”

“Oh, yes, but this one was fresh from the slum gangs and spicy . Little shit named Reno. I hear he’s busy these days.”

“We all are.” Vincent closed his eyes, ignoring the way something amused trickled out of the depths where he kept the demons locked away. “You and I have an assignment. Thoth’s the lead. The kid’s our gopher. We can use him as a distraction if we need it.”

“Thoth?” She cut off her exclamation and her eyes narrowed. “Double-blind. We’re way off the books, aren’t we?”

“Completely.”

The slow smile on her face was Naga’s true persona, all too reminiscent of her cousin’s vicious, ambitious personality, but channeled in a different direction. “So I’m the brains and you’re the brawn, huh? I like it.”

####

Reno knew the moment Veld called him and Rude into his office that this time was different. He’d enjoyed kicking around HQ, doing standard patrols and even the minor gopher work he’d been assigned, but finally the boss was ready to give them something juicy. He could feel it.

There was a briefcase open on the chief’s desk full of folders. Veld pushed it their way. “You’ll need to review all the information inside on your way. You’re going to Junon.”

Rude grunted. He and Reno each picked up a folder to flick through the information inside. Reno had a sheaf full of budget numbers. He checked the next one. Personnel allocations.

Sure, it was boring, but it was also the kind of thing that the Turks existed to protect: hard numbers about Shinra’s business. There weren’t many people who’d ever get to see this stuff.

“Who’re we takin’ this to, Boss?” He was bouncing on his toes and didn’t even try to hide it.

Veld sat at his desk, folding his hands. “One of our department’s responsibilities is briefing those who need to know vital company information. The President has ordered that we send someone to bring his son up to speed before his debut as Vice President.”

Jackpot!

It wasn’t his Rufus- this was going to be the little brat that thought he was smarter than everybody else, the one that tried to discredit his own company in order to depose his old man. Rufus had balls already- the hard part would be teaching him not to dick over his own people.

“All the information in this case needs to be given only to him. However, I have one more item for you to look at.” Veld took out a single piece of paper from a drawer and set it face up on the desk. “This, you should be discreet with while I confer with involved individuals. However, if you feel it will help you in your efforts, you may reveal it to other interested parties.”

Reno put the folder back in the briefcase and looked over at the new tidbit. Paternity test results. Seventy-five percent confidence.

Rufus was an uncle .

####

Cloud wasn’t expecting to be called out for an evening meeting for another couple of days and hoped Cait would be smart enough to just wait. Or maybe the cat would go do mischief on his own when Cloud wasn’t waiting in his room. He hoped he had enough time to finish his homework.

But there was no way he was missing a meeting with his mentors.

They were meeting up in their usual hidden patch of dirt. It didn’t have a lot of room for practice the way the kids did their exercises in the school, but there was a tree and there were vents and pipes leading into the back of the building, and all of those were hand or footholds, perfect for learning to climb and improvise. Sparring took on a whole new dimension when you looked at a wall as something to push off of rather than a barrier.

“We’re gonna hafta keep this short, kid,” Reno said the moment Cloud joined them. “If you wanna kick around a bit for practice, we can get some in, but we’re really just here to letcha know you’re gonna hafta report to Tseng for a while.”

Cloud tilted his head. “You’re workin’?”

“We’re always working,” Rude said with a faint trace of disapproval.

Reno smirked. “Yeah, we haven’t ‘xactly been lyin’ around while you’re workin’ your tail off learnin’ maths and shit, kid.” He flicked Cloud’s bangs. “But we’re gonna be outta town for a while. Don’t miss us too much.”

Cloud shook the hair back out of his eyes and humphed. “Who’d miss you?”

“So cute,” Reno cooed back. “You got moves to back up that mouth?”

Rude rolled his eyes hard enough to let it show even over his sunglasses as Cloud lunged and the scrap began, but he still joined in.

####

Kalm was different from what Vincent remembered. Very different. It had grown, but the strangest part was the old familiar buildings that weren’t there.

It had burned down, Veld had said, but hearing it and seeing it were two different things.

Still, some things remained the same- a good portion of the townsfolk were farmers or ranchers; Kalm became Midgar’s breadbasket as the city’s own fields slowly withered and became barren. Naga had dressed down accordingly, wearing a more modest cotton dress and a straw hat with lots of ribbons and fake flowers and pins in it. Vincent changed to match. The look and feel of jeans and a light, collared shirt brought back memories of scrambling after his father in digsites in his youth. He clung to those memories and did his best to ignore Chaos grumbling in discontent. They needed to be inconspicuous, no matter the WEAPON’s fondness for dramatic red capes.

His father would have been fascinated to find out that Ancient legends had fashion preferences.

But that wasn’t why they were there. The two of them wandered through the town, taking in both the native farming community and the steadily growing tourist strip where Midgar residents came to have a good time and possibly a baby. According to the locals, Kalm’s fresh air and fresh food were a sure way for anxious couples to relax, indulge, and finally have a family.

Vincent bit his tongue hard when somebody asked if that was why he and Kelly were there. Kelly laughed and said she couldn’t possibly take advantage of her baby cousin that way, and the moment passed.

They didn’t linger in the tourist zone after that.

It wasn't too hard to find information about the Rui sisters. The gossip in town was fresh- Kisera Rui died less than a month before, leaving the farm in the hands of her underage daughters. A struggling farm at that.

Vincent sensed the other teams in the area before they could properly identify anybody. The gossip had a certain tone; fear lingered over the farm and its closest neighbors.

He and Naga barely needed to plan- Lamia had trained them both. Certainly they were rusty, but the roles didn't change.

Naga always did prefer the spotlight. Cerberus was one of the best shots around and an able climber even when Naga was a rookie. Now, with a touch of Chaos, Vincent could establish a sniper position to cover the approaches without fear of being detected. The best perch was over a quarter mile away on top of a neighbor's barn. Practically next door.

Naga rolled up to the farm gate by herself and called out. The older sister, Shalua, answered eventually. Vincent couldn't hear the conversation, but that didn't matter. Naga talked her way inside. He settled in to wait and watch.

The wait took a while. At some point Vincent considered picking up a watch again, but having a clock only made the long stretches of a stake out less bearable. Stiffness no longer bothered him like it used to; the hardest part was staying alert with the warm sun shining on his back. He counted distances as he waited, firming up his mental layout of the area to keep his thoughts occupied while still on task.

Nearly two hours in according to the angle of the sun, and one of the other elements finally appeared- three men in good shirts and slacks. Not as formal as suits, but still recognizably in business uniform. They were fit men, too, who would have been capable of doing work on a farm if they chose. They parked an older, well-maintained and very sturdy car a short distance away, leaving one behind while the other two headed for the farm gate.

They rattled the fence and shouted. They made the most of the difference in height between them and Shalua when she went out to meet them. They grinned at the sight of Naga in a wheelchair, the idiots.

Vincent’s job wasn’t handling them. He watched the last one, the one who left the car after a while and slunk off to go mess with the Rui sisters’ barn. He had to reposition to get a clear shot, but nobody saw him move.

The bullet went clean through the man’s knee. Vincent stooped from the rooftops to spirit the screaming man away before his compatriots could find him. He took the Fire materia, too.

Now they had somebody they could question without spooking the girls.

####

Reno and Rude didn’t go directly to Rufus in Junon. No, they took a day to get familiar with the city, a day Reno needed to sort out the memories. The Sister Ray was there, not quite ready to fire but already a landmark. The docks, the housing built into the side of the cliff, the narrow alleyways… the little details could be the death of the unwary.

He spotted Katana wearing jeans and a black band T-shirt at one point, but politely ignored the other Turk since he was out of his suit. What he didn’t know couldn’t be used against him, and all that.

And then he and Rude lingered on the docks to watch the sunset and make the dockworkers nervous before going to Rufus’ very posh apartment and knocking on the door.

They waited a good ten minutes before Rufus actually opened the door with hair slicked back, clothes impeccably fashionable, and shotgun in one hand. “Turks. You’re late,” the soon-to-be Vice President sneered.

“Naw.” Reno grinned at him. “We got a report date , but not a report time . Yer lucky it ain’t ten till midnight, yo.”

And just like that, Rufus was surprised enough to let him and Rude shove past him into the room and start unloading a box full of papers and disks. He recovered quickly, though.

“I suppose this is the best I can hope for from Shinra’s vaunted Turks?”

“The chief’s the best, but we ain’t far behind, yo.” Reno added his best swagger to the brag. Rufus’ expression suggested he thought that was all talk, and that was fine. The more Rufus thought Reno was a dumbass, the more Reno could get away with.

“And you,” Rufus said to Rude, “Do you talk?”

“When necessary.”

“I was hoping for something better than a comedy troupe,” the Shinra heir grumbled. “And what has Director Verdot so busy that he can’t be here himself?”

Reno and Rude shrugged at him. “Not our job,” Rude observed, and Reno was pleased to see they were on the same page.

Rufus sniffed in offense, but locked the door and settled into a chair to see what they had brought him.

####

Veld, aka Director Verdot, was on his way to Nibelheim.

The matter of Shinra’s bastards was always a delicate one. Normally, he would have reported the matter to the President first and waited to see what the man wanted done.

But he’d let Reno put Cloud Strife into the training program to be a Turk. That meant Claudia Strife would become the closest relative of a Turk, and he had good reasons to know the risks that created.

And if the President wanted to make her an offer later… it never hurt to get there first.

Chapter Text

The Turk medical center was quiet when Titan slipped inside and began prepping her old partner Shiva for transport. She’d meet Gun at the train, but for now, the fewer people involved, the better.

They were emptying out Midgar a piece at a time, getting their vulnerable assets elsewhere and securing others, but she worried for Tseng. If there were an emergency, who’d help the whiz-kid if they were all out of town?

####

Lazard grumbled and muttered under his breath as he sorted out and assigned SOLDIER missions. Four days of looking for information both above and below the Plate and he was no closer to answers. The initial excitement had faded into unhappy drudgery. He was quickly running out of avenues to explore as his various informants dried up and new contacts failed to materialize.

Even Rufus had noticed, somehow. Lazard had an email from him that was a picture of someone wandering around with a lamp. What are you looking for?

For a moment Lazard contemplated telling the little weasel, but sanity intervened. Rufus was dangerous enough without warning him. How the Shinra heir was keeping tabs on events in Midgar while living in Junon was a mystery.

Perhaps the Turks told him. Why not? Surely the heir was privy to information mere Directors were not.

Life was unfair, Lazard reminded himself with a sigh. If he wanted it to be fair, he’d have to beat it into shape himself.

SOLDIER was running smoothly, at least. He could take a little time, perhaps, and try again. Even if he didn’t find the information directly, he needed to establish contacts again or he’d be useless.

The fate of a useless man in Shinra didn’t bear contemplating. If he ever turned out like Palmer, he hoped somebody shot him.

####

Interrogation had never been Vincent’s favorite part of the job. Veld had usually taken the role- he used to say he had the scarier face. So Vincent left the hired thug in a dark room with a barely sufficient bandage to keep him from bleeding out and let time do most of the work.

Not all of the creatures Hojo had grafted onto him hated the idea of torture. Something slithered eagerly in the dark, staying out of Vincent’s direct notice but trailing sadistic glee like bloody footprints through his thoughts. The hour’s wait was as much for Vincent’s sake as to scare the man inside. He could not lose control.

He nearly did, anyway.

The moment Vincent opened the door and laid eyes on the waiting victim, the creature inside leapt to seize control. It wasn’t a physical struggle; he doubted he moved- couldn’t say how long it took. Hellmasker could not be allowed to take him. Not now, not ever. Vincent’s body was his .

And yet, even as he emerged triumphant, something must have shown of the struggle. The thug in the chair was panicked, babbling, pleading. He gave up everything he knew and Vincent hadn’t even touched him.

Hellmasker oozed smug satisfaction even in defeat. It was awake, now. Vincent’s grace period was over.

####

Rufus really was a clever little shit. Reno knew that, knew the brat knew how to manipulate people, but it was something else to watch the baby version of it, the way the kid was pushing buttons that’d always worked for him before.

If Reno had been the even younger brat he should have been without the whole memories of the future thing, he probably would have fallen for it.

They were staying in Rufus’ apartment- any Turk assigned to a VIP like that ended up pulling double duty as a bodyguard. That was just assumed. The kid fed them, and he ordered in the good food. It was rich. It was delicious. It made it hard to stay mad at anybody, to be that well fed.

Not that Reno was mad at Rufus. But they had more than one job going on, and that’s why he and Rude were sleeping in shifts.

The sleeping part, that was hard.

Reno didn’t think he’d slept with such high-count sheets in his life, even later when Rufus indulged his Turks better. That was after Meteor, when the really good shit was harder to come by. The sheets were silky and smooth and draped snugly, and Rude had to practically punt him out of bed to wake him up for his shift.

In short, it was exactly the kind of high-class indulgence he used to dream of back when he was a gutter rat.

And of course Rufus didn’t brag about it. He acted like this was normal, like it was just part of working for him.

Yeah, if Reno didn’t know better, he might have fallen for it. But the Boss’s daughter was out there, somewhere, and they needed to know what Rufus knew about Avalanche. That meant sleeping in shifts, in keeping their eyes and ears open, and in doing the obvious job properly and professionally. It meant listening at vents and doors. It was a good thing that Rufus didn’t have Dark Nation yet- a guard hound would have made the sneaking around nearly impossible.

Just to help things along, Reno volunteered to get snacks and lingered in the streets picking up rumors for far longer than it took to buy cheap junk food. He swung by a bar and downed a shot on the way back.

Rude delivered the best look of disapproval while Reno grinned at him. All part of the plan. Rufus called them a comedy troupe? He’d hate to disappoint the man.

####

The road from Midgar to Junon wasn’t that long, even in a van converted into medical transport. Titan drove the whole way while Gun flipped through magazines or stared out the window. They stopped to part ways by the docks. Gun gave Titan a peace sign before heading for her ship. Titan checked on Shiva (still the same) and pulled into one of the loading docks by the university.

Thoth knocked on the driver’s side window a few minutes later. “Scoot over.” He tossed a full portfolio onto the bench seat between them and swung up into the driver’s seat, settling in. “Kid’s on her way already, right?”

Titan nodded, frowning. “Don’t you have classes?”

“I got tenure.” He grinned. “If I want to take a week off to write up a paper, nobody’s gonna say boo. They’ll gripe on my evals but it won’t be the first time.” With that, he pulled out of the parking lot.

Only a few minutes later, Titan frowned. “Isn’t this the way back to Midgar?”

“It is.”

“Is that where we’re going?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t put frosty right back in the fire after getting him out, now would I?”

She closed her eyes. Titan hadn’t worked much with Thoth, but she remembered how Veld used to grumble. A map. Where else did the road go?

“We’re headed to Kalm.”

“Exactly. I got the chance to place my pieces where I want, and I want ‘em together.”

They drove in silence for a bit, then Titan asked, “Are you actually going to write a paper?”

Thoth laughed. “I have three papers already written for just such occasions. It won’t take more than an hour to bring one up to date.”

####

Veld was taking the long way to Nibelheim.

Disappearing as a Director was harder than when he was just another Turk, but he had reasons, from time to time, to move unseen. He had methods. The main downside was that every evasion made the trip longer. Every piece of technology avoided was one more thing that could have made his life easier.

Technology was like that. Advances came with strings. He could trace a leak by pulling on the right one. He could blow an operation by stepping on the wrong one. The same technology that made his life easier could also blow it to pieces.

He’d learned that the hard way.

So it would take him multiple days to get there and nearly as long to get back. He’d be cutting it close to make it to the monthly board meeting, but if time became more important than secrecy, he could make that call. He filled idle moments by chewing over the budget numbers Tseng had found and worrying about Vincent and the others. Neither activity was particularly pleasant, but one was necessary and the other unavoidable.

Superstitiously, he did his best not to think about Felicia, as if thinking about it would somehow jinx Reno and Rude’s efforts. Safer to mull over what he was going to say to Claudia Strife, or curse at the potholes in the road, or figure out how to get a cokatolis to move out of the way without provoking a fight.

He ended up having to fight the cokatolis.

####

The story of the Rui farm was one that was familiar and predictable. A farm was having difficulty, and Kalm real estate had more value for its location than its ability to produce as the city expanded its tourist section. Two girls who struggled to feed themselves and care for the animals they kept wouldn’t be able to take a financial blow. Give them enough trouble, and they’d have to either abandon or sell the farm. Devalue the property enough, and it could be bought cheap.

Naga had seen it before. She’d played a role in that kind of strong arm tactics more than once, back when she’d worked with Scarlet as much as the Turks.

Shalua was grateful to have somebody who could look at the numbers and walk her through a budget and legal options. And maybe a few less than legal ones. You did what you had to, and Shelke was a sweet kid who was even better with numbers than her big sister. Shalua had a bitey streak to her that she kept to comments on the men who came to intimidate them, but Naga was sure it would include actual biting if it came down to a fight.

So far, their job seemed to be helping the kids out. It was always nice when the job was easy like that.

Cerberus wasn’t enjoying it, though. He was rattled and trying to hide it, as if she wouldn’t notice. Or maybe he was just trying to bluff himself.

She insisted on food first, and plenty of it. They ate some standing on the street and took more back to a crappy hotel room. She bossed him around shamelessly, ordering him to lift her out of the chair and onto the bed and bring her snacks and drinks and then sit and keep her company. She looped an arm through his to keep him there.

He never changed clothes, but somehow by the time she got him next to her, he was wearing the red cape again like it’d coalesced out of the gloomy air around him. She gave the cape a tug.

“Since when were you a quick change artist?” she murmured, too low for the sound to carry through the thin walls

He flinched and looked away. She frowned and gave the cape another tug.

“Talk to me, Vincent.”

“Change is the problem,” he muttered back hoarsely. “I am… not all of me is human… anymore.”

“So?” She picked up one of the snacks and pressed it into the clearly human hand, the one that she knew could feel it and get the message. The look he gave the brightly wrapped package was briefly more exasperated than tormented as he split it open and dutifully took a bite. “You’re not going to tell me you’re a vampire now, are you? I don’t think vampires eat snack cakes.”

He didn’t laugh or even smile, but his eyes curved a little and softened his expression. He ate the rest and brushed the crumbs off the collar of the cape, his gaze drifting away again before he spoke.

“There are- were- things added to me. One of them… tried to get out.”

“Tried means they didn’t succeed.”

“No… it didn’t.” He fell silent and she passed him a water bottle this time. He fiddled with it between drinks, but fidgeting was alright between the two of them. Nobody else was watching. “Kelly… I….”

“Does Veld know?”

“He does.”

She smiled at him. “Good. You gotta keep your partner in the know about these things.” She squeezed his arm, thin as it was. “And you need to eat and take care of yourself if you’re going to keep your strength up.”

It took a moment, but he dipped his head with an apologetic smile and leaned out to grab one of the extra boxes of take-out. She poured herself a small cup of cheap wine and offered him a sip just to watch him roll his eyes and tell her exactly how terrible it was.

“I don’t know how you can still drink that.”

“It’s important to have vices of all kinds. For variety.”

They didn’t get back to the business stuff until much later, but by that time Vincent wore Cerberus without flinching, and that was important, too.

####

Reeve hadn’t heard from Lazard in a while.

Not that they’d been getting too friendly- a sudden realignment would have only tipped off the other Directors to political maneuvering. But there had been a few emails back and forth about the needs of the SOLDIER department and the last one Reeve had sent was still unanswered.

Possibly Lazard was only busy with other matters in his department and the email had been tabled and then accidentally buried. Possibly Lazard was putting Reeve off.

Possibly… but it was better not to borrow trouble. Surely the Director was merely busy.

He sent Cait Sith first. The plush cat crawled through the now very clean vents. He reported that the bug in the vent was still where it’d been before and that the office lights were on, but that nobody was inside.

Reeve began to worry.

He checked network activity. There were timestamps from Lazard’s computer on the network, all messages posted to SOLDIER that Reeve didn’t bother to read. The timestamps were regular. Very regular. Every one was posted four minutes after the hour, with a gap during the night when it would be unusual for anyone to be awake.

Even those had stopped earlier that morning.

The worry turned itself into a knot in the pit of Reeve’s stomach. He sorted through his office and slipped a few key items into his pockets. Cait fretted back at him, and Reeve forced himself to take a deep breath and compose himself.

Go ahead and meet up with your friend, he told Cait.

Some things had to be done in person.

####

Reeve made his visit look casual. He stopped here and there on the way to exchange greetings with people in his own department, though he did put on a more business-like pace once he reached the SOLDIER floor. The SOLDIERs largely ignored him, though a few that were standing guard recognized him and saluted as he passed.

Sephiroth was outside Lazard’s office.

Reeve wondered if Sephiroth knew about Deepground. Had he been raised there? Forced to fight other children? Did he serve Shinra because he wanted to, or had he been programmed for it?

He didn’t know.

A pleasant smile covered up the pounding of his heart as he ruthlessly shoved speculation aside. “Sephiroth. Good morning.”

The First Class SOLDIER tipped his head. “Director Tuesti. Are you here to see Director Deusericus?”

“Yes, if he’s available.”

“I don’t believe he is inside.”

“No answer?”

Sephiroth nodded. “No answer, and no sound of anyone moving about inside.”

The knot of worry tightened. “We’ve been discussing ways to improve soundproofing on the SOLDIER floor, perhaps he’s been testing it out.”

“Perhaps.” The tilt of Sephiroth’s head suggested he believed no such thing, but was either willing or compelled to agree.

Reeve didn’t believe it, either.

He took out the all-purpose keycard and swiped it to unlock the door, letting himself in. Sephiroth did not crowd, but slipped inside as soon as there was room.

“There is dust on the desk,” Sephiroth observed.

Reeve crossed over and dragged his fingers through it. Not deep, but enough to leave a trail. “You don’t mind if I take a closer look, I hope.”

“Not at all.” The towering SOLDIER stayed by the door, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

It was child’s play to get past Lazard’s security. Reeve placed his own disk in the computer and rebooted it, then sorted through the systems. It didn’t take long to find the scheduled posts. Lazard had set up enough to last three days.

The other Director had been canny enough to set up his own program rather than use any of the automated systems Shinra had built in, but not enough to vary the posting in a truly random manner. But it was a good enough program to continue posting for several weeks, if necessary. If Lazard had only set up three days, he probably intended to be back before they ran out.

The knot turned to ice.

“I believe Director Deusericus has been out of office for a while,” Reeve told Sephiroth. “Do you mind if I take this to the Turks?”

Sephiroth smiled. “Of course not. I would appreciate being notified when he’s found.”

“If I hear from him, I’ll pass it along.”

####

Rufus slid the headset off his head and placed it on his desk. The sound quality on his little listening devices wasn’t great, but he could get enough.

Lazard was missing.

How did that impact his own plans?

He considered the door and the two Turks sitting in the living room on the other side of it. If the Department of Administrative Research went looking for Lazard, would those two Turks be distracted? Or would they double their security?

It was too soon to take his place on the board. There was weeks worth of material to go through before he’d be sufficiently briefed. He ground his teeth and then stopped himself, relaxing his jaw and putting on a more dignified expression. It was a golden opportunity, but he didn’t have the pieces in place to take advantage. That happened. Another opportunity would come, or he would make one.

If he worked a little faster, he might be able to take advantage of this one. It all depended on how long Lazard stayed missing.

There was one corner of the apartment that was far enough from the living room to muffle sound while also having excellent phone signal. Rufus dug around under his mattress for the second cell phone and went to make a call.

Chapter Text

Tseng was enjoying a peaceful moment in the Turk monitoring room. He had his favorite tea and some donuts (with sprinkles), and was caught up on all the reports he was managing while Veld was out of town.

The monitor for the hallway outside the Turk offices transmitted a knock. The screen showed Reeve outside, laptop under his arm and a desperate look on his face. Tseng took in a deep breath and told himself firmly not to panic. He could handle this. He deliberately didn’t think of what would make the man look like that and hurried to the door.

Reeve entered as soon as Tseng had it open, shutting the door behind himself like he was being chased by guard hounds.

“I need a secure room,” he said.

“Of course.” Technically, all the rooms were secure, but Tseng knew what he meant. The safest place with the least chance of anything getting out: Veld’s office in the center of the Turk’s space, right outside the monitoring room. Even once they were there, the two of them checked thoroughly to make sure no bugs had been snuck in.

The moment Tseng nodded to let Reeve know it was all clear, Reeve set up the laptop and booted it up. “I’ve been working with Lazard,” he explained. “He was looking into Deepground, said he knew some people who might know how things are transported.” A weak smile of apology, but Tseng merely nodded. He didn’t blame Reeve- outside sources were fine.

“He set some automatic messages on his computer three days ago,” Reeve continued. “I wasn’t getting answers to my emails… and possibly other people weren’t. Sephiroth was there at his office when I went to check.”

“So he’s missing?” Tseng asked.

“Yes… and no. I found out where he is.” Reeve’s expression went grim. “This is a recording.”

He opened a file to show a laboratory. Or a medical center. It had rows of tables for patients- or victims. And on one of them was Lazard, battered and either asleep or unconscious and in very secure restraints.

SOLDIER-level restraints.

Tseng saw this place before on a similar laptop. “It’s Deepground,” he whispered.

Reeve nodded. “It’s Deepground,” he confirmed, sitting heavily in Veld’s chair. “I had to check. The probabilities…”

Man-sized tubes in the background gleamed even in the black and white footage. Mako. Monitors and racks of tools were crammed between the tables. Lazard wasn’t the only person strapped to one. Tseng glanced at the others and recognized someone he’d seen among the SOLDIER hopefuls a few months ago. Someone the Turks had recruited.

Tseng clenched his hands and then opened them to press them on the desk so they’d stay steady. “The Director is out of contact right now. I’ll help you any way I can, but…”

They both looked at the recording.

“I found a way in,” Reeve admitted quietly. “But the window of opportunity would be small. One person. If that. And the odds… are not favorable.” He reached out heavily and advanced the recording. Lazard had a mask fitted over his face and then was removed from the table and placed in one of the tubes. “All the procedures seem to be recorded. I didn’t see evidence of any brain surgery. Yet.”

Yet.

“Can you modify anything from here?”

Reeve shook his head. “I’d need physical access to do anything effective.”

They watched the video a little longer, watched the scientists in it prep another of the victims for surgery.

“One person,” Tseng said. Reeve nodded.

There were probably better options, if they had more time and familiarity with the place. Someone that knew more or was better placed to be a mole.

But they both knew Director Deusericus.

“What do you need?” Tseng asked.

####

Cait knew a lot of what Reeve knew. Even when they weren’t trying to share, things leaked. And with Reeve so upset, Cait wanted to be there, to know, to help anyway he could.

But Reeve and Tseng were still putting together a plan. There was nothing for Cait to do. So he did what he usually did in the evenings; he put on a cheery face and visited his friend.

The cheer must not have been good enough; Cloud cocked his head the moment Cait hopped in through the window. “Hey, Cait… y’alright?”

Cait hesitated. He liked Cloud. A lot. They’d already shared some secrets. But this was a big secret. And… “It’s a wee bit dangerous.”

“Yeah?” Cloud leaned back, folding his arms. “Tell me.”

Cait bounced thoughtfully. “Me maker, he works wit th’Turks sometimes. Right now, they’ve got a man in a bad place, and they don’t have th’lads to get ‘im out.”

“A Turk?”

Cait shook his head. “Not a Turk. But th’man’s important!”

Cloud frowned. “ I’m trainin’ to be a Turk. If they need more hands, I’ll go.”

Cait looked the boy up and down. He looked very smart in his school suit, that was true, and he knew more than a thing or two. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it? “One moment, lad.”

Reeve?

Cait poked the place where he and Reeve could talk a few times. He hadn’t done this around Cloud, yet, but now was as good a time as any. He got the impression of Reeve finding somewhere quiet and then felt his presence settle into the connection, heavy-hearted with guilt and fatigue.

Cloud wants to help!

Reeve’s answer was full of unhappy surprise. For this? He’s a kid! Does he even know how dangerous it is?

The guilt was thick enough that Cait could taste it. ‘E’s trainin’ to be a Turk; ask the Turks! Cait couldn’t help with the guilt, but maybe he and Cloud could help save Lazard and that would be almost as good, wouldn’t it?

Numbers danced between them as Reeve worked out the chances of a new plan. The answer came slowly, reluctantly, but he agreed. I’ll speak to Tseng about it. Don’t go off on your own- wait until we hear what he says.

Cait nodded agreement, knowing Reeve would know. “He’ll ask, lad,” he assured Cloud. “I’ll tell ye when I can.”

Cloud nodded firmly. “Alright. I… guess we can work on schoolwork until then.”

Cait climbed up onto the bed and grabbed a book. “Best to not be causin’ trouble,” he agreed, then grinned. “Not ‘til the time be right.”

####

It was late when Titan and Thoth pulled into Kalm; he was feeling the drive but in a good way. Thoth rarely got outside of Junon, anymore, but he arranged everything they needed ahead of time so he could take his time and enjoy the journey. The change of scenery had him feeling ten years younger.

Or maybe it was knowing that there was some life left in the older Turks at his command. Cerberus was back, Naga was in the field again, and Titan was doing more than plodding along training up more fodder for the grind. They had Shiva out of Midgar, which could only help the poor man. Sure, it had state of the art medical facilities, but the air there stank.

Thoth watched how their work chewed up people for years. Doing anything decent was an uphill battle. But this? A clean task with people they could trust. The only complications were the enemies.

It took him and Titan an hour to get Shiva inside and settled with all the various monitors and life preserving equipment. After that, he left her to guard her old partner and went over to the motel down the block.

Cerberus looked better than before- Naga had to be working hard to make sure the man ate. Thoth shook his hand and was pleased when he neither froze nor flinched. “Right. I’ve got the ice man tucked away in his cave with a rock to lean on, so lay it out for me, kids.” He sat in the room’s only chair. Cerberus leaned against the wall, one eye slanted through the curtains while Naga, lounging on the bed, began to set out what they’d discovered.

“We’ve almost got the bank problem wrapped up,” she concluded after a brief discussion of the particulars where she did all the talking. “The paperwork isn’t hard; we just gotta clean up the assholes.”

“Not many of them left?”

“Not of those, but…” she looked over at Cerberus.

“There’s another team,” he said. “At least one watching, possibly two. Quick, and they know how to stay out of sight.”

“You get an ID on any of them?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.” Naga also shook her head.

That was trouble- Cerberus was an expert sniper and few others were as good at the social game as Naga. Evading them both took more than a typical caliber opponent.

“We’ll set up some watches for a few days, see if we can spot something while you kids clean up the riffraff.” 

They figured out a couple codewords and contact methods in case the typical ones became unavailable. Before he left, Thoth paused. He dropped the business and leaned over the bed to give Kelly a good hug. “You two stay safe, you hear? And if you have time, come and say hi to Jim.” He looked up at Vincent. “It could only help to know you’re still kicking around.”

Vincent looked away, but he still nodded.

####

The thing that annoyed Rufus most about having Turks around is the way they took their duties so seriously. Even when one of them left, the other always stayed to make sure Rufus (and all the confidential briefing information) stayed safe. One ran errands, while the other went through briefing material. If it wasn’t so aggravating for his plans, he’d be impressed by their dedication.

At least they took turns. Today, it was the tall, responsible one’s turn to go out. That left the slob who drank on the job and refused to button up his shirt.

Perfect.

Rufus brought a pair of bottles with him as he sat down at the table, one filled with hard liquor and one with a highly watered down version. “How do you feel about a night off?” he asked.

The redhead grinned back at him. “Sounds good to me. But are ya sure ya wanna slack off? It’ll just make all this take longer, yo.”

Rufus felt his eyebrows raise. “I didn’t know you had such an admirable work ethic.”

“Turks always get the job done.” The Turk smirked back at him. “And right now, all this-” he waved at the papers- “is the job, yo.”

“You wouldn’t ‘slack off’, as you put it, and tell the other Turk it was done?”

“ Hell no. Not in a million years.”

Rufus reassessed the situation and decided to stick to the rough plan anyway. He could make it work. “Then I suppose your job will just have to take longer. I’d like a break from study, at least for one night.”

“Sure. You’re the boss.” The Turk scooped up the papers, tucking them all back into the briefcase with the speed of a magician disappearing cards. “What else didja have in mind, yo?”

“How do you feel about sharing a drink with the boss?” Rufus shook the bottles gently. “Maybe we could have a little contest?”

The redhead’s grin was full of teeth. “Oh, absolutely. Which bottle are we starting with? Are we gettin’ food first? Ya start gettin’ serious with the booze and don’t eat, ya’ll be lucky if the worst that happens is ya end up huggin’ the toilet by the end of the night, yo.”

Rufus set the booze down. “I thought we’d each take a bottle and see who got to the end first.”

The Turk shook his head. “Naw, that won’t work. We each take shots out of the same bottle- that’s the only way to be sure it’s fair, yo.”

Rufus realized too late that he’d misstepped. “You’ve done this before.”

“Plenty. You’ll be amazed what sounds like a good idea after a night of bein’ shot at.” The grin turned speculative. “Tell ya what. Forget the contest. You’re the veep, right? Well, practically. Soon as we get this done. You got clearance for all this shit- why don’ we order some grub to go with the booze, an’ I can tell ya a little bit of the stuff that doesn’t end up in these reports?”

Rufus knew that the Turk was younger than him. He’d checked. And yet, looking at that expression, he saw experience. That glimpse was much more intriguing than Heidegger’s braggadocio.

He was already committed to a night of drinking, anyway. Maybe he could learn something. Maybe he could get one of the Turks on his side.

####

The Strifes’ house wasn’t as large as their neighbors’, but it wasn’t shabby, either. It was in good shape for someone with a small family and a single income- what a kind soul would describe as cozy. When Veld introduced himself, Mrs. Strife’s first thought wasn’t about Shinra, but about her son.

“Cloud is in school,” Veld told her honestly. “It’ll be some time before he’s called upon for anything truly dangerous. But I did come on a family matter.”

She pursed her lips. “In that case, come in and have some tea.”

He waited while she started water for the tea and brought out a plate of cookies. He remembered Vincent telling him, once, about the importance of cookies in Nibelheim- proper hosts offered at least five kinds, and the quality mattered. Claudia served seven kinds, all homemade. Veld took one of each.

“What do you know about your father?”

“Not much.” She set out tea and took a cookie for herself while they waited on the water. “Ma said he was a rich man who didn't keep his promises.”

Didn't that sum it all up? “We ran a paternity test with Cloud. They don't only reveal fathers. Grandparents can be determined, too.”

Her look was sharp. “And you found him?”

Veld nodded. 

“Did you tell Cloud?”

“Not yet. I thought it best to inform you first.”

“Good.” The kettle whistled and she took a few minutes to fuss over tea. Veld nibbled the cookies and waited. He didn’t need to push.

“The honest truth is that I stopped caring who my father was when I fell in love and had my own babe. Cloud’s enough for me. But if I have family that wants to come over, I'll make ‘em dinner.”

“Cloud decided to join my team. We'll look out for him no matter who he's related to.”

She smiled. “In that case, you can stay for supper.”

####

Reno could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually seen Rufus get drunk- the man had always been careful, and by the time they’d been more closely acquainted in the future, he’d known his limits.

This younger Rufus didn’t, yet. Sure, the right food could soak up a lot of alcohol, but it also made it easy to keep going when it might have been smarter to quit. Reno found his happy buzzy spot and sipped enough to keep it there. Rufus was matching him- that’s how social drinking worked, after all- and didn’t have the tolerance Reno had already built up at this age.

Not that the young veep-to-be was completely blasted- not yet. But he was losing track of Reno’s stories and getting grouchy about it. Reno could probably steal everything the man had without him remembering it in the morning.

That presented Reno with a hard decision, one that would have been tempting even if he were stone cold sober. He could go through Rufus’ things and find evidence, heck, plant evidence, and if he was careful then there’d be no proof he was ever there.

It would be the smart thing to do. They wanted to find Avalanche, after all. The chief’s daughter was at stake. She was family.

But Rufus… Rufus in the future had been family, too, even if it’d taken him far too long to understand that. There was still the possibility that this Rufus could learn.

So Reno got him water and eased him off to bed. He called Rude to warn him to come in quietly when he got back. And then he settled into the desk chair in Rufus’ bedroom to keep an eye on him.

He would have fallen asleep there, but Rude got back in time to take his place before that happened. For a brief moment, Reno forgot when he was and nearly flopped next to Rufus, but Rude grabbed his arm and reminded him to use his own bed.

A shame he wouldn’t see Rufus’ expression when he woke up, but at least the guest bed was just as luxurious.

####

Cloud received a notice to go to his usual place and time to meet with his Turk mentors, except they were still out on their mission. Tseng met him there instead, holding Cait Sith by the scruff. The little cat robot dangled apologetically.

Cloud slowed as he approached. “Are we in trouble?”

“No.” Tseng set Cait down and the cat bounded over to give Cloud a hug. “No secrets were leaked and Director Tuesti is an ally.”

Cloud tilted his head. “What’s a director have to do with it?”

Tseng looked at Cait Sith, who cringed again. “That’s m’maker, lad.”

“Your Pa?”

The cat nodded.

Tseng frowned at them for a moment. Cloud thought he heard a quiet sigh. “The director was not pleased to suggest the two of you to participate, given your youth, but we’re short-handed. And no one would suspect you.”

Cloud straightened up. “I’m ready to help, sir.”

“You’ll have to do more than help. This is your mission. I may be available as a contact, but it’s equally possible I may be busy during your window of opportunity.”

Cloud tilted his head slightly. “What is it we’re supposed to do?”

“We’re tae rescue Director Lazard,” Cait piped up. “I ken th’place we have tae go, lad.”

Tseng nodded. He took out a pair of small, sleek phones and handed one to Cloud and one to Cait. “How are your codes?” he asked Cloud.

“Me an’ Cait have been workin’ on the radio ones.” Just in case Cait wanted to send Cloud a message while he was in class. Tapping on the walls was slow, but better than nothing.

“Good enough. You have two days to work out signals in case they’re needed. The director is likely to be injured and possibly compromised. He might not cooperate. You’ll need to be prepared.”

Cloud nodded grimly. “Is he going to fight?”

“It’s unlikely, but not impossible. Cait will have materia if it’s necessary to subdue him.”

The more Tseng talked, the more dangerous it sounded, and yet Cloud couldn’t help the tingle of excitement when he familiarized himself with the phone. A real phone and a real mission, working with his best friend.

Two days. Two days and he could prove himself.

Chapter Text

Veld didn’t get far from Nibelheim before he found a place where his phone could get a steady signal. It still created a risk, but he judged it much less likely to create a problem at this point.

And judging by the burr of stress in his voice, Tseng probably appreciated the check in.

“Will you be back in time for the monthly board meeting, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. With Director Deusericus missing, the rest of the board would be reassured to see you in person.”

Adrenaline surged and Veld throttled it back. It wouldn’t help him avoid pitfalls in the mountains, and Tseng didn’t deserve fury for honoring the security measures Veld’d put in place himself.

“I expect a full briefing when I get back,” he said tightly.

“Of course, sir.”

He closed the phone and took a moment to breathe away the feeling of urgency. He couldn’t make the miles shorter; it would still take more than a day to get back even if he drove all night. Hitting something would only break his fingers and he didn’t have the necessary items or materia to fix that kind of injury. There was nothing for it but to take the fastest route back and find out what broke while he was gone.

It was going to be a long trip.

####

Rufus regretted everything when he woke up. Everything. He sort of wished it was possible to physically wring all the crap he’d eaten and drunk out of himself while he also dreaded that it might come out whether he wanted it to or not.

He’d never had a headache that hurt so badly it made him feel sick before.

The heavy, responsible Turk was by his bed, ready with some pills and a glass of water the moment Rufus moved.

“Nobody tries to keep up with Reno’s drinking,” the Turk said. “Except Legend, and he’s crazy.” He peered over his glasses at Rufus as if to make sure the message was understood.

Rufus nodded and didn’t even ask before taking the pills, only belatedly realizing that he should have checked. But nothing happened to him as he hunkered down in his still dark bedroom and tried not to do anything that would aggravate the pain.

By the time his bladder insisted on him getting up, he actually felt like he could manage without heaving everywhere along the way. Practically a miracle. He attended to his needs and cautiously investigated the rest of the house, acutely aware of the Turk trailing behind him.

The living area was cleaner than he expected. All the bottles and food from the previous evening were cleared away. Nothing was trashed. Soft clicks and clatter came from the kitchen- the other Turk. Reno. He grinned at them wolfishly when they entered, then spun on a stool to pull instant miso soup from the microwave and pass it over to Rufus, still steaming.

“Start with that, yo,” he murmured, lower than his usual volume.

Cheap, convenience store food. Not great, but it stayed down. Rufus even felt better after it. Like he could eat real food.

The Turks plied him with more cheap food, none of it as good as what he could have ordered if he’d felt the urge, but it stayed with him. They hovered around until he snapped at them to give him space, and then they did- not to busy themselves with other things like employees properly ought to, but simply to stay back and watch in case they were needed.

He didn’t like the feeling that provoked, so he called them back to return to the endless briefing material as soon as he felt like he could read small text again without nausea.

The only thing he knew for certain was that he was never doing that again.

####

The days in Kalm were busy, but not busy enough. The Rui sisters’ situation wasn’t stable financially yet, but it was getting there. Thoth and Titan helped with keeping watch, one of them always near Shiva but the other available to sit around in plain clothes and see what they could spy.

Vincent had the time to visit Jim. He just couldn’t go.

The machines were quiet, but they still beeped. The smell of antiseptic and iodine held him at bay. Even the bed with its simple, soft cushion, reminded him too much of a channeled slab dripping with fluids.

The only thing the room was truly missing was mako.

He sat on the balcony of the room above and stared out across the city in shame. He should have been resting, or out looking for the other agents plaguing the area, or downstairs visiting his old coworker, one of the few people who remembered him. Instead, he suffered in agonizing indecision.

He truly was a broken man.

####

Veld was late; Tseng barely had time to meet him at their offices before the board meeting. Not enough time for explanations or excuses- Tseng murmured that they knew where the missing Director was and that they had a plan to retrieve him, then passed Veld the necessary papers so that he would be able to report on Turk activities if President Shinra asked. Veld flipped through the papers in the elevator, but it was all updates on everyday matters. The only real news they had couldn’t be shared anywhere they didn’t control, and they controlled very little of Shinra’s public spaces, despite the Turks’ reputation.

And then it was time to face the dragons’ den. Tseng made sure he was visible at Veld’s elbow and counted all the Directors. The President, of course. Palmer. Heidegger. Scarlet. Reeve. Even Hojo, muttering and complaining about the waste of time but appearing on command.

No Vice President, but they knew where Rufus was and he wasn’t expected for at least another week, maybe two. Deusericus was the only one missing, the absence gaping like a broken tooth.

“I see that the Director of SOLDIER hasn’t bothered to make an appearance,” President Shinra observed, his voice cold.

Tseng couldn’t tell if the man knew or not.

“He’s been slacking,” Heidegger proclaimed gleefully. “I’ve heard complaints.”

Heidegger definitely knew.

“Get on with the meeting,” Hojo griped. “One director missing more or less won’t make a difference.”

If Hojo knew, he didn’t care.

“I expect all of you to take your jobs seriously,” President Shinra said. “If he misses another meeting, then he’ll face the consequences. Until then, we have business to conduct. Palmer, begin your report.”

Tseng kept his face neutral, the only one outside the board allowed inside the meeting. He and Veld had to be seen. He studied faces and hoped that Strife could manage.

####

The suit felt weird.

It was a comfortable suit, but Cloud had barely gotten used to the school uniform. Putting on an actual suit, a Turk suit, felt weird. Weren’t they trying to hide the fact that the Turks were involved?

“Nobody’ll hassle ye in that, lad,” Cait said. It was true. His stomach still knotted up worse than riding on a train.

But not as bad as riding in the helicopter.

He fingered the sunglasses in his pocket and finally put them on. It’d been a kind of a joke, he thought, when Rude gave him a pair, but now it felt safe. Anonymous. As if he wasn’t anybody, just a suit and a pair of glasses.

Cait rode on his shoulder and people looked at the odd cat, but then they looked at Cloud’s suit and turned away. Turks were allowed to be weird. Nobody paid attention to the bundle in his arms. Nobody stopped them while they walked through the slums, even when he stumbled with the weight.

He looked out for tails like he’d been taught. So did Cait. It was all clear when they found the vent in the pillar and opened it up. The winch and line took some work to set up- Cloud had to use a box to stand on to get it in the right place- but soon they had a harness ready to go. Cait climbed aboard and Cloud began paying out the line, watching while Cait reached the first set of sensors and stopped to do something to them.

His phone beeped and Cait’s message came up in a series of dots and dashes that Cloud spelled out to himself. “A-l-l-c-l-e-a-r-c-s.” He breathed a sigh of relief and began typing in his reply, ending it with their signoff- dash dot dash dot, dot dot dot- CS. Cait Sith and Cloud Strife both.

After that, it was a lot of waiting. He paid out the line as Cait signaled him, then waited and made sure nobody snuck up while he waited. He paced around, tried some of the drills he’d been taught, and wished he was doing something else.

Cait made it to the bottom and nothing went wrong. Cloud waited. He waited longer than he had between any of the other stops and began counting seconds just to mark the time.

He checked it against his phone and he was counting too fast. He tried to match over the next five minutes.

Fast again.

He managed to match on the next five minutes.

Off and on, he kept up the weird little game until the middle of his tenth set and his phone beeped again. He nearly dropped it in his haste to look at the message.

U-p-c-s.

The line acted differently, dragging more as Cloud retracted it. There were no stops on the way up, unlike the trip down, and before too long Cloud saw the body hanging from the end. Blonde hair, almost the same shade as his own but long and limp and messy.

Cloud helped the man out of the hole and nearly fell as he bore up under a grown man’s weight. “Director?” he asked.

“Sorry,” the man muttered, still hanging on as if he wasn’t sure where the ground was. His grip was painfully tight for a moment, and then nearly disappeared, and then gripped hard again. Cloud grit his teeth and put up with it as he pulled out the heavy coat to throw over the fairly inadequate smock the man was wearing.

“Where’s Cait?”

“Cat?” Too-bright eyes blearily focused on Cloud for a second, then closed. “The cat… sent me on.”

Cloud grabbed his phone, typing furiously while ignoring the painful grip on his shoulder. C-o-m-e-u-p-c-s.

S-t-a-y-i-n-g-c-s.

Y-c-s.

J-o-b-t-o-d-o-c-s.

Cloud stared at the messages, spelling them out again to be sure. Cait wasn’t coming back up.

He closed the phone, holding back the prickle of tears. Why? Why was he up here with the barely conscious director while Cait, the best friend he’d ever had, was down in the dangerous compound- alone? What job? Why did Cait have to do it himself?

The phone beeped again, the new message in plain text. You can do this, lad. And so can I. Dash dot dash dot, dot dot dot.

Cloud wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath. B-e-s-a-f-e-c-s, he carefully spelled out in the code. Then he slid the phone into his pocket, straightened his sunglasses, and began to urge the missing director towards the bar they were using as a safe house until Tseng could pick him up.

####

The meeting went too long, but that was every meeting with the Board. Ten minutes were too many in the same room with Heidegger, Hojo, Scarlet, and President Shinra himself. Dangerous people, every one of them.

Veld distantly remembered when Palmer had been a threat, but unlike the other Directors, he only loved money, not power. Even Hojo loved power, the ability to draft others into satisfying his twisted curiosities.

Veld? He was part of the power they used. Sometimes the Directors forgot that.

President Shinra never did.

The president asked Veld to stay after the others left, as he often did. Once again, there was no time for Tseng to give Veld the details he desperately wanted. He had to face Shinra blind.

But he’d done it before. He knew the game. A professional nod, and then he waited.

“A missing Director.” Shinra didn’t pace. He glared under thick brows. “Wutai isn’t sewn up yet. We can’t have SOLDIER disrupted.”

“Yes, sir.” Safe agreement. “I’ll have my people look into it.”

A nod, but then as Shinra turned away to stare out the window, he darted a narrow-eyed look back at Veld. “Your people are spread thin, aren’t they? I haven’t seen any in Sector Eight in a while.”

“We’re busy, sir.” The truth. Just enough truth. “I have a recruiter on the Northern Continent now. We’ll have patrols in the city again by the end of the week.”

“Good. People need to know that Shinra takes their safety seriously.”

Sector Eight, the Turks’ own training grounds. Where people with money spent it for fun. Veld nodded solemnly. The best place to be seen, when they wanted to be seen. They’d have to keep up appearances on top of everything else.

“And if Deusericus doesn’t come back by the next Board meeting, I’ll have to replace him.”

A deadline. But also an opportunity. “I suggest you keep SOLDIER out of Heidegger’s hands, sir.”

Raised eyebrows, but not angry. Intrigued. “And why is that?”

Veld selected a thick folder, the product of weeks of work and stolen moments, and offered it to the president. “We’ve started auditing the departments. This is his.”

A smile, sharp-edged but genuine; Shinra did love leverage. “Is this why you didn’t argue for more funding for your department?”

“I believe you can always make that decision once you know how much is being misused, sir.”

“Good man. Keep it up; get those patrols out, and find my missing director. Dismissed.”

Veld bowed and backed out of the room.

The orders were predictable; he was glad he’d already decided to pull in more personnel. Keeping up appearances was as much a part of the job as the secrets. At least with the  meeting finally over, he could get with Tseng to learn what happened while he was out of town.

####

Lazard’s head swam, but all he had to do at the moment was lie down in a narrow bed. Sometimes he was too hot, sometimes too cold, and he knew it wasn’t the fault of the thin, scratchy blanket thrown over him.

Did all of SOLDIER go through this? Or did Hojo try something different for him, in that buried laboratory deep where nobody would find him?

Nobody except a toy cat with white gloves.

It took him too long to remember where he’d seen that face before, and those gloves. Reeve’s message. Reeve’s robot.

He didn’t know the Turk that sat at the end of his bed, bringing him water and thin soup to ease him through the nausea and sweats, but Reeve’s cat passed him up to the Turk. Reeve was working with the Turks. Probably had been all along.

If things had gone differently, he would have been cursing getting so close to getting caught. As it was, he’d already been caught. Now he cursed the fact that he owed the Turks.

Reeve, too, of course, but Tuesti was harmless.

A memory of glowing cat eyes peering through thick glass and thicker liquid. The sound of cheery nonsense as the mako drained away and Lazard tried to find his feet again. Soft cloth with a hard grip underneath, tugging him forward through twisting passages and then nimbly buckling him into a harness. A toy.

Harmless.

Tseng showed up while he was dozing, but even the Turks’ soft steps were loud enough to wake him up. The older Turk bullied Lazard into a shower and clean clothes while the younger babysitter cleaned up the bed.

The kid looked a little like that twat Rufus, wasn’t that funny?

He wasn’t drunk, but he still felt like it even after washing off and getting into a fresh suit. One of his suits, he noticed. Turks. The suit didn’t fit as well as it should have, but he’d figure that out eventually. He’d built some give into it when he’d had it fitted in the first place.

The Turks discussed moving him. The kid handed him sunglasses, jaw set like he’d been asked to give away company secrets with them.

Even at night, the neon advertisements outside were too bright. Lazard treated the sunglasses like precious heirlooms and kept his hands away.

They took him to an apartment above the Plate. Lazard smelled coffee as they entered, but it was Director Verdot’s presence that really sobered him. He put everything he had into standing up straight and carefully, oh so carefully, took off the sunglasses in the dimly lit room.

The Director’s sharp intake was loud to Lazard’s new senses.

“We’re not going to be able to hide that,” Verdot growled. He poured a mugful of coffee and pressed it into Lazard’s hands.

The warmth was good, steadying. At least until Lazard pressed his hands too closely around it and the mug shattered. He closed his eyes and bit back curses. “ That may also present an issue,” he said, and stepped back so those with a more delicate touch could assist him in cleaning up without breaking anything.

“It’ll pass. It’d better pass in four weeks or less, or you’ll be out of a job.”

Temper. Rage, familiar and pleasant. “Four weeks?”

“You missed a board meeting. Shinra gave us until the next one to find you and bring you back.”

And here he was. Breaking coffee mugs and barely able to walk ten feet in a straight line. “I can’t go back like this,” he snarled.

Verdot’s smile was wry. “We’ll just have to put you somewhere we can keep you safe until you figure it out.”

Chapter Text

Kalm lived up to its name on the surface; the streets were quiet and the thugs that plagued the Rui farm had learned their lesson.

That didn't make the Turks any less paranoid.

Someone else out there; Vincent heard footsteps shadow them sometimes, but so far none of them had caught more than a flicker of motion in the distance. It wasn't enough to identify the stalker. 

Irregular walks through town kept them from establishing a routine and also gave Vincent reasons to avoid Jim’s room. Naga liked to get out whenever the weather was warm, while Titan was more likely to walk with him when it was cooler.

The weather was warm that day, so Naga rolled beside him through town. They went through the market and browsed, but there wasn't any reason to buy anything. Naga sometimes commented on the way people dressed while Vincent made noises as if he was listening. 

Truthfully, he could probably repeat anything she said if asked, but his thoughts were on steel tables and preservatives and watching for danger, not fashion.

He should have known that the real danger was when they left the crowds and she went silent. 

“We didn't deserve to get hurt, Vincent. You know that, right?”

It took him off guard, and he looked around to make sure nobody was listening to them. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she'd picked her moment well and the street was mostly empty.

“It's a rough job. You told me that. The odds are usually against us. Nobody can catch everything, and your chivalrous ass will die before you admit it, but that's not your fault. Don't hog all the blame because you're too proud to share.” She twisted around in her chair to look at him. “Sometimes these things just-” her eyes scanned back over Vincent’s shoulder- “happen,” she finished in a much more subdued tone.

“What is it?” Vincent murmured, suddenly aware of everything behind him.

“I dunno, but the eyes glowed blue.” She settled back in her chair. “There and gone.”

Glowing eyes. Possibly SOLDIER. If they were meant to be seen, it was a warning. But that didn’t fit.

They’d been sloppy. The person who’d been tailing them up until now hadn’t been that careless.

He picked up the pace. Not for any concrete reason, but heeding instincts that said that something had changed, that they needed to check in with the others. He took a turn pushing the wheelchair while Naga took out a compact so she could watch their backs with the mirror.

She signaled with her hands that she didn’t see anything, but he could hear plenty of movement if he listened for it. At least two people were pacing them, one in the alleys and one on the rooftops. He itched to be up there, to take one out now instead of having to pretend he didn’t hear them, didn’t notice, was just hurrying back to their hotel because there were clouds overhead and it might rain.

They were a block away (in front of the building with Shiva in it, damn) when the ambush broke. He noted the dark uniforms with glowing lines of blue, the helmets that covered the entire face, even more so than those standard to SOLDIER.

He aimed for the blue. Cerberus’s bullets ripped through toughened fabric, spilling glowing fluid and blood together with the sharp scent of mako. The SOLDIER barely seemed to notice the leg shot and Vincent was forced to close to keep him off of Naga.

Backhand, reload, fire again. Take the punch coming his way to get in a kick to the knees. Swift as Vincent was now, this SOLDIER was almost as fast. He was losing time, fighting one when there were others closing in. The wheelchair clattered and he heard Naga’s grunt.

Fear and fury and desperation at his helplessness tore through his control. The pain was brief as the world blurred and a chainsaw roared.

####

Naga was once a force to be feared in martial arts. She was putting everything she had into it even now, but without the use of her legs she was sorely limited. Sure, she could punch like a chocobo kick these days and her poisons would kill her opponent eventually, but none of that was reassuring when she’d be dead long before they finished the job.

The SOLDIERs were fast. Fast like Cerberus. Faster than the average SOLDIER. Her opponent looked to be a woman, but it hardly seemed to matter. A punch to the chest didn’t make her flinch like a woman should when hit in such a tender spot, and Naga’s knives, sharp as they were, couldn’t pierce the reinforced uniform.

A third opponent joined the fray, jumping down from above to kick Naga’s wheels from under her. She rolled with it as best she could. This was a losing fight, but Turks didn’t give up just because they were going to die. She’d take down somebody with her, she promised that.

The roar of an engine startled her and her opponents, and then a chainsaw swung over her head and through the woman who’d been giving her so much trouble. Blood and blue liquid splattered everywhere and Naga had the sense to roll away, curling to cover her head as much as she could.

A strange figure wearing something that was half hockey gear and half work outfit stepped over her, ignoring her to swing the chainsaw it held at the newest enemy. This time, the SOLDIER was alert to the danger and jumped away while another one, the one Cerberus had been fighting, stepped in to cut the chainsaw-wielding man in the back.

Cerberus was nowhere to be seen.

Naga stabbed the SOLDIER Cerberus had been fighting in the leg wound so invitingly close to her head. Rather than swing the chainsaw again, its wielder stopped to glare at the newest ambusher. Something in the air twisted, and the SOLDIER shrank down into a frog. A twitching, limp frog. The sight cheered Naga immensely despite the bruising her arms were getting fending off the SOLDIER she’d just stabbed. Maybe they’d live after all.

Green and white sparkles danced through the air and the female SOLDIER who’d been ripped open by the chainsaw staggered to her feet. Naga cursed. Somebody had cure materia and the mana pool to use it in combat.

She couldn’t even look for the healer, too busy with her own opponent. She took a kick to the ribs and felt them crack, but managed to stab the bleeding SOLDIER again.

The ground suddenly lurched and cracked apart, crashing up into the strange SOLDIERs and rocking them all on their feet (except her, hah). Titan! Her limit break bought them time; Naga grabbed onto her wheelchair and pulled it close enough to get a potion out of the backpack there. It wasn’t as good as a cure, but it was better than nothing.

Her opponent was down, at least for the moment. She hoped the poisons were taking effect finally through all that mako. The chainsaw-wielder was still at it, dueling against someone in a black uniform and a black helmet with a black crest that had multiple weapons and was currently fighting back with a gunblade, of all the dumb things. Titan held the doorway of the building against the remaining SOLDIERs, using the choke point and her own small size to her advantage.

Naga swigged the potion and watched the chainsaw man and the black SOLDIER dance around each other. They were both taking hits, but the chainsaw-wielder was taking more.

They couldn’t win like this. She scrabbled in her backpack for options. Hairspray and a lighter? Not good enough. All she had in materia was her mastered Heal. She just didn’t have the mana pool for combat casting, and never had.

A bullet sang through the air and somehow missed the SOLDIER all in black. Cerberus wouldn’t miss, so that had to be Thoth keeping out of sight but providing support anyway.

It was possible that Cerberus was the man with the chainsaw, in which case they had all the backup they were going to get. She crawled a little to get a better angle on the situation and threw a knife that bounced off the back of the female SOLDIER’s uniform.

Fuck Scarlet and her research. Why was their best gear in the hands of the bad guys?

The SOLDIER in black got in a good hit and the chainsaw man staggered backwards, falling over onto the sidewalk. As the SOLDIER raised the gunblade for a final strike, the air suddenly grew cold.

Really cold. Naga saw her breath and watched even the mako in the air crystallize into powdery blue snow. Frost crackled along the ground and crawled over the SOLDIERS, freezing them all into icy statues.

“Th’hell, can’t a man sleep in this racket?”

Titan caught Shiva, still in his hospital clothes, in the doorway. The sniper above, given suddenly stationary targets, made good use of it and filled the SOLDIERs full of holes.

Even so, the SOLDIER in black began to crack free of the ice. Where the chainsaw man had fallen, Cerberus staggered to his knees, his clothes back to the weird outfit complete with cape that he wore when out patrolling rooftops.

Cerberus emptied his namesake revolver into the SOLDIER in black, who finally went still. And then Cerberus slumped over onto the ground as well.

“Fuck,” Naga swore, pulling herself over with a potion to make sure the idiot stayed alive. They’d survived whatever this was, but both they and the street were a mess.

####

Veld watched as Gun ushered the two rookies off to Sector Eight for the traditional shakedown patrol. Odds were, they’d have an easy night of it, but he still found room to worry.

The President wanted to see Turks in Sector Eight. Possibly just for PR reasons, but after Lazard’s stint in Deepground, there was always the possibility that he wanted the fodder. Not even their own department was untouchable.

Which led him to the blonde miscreant currently lounging in his office, waiting for orders.

Veld shut the door before starting this particular meeting. “Legend.”

Legend sat up a bit. “Chief.”

Veld slid Reeve’s extra laptop onto his desk. “Word’s likely spread by now that one of our Directors is missing.”

Legend gave him a lazy smile. “Could have.”

Veld opened the laptop and queued the footage. “Take a look.”

He sat in silence while Legend watched, letting him come to his own conclusions.

“Somebody steal our tech? You want a rescue?” Legend tapped his fingers as if already counting out grenades.

Veld shook his head. “Already done, at least the rescue. As for the theft…” He tapped on the computer. “This is all authorized by President Shinra.”

A moment of silence, and then Legend exploded, slamming his hands on the desk as he stood. “What? What the fuck is going on?”

Veld raised his own hands. “I promise you, we didn’t know. Not until very recently. This little project was secret, even from us.”

“Fuck, I knew Shinra was into shady shit, but what the hell..?”

And this was why he was willing to bring Legend into their little conspiracy. Veld suppressed a smirk. “It’s called Deepground, and it’s run by Hojo, Heidegger, and Scarlet with the president’s approval. It’s possible that just knowing about this puts a target on all our backs.”

Legend sobered up fast. “You sonofabitch. And now I’m in on it.”

Veld nodded. “We’ve got rookies. They don’t know, yet. Katana and Gun still don’t know. But there’s a good chance we’re going to have a departmental war on our hands before the year’s out, and I want our people prepared.”

“You want me to babysit.”

“I’m not that stupid. You’re a crazy asshole; teach ‘em to survive.”

####

After days of briefing, Rufus finally felt that he had a proper grasp on the company’s status. Next board meeting, he could step into his role as Vice President and enact his plan to bring the old guard to heel.

It was going to be difficult to finish making arrangements with Avalanche with the Turks always at his side, though. He needed some kind of distraction.

Someone knocked at the door, and they weren’t expecting a delivery. He nodded to the Turks to handle it and the tall, quiet one moved to open the door while Reno lurked just on the other side.

Yet another Turk was on the doorstep, a Wutaiian with his hair in a ponytail that Rufus recognized as the Director’s second-in-command, and with him was Lazard Duesericus in an ill-fitting suit and cheap, plastic sunglasses.

“Aren’t you missing?” Rufus asked before he could stop himself, garnering him the focused attention of all three Turks. Lazard barely seemed to notice, stepping inside and sitting down as if the chair under him would crumple at a touch.

“Has word gotten around already?” Lazard asked. Rufus bristled at his helpless tone.

“Seems it has. Shouldn’t you be doing your job, Director?”

That seemed to prick Lazard’s pride. He shifted in his seat to glare at Rufus, doubtlessly to say something bitter or scathing, but then he deflated with a deep breath. “There have been some… complications.” He took off the sunglasses to reveal the altered color and glow of mako enhanced eyes.

Rufus scoffed. “Couldn’t resist trying it out yourself, then?”

“You think I wanted this?” Lazard cried in a stangled tone, shattering the sunglasses as his hands clenched into fists. “You selfish, short-sighted, little-” he cut himself off, breathing heavily and flexing his hands to shake out the little shards of plastic in them. At some point in this conversation, the Turks had closed and secured the door. The new Turk took out a handkerchief to pick out the more embedded pieces of plastic from Lazard’s hands and wipe away blood as he worked.

The wounds closed as Rufus watched, and Lazard let himself be handled, passive as a trained chocobo having its talons clipped. Fascinating.

“So what did happen?”

“Deepground.” Rufus noted how the two Turks assigned to him straightened at the word. “I got a little too close,” Lazard laughed bitterly. “It’s what I get for doing another Director a favor.” He paused and murmured a thanks to the Turk administering to his hands.

Rufus hummed thoughtfully and turned to his own pair of babysitters. “Do you two have something to say?”

Reno looked over at the ponytailed Turk. “Any word from the boss?”

“Handling Rufus is your job,” the other Turk replied. “You have full discretion.”

If Rufus had laid money on which of the two Turks babysitting him were in charge, it would not have been Reno. He raised his eyebrows at the lazy, slovenly redhead.

Reno smirked back at him. “Well. Time to join the conspiracy, yo.”

“A conspiracy?” Rufus asked.

Reno paused, pursing his lips and staring at the ceiling for a moment before speaking. “So. Deepground got mentioned in the briefing materials, but only as a medical center that got closed years ago, right? That’s the official line, yo.”

“I take it that’s not the full truth, though.”

Lazard snorted. “Certainly not.”

“I’m gettin’ there,” Reno said. “What actually happened is it went underground. Literally. Science took over the place and made this big bunker under Midgar where they do all the stuff they don’t want anybody else to know about. Including us, yo.”

That was unexpected. “The Turks weren’t informed?” Rufus asked.

“Nope.” Reno frowned. “Hojo runs the place, but Scarlet and Heidegger are also involved. And the president, yo.”

The old guard, except for Palmer. The heavyweights on the board. All the people Rufus wanted to depose.

“So what is Deepground?”

“It’s like SOLDIER, but without the pretty PR. And where they put computer chips in people to control them, run by people in black armor called Restrictors, yo.”

Lazard shuddered.

“Not you?” Rufus asked.

Lazard shook his head. “I heard them speaking of it. They do it after enhancement, so that the surgery is less likely to kill their subjects. From what I heard, they were nearly finished with ‘stage one’, but Reeve’s agent intervened before then.”

Reeve? Director Tuesti? How did the least assertive member of the board end up involved in a rescue? “And how did you end up there?”

Lazard smiled ruefully. “Working with Reeve. He discovered that such a thing existed and wanted to know how they were getting their supplies and victims. I learned the latter, to my regret. All it took was an unwary moment in Midgar’s slums.”

“That’s not the only place,” Reno cut in. “Injured SOLDIERs? Not all of them go back to Medical. Some end up there instead, yo.”

“And we know now that Hojo has experimented on at least one Turk,” Lazard’s minder added. “Though that was before Deepground.”

The pieces began to fall into place. His father once warned him against getting too close with Director Verdot. “It seems there is a limit to Turk loyalty.”

The Turks shrugged. “Turks are loyal to Turks,” Reno said, “But we do our jobs, yo.”

The Turk second-in-command smirked. “We were ordered to find the missing Director,” he pointed out primly.

Oh! He could work with this. “What do you want from me?”

The others looked to Reno, who huffed. “Well, allies would be nice. I bet Elfe could get Avalanche on board if we could get her away from Fuhito, yo.”

Ice trickled down Rufus’s spine. “And you think I could help with that? With this… Avalanche?”

Reno grinned at him. “We know. We knew before we got here with the paperwork. And you’re careful, but hidin’ a phone under the mattress? Fuckin’ amateur, yo.”

Rufus had never felt so seen in his life. It wasn’t altogether pleasant.

####

Deepground was huge. Cait spent three days riding minecarts from one part of it to another, learning the lay of the place and its schedule.

He found a few places where supplies arrived and trash was sent back out, and also enormous rooms painted over like the sky and decorated with grass and trees and a giant sunlamp where the sun would be that moved on a track across the fake sky. Instead of playing, young members of Deepground conducted field maneuvers in the grass. The combat was real, all too real, with bloody casualties and even deaths.

Cait hoped Cloud was doing okay. It was too dangerous to contact his friend while down here, even in code.

Getting into the laboratories was harder because they had more people, but there were always places nobody looked, up high or down low or behind things. Cait covered his ears even as he used the screaming to cover his footsteps.

Terrible place.

But he found the reactor. And the computers and storage near the reactor, taking advantage of the ready power. All the operations of this horrible place ran through those terminals. All he had to do was make a few connections.

Chapter Text

Four dead bodies with a side of spilled mako. If they wanted to stay unnoticed, the Turks would have abandoned Kalm and left the locals to deal with the mess, but that wasn’t in the cards. 

All evidence suggested those bodies belonged to four dead SOLDIERs, which made this a company secret. Destroying that evidence was their job. And very few people outside Shinra could be trusted to handle mako.

Vincent was the strongest and fastest to recover from the fight, so while Thoth found a place to stash the bodies, Vincent gathered them up and moved them.

He was certain each of them was dead when he picked it up. Unfortunately, one of the bodies went missing while he was fetching the others, and it was the most concerning one- the black-clad leader of the group, the one experienced with combat casting and even capable of outlasting Vincent’s new, transformative limit breaks.

He at least had the man’s materia, but that made his disappearance all the more mysterious. Even if he was still alive, the SOLDIER in black had been shot multiple times. Without a Cure materia or potions, could anyone heal enough to walk away after that?

Vincent gently placed a hand over his chest where a bullet may have killed him, once. Could he survive that now? Could he survive a dozen more like it, then get up and walk away after? 

The tightness in his chest was more than the usual pressure he felt when he breathed. He had to look away, to think about the skyline so he could tear his thoughts away before they drowned him.

The Rui farm. The sisters there were the original observation target before they intervened. They wouldn't be able to defend themselves against a monster like that.

He covered the other bodies and took to the rooftops.

There weren’t any trails on the roofs, but Vincent wasn’t following a trail, he was following instincts. And, as many times before, those instincts were spot on; he caught up to the missing man at the edge of town. Fatigue dragged at Vincent, a leftover from the recent combat and transformation, but his target was also wounded, favoring one leg and letting an arm hang limp, souvenirs of the same fight.

He should have brought a rifle for this. He checked over his revolver instead, making sure all the chambers were loaded.

Thoth had a rifle.

Thoth was in charge of this operation. Vincent had run off without notifying anyone. That was a rookie mistake, and he had no time to fix it with the target below and probably in earshot. At least, he was in earshot if the target could hear as well as Vincent could. No reason to assume otherwise.

There was no comfort in the thought that he was likely to survive this encounter. Thoth would strangle him for the mistake and Veld would cheer the old man on.

He should be better than this.

The SOLDIER looked up the moment Vincent aimed for him, but that meant the bullets hit between the eyes.

It didn’t drop the SOLDIER, or even slow him down. Vincent’s opponent closed faster than a blink, easily clearing the distance between them, and then it was all a blur of hands and knees and elbows as the two of them tried to tear each other apart. Vincent aimed for the injuries at first, but the SOLDIER didn’t seem to feel pain while Vincent certainly could.

But he was used to pain.

They both fought dirty, jabbing at eyes or ears when they could, kicking at each other’s legs, throwing anything loose they could grab as they tumbled off the rooftops and down into the muddy alley below. Vincent managed to land a kick to the gut that would have disabled a normal man, but all it did was buy him a moment to get his balance before the SOLDIER was on him again. Any time he could, Vincent fired the Cerberus as well until the chamber clicked empty and there was no time to reload.

The last fight hadn’t been this bad- dying, or nearly dying, had somehow turned the strange SOLDIER into an unstoppable slab of meat. Despite the mounting injuries on both sides, every hit slammed Vincent just as hard as the one before it. Every movement was just as fast. He, though, could tire, was already tired, already drained, desperate and yet not desperate enough to fuel the limit that would at least give him a new set of attacks. Vincent used the butt of the Cerberus as a weapon to add force to his punches, grabbing and clawing with the armored gauntlet on his free hand, blurring the air around them with mako-laced blood, and still the SOLDIER fought on.

Until he didn’t.

Vincent panted over the fallen body, unable to remember when it had actually stopped moving. He shook out his hands and couldn’t quite still them as he reloaded the Cerberus.

He shot the SOLDIER four times after that- the head, the spine at the back of the neck, the heart, the lungs. And then he sat down and wished, for the first time in a long, long time, for something to drink or smoke to steady himself.

He was bleeding, he noted dully, and pressed a hand over the worst of it while he waited to see if the SOLDIER was going to get up again.

####

“So what do we do now?” Lazard asked, turning to the two remaining Turks in the apartment after Tseng left.

Rufus turned a questioning eyebrow on the Turks as well, acknowledging that they, at the moment, had the initiative.

“We gotta talk about it a bit,” the red-head, Reno, said. “Tseng’s gettin’ some SOLDIER grade gear for you so you can get back to givin’ orders, yo.”

“Orders to be dictated by the Turks?” Lazard couldn’t help but ask, the words bitter. He owed them. Not just for his life, either. He was at their mercy.

“Not our style,” the other Turk, Rude, said and Reno nodded.

“Like I said, it’s a conspiracy. You aren’t pawns, you’re members. An’ I think we can all agree we don’t want Heidegger running things, yo.”

Lazard allowed himself the shudder and Rufus looked as if the thought gave him indigestion. “But I imagine you have suggestions.”

“If you’re askin’.”

Lazard waved for the red-head to elaborate.

“We’re gonna need everybody on our side we can get, either above board or under it. This guy,” Reno pointed a thumb at Rufus, “knows Avalanche already. That’s an in. And from what I’ve heard, the SOLDIERs actually like you. So maybe have a private talk with some of the leaderly types.”

“Oh?” That was actually interesting. Doable, even. “Who would you suggest?” Everyone always wanted Sephiroth, imagining him to be as charismatic in person as he was in posters.

“The hot head. Rhapsodos.”

“Genesis?”

Even the other Turk gave Reno a look in askance, but the redhead just grinned. “Yeah, him. He’s got a pretty big following with your guys. Hewley’s busy with that new guy, Fair, right? And he’s a stickler besides. But you could get Rhapsodos to go outside the rules if you asked, yo.”

Lazard leaned back in his chair and had to admit that the Turk had a point. “And he wants a bigger role,” he mused. “Even one that he can’t admit to in public might satisfy him, at least for a while. How soon would we need him on board?”

“Before the next board meeting,” Rufus weighed in dryly. “You showing up in person is a declaration of war against any of the directors who were responsible for your current condition, and if you don’t show, they’ll take your title and your leverage.”

Lazard felt himself pale, but anger soon swooped in to burn away the horror. “Right. Leave Heidegger to me, then.”

He had a score or three to settle.

####

Jim walked into their convalescent room carefully, well aware that he’d only recently left the hospital bed Naga was in. If they’d had a second one, Trish would be in it. Instead, she occupied the room’s loveseat. Thoth sat in the room’s only other chair, fussing at papers so he wouldn’t fuss at them.

Trish accepted a drink and snack in silence, saving her energy as was her way. Thoth muttered a distracted thanks. Naga initially overlooked his presence, but snapped out of it when he gently smacked her shoulder on a spot that wasn’t bandaged.

“Cerberus is late,” she said, looking up at the clock but also accepting the food.

They all looked up at the clock. Cerberus was very late.

Thoth sighed and began to get up. Jim set down the tray and waved him off. “I’ve got it.”

“You sure, iceman?” Thoth asked, giving him a hard look. “If there’s danger-”

“You’re not any better in a fight than I am, old man. I’ll take materia. And somebody has to be here for the ladies.”

Naga didn’t scoff at being called a lady. Not a good sign. She also handed over her prized Heal materia without complaints or threats.

But there wasn’t time. If Cerberus was this late, then he probably needed help. Jim pocketed the Cure and a Fire they’d looted from the SOLDIERs along with the Heal. Fire wasn’t his best, but he was a damn sight better with it than most.

He paused outside to buy a lighter and whiskey from the closest store, tucking them into his pockets with the materia. He missed having his suit with the extra pockets he’d sewn in the lining himself, but he could be Shiva in anything, anywhere. Just like in survival, being a Turk was ninety percent in the attitude.

The trail was easy to find, if surprising. One of their enemies survived, but a limping, blood smeared man wasn’t hard to follow even across sidewalks and down gravelly alleys.

Even so, tracking was even slower in a town than in the wilderness and it wasn’t fast anywhere. The sun went down while he walked and he was forced to trace his way by what light spilled into the gaps from the street lights, checking the details with his lighter. At one point, he had to abandon looking for traces and walk a spiral through the buildings.

The smell of blood gave the location away before he found it. The closest building appeared to be abandoned, a lucky boon given the way the roof was torn and the walls were cracked. Shiva found the body riddled with bullets and torn apart in the alley, while Cerberus sat slumped against the wall, armored hand gripping his opposite shoulder.

Cerberus stirred as he was approached, his gaze worryingly glassy. “Shiva?” he croaked after a moment.

“That’s right,” Shiva told him quietly, calmly. There weren’t any pools of blood under Cerberus, at least. “What happened?”

Cerberus twitched his bare hand at the bloody corpse in the alley. “He got back up. Twice.”

Shiva gave the torn pieces a long look, then took out the whiskey to pour half on the body and hand the rest to Cerberus. “Think you need this, right now. I’ll handle the rest.”

Shiva wasn’t the best with Fire, but he was glad he had it.

####

Rufus woke in the night and found his thoughts too busy with potential plans to get back to sleep, so he rose and went to the kitchen to find that he wasn’t the only one awake. Lazard sat at the kitchen table in the dark with a bottle of mediocre whiskey and a shotglass.

“Drinking?” Rufus asked as he turned on the light over the sink.

“It doesn’t do anything,” Lazard complained, “But the taste still seems like the right thing for the moment.”

Rufus sniffed and took down the cheap hot cocoa mix that the Turks kept buying and he usually pretended not to notice.

“I understand some things Sephiroth says, now,” Lazard said out of the blue.

Rufus began heating up some milk and asked, “What kind of things?” out of both morbid curiosity and a sense of obligation.

“Most SOLDIERs don’t remember the enhancement process, other than the shots. Anesthesia, you know. But they don’t bother down there in Deepground. And Sephiroth… it seems Hojo feels his best subject has no need of it, either.”

Rufus could have just waited in silence while the milk warmed, but he asked, “Learned much?”

Lazard finished off his glass and poured another. “There’s a lot more cutting than I thought there was. And screaming. They don’t bother to muffle anything. After a while, the mako heals your throat as fast as you tear it up, screaming.”

Rufus found himself trying to remember what Lazard sounded like before, to compare it to his voice now, but they’d barely spoken to each other before now.

“I’d gladly burn down the whole company and dance on the ashes,” Lazard said suddenly. “But I’d settle for the death of our unlamented father and a chance to gut Heidegger personally.”

“Do you even know how to fight?” Rufus asked.

“Not well,” Lazard admitted sourly. He sipped at the whiskey. “Easy prey.”

Rufus hadn’t actually planned to kill his father, or even to have him killed. If his father died in an Avalanche attack, that was alright, but…

“You might be more vicious than I am.”

Lazard laughed. “Of course I am. You? The pampered prince? The precious heir? You don’t know hate. Watch someone precious to you wither and die from neglect, and you might. But you don’t care enough to be hurt that way, do you?”

That stung. He’d loved his mother before she died. But that was years ago, when he was a child and could afford the weakness.

He wasn’t a child, now. He measured cocoa mix into his mug and stirred it into the milk. “You’re being unusually honest.”

“No point in keeping up the pretense, is there? We all want that bastard gone. It doesn’t matter why.” Lazard nudged the bottle aside, taking his hands off the glass and flexing them, a tell of how close he was to losing control of his grip.

Or how much he feared he was losing control. It was tempting to nudge just a little more, to see how much of a powder keg his half-brother really was.

Not here. Not at night, in a room he actually wanted to use in the morning, not when the Turks weren’t on hand to stop Lazard before he could do serious harm.

“Should probably get the Turks to teach you to fight.”

Lazard harrumphed, but settled. After a moment he picked up the glass again to sip at it.

Rufus drank his hot cocoa in silence.

####

It took a while to watch the corpse burn down, and then Jim helped Cerberus up and began to half-carry him back to the others. He was lighter than he should have been.

“Have you been eating?” Jim asked.

“Naga keeps giving me food,” Cerberus muttered.

“That doesn’t mean you’re eating it.”

“I’m eating it.”

Jim grit his teeth at the defeated tone. Depression was lethal. “Don’t you mope around on me, asshole. You and Naga, what’s gotten into you two?”

“Naga?” Cerberus took on more of his own weight, moving faster. “She’s alright, isn’t she?”

Jim wasn’t going to complain about getting back sooner. “She’s barely said ten words since the fight and you’d know that if you hadn’t immediately fucked off.”

Cerberus went still. Jim tried to tug him into motion and it was like pulling on a wooden beam. He was about to add a few more choice words when Cerberus finally said, “I’m sorry.”

There was so much to address there and they didn’t have the time to do it properly. But still. “Apologize to her for taking so long, dumbass. And for going off alone. Me or Thoth could’ve helped as spotters.”

Cerberus hung his head but he started moving again and that was what mattered. They were going to get back, get some sleep, and then move on to the next step, whatever it was.

Thoth, still awake and writing by the light of a laptop, gave them a long look when they walked through the door.

“How many were there?” he asked.

“One,” Cerberus answered. Jim dropped him onto the floor and he leaned against the wall, apparently ready to sleep there.

Thoth was silent for a moment, head tilted thoughtfully. Jim hadn’t worked with him much before and wondered what was going on in that cypher-filled brain.

“We can’t stay here. We’ll have to move the sisters.”

Jim found an open patch of floor near Thoth where he could plant himself. “Alright, brief me on this shitshow and I’m in.”

“Never doubted it, frosty.”

####

The mood on the SOLDIER floor was almost excited after days of lethargy. Second and Third Classes hurried about on assignments while the Firsts waited and debated.

“Do you think it’s really Lazard?” Genesis asked.

Angeal looked up from his phone. “You think it isn’t?”

Genesis shrugged. “No words of wisdom, no flowery speeches, no unusual assignments. If someone had access to his name in the system and kept to the strategies already established, would they act any differently?”

“Not everything is a mystery.”

“Is it not?”

Their phones buzzed and they checked them. Angeal smiled. “Well, Zack and I are headed to Wutai, it seems. That doesn’t seem very mysterious. He’s due for some field action.”

Genesis hummed thoughtfully, reading over his orders. Alone, to Junon, and to keep it to himself. “It seems I’m being sent on a wild goose chase.”

“At least it won’t be boring?”

He closed his phone and tucked it away. “True. Have fun with the puppy.” He waved away Angeal’s protests and went to fetch his bag, thoughts roaming over the Director’s recent mysterious absence.

He was possibly walking into a trap. As good a reason as any to add Bahamut to his other materia for the occasion. He considered the situation and added the rest of his materia to the bag.

If he’d learned any lesson as a First Class, it was that there was no such thing as too much firepower. If he couldn’t get credit, he could at least do something worthy of blame.

Chapter Text

“Blast!”

Cait startled awake in the hammock he’d made of the cables and wires within the computers. Not the safest place if there was a power surge, but certainly well hidden.

“Scarlett! Get over here and tell me if this is broken!”

Heidegger’s voice.

“Kyahaha! Too complicated for you?” Click clack, the sharp sound of Scarlett’s heels on stone and concrete. Cait double-checked his position and wiggled a little deeper into the wires. Scarlett cursed, but he didn’t think it was because of him. Buttons clicked rapidly.

“It’s not broken,” Scarlett said, no longer gloating. “That’s a real report. Somebody destroyed a Restrictor.” More buttons clicked. “Not here- the one overseeing the team in Kalm.”

“First that lizard Lazard, and now this! It’s sloppy. We need to exercise some more discipline around here.”

“Discipline,” Scarlett harrumphed. “Where was that discipline when you brought Lazard in and then let him escape?”

“I wasn’t here!” Heidegger barked. “I thought we’d weeded out anyone untrustworthy already.”

“Clearly there’s a leak.” Scarlett’s heels clicked across the floor again. “We’ll put a temporary halt to the Synaptic Net Dive tests and lock everything down. Somebody is issuing orders in Lazard’s name and it’s not one of us.”

Cait perked his ears. Good news… and something interesting. Synaptic Net Dive?

“Nothing in or out,” Heidegger agreed. “Gyahahaha! We’ll cut rations and make it training. Even if we dole out some for rewards, we can stretch the stores for months.”

That was not good news. Cait didn’t want to be stuck down there for months! A few more days, and he thought he could finish mapping everything, but not if nothing was coming in anymore.

“Hojo will just have to wait for his test subjects.” Scarlett’s heels clacked again followed by the clickity-click of the keyboard. “I’ll make sure we don’t have any virtual leaks.”

That was worse news. Reeve!

####

If Director Deusericus was nervous about being led into an abandoned looking building by a Turk, he hid it well. Inside, the building held an underground boxing ring complete with punching bags off to the side. Katana didn’t say why it was abandoned and Rude hadn’t asked- it was good enough for his purposes. He made sure that the door was secure and then handed the director a practice weapon.

“A crowbar?” Deusericus asked, turning the heavy metal over in his hand.

“There’s no time to teach something complicated,” Rude told him, “But you don’t need complicated when you can hit like a hammer.” He eyed the punching bags and picked a target, taking his stance carefully and cracking his knuckles to make sure his gloves were seated properly. One good breath, and he slammed a fist into the bag, pleased when the impact jarred it loose from the chain and sent it rolling across the floor.

Deusericus looked at Rude, then at the bag. “You’re not enhanced.”

“No. Mako isn’t the only way to be strong.” He shrugged to settle his suit across his shoulders and turned to see what his new trainee would do.

The director looked down at the crowbar and his face settled into an expression Rude had seen before- that of someone picturing exactly what a weapon would do to an enemy. A specific enemy, someone who had earned the beating.

Not that Rude expected differently, but hopefully the director would be more judicious than Legend with his bombs. At least Reno’s weapon wasn’t necessarily lethal.

“Alright.” The director took off his jacket and set it on the least dusty surface available, then contemplated the crowbar again. “Do I just swing it, then?”

“If you want.” Rude walked over to the punching bag and set it back onto its hook. “But it works better with technique.”

“Show me, then. It’d be a shame to put my all into a swing and then miss.”

Rude nodded and picked up a length of iron pipe lying on the floor, ignoring the suspicious stains on it. “Hold it like this,” he demonstrated, “Feet firm.” He tapped a foot to draw attention to them. “And then swing.” The pipe produced a satisfactory swish through the air. “Don’t overdo it.”

Deusericus, predictably, overdid it and threw himself off balance, but no worse than any other rookie. Rude steadied him and showed him again. And again. And again. And once he had it right, Rude made him keep doing it until he tired.

One advantage the director had from the mako, it took a long time for even someone as raw as he was to get tired. Rude looked his hands over when they were done- one broken blister, but it was already healed.

“We’ll come back tomorrow.” Rude checked the street through a couple of peepholes before unlocking the door.

“No more today?”

“Gotta sleep on it. You’ll do better tomorrow.”

Deusericus gave him a wry look, but he also seemed calmer as he pulled his jacket back on and they walked out into the street. Good. Their next stop could be dangerous.

Distant explosions interrupted their walk before they could get there. Legend was in Midgar, so it wasn’t one of the Turks’ doing.

Rude picked up the pace, circling around to try to catch a glimpse without revealing himself. The director followed. The muffled booms grew louder, accompanied by the ringing of swords and the crackle of fire.

Junon’s distinctive architecture meant he could walk out between the buildings and still look down on the street below. Not ideal for getting into the fight, but perfect for scoping out the situation without getting involved. Bodies littered the street, but none of them were on fire. In fact, none of the buildings were on fire, though at least one car had suffered an impact. If there were civilians around, they’d already scattered, leaving the area empty for two combatants dueling each other with swords.

One of them was a woman with brown hair, wearing similar clothes to the others behind her. The other was red-haired, fighting with a sword in one hand and flames in the other. The two clashed, and then the redhead stepped back to release a handful of small fireballs. The woman dodged or smacked them away with her sword, and then they circled for another clash.

Rude scanned the fallen. Some of them weren’t actually fallen, but rather frozen in place like statues. Others were slumped bonelessly on the ground, but there was almost no visible blood. Probably not dead, then. The restraint was surprising; SOLDIER wasn’t known to be so gentle, and particularly not that SOLDIER.

Deusericus stepped up beside Rude and reached his own conclusions.

“SOLDIER First Class Genesis Rhapsodos!”

Genesis paused, the smallest hesitation.

“Stand down!”

It was clear that Genesis was reluctant to accept the order, but after a tense moment, he disengaged and the woman opposite him did the same. They stepped further apart and eyed each other warily.

Rude worked his way closer, keeping ahead of the SOLDIER director in case any of the Avalanche members in the street recovered and made a jump for them. According to Reno’s stories, the swordswoman had to be one of Avalanche’s leaders, Elfe.

Her face was drawn but stoic, the resemblance to the boss uncanny. The same determined stance, the sort that usually meant it’d been too long since Veld got a full night’s sleep.

If Felicia was really like her father, then she was moments away from collapse and too stubborn to back down until all her people were safe.

Rude took out his phone and called Tseng.

####

Avalanche was late to their meeting.

Rufus gave into the urge to pace, one eye on the latest addition to his Turk retinue. Tseng, he reminded himself. Veld’s second-in-command. A name he needed to remember. Most Turks were replaceable, sent out to fight and potentially die just like guards and SOLDIERs, but one that was that close to the Director was important enough to keep in mind.

Tseng’s phone rang. Rufus stopped pacing and listened.

The Turks’ phones were good, he had to admit. He couldn’t eavesdrop on what the other person was saying, only Tseng’s nonverbal responses.

“Understood,” Tseng finally said. “Stay alert. We’re on our way.” He hung up and turned to face Rufus.

“Elfe and Shears ran into Genesis. Director Deusericus is on the scene, but Avalanche isn’t likely to accept his reassurances.”

“Ah.” Rufus waved a hand. “Lead the way, then.” It was good to be indispensable, to see the fruit of his work, if not in the shape that he had originally intended.

The two of them jogged through the streets, Tseng leading. When they spotted the first Avalanche thug wearing the distinctive bandana, Rufus paused to smooth out his clothes and settle his breath. It wouldn’t do to appear ruffled.

At first glance, it looked like a slaughter, but at second glance, some of the casualties were already stirring and sitting up in the streets, confused but whole. Scorch marks and small craters littered the area, but it was almost cosmetic.

Almost.

Rufus strolled onto the road and clapped slowly, dramatically, pulling everyone’s eyes. “Well done, well done. An excellent show. I suggest we all go somewhere less public for the review.”

Elfe caught on before Shears did, sliding her sword into its sheath. Shears hurried over to her and the two conferred briefly with Elfe leaning against Shears’ shoulder as they did.

A flareup of her mysterious illness?

The Avalanche leaders ordered their people back to their rendezvous points. Rufus stepped up to offer Elfe an arm while the underlings scattered like the roaches they were. Tseng’s face pinched at the sight but he didn’t protest. Good. A minion should trust the master.

“Are you aligning with us now?” Elfe asked softly as she took the offered support. She was heavier than she looked, but nothing Rufus couldn’t handle for a short walk.

“I think we’ll all have a different perspective after our talk,” Rufus told her. Shears fell in behind them, the scarred Avalanche leader and Tseng eyeing each other as they walked away.

“What guarantee do we have that this isn’t a trap?” Elfe asked.

“It’s just us four for the moment,” Rufus pointed out as they strolled through a narrow alleyway. “I suspect the two of you could overpower a single Turk.”

“You wouldn’t fight?”

Rufus smirked. “I’m not an experienced combatant.” It was true, to an extent, but he did practice and his shotgun hung heavy under his coat. This moment might be the best chance he’d ever get to eliminate two of Avalanche’s leaders if that was his plan.

But it wasn’t.

“Shinra is on the cusp of change. Half-measures attacking facilities as a distraction won’t cut it. My dear, I am inviting you to a war.”

“War.” Elfe looked more resigned than excited. “If it’ll help the planet…”

“I’ll be in position to make changes if it all goes well.” He wasn’t promising anything. Not yet. He didn’t need to; the possibility of success was enough for Avalanche.

Fanatics.

####

Reno was hunting.

He caught sight of Fuhito a while ago. The Avalanche scientist had only one bodyguard all dressed in black; Reno would lay money on it being a Raven from the way it shadowed Fuhito from store to store and carried packages without complaint. Unfortunately, the stores Fuhito visited were all very public places with lots of bystanders.

Not ideal.

But a weasel like Fuhito would always return to his habits, and Junon had plenty of narrow alleys and stairs. It was only a matter of time before he and his Raven escort were out of sight and out of mind for the rest of the city.

There was a little trick Reno worked out, last time around, that he’d used on Barrett’s Avalanche. He was pretty sure he could pull it off here.

He found a ledge that ran parallel to Fuhito’s path and took out his magrod, focusing on the weapon and the materia that powered it. It wasn’t an easy trick and he hadn’t done it yet in this time, but he remembered what it felt like.

A flash of orange-yellow energy, and the Raven was trapped in a glowing pyramid of contained electricity. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it left Fuhito an unguarded target for Reno as he jumped down from above. The Avalanche scientist folded like a cheap card table with a yelp of pain from the magrod’s electricity, but a single hit from the charged rod wasn’t enough to stop him cold.

That was fine. Reno didn’t want this to be too easy.

“I use this charge on SOLDIERs an’ people I really fuckin’ hate, yo,” he said as he kicked Fuhito and slammed him with the rod again. “Glad I got the chance to get some licks in, this time. I missed out last time.”

He should keep his mouth shut and stop giving away his secrets. But there weren’t any cameras in the alley. The only people who could hear were him and two dead men.

It wasn’t a fight. Not against Fuhito. Reno beat him until he was barely able to move before the Raven broke out of the containment trap.

The Raven was fast, but Reno was already, at this age, the fastest Turk. Fighting Fuhito’s little project wasn’t like fighting Cloud had been, or like the Remnants. Sure, it hit like a truck, but Reno’d survived a lot worse and walked away.

And he didn’t fight fair. Fair fights were for suckers.

But even with the magrod and a handful of grenades, the Raven delayed Reno long enough for Fuhito to crawl halfway down the alley and pull himself to his feet.

“T-Turk,” Fuhito croaked.

“That’s right.” Reno grinned at him through the buzz of adrenaline and righteous revenge. “Name’s Reno. You can tell it to Odin when he asks who sent ya to the Promised Land, yo.”

Fuhito went down even easier the second time, of course. Reno smacked him around until the Raven began to revive, then went back to beat the Raven into its feigned death again. When he was sure that neither of them were going to get up again soon, Reno dragged the Raven over next to Fuhito and set some homemade bombs between them.

“If you’re really like Hojo, you’ll have used some of your shit science on yourself, too,” Reno mused out loud. “But it’s hard to come back from bein’ in pieces.”

The explosion was really, really satisfying. And just to make sure, Reno scraped together the biggest pieces and blew those up, too, until there wasn’t anything left but stains. No such thing as too much when it came to Science shit.

####

Genesis watched the odd band of anti-Shinra belligerents disperse and a Turk walk away with the swordswoman who’d fought against him so well.

Not like Sephiroth, obviously. But well.

The director called to him and he sauntered over, still alert in case this was a trap, but it was looking like an altogether much stranger beast. Director Deusericus had a Turk with him, as well- the tall, bald fellow in sunglasses was talking on his phone. Something about cameras.

Genesis glanced around the street and spotted the reflection of a lens in the distance. Yes, of course there would be cameras in such a large and important city, wouldn’t there? The publicity of the place was why he’d been so careful.

Either this event was going to be televised as part of Shinra’s propaganda efforts, or it was going to be hushed up. It would be interesting to find out which.

“Since we’ve already met,” the director said, frowning. “I suppose we can simply go to dinner.”

Genesis made an agreeable noise and tilted his head at the man. Deusericus was wearing sunglasses. They looked like the same brand the Turk was wearing. “Is there some dress code I’m not observing?”

The director gave him a puzzled look and Genesis waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Oh! No. That’s something for the meeting, once we’re somewhere more comfortable.”

Less public, Genesis translated. “Then lead the way, Director.”

Infinite in mystery is the Gift of the Goddess, he thought. She was marvelously generous lately.

####

Rufus escorted Elfe into the agreed upon meeting room; both Shears and Tseng roamed over the room looking for traps even though Tseng had already checked it once earlier that day. Rufus helped Elfe to a chair and sat, himself.

She looked pale but sat up straight, unwilling to show weakness. Smart.

Since Tseng was busy making sure that nobody had snuck in to bomb the place while they were gone, Rufus opened up the laptop and set up the connections for the video call. Normally, Avalanche would use this technology to talk to him.

“Are we speaking with someone else today?” Elfe asked.

“Yes. We may have a powerful ally in Shinra. This meeting will confirm if we can cooperate.”

“What kind of ally?”

Rufus smirked. “Haven’t you guessed? The Turks are already here, and none of us have been arrested.”

Shears paused in his inspection to glare at Rufus and also Tseng. “Why would we be on the Turks’ side? They serve the Shinra.”

“Ah, but which Shinra?” Rufus folded his hands. “It seems my father has made some mistakes lately.” The camera on the other side of the connection finally woke up, revealing the man on the other end. “Let me introduce Director Verdot, the head of the Turks.” He turned the laptop slightly so that Elfe could have a better view.

She frowned at the screen.

Verdot, despite the active connection, wasn’t saying anything either.

####

Veld stared at the screen. She looked so much like her mother. It was like staring at a picture, a long forgotten image from the past.

Rufus cleared his throat and Veld remembered that time was important. “My apologies. Felicia, I know that this is sudden-”

She made a sound and he stopped, hesitating. So much to say, and so much going on. He wanted to be there, to tell her in person, to make sure she was alright.

His daughter sounded very small when she said, “Daddy?”

She remembered him!

“Felicia… Felicia!” He saw her collapse and lunged at the camera, but there was nothing he could do, damn it! “Is she alright?” he asked, hoping Rufus would answer.

One of Avalanche’s people gathered her up in his arms, and Veld resented the man immediately for being there. Rufus moved the camera after a moment to focus on him instead. “The attack doesn’t seem serious, but she’s not in good health. I take it this is the card you were holding?”

“We didn’t know for certain it was her. Not until now.” Sure, Reno said as much and he’d been right about everything else he’d reported, but still. Veld had hardly dared to hope, and Avalanche was a barrier between them even now.

Rufus nodded. “We’ll notify you when she’s awake and resume negotiations then.”

Ever the businessman; his father had trained him well. Veld settled into a more professional posture. “Very well. Please do.” One last look for his daughter, and he made himself cut the connection.

Veld closed his eyes, thankful that nobody else was in the Turks’ rooms to see him at that moment as he ran his hands over his face. She survived. Another piece of his world, of his soul, had survived.

What would he have to do to protect it from Shinra?