turkpile 2020 — open

[beenhad]

jk bitches turks only prompts belowww
🔽 🔽 🔽

Comments

@ reno

[beenhad]

All the world is green and resplendent. Every pasture is a promise, the open sky an eternity of solace. A comfort unlike any Tseng has ever known sinks into his skin. He hears the most beautiful aria, watches the most magnificent sunrise. And all around him are the whispers of arcane secrets, things that no one living will ever know again, answers to questions that men have lived and died for. If he holds out his hand, he can see all that ever was and all that will ever be dancing upon his fingertips. Everything, at his disposal, should he only choose to close his eyes and pledge to join it. He would never again know suffering. The grisly, morbid fate that brought him here will fade away just as surely as the faces he glimpses through the trees, ever evasive, never near enough. There is more of it, he knows, waiting just beyond the burning veil of light. If only he'd reach out—

Tseng crosses his arms. He has no time for this. The promise of paradise is a folly; somewhere else, on another plane, people are working and fighting and rushing and dying. It is as much an inextricable part of the planet as this place will ever be, so he stands, stark and still and straight, glowering at the light until it abates. He feels nothing as the horizon dims around him, flares once like a warning that this is the end, for real this time, he will not have this opportunity again. Good, he thinks, and stands his ground. As the world falls to pieces all around him, he thinks of what a disappointment it truly was in the end—

—and then cannot bring himself to remember why. All he knows is that he is devoid of something, as if he has spent forever searching but found himself coming up empty at the end of a long and arduous journey. Regardless, he has no time to dwell on silly dreams. He is standing upon a cliff, the very same one that staged his greatest regret and most excruciating failure. He has no idea how he got here, other than his stomach twisting sickly. Drugged, perhaps? The details of the previous night filter in slowly, one by one, until he is—

—settling upon the edge of the cliff, his boots swinging over a deadly drop, laughing until tears dot his eyes. Everything is hysterical. The bone saw. The bloody floors. Sephiroth's face. His face, which he can only picture, when that blade rent him in two. And Reno, Reno with his fists twisting in his guts and that cold look in his eyes, that's the funniest most miserable part of it all, because all along he thought that Reno was the one who would deliver him to paradise, when instead it was Tseng who would deliver him into a living hell. Oops. It's been a long, long time since Tseng's even had the occasion to fuck up like that, but in his defense, he never knew the rules. But now he does.

And now he's laughing even harder because this game has only just fucking begun.

[electroburst]

Reno's waiting in the wrong spot. He's not really sure of it, to be honest, whether it'll be the same spot as where he woke up or someplace else. He's been there since dawn, searching, then just waiting. Will Tseng's body be laying there as if in deep sleep, to awaken at some particular time? Or will it appear at some point? Or does he have it wrong altogether? Rude is to remain at the safehouse and wait to see if the place they left his body to rest, uh, shows any signs of. Changes. Y'know, like if he fucking reanimates or something. Since no one could be sure what the hell was done with Reno's body (he could only surmise as far as where it laid on that couch in the office, then it's a mystery), these are the only leads they have to go on. As the sun comes up, he becomes a little more concerned with each moment that maybe Tseng won't appear at all. Could it just have been some kind of fucked up lucky break? Maybe he has nine lives, like a cat, or his soul tasted particularly bitter to the tastes of the Planet. He starts nervously chain-smoking again, even though he promised himself he'd save them for Tseng.

By sometime after nine AM his only update is that Rude says the body is gone. He fell asleep, so he can't say exactly when this happened, but it was between the late, late, late that Reno left and now, so that's got to be some kind of a fucking sign, right?! Rude is to remain there and wait, just in case. Reno stays put here. His eyes are starting, inexplicably, to well with tears that he quickly wipes away, and he's not sure why exactly they're there. Like, what specific reason exactly. He lights another cigarette.

Then he hears laughter.

Reno movement is a bolt that's less run and more lightning, darting along the cliffside, following the echoing sound. He doesn't wind up having to climb any higher, because he spots Tseng sitting down below and you better believe he god damn jumps down, springing dexterously from one precipice to the next all the way down, tucks and rolls at the bottom and trots the last bit of distance to meet him. Cigarette still lit, of course, clenched hard between his teeth so much that he's started to break the tobacco right out of it. He stands at Tseng's back, and then makes his way to sit down next to him without being invited.

"For fuck's sake, man," he says as if he isn't smiling too widely to be casual, too earnestly to be cool. "You're still on about that shit?"

[beenhad]

What's funny now is how long Tseng has known Reno without ever really knowing him at all.

It is always a surprise. It was a surprise the first time, when Reno slapped those confidential reports into his hands and told him that he'd brought them all this way because he thought that Tseng would enjoy them. It was a surprise when Tseng held that gun to Veld's head and looked over his shoulder to see Reno, looking not at his director or the gun but at him, nodding and waiting. It'd been a surprise almost every day, every morning that Tseng woke up and thought this is it, it has to be, only to discover his visions of mutiny and betrayal had been trumped by the reality of Reno appearing in the office, every single day, maybe tired, maybe hungover, but forever prepared to be one of his Turks. Every time, it is a shocking, sobering surprise.

This time, even more so. Reno's presence is so familiar to him now, but he does not allow himself to believe it until he sees it with his own eyes. Jumping, rolling, gracefully scaling dangerous peaks and crumbling ledges. It isn't the acrobatics it takes to reach him that he is so confounded by, but the simple matter that he is trying to reach him at all, that he is here, that again he knew just where to find him.

His smile fades, but not completely. Reno takes his place by Tseng's side as if neither of them ever left their fated positions. Tseng isn't sure what happened after his death, but he gets the feeling now that it must have felt very wrong because nothing in this world feels so right as this. Such a dangerous thought, a perfect hook for a monster of a man like himself to sow suffering. But they have suffered, haven't they?

And here they are now, grinning at each other at the ends of the earth.

"You weren't there," Tseng says, plucking the cigarette from Reno's lips. He cannot help but to savor that first drag, his eyelids drawn low, his nostrils flaring as he breathes out twin plumes of smoke that drift and curl and threaten to cloud up all of Midgar.

tseng — open

[beenhad]

Nothing happened and you don't need to worry about it. First Reno was gone, then Tseng was gone, but it's fine—Tseng calls them all together to explain, Tseng has all the answers, Tseng is ready with a plan.

"This is our new normal," he says, drawing up a digitized map of the world they currently inhabit upon each of the terminals. Midgar and Junon are a mutant hybrid beast at its core. The borders between cities are hazy. There are dark parts on the map, which he can set alight with a click of the remote in his hand. "We are pioneers in this world. It would benefit us greatly to keep that in mind."

Moving on.

"You would think that illuminating these regions of this map that are beyond our scope ought to take priority. Absolutely not. We will let the others stumble into the wilderness while we observe. Choose your marks with care."

Click. The screens shift, depicting the soft orange sky, the old Junon helipad. Two silhouettes are visible, one pressed against the rail, the other surging into the sky in flight.

"This is our first priority. Sephiroth." Tseng folds his hands and smiles as he tours the room. "He is a threat to public security and must be supervised at all times. We will devise a means to keep him inhibited, but until then, we shall be his shadow, stalking him wherever he moves. Feel free to make your presence known; I should like to see how he folds beneath the pressure of so many eyes upon him. But be certain that you are not seen, and make absolutely sure that you are not caught. I trust that none of you will find that particularly difficult."

He turns, faces the biggest screen. He puzzles over the picture there, and whatever he sees must please him, because he sounds lighter than ever when he proclaims, "That is all. Dismissed."

[goons]

Rude notices how Tseng doesn't even really bring up the whole issue of deaths and resurrection. He doesn't even gloss over it in vague terms. He's either assuming anyone who needs to know has already been briefed, or deliberately keeping it from spreading. It would make sense either way. If people found out they couldn't die and stay dead then no one would act cautiously. It would defeat the purpose of most of what the meeting had been about.

He waits until it's over to approach his superior.

Stationary until everyone else clears out of the room, Rude takes a few steps to close the distance between them, getting close and lowering his voice to insure they weren't being overheard.

"I understand the importance of the meeting, and I think it's good to get everyone up to speed, I just can't help being concerned. When was the last time you slept?" That question in particular was barely whispered. The last thing he wants to do is broadcast to the whole team that he's concerned about Tseng or is questioning his mental state right now. He had more tact than that.

Still, as someone who hadn't been around to help the time that it mattered, he may be overstepping to compensate for the guilt he still feels over it.

[beenhad]

Everyone leaves, but Rude remains, still and impassive as a stone wall. Tseng can already feel his patience wearing thin because this only ever means one thing when it comes from Rude: he is going to ask questions that Tseng does not want to answer.

He keeps himself busy until they are alone. There are his comprehensive reports on the various movements of persons of interest, Reno's photographs and accompanying data sheets, all of which need to be meticulously sorted and archived and he really doesn't have time for any questions. Too bad for him. Everyone in this room knows that Rude will not be going anywhere until he says his piece.

A wane smile drifts across his face when he hears what it is that is so pressing that Rude needs to stick around. Concern. Right. People do that.

"Your partner was very recently stabbed in the back, and I am only freshly recovered from a similar fate. Sleep will not come easily for some time, I am afraid." He shouldn't tease Rude like this. It's likely that he is still fragile from recent events. The last thing he wants to do is break a valuable asset of his team.

But he is actually very exhausted, which has always made him a little loopy. Maybe not in the way that normal people get loopy, but then Tseng has never quite been normal, has he?

[ambitiousblond]

Rufus had woken up that morning to find himself alone. It wasn't unusual for Tseng to vanish without a trace but it was unusual for it to be so quiet. Something was happening. Any questions were answered indirectly and no one really made eye contact with him. He trusted his Turks to do their jobs but after the night in the bar, he couldn't just sit in his office doing nothing. He had spent the last two years having to sit uselessly while watching the world go on around him.

By the afternoon he finally gives in and calls Tseng's phone. No answer. He didn't leave a voicemail, he doesn't need to. Hours dragged on and eventually, he just wipes the papers from his desk suddenly, unable to look at them. It's childish and ridiculous but there's so much anger and frustration pent inside of him it needed somewhere to go for a moment before he could compose himself.

He tries Tseng's number again and once again, voicemail. He doesn't leave a message since he's sure that Tseng remembers Rufus doesn't like having to call him twice without knowing where he's at. Not after the first time Rufus had to call Tseng twice. He's not worried but he remembers Kadaj throwing down Tseng and Elena's bloody id cards at his feet and he feels the same clench at the bottom of his stomach. He has to trust that Tseng wouldn't meet the same fate as Reno though. But these are emotions he's not used to feeling and he's not sure what to do with them other than bury them deeply.

He leaves his office a mess with papers thrown around as if swept up in a storm, not sure what to do with himself. He could leave the building- he knows all the back exits but he knew that it would be foolish to go out right now when there are multiple Sephiroth's around. Even he wasn't that reckless even though it's tempting. His phone has been silent all day but he just sends one last message.

Now.

That's all he needs to send, that's all he has to send. Tseng can figure out where to find him when he returns. For now, he's going to toss his phone onto his bed before sinking down into a warm bath in the hopes that it would help him clear his mind.

[beenhad]

Tseng does not bother to answer the text. He knows that he has already missed so many. (Or has he? Has his doppelganger been here the entire time, surveiling Rufus, answering emails, taking care of business in his stead? He cannot tell.) To tarry and text would be to deny what he reads as a direct order. Besides, he is sure the message that Rufus would prefer is his arrival.

On the best of days, he knows where to find Rufus as well as he knows how to find any target. It is a part of that keen instinct for people that he has. But today, he barely needs that. He knows exactly where to go.

When he passes through the door, he is rewarded for his intuition by the sounds of bathwater rippling beyond his sight. He can smell lavish salts and feel the heat from here. First, he passes into the den, retrieving a bottle from the bar and two crystal flutes. Rufus, he is sure, will need something to dull the edge of all this madness. Then he strolls silently towards the bath, appearing as a stark shadow against the gleaming white light and the dazzling white tiles. His gloves are removed along the way, tucked neatly into the pocket within his jacket.

He sits down at the edge of the tub, depositing his offerings somewhere nearby, and reaches out a hand to brush a sliver of gold that is clinging wetly to Rufus's cheek. His actions are automatic, withdrawing soap from its painted porcelain bottle, working it into Rufus's hair, taking particular care to ensure that not a single sud drops into that piercing glacial gaze.

He murmurs what he knows to be Rufus's favorite words to hear:

"Mr. President."

[ambitiousblond]

"Tseng." Rufus watches Tseng silently appear without warning, not startled. He's used to how Tseng is able to manifest from thin air as if he's just a shadow, it's one of the small things he loves about him. But right now he's not feeling the least bit sentimental and his gaze is hard as he looked at him.

He still leans back as lets Tseng work the soap into his hair and he can't let help the small moan that escapes his lips at how good it feels. It's not enough to make him forget the anger and frustration festering under his skin, however. He's silent for a moment as he let Tseng work, eyes drifting closed, enjoying Tseng's fingers massaging his scalp. It's almost enough to make him relax if it weren't for recent events.

"Are you going to tell me what is going on or am I going to have to guess?" he asks eventually, not looking at Tseng. Even though his tone is outwardly even and calm he's tense, tapping his fingers against the edge of the tub. "I appreciate the lengths you go to protect me but I have to do something, Tseng. I'm not just going to sit idly by and you know that."

Something that wasn't sitting around waiting for answers, going through reports that weren't going to help them when it came to Sephiroth. He may not be a Turk but he wasn't going to be his father and just hide away to let others do everything for him when it's his Turks who are dying in his arms. "And I can't do anything if I'm kept in the dark."

@rufus

[goons]

The announcement of the meeting is different than usual. It's not well in advance like it tends to be, so it has the air of being impromptu or just plain rushed even before it begins officially. Rude leaves the office to "get lunch" but rather than heading down to the lounge and cafe area, he stops by Rufus' office. There's at least another 25 minutes until he has to be back in time for the meeting, so he relieves whoever is on duty outside his door so he can step inside without knocking.

A lot has happened since the last time they'd had the chance to speak, and he wants to clear the air as best he can, but where does he start? "Do you have a moment?"

First, above all else, he needs to know that Rufus is okay. Even if he and Reno deliberately decided not to tell him about Tseng, he'd still gone through a lot having to be there for Reno through his last moments. Rude straightens his tie, doing his best to be professional despite how things tended to go when they were alone together. Somehow it felt inappropriate to get too close to Rufus in that way while they were in their place of work.

[ambitiousblond]

Rufus looks up when his door opens- only a Turk would ever dare to enter his office without knocking so he's not surprised when Rude steps in. He doesn't know how to answer the question at first. He could say that he's fine, that he's just tired and needs to get some sleep. Ts

But right now he feels like he's going to jump out of his skin or rip up every paper on his desk. He can't imagine how Rude is doing- he had left it to Tseng to tell Rude what happened since they had known each other longer. It didn't help that Rufus still didn't know how to process the emotions that he had felt that night, he had finally just buried them under the determination to deal with Sephiroth once and for all.

"Yes. I can't focus anyway," he says as he tosses the papers he was holding to the side. He didn't care where they went, he just didn't want to look at them anymore. He didn't know what to do with himself since Reno had left to do something and Tseng wasn't answering his phone. "I need to get out of this office and go somewhere else. Anywhere else."

[goons]

Rude usually just clears his throat to differentiate himself from the others, but the circumstances of his visit were a little different this time. It would have been nice to have a warning that things would have gone so bad so quickly so he could have treasured the nicer moments a little bit more.

"I came to check on you." As he says the words he can tell that Rufus seems to be on edge, upset, frustrated, and a lot of other things just from the way he looks at the papers he pushes aside. He shouldn't be here working. He should be at home resting, they all should. Unfortunately his co-workers and boss all have the same shitty work-life balance that he does.

Rude nods at the suggestion that they get out, stepping closer to run his hand over Rufus' knuckles lightly then sighing. It was too dangerous to be any more affectionate than this in here. "Across the street there's a cafe. We can talk."

@rufus

[electroburst]

Now's not the time to do anything stupid. Reno knows that. They can't go out and they can't just stay cooped up. They need to lay low and pool their information, gather their resources. Take stock of what's happened and let it sink in. Lick their wounds, probably. For a couple of them, quite literally. Reno keeps all that's happened in the last few days as bottled up as he can, but it's found ways to leak out anyway. In some ways, it's forgivable, in others... god, he doesn't know anymore.

All he knows is he doesn't want to be alone. He's never liked that. Oh, sure, he has his solitary nature from time to time, but it's actually just... unbearable, being in an empty apartment, sometimes. Where it's quiet, with too much time to think. Right now, that's the last thing he wants. But he can't go to Rude or Tseng right now, and he doesn't feel comfortable reaching out to anyone else. That only leaves one person he trusts. Someone he can be comfortable with who knows him and won't ask—well, ya know. More than the usual out of him.

So he goes to where Rufus is staying sometime in the evening after things have settled down with a bottle of wine (nothing particularly fancy, but not cheap garbage, either) and no uniform, so you know it isn't a business call. Doesn't bother to knock, because of course not, just lets himself in and pauses in the entryway to listen for any sounds that signal he should just turn around and leave again, but nope. Seems pretty quiet.

"Boss?"

[ambitiousblond]

"Reno?" Rufus recognizes his voice from the other room when he heard Reno come in, coming out of his bedroom wearing only white pajama pants, hair still damp. Only the Turks would dare to enter his rooms uninvited without knocking.

"Do what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?" He asks as he looks Reno over. Clearly not official business and Reno had even made the effort to get a bottle of wine. He's not going to ask if Reno is alright. That's not what Reno was here for and Rufus wasn't going to initiate a conversation he knew neither of them wanted to have at the moment.

"You didn't have to bring me anything but I'm touched. Is this an attempt to seduce me tonight?" He selects only one glass from a shelf along with the bottle opener, handing the opener to Reno.

[electroburst]

Ah, well. Over the years he's seen Rufus in plenty of different states of undress. Sometimes more than this. He was a sassy teenager, alright? And he always thought he could get one over on him, being older and all, like a couple of measly years made any sort of difference in their maturity levels. It was cute that he tried, though. He just accepts the bottle opener with a little laugh.

"Eh, mama always said never visit someone's place empty-handed," he says, and sniggers again because he doesn't have a mama and they both know it. Wherever he heard that, though, it's technically correct. That's an etiquette thing. Not that he gives a damn about etiquette, he's just... making up excuses to show up. Like at least if he has wine, they can focus on that and not anything else. Like why he'd show up in Rufus's house unannounced in the middle of the evening. He uncaps the bottle and moves over to pour it in the, wow, single glass offered. 'Kay. "And you know I don't need wine to seduce you, boss. I'd go for hard drugs instead."

A ha ha ha ha ha... damn maybe he should've actually done that.

@rude (yan)

[beenhad]

A major task of Turk operations is keeping tabs on the underground fighting rings, those seedy federations that crop up in the darkest corners of every city. There's nowhere in this world without men who make their money in sweat and blood and the bloodthirsty patrons that churn in faithfully to keep business booming. As such, the Turks are never without candidates to fill the various ranks back home, and maybe Tseng is looking into a few of these for reasons other than what is mandated of his organization, but he finds himself with a wealth to choose from.

Right now, he favors Corel. It's an unforgiving circuit. Native fighters come from hard labor stock, so the weight class skews heavy. The difficult terrain is hard on unacclimated outsiders, which means that they must be extra dedicated if they wish to compete, trained to a monstrous degree. And the prize at the end of all of it is their local champion, The Iron Mattock, so called because he can break any stone with his bare hands. All the pictures Tseng's contacts have sent of him are the same: a man pierced like a pincushion, his skin inscrutable beneath the dizzying number of his tattoos, vaguely roaring at something off-camera. Scuttlebutt around the circuit is that he feels no pain. Tseng thinks he should like to put that to the test.

Well, not him, personally. He'd never weigh out for that class. Rude, however...

His text is succint as ever:

You're flying to Corel tonight. We'll rendezvous at base camp. Bring gloves.

[goons]

Understood.

Usually it would be a pretty thoughtless act, going through the motions of putting things together, checking to make sure everything was in order before he headed out, but Rude has the overwhelming desire to ask if Reno will be joining them, but he doesn't. It's not important if Tseng doesn't say it is. It wouldn't be his first or last assignment that didn't involve his partner, and whatever Reno was up to lately certainly didn't involve him either.

So he makes sure to have an extra pair of gloves just in case while he reads up on Corel and some of the more recent competitors. He was no stranger to fighting rings, and had been part of one himself in his younger days. A pretty damn good one, too. He's older now, but likely in the best shape of his life--or was that a couple years back? Either way, he can hold his own against most, so long as they weren't mako-infused super soldiers or one of Hojo's experiments gone wrong. There's still the possibility he won't be asked to infiltrate, just observe and gather intel. Might have been a nice little trip considering his ribs had only just healed up.

Might also be a good incentive not to get them fucked up again.

By the time he meets up with Tseng, he's got a fair grasp on the rankings of the circuit. The Iron Mattock at the top with a significantly higher win ratio than the couple just beneath him. The Crimson Chocobo (terrible name), and Jackfist (even worse) neck and neck at second place.

He approaches the other Turk silently, nodding in greeting and simply awaiting further instruction.

[beenhad]

Base camp at Corel is little more than a tent so as not to invoke suspicions. It's spacious inside, and Tseng has outfitted it with punching bags and weight training equipment, ordered and delivered as both parties made their way here. He's already made his rounds, inspecting them for viability; only the best will do if they are to see this mission to fruition.

He is dressed as covertly as he can dress: a breezy black silk shirt, mostly unbuttoned, and black slacks that flare just so over boots that were likely shined to a mirror polish. Not so anymore, what with the gray Corel dust covering everything within the town proper. He greets Rude by the door, ushering him inside, and leads him to a board, where he's pinned pictures of the fighters they will have to best, along with detailed notes on their measurements and reach. He gives Rude a brief run-down on the fodder at the bottom rungs of the circuit, and then his fingers tap the picture of The Iron Mattock, primal and howling and looking like a beast made man.

"This is our target. Under the guise of your participation in the circuit, we will gather our data, and then you will be apprehending him in a secondary location. The arrangements have already been made. All you have to do is play your part."

Tseng bends, reaching into the drawer of a chipped old table to retrieve something. He holds it up, a slim band stretched between two fingers, scant fabric that is meant to be all that stands between Rude and his opponents. Glorified panties, really, neon blue and emblazoned with the words "EL AHOGADOR." Which has two meanings behind it in the traditional Costan tongue, but Tseng probably chose it for the one that implies a lot of choking over its alternative. He looks very pleased with himself as he holds out the spandex in offering.

"You've everything you could possibly need at your disposal here." His smirk brightens. "Let me know if you have any questions."

@rufus

[beenhad]

Tseng's disappearance this time is not unwarranted, and not silent either. It will be obvious to Rufus that something big is going down in the lower levels; requests for rewritten key card accesses are passed from department to department, Scarlet is growing increasingly weary of new equipment requests, and for the most part, the basement is on lockdown. Guards have been vetted, granted odd clearances, and posted at every conceivable entrance to the levels. (Even the hidden ones that worm through the underground like mole tunnels, popping into janitorial closets and under easily removed grates. Tseng knows those avenues well, and they will not prove his undoing.)

As always, his reports are concise, detailing a so-called Project Green that ultimately requires all of these upgrades to protocol. They are thorough enough to give a clear picture of the project's importance, but too vague to clarify what exactly the subject of this study will be. Perhaps because these reports are forwarded to Rufus digitally, hidden behind an encryption key that only he and Tseng have access to, but still. Anything digital can be compromised, he's always said. No Turk worth his salt would ever be willing to take that risk.

The final request that he receives would be insultingly formal—considering the circumstances—were it anyone but Tseng. In his eyes, it has never been safe to allude to the relationship between them in any conspicuous manner. Better that he's considered an expendable tool of Shinra's mighty empire by their enemies, rather than a valued asset, perhaps something that can be repurposed for leverage against the president. No matter what transpires between them, he would never want that.

His message is brief:

Mr. President:

I should like to discuss the details of an impending project with you. I invite you to join me at the General Affairs office on B-3 at your earliest convenience.

Thank you in advance for your time and consideration,

Tseng | Auditing Program Manager CCM | General Affairs — SHINRACO | AMAMCO Class II | designated.apm@shin.ra

[ambitiousblond]

While Tseng's absence tugged on his mind, Rufus was finding himself pulled in increasingly different directions. He had forgotten how demanding running Shinra at the height of the company's power really was and he was often up late into the early hours of the morning reviewing reports, going over departmental budgets, and expense reports.

He had also decided to reorganize the company with how he wanted it to be which wasn't going over well with several department administrators which he had to hear about in length during meetings he really didn't want to be at. R&D was shut down, the labs sealed with funding going into Urban Planning instead. He all but gutted Scarlet's department and imposed strict oversight which in his view, was long overdue. He had been hearing about what was going down on the lower levels in between meetings and flurries of paperwork so he wasn't surprised to receive such a formal email from Tseng. Not surprised but also not pleased.

He wasn't sure how to address any of what happened between the two of them days ago so he going to remain professional since there was a lot they needed to get done. His response is just as professional and detached only stating the time he would be down in Tseng's office.

He was only a few minutes late when he arrived at the floor where the Turk central offices were located, Dark Nation beside him. His expression was detached, neutral. "Tseng."

[beenhad]

All those years they'd spent together, speaking in hushed tones under the blanket of stolen shadows, it had always seemed like the arrangement between them would be a partnership. Now Tseng is watching from afar as Rufus uproots the company without his consultation. It feels like a barb, one that he wholly deserves, no less. He spends much of his time contemplating how Rufus must feel exactly the way he does now, cut off and cast in darkness, the last one privvy to major corporate decisions.

It is a very Rufus move, and Tseng appreciates it for that, at least.

He stands when Rufus enters. His president sets the tone, so he follows suit, bowing slightly, greeting him with, "Welcome, Mr. President. Thank you for joining me."

It is a silly game, he thinks, but he has no recourse. Dark Nation seems to pick up on the tension between them, her tail swishing for a moment when she recognizes Tseng, then curving, her muscles tensing as she reads her master's energy. Much as she knows and abides by Tseng, he knows that she would not hesitate to snap at his throat if Rufus was to give the order.

She's a better dog than he, certainly.

He steps around his desk and pulls out a chair for Rufus to settle in, placing a cell phone on the desk before it.

"We've altered our network, as you've no doubt surmised. I thought that this might offer you the transparency you desire." He sweeps his fingers over the device, setting it alight. "You will have unrestricted access to all official Turk operations with this."

[detao]

The office was once too small for the team of Turks it once had. Now there were only a few to fill the empty seats of the office, his office. Tseng moved across the marble floor, and his slick black shoes echoed with each solemn step. Memories of the withdrawn Turks flood his mind as he passed through the room. The last time he saw them was in the fury of Sephiroth's final crime against Gaia. Meteorfall brought them together for the common purpose of evacuating Midgar. Afterward, they slipped away, back to the shadows with Veld to look after them. While Tseng appreciated the cohesion of the team and the necessity of their departure, he also felt ostracized from them. Veld's Turks, almost all of them derailed with the man who gave them purpose, a home, an identity. Pieces remain now of a once full family, and Tseng has the task to replace them. Elena was the newest member of their family, and he struggled with the job of instilling the ideas Veld left with Rude, Reno, and himself. He recalled Elena's sister as he moved to sit at his desk and previous times he compared his tutelage to Elena with Veld's to Gun. Had Tseng done his best? Had he given Elena the fair amount of resources, instruction, principle, and ethics Veld had given Gun - and himself? The track of his thoughts brought him to the recent conversation he had with Elena. Two years.. She had told him two years had passed since Meatorfall.

Greater Midgar.. Tseng places his hands on the cool surface of his desk. The office wasn't the original one, but it was a mirror copy, still too large for who he had to home and still too small for the family he once had. "That's right.. this is new.." I am new.. He softly reminded himself, corrected himself, as he reflected on his memories in light of what he saw today. The city was Greater Midgar, a replica of his former life. He rejects the inquiry that passed through his mind: My family, were they real? Of course, they were real.

His account of events could not have come from a feverish dream. Yet, Meteorfall was only days ago for him. Tseng considered perhaps his memories were only as real as he was, which did not instill confidence.

im so sorry this is long I got so excited

[beenhad]

The Turk MO has always been about doing the not-so-easy things. Slit throats, disappeared politicians, crime scenes wiped without a trace—Tseng has seen it all before. Once upon a time, Veld had told Tseng, tone straddling the line between cautionary and apologetic, "It never gets easy." Tseng had simply nodded along, ever agreeable and obedient, instead of saying what it was that came to mind.

When does it get difficult?

There was a reason why he made it look effortless: because it was. He had a lot of anger back in those early days, which made it easier to lash out, to forget that targets had names and faces and families—until it was time to take the latter hostage, that is. And when all that pent up aggression petered out, well, that was when the honey-voiced high of brotherhood hit, painting everyone outside of a black suit with a big red sign that read Other, a situation joyfully exacerbated by all the power-playing factions within SEPC. It's been a perfect storm of indifference all along.

But now... Maybe not so much. His most recent mission is weighing heavily on him. He feels bent beneath the weight of his pack as he keys himself into the basement levels, like the weight of the whole planet is mixed in with his extra socks and drawers. He keeps thinking of Rude, faithful and devout and doing his absolute best with the absolute best of intentions, and how his heart would break if he knew what it was that he was truly facilitating, and it's... Enough that he thinks it'll do him so good to square up with a glass of that bourbon tucked away in the back of his desk before he settles down to do reports. At least, that's the plan until the door whooshes open and Tseng comes face to face with himself.

"Ah," Tseng says, carefully unloading his luggage on to the sofa, eyes trained on his double. Strange that he feels underdressed to meet himself, his hair still wound up in a bun, still clad in the same dusty hiking apparel he'd fallen asleep in on the plane. "I've been expecting you."

He respectfully fixes his posture once he has been liberated of his burden.

"I'd offer you a drink, but I am sure you know where to find one."

@ tseng

[ambitiousblond]

The adrenaline didn't wear off until he had returned to the Shinra Building. After Sephiroth had left him, he had realized that he was stranded in Edge with no cell phone, no guards, in an area where people may not be overly fond of him despite the reputation of a new Shinra he had been attempting to cultivate after Meteorfall.

The driver who had brought him here was dead, along with his entire escort but that wasn't going to stop him from taking the keys and driving himself back. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time but even though getting from Edge back to Sector 0 turned out to be more difficult than he had anticipated. His confident stride through the building doesn't betray how much he's shaking after the surge of adrenaline he had been riding on when Sephiroth had held his sword to his throat.

It's not until he reaches the 70th floor does he finally realize he doesn't have his cell phone to contact Tseng to meet him there so he sends the first guard who has the misfortune to be posted on the 70th floor he encounters down to get the Turk.

While he waits he changes out of white clothes that has smeared blood on them from his efforts to move the dead driver out of the car, just leaving them on the floor as he pulls on a robe. When Tseng arrives, Rufus is standing in front of a mirror inspecting the faint hint of a cut across his throat. He had come so close when he had dared Sephiroth to strike him down right then and there.

Somehow he had survived as he always did but he doesn't feel the relief he should be feeling at the moment.

[beenhad]

What precedes Tseng's arrival is a chill in the air, a terrible tension that crackles electric. He does not slam his way into the room—he does nothing out of the ordinary, in fact, though his gait is perhaps half a beat quicker. Somehow, it is still clear that something is absolutely wrong.

He will keep it concealed, but he is not in a good mood. The guard who flagged him down, relaying the message through one of his personal coterie because he did not have clearance for the lower levels, described this particular scene blood-first. 'So much blood.' Tseng had overheard those words, still down in his office. He pushed past the guard while he was still explaining the situation. The finer details were absolutely unnecessary.

The elevator had taken forever. Tseng could have screamed the whole way up. Seventy stories of the worst feeling in his gut he's ever endured. By the time the readout signals 70, he can barely keep the rage from making his hands tremble.

He says nothing. He strides across the floor, gaze drifting to the pile of bloody clothes left abandoned. He reaches out for Rufus, turns him. His hands wander Rufus's body, looking for marks, bruises, cuts, anything. The cut across his neck is the focus of his icy stare.

And then his arms wind around Rufus, tight. They pin Rufus to his chest. He's not sure if this is an embrace, or him trying to squeeze the bravado out of him, or if it's something else altogether. His voice is low to account for how terribly the world is spinning.

"You did something stupid," he says, his arms squeezing even tighter, "didn't you."