I have come a long way
Where I started from
But I’m still not even close
To where I’m going
Broken ~sentenced

It was quiet in the Shinra Building, almost unnaturally so. No executives ordering about their subordinates, no secretaries shooing off visitors without appointments. The sound of well manicured fingers smattering against the keyboards had faded hours ago. There were no computer screens buzzing and lighting up the dark, just the dimmed fluorescent nightlight filled the corridors.

His footsteps echoed in the silence, as if someone was following him. The sound of one of the guards correcting a piece of the uniform was comforting, although not completely welcomed.

Rufus simply nodded to the man as he walked on by. For the last three years he hadn’t been home for more than a week at the time. Now he’d returned for good, ready to take up the burden of vice-presidency. He’d waited for this day for as long as he could remember. One step closer to ruling the most powerful company on the Planet.

Not long after his arrival to Midgar it had been clear though that wasn’t going to happen. Apparently that old fat bastard he called father wanted him to just watch and learn for a little bit longer. Stay in the shadows and wither away in the prime of his life, waste a little more youth on waiting. That was not something he was prepared to do.

At eighteen he’d felt he was ready to take on the company. At twenty he was ready to take on the world, not sit in the corner and watch as the old man ruined his inheritance.

But the old man was playing his game on borrowed time. Rufus would no longer stay in the background, a passive player, he was going to take the company if he had to, piece by piece.

He heard voices at the end of the corridor, the door that was usually accessed only with a specific keycard and code, both restricted to about five people, was now slightly ajar. He could reach out and push the door wide open if he wanted to, but not just yet, first he’d listen.

It was no surprise that the Turks would be in the building at such an hour. Their work was not really nine to five, so to speak. So far pretty much all of Rufus’s experiences with the Turks had been restricted to the monotone meetings in the conference room. And having one of them as his bodyguard on occasions, which he didn’t doubt was something they called ‘babysitting duty’ when alone.

He knew there were more to them than they’d let on at those encounters, though. He’d heard the rumours. The most lethal group in Shinra Inc surely had to have some stories to tell.

They had all had ‘babysitting duty’ at one time or another. Never had he been able to reach one of them on those occasions, all hiding behind their masks of professionalism. He’d never cared much about Rude. The thought did not disturb him even if he knew that Rude would willingly give his life for him if needed. Rufus simply shrugged off his lack of emotions for the man, it wasn’t as if he didn’t get paid enough for being a Turk. An untimely demise was part of the job.

Rufus had often spent his lonely time wondering what it would be like to have Reno as a friend, though. They were about the same age, Reno only one year older than himself, the closest to him anyone in the Company was. At fifteen it had seemed a miracle that someone like that had come to work for his father. Reno had stood in the presidential office, looking utterly out of place, still radiating confidence and defiance. Rufus had been fascinated with the boy, so young and still good enough to be a Turk.

If he remembered correctly Reno had joined on the recommendation of Tseng, although he didn’t know what circumstances had brought those two together.

Another memory tangled in the recent one. Tseng striding in to the office, coming to collect his new Turk. What he remembered most was the sudden pang of jealousy as Tseng’s mask was broken for a mere second and he smiled at Reno who put down all of the defences that he’d put up in front of Rufus and his father and returned the smile with a grin of his own.

Rufus had looked through the files of both Reno and Tseng later on, trying to find something that connected the two in their past, but there was nothing. The thought of him never finding out was frustrating. It was something that had been placed before him to keep his mind off the dull work his father gave him when he was home from school. His private mystery that no one but him could unravel. Or at least so it had seemed when he was fifteen.

Of all the Turks Rufus had always found Tseng the most intriguing one. Always a perfect model of professionalism, still not a puppet dangling from the strings of Shinra Inc. Whenever he’d been assigned as Rufus’s bodyguard he’d regarded Rufus with little more than disinterest every time their eyes met. That sudden light that had sparked deep within his dark eyes that day he’d come for Reno in the President’s office had never shown itself before. And Rufus wanted to know the secret to making those raven eyes spark.

There was a shadow creeping under the door. Reno’s voice was distantly attached to it. Just when Rufus thought the door would be flung open the shadow flickered and moved back into the room. He relaxed, moving closer to listen again.

Tseng’s voice cut in, smooth as silk, but the words were unclear. Something sounded like giggling, from Reno, no doubt, but utterly out of character. It stopped, not abruptly, but slowly, as if it was being choked. Muffled, but coming to life every now and again with deep breaths of air.

Suddenly, almost without noticing it himself, or knowing why he did it, Rufus coughed into his fist. He didn’t want to stand in the shadows listening to what he had no right to listen to. He felt like a thief, stealing something that was not his, never could be his unless he stole it. Shame and guilt made him reveal himself before he could steal more of the secret that he would never be able to claim as his own possession.

He froze as he heard a click from inside, someone, maybe both of them, cocked a gun. Too late he’d realized what a bad idea it was to sneak up on the Turks.

“Rufus,” Reno exclaimed as he pushed the door open and found the vice-president on the other side.

Tseng tucked his gun back into the holster strapped beneath his shoulder, now fully visible since his blue jacket was throw across one of the leather armchairs in the room. Reno simply let the gun dangle from his hand before chucking it onto the glass table where it rested between an overflowing ashtray and a bottle of half empty brandy.

“Sorry,” Reno apologised, “didn’t expect you to come visit at this hour, sir.”

“No, that’s alright, I should be the one to apologise,” Rufus said, looking over Reno’s shoulder at Tseng who idly flipped through some papers that lay on the desk, “I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you like that.”

Tseng stepped up next to Reno, pulling his jacket on. “Don’t worry about it, sir. We’re not some half tame chocobos that runs off at the slightest chance of danger.”

“I know,” Rufus unwillingly glanced at the gun beneath Tseng’s shoulder.

“We don’t usually shoot in the dark either,” Tseng added as he caught that glance.

“Well, I guess that’s comforting to know.” Rufus forced a smile.

Neither of them spoke for almost a full minute, a painfully long minute.

“So,” Reno finally said, “what brings you to our quarters, business or pleasure?”

“Neither, actually. I was just bored so I went out to have a look around, see if anything had changed since I’ve been gone. I thought the building was empty save for the guards at this hour. Then I saw that your door was open and I…” stopped to eavesdrop a little? “just thought that I should say hi, and that’s when you two pointed your guns at me,” he concluded.

Reno shrugged. “I guess we can be a bit…”

“Jumpy?” Rufus suggested.

“I think precautious is the word you’re looking for,” Tseng cut in suavely. “We should get going, Reno.”

“It comes with the job,” Reno explained to Rufus, ignoring his boss’ latter words.

“Actually, that’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

The Turks looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?” Tseng asked, digging after something in his pocket.

Rufus couldn’t help but feel as if his presence was unwanted. Tseng in particular seemed to be bothered with it.

“My father wants me to get into the depths of the company before I officially take up the vice-presidency, to get a better idea of what all of the departments really do.”

“Did he specifically tell you to get into the depths of the Department of Administrative Research?” Tseng asked.

Rufus silently pondered his options, he didn’t doubt Tseng would see through a lie, or at least check up on anything suspicious he might say. But the truth meant living on in oblivion, continue to watch as other people ran his company.

“I’m going to be the president of this company one day, Tseng,” he said, a bit colder than he had intended to, “I think you would find it wise if we were all on the same side then.”

For a moment silence filled the room. Then Reno cracked it with a bubbling laughter. “Jeez, I’d say you’re already getting the hang of this president thing.”

Tseng seemed to find the whole thing amusing as well, casting a glance at Reno that meant something more than Rufus could comprehend. “Don’t worry about it, kid,” he said, sending Rufus’s thoughts back to a not too distant youth where ‘kid’ had been Tseng’s nickname for him. Slowly memories crept over him again and he realised that he had been spending quite a lot of his time in the presence of a Turk, usually Tseng, when he was younger. Although it had always been under very strict and professional circumstances.

“We have every intention of being by your side the day you take over as president. But if you don’t handle things a fair bit better than your old man, we’ll be gone before you know it.”

“You could be executed for such talk,” Rufus said matter-of-factly. “There are contracts binding you to serve Shinra Inc until the day you are no longer needed.”

Tseng pushed the door shut with his heel. “Wouldn’t want any eavesdroppers,” he said, and Rufus thought that his dark gaze lingered on him a little too long. “Listen kid, we are loyal to this company still, no matter what you might think right now. But we don’t follow orders blindly. If we did,” he shrugged, “well, we can only guess in what kind of state you precious empire would be in then. Your old man give us the orders, but in the end we are the ones who pull the trigger, eliminate the threats. He understands he cannot go around making enemies of everyone he meets, but all of his so called ‘friends’ have a high price. People you pay off often thinks that it gives them some kind of right to make demands. And we are not talking people who spends their days in fancy salons, drinking tea and listening to piano music here. Where do you think all ideas for new weapons come from, or the material to make them. It’s amazing what kind of knowledge people in the slums have in these sort of things. And it’s exactly the kind of people you don’t want making any demands.”

Rufus blinked, he wasn’t really surprised at what Tseng had told him, he was more surprised that he actually had told him. “So you’re saying my old man makes deals with the people in the slums?” he asked.

“Not to his knowledge, no.” Tseng answered truthfully. “At the moment it’s all handled very nice and clean. Everything goes through a middle hand, always someone up on the Plate. Well respected people, you’ve probably meet most of them on one social gathering or another.”

Reno lit a cigarette, leaning back against the leather armchair, temporarily distracting Rufus who listened to Tseng silently.

“The only reason these people stay on the top is because of all the money paid out to them by the president. The money we deliver to them. We have estimated that last year about 50 million gil was paid out to these people. People who do nothing but make the order for us and have it delivered. On top of that we have to pay for the supplies and of course the middle hand takes a per cent of that as well. The bill doesn’t even end at 50 million gil for this sort of business, Rufus, you’d have an extra 50 million to pay for all of that.”

Rufus flinched, again, not at what Tseng was saying but at the fact that the Turk had called him by his name. “But we get what we want, don’t we? I mean we have the weapons and the means to make them. What is it that you’re saying exactly, Tseng?”

“What I am saying is that we cut the middle hand and we would save millions. The only reason your father is paying these people is because he’s afraid, he’s playing it safe. And this game of his will cost you more than it will ever cost him. He’s afraid of making enemies. But what he doesn’t understand is that you can’t rule the most powerful company on god’s green earth without stepping on some toes in the process. There is no way to keep everyone happy. When it all comes down to it whoever is not with you is not with you, no matter how much you pay them.”

“And what about your loyalty then, how much is it worth?” Rufus asked, looking at the two Turks.

Reno took a drag on his cigarette, glancing up at Tseng under his red bangs.

Tseng spoke first. “It’s worth a hell of a lot if you play your cards right. We’ll help you get your company back, kid, but it won’t be done over a night.”

“But first,” Reno said, “we need a drink. You up for it?”

*****

Rufus bent his head to light the cigarette. Tseng was silently smoking his own, his eyes seemed to be fixed on something over Rufus’s shoulder, Rufus guessed that he was watching Reno ordering the next round of drinks at the bar.

“You really meant what you said before,” he asked the Turk’s leader, “that you’d help me?”

Tseng nodded. “Yes. But we won’t be your puppets, Rufus. Your old man never learned that and it will cost him in the end.”

“I’m not my old man, Tseng. He’s no dearer to me than a bucket of ice poured down my boxers.”

Reno returned with their drinks on a tray, handing out a brandy to Tseng, some kind of special mix for Rufus which had taken him about ten minutes to explain to the bartender the first round, and a bottle of imported beer for himself. He sat down, took a sip of his beer and began peeling off the label as he listened to the conversation that was going on at the table.

“I swear to god, someone should do us all a favour and tie him down to the Sister Ray the next time they test it.”

Reno frowned. “It’s not good for you to be out among people, I think, Rufus, you’re getting far too destructive for your own good.”

Rufus looked over at Reno. “A shot between the eyes would only be for his own damn good, to put him out of his misery,” he muttered.

“Damn Rufus,” Reno grinned, “ too bad you’ve already got your whole future planned out, you’d make an excellent Turk with that attitude. He grabbed his bottle and raised it. “To Rufus,” he announced, “the Turk that never was.”

Tseng raised his glass too. “To Rufus,” he echoed.

They all drank, the glasses clicking against the table as they put them down again.

“Am I getting sacked?” a familiar voice was heard from behind them.

Rude pulled out a chair while balancing a pint of lager in the other hand. He sat down and looked at the people gathered around the table, not seeming to find it strange at all that Rufus was there.

Reno rested his elbow on the bald Turk’s shoulder, leaning back so that the front legs of the chair lifted from the floor. “Yupp,” he said, “you suck, so we decided to replace you with Rufus.”

Rude lifted his glass to Rufus. “Good riddance then,” he said and took a big gulp of the beer.

Tseng let out an amused chuckle, but stifled it by taking a deep drag on his cigarette.

“Someone’s getting drunk,” Reno sang and leaned over at the Turk leader instead, balancing with one hand on his shoulder, then letting his chin rest on it as well, grinning widely.

Tseng turned his face to his. “No I’m not,” he said, trying to hide the smile that Rufus could see twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Prove it,” Reno said and called out to the waitress for a bottle of tequila and four glasses.

*****

Something was pounding very hard, and it took Rufus a couple of minutes to figure out that it was his head. His mouth was dry. The glass of water on his bedside table seemed impossibly far away, but he reached for it, feeling the cold surface with his finger tips, trying to slowly spin the glass closer towards him. The attempt failed miserably, though, and he watched the content spill out onto the floor and the glass following with a crash. He buried his head in the pillow, screaming out the worst things he could think of.

Was it a work day today, he then wondered, and prayed that it wasn’t. It was Saturday, his mind told him. At least he wouldn’t have to go into the office, but there was still work to be done. Staying a little longer in bed seemed like an excellent idea. Peering over at the digital watch he saw the red digits flashing 1:16 PM and nearly fell out of the bed. He couldn’t remember ever sleeping that long before.

No use staying in bed then, he thought, I really do have things to do before… Before what?

“Oh, fuck.” He remembered the charity banquette he had to attend that same evening. He didn’t so much get up from the bed as roll out of it. On unsteady legs he made his way towards the shower, cursing his pounding head.

At least the Turks would attend it as well, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for once.