Chapter Text
It all started with a whisper.
It was pretty common knowledge that Shinra had the don in their pocket, but talk of an organized plan was something new. Aerith hadn't been in Wall Market on Avalanche business, but thanks to the voices in the back of her head, she had learned to keep an ear out for anything important. And overhearing Don Corneo's minions talking about Shinra—specifically, talking about how they were hatching some kind of elaborate plot to get rid of Avalanche—certainly qualified as important.
The plan came together much more quickly than Aerith had expected, considering how risky it was. As far as she was concerned, there was only one way to get information out of Don Corneo: dress to the nines and win the auditions for some time alone with him. Thankfully, rather than trying to dissuade her, Jessie and Tifa both insisted on coming along for the ride. That way, no matter who the don picked, one of them was guaranteed to get the information they were looking for.
Still, Aerith had some concerns. She had spent the first seven years of her life in the laboratory of the most hateful excuse for a man on the planet; Jessie had sneaked down to the undercity regularly since her childhood, and knew its dark side all too well. Tifa, however, was another story. She may have run Seventh Heaven, but she hadn't grown up in Midgar, and the men in Sector 6 could get a good deal more insistent than the drunks she was used to. But Aerith kept her anxieties locked up for now. Expressing them would only make Tifa think she doubted her, and then she might try too hard to prove herself.
All worries aside, it only took a few days for them to do all the necessary research and pay all the right bribes… and, in Jessie's case, specially temper some fire materia to smuggle in and use as smoke bombs in case things went badly. Thanks to a more-than-generous donation from Avalanche's latest recruit, they even had enough gil to splurge a little instead of trying to make do with outfits they already had. (How a mercenary had made that much cash, ex-SOLDIER or not, Aerith had no idea. Maybe he was some kind of hero.)
Ready or not, tonight was the night. Aerith felt no mounting dread, but rather a strange sense of anticipation. Tonight was certain to be eventful, but gut instinct told her that not all those events would be bad, or at least that something good would come of them eventually. Aerith had long since learned to have faith in her premonitions. So had the rest of Avalanche; even the skeptical Barret knew to trust her hunches by now.
Thankfully, they assumed that her sixth sense was finely tuned, but otherwise ordinary. They didn't know the half of it, and Minerva willing, they never would. Aerith would give anything for the kind of luck that the others thought she had, or at least to be able to distinguish between her own thoughts and the faint murmurs of the planet. If she left Midgar someday, would those voices be any clearer? Or was this because she was only half Ancient?
If Aerith was traveling along this train of thought again, then waiting must have been making her more restless than she thought. She shook her head to clear it, but only gingerly, not wanting to mess up her beautifully arranged hair. "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'm gonna be," answered Jessie, having finished her makeup, and turned around just quickly enough for her short skirt to spin. "How do I look?"
"Ravishing," replied Aerith, and Jessie gave a sweeping curtsy that didn't suit her (or the dress style) at all. "He'll be putty in your hands."
Jessie gave an exaggerated shudder. "Great, except I don't actually wanna touch him."
"Me neither," agreed Aerith, grimacing. "He's the kind of asshole our moms warn us about, and then some."
"Speaking of, Elmyra's not gonna worry too much, right?"
Aerith shook her head. "I told her I'll be spending the night at Tifa's." Technically, it wouldn't be a lie, as long as everything went as planned. "And you know her. She doesn't even have a cell phone, so she'll only call me if she's dealing with an emergency."
"Right."
Fidgeting with her bracelets, Aerith glanced at the clock. Tifa had been the first of them to finish dressing up, so she had gone to Seventh Heaven to check on her comatose childhood friend while Aerith and Jessie got ready. It had already been nearly half an hour since she'd left, and the chocobo carriage was coming at seven o'clock sharp. "Shouldn't Tifa be back by now?"
"She's probably chatting up that cute mercenary," said Jessie, shrugging. "I know I would, if I were her."
"Come on, anyone can see she's got a thing for Cloud," returned Aerith, nudging Jessie. "There's no way she'd sit by his bedside flirting with his best friend."
Jessie waggled her eyebrows. "So what you're saying is, Zack's free."
"Maybe." There was something in the way Zack looked from time to time, his eyes far away, that made Aerith think that he wasn't free at all, even if he didn't have a significant other somewhere. "You could always ask him, just to see how much of a shot you have."
"I would've thought you'd be interested."
"I mean…" Aerith pursed her lips, trying to think of the right words. "He's cute, and he seems really sweet, and he has to be strong if he made it through even half of what he says he did. But he also looks like he's got a lot going on right now, and honestly, so do I. Between Avalanche, the Leaf House, and my flowers, I've got more than enough to think about without any guys in the mix. So if you want dibs…"
Jessie was already shaking her head. "Nah. I like more of a challenge than that."
Aerith raised her eyebrows. "You don't think an ex-SOLDIER is enough of a challenge for you?"
"Not this ex-SOLDIER," Jessie corrected her. "He's an open book. I like going after the ones with a lot of layers."
"Even if they're hard to peel back?"
Jessie grinned. "Especially if they're hard to peel back. And besides, I'm not looking for anything serious right now, either." They both understood, even without saying it, that Zack was more boyfriend material than fling material. It was like that with most people who wore their hearts on their sleeves, Aerith found. Their emotions got involved too readily for anything casual to stay that way.
Then, on the other end of the scale, there were those who were determined to remain strangers to everyone they met. Aerith understood the appeal of mystique, but she hadn't pursued anyone like that in earnest; reality tended to fall too short of fantasy for her tastes. Daydreaming was a better use of her time than chasing after the unknown, and the stakes were much lower besides. But if someone mysterious pursued her? That might be more interesting, even if unlikely.
Aerith's train of thought derailed as footsteps sounded outside, and her heart rate shot back up again. Quickly, she pushed aside the curtain, but it was just a pair of passersby. Aerith didn't even have time to be disappointed before Jessie came up behind her. "Hey," she began, more seriously now. "You know Tifa can always tell what time it is; she won't be late. So what are you really worried about here?" Jessie crossed her arms. "You've been fretting about her ever since you suggested this, haven't you?"
Lying to Jessie was pointless. "Yeah."
"Well, so have I," said Jessie, and Aerith was about to say something like I never would have guessed before remembering abruptly that Jessie had been an aspiring actress. "I know Tifa can take care of herself, but I don't want her to have to take care of herself. So if you've got any ideas about keeping her out of danger tonight, I'm all ears."
Aerith started pacing, which was somewhat more difficult than usual in high heels, but at least it gave her some practice walking in them before she had to do it with more of an audience. Something had crossed her mind, but she hadn't let herself consider it, not wanting to abandon Jessie. But knowing that she felt the same way about the situation… "How about this? If Tifa gets picked—"
"Let's not kid ourselves," interrupted Jessie. "When Tifa gets picked."
"When Tifa gets picked," continued Aerith, smiling despite herself, "I'll volunteer to go with her."
Jessie blinked. "What?"
"What do you mean, what?" Aerith tilted her head. "You think the don will say no?"
"That's not what I meant and you know it," returned Jessie, elbowing Aerith a little harder than she might have intended, but quickly pulled her back upright when she lost her balance. "I get it. Double-teaming Corneo will be more effective than a one-on-one interrogation, so I wanna say it's a good plan. But there's one thing that bugs me."
"What is it?"
Jessie grabbed Aerith by the shoulders to shake her, too gently to be serious, and her eyes were wide in mock offense. "Aren't you worried about what might happen to me?!"
"Coming from someone who leveled a mako reactor just last week?" Aerith looked Jessie up and down. "I'm more worried about everyone else in the building. But be sure to bring extra materia for yourself, just in case."
Jessie saluted. "Roger that."
With that, Tifa finally arrived, closing the door behind her, and locked it automatically. Aerith wasn't totally sure how to avoid seeming like they'd been talking about Tifa behind her back, but fortunately, Jessie took the lead. "Hey, Tifa," she greeted, bouncing up to her and slinging an arm around her shoulders. "How's Cloud? Still asleep?"
Aerith smiled. "If he woke up with Tifa looking like that, he'd just faint again right away."
Tifa rolled her eyes, but her expression was relaxed. "Yeah, he's still asleep. Nothing's changed."
"Awww," whined Jessie. "And here I was hoping for some good gossip."
"What kept you so long, then?" asked Aerith. "I was afraid you wouldn't be back in time."
"Sorry, Aerith," responded Tifa, hugging her briefly, and then straightened out both their dresses. "Biggs showed up on my way out, so I had to make some excuses."
"And you're sure he didn't catch on?" Jessie narrowed her eyes. "He's pretty sharp, and the last thing we need is the guys swooping in to stop us because it's 'too dangerous', or whatever."
"Biggs is a better actor than I am, so jury's out on whether he believed me or not, but I told him we were going for a girls' night on the town," explained Tifa. "A new nightclub just opened in Sector 8, and I've been thinking of checking it out, anyway."
"Quick thinking," said Jessie, at the same time as Aerith asked, "Really?"
Tifa nodded. "I want to see what they're serving at the bar—see if I get any ideas."
Jessie snorted. "Figures that's why you'd want to go."
"Hey, last I checked, my drinks are our most reliable source of income," shot back Tifa playfully, crossing her arms. "If I get inspired…" A sharp series of raps on the door cut her off, and the three of them tensed at once, exchanging glances.
Tifa was the first to move, taking a silent but visible deep breath and unlocking the door again. As soon as she opened it, the coachman tipped his hat. "Evening, ladies," he said, not meeting any of their eyes. "Time to go."
Morality had never been the Turks' strong suit, but crushing one-eighth of the city below them was unforgivable even by their standards.
Not that such a thing would have stopped them from following orders anyway, under ordinary circumstances, but the situation had changed. Against all odds, the Turks' rescue mission had succeeded, and in saving a certain ex-SOLDIER and his unconscious companion, they had found an opportunity to save themselves as well. After all, if anyone could bring Shinra to its knees, it was Avalanche with those two in their ranks, especially with Cissnei to act as go-between.
Of course, double agency came with more than a few risks and complications. If the Turks had any luck left—and Tseng had his suspicions to the contrary, since finding Zack had probably used up the last of it—then they'd be able to sabotage Shinra from the shadows while Avalanche drew all their attention. Otherwise, they'd have to oppose them openly, and risk their lives in so doing.
Unfortunately, that eventuality was looking more and more likely. Zack's plan had gone as well as his plans ever did, which admittedly wasn't saying much, but Avalanche's demolitions expert had used a much more potent explosive than anyone had anticipated. Whether that had been intentional or not, the end result was that Shinra had chosen to prioritize dealing with Avalanche, and also that the Turks would be called upon to act more directly than Tseng would like.
Time was running out faster than he had thought.
"That was a really big sigh," said a tentative voice, and Tseng jerked his head up to find the intern standing in the doorway. He must have been more lost in thought than usual, if she of all people had managed to sneak up on him. What was her name? Elena. "Are you okay, sir?"
Tseng gave Elena a look. If the Turks hadn't been so short-staffed, he never would have agreed to hire her. Not at a time like this, when allegiances were shifting—particularly since Elena still had a long way to go before her skills were worth her temperament. Tseng had to have a few stern words with Cissnei later. Just because Elena's older sister had been her best friend didn't mean that her gifts ran in the family. In fact, the apple couldn't have fallen much farther from the proverbial tree.
"Turks don't ask questions," said Tseng finally. "Do you have something to report?"
Elena shook her head. "I just saw that your office light was on, so I came to turn it off. I thought you'd already left; I didn't think you were still here." She tilted her head, frowning, and apparently didn't realize that she'd just said the same thing twice. "Did Don Corneo put us off again? Should I go to Sector 6 with y—?"
"Questions, Elena."
"Sorry, sir!"
Tseng let out another breath. He didn't usually struggle with procrastination, but Corneo had the dubious honor of being first on his list of pigs he'd rather shoot dead than speak to. Still, the don's characteristic hatred of commitment had bought Tseng a few days already, and it would be suspicious if the Turks didn't press the matter further. "I'm going to Sector 6," said Tseng, and before Elena could say anything, added, "Alone. Has Cissnei given you any tasks?"
"Combat training," replied Elena. "But I already finished all the simulations. You can check Hojo's records if you don't beli—"
"I believe you," interrupted Tseng. "But there's more to being a Turk than knowing your way around a battlefield. If all you can do is fight, then you may as well have applied to SOLDIER."
Elena bristled. "I can do more than fight!"
Then prove it. Tseng almost said it aloud, but swallowed the words. If he had learned anything from Reno's training period, a challenge too open would probably result in an even more egregious waste of time. But Reno hadn't needed more than a couple reminders about Turk protocol throughout all his rookie days. Elena had to learn that asking anything of Tseng would yield no answers, and he knew exactly how to make it stick this time. "Write down all the questions you want to ask me."
Caught off guard by the sudden change in subject, Elena stared at Tseng for a moment, then took a pen and a small notepad from her inside jacket pocket and started scribbling. Whatever she was writing came easily at first, but then she hesitated. Stopped dead, actually. And then, after furiously crossing out whatever she had written last, she ripped the page from the notebook and proffered it to Tseng.
As he accepted it, he noted that Elena's cheeks were now tinged the same shade of pink as the cover of her notepad, and couldn't help his sense of foreboding. What kind of questions were these, exactly…?
Where are you from?
Clearly, Elena's expression had nothing to do with that one. It wasn't unexpected that she would be curious, considering his obvious heritage, but Tseng's mother and father were the ones who had immigrated. His only personal connection to his parents' homeland came through his fluency in the language. If his later investigations into his family and its timeline was anything to go by, he had almost certainly been conceived in Wutai, but he had been born in Midgar…
How old are you?
…thirty years ago, just after the new year. The Junon Republic had fallen a few short months prior; it had only been in the wake of victory that Shinra had started encouraging immigration. Tseng had eventually learned that they had done so in order to have more citizens to conscript, in case the last remnants of the Republic rebelled. But the conflict to follow had nothing to do with Shinra's territory, and everything to do with Wutai's.
When & how did you join the Turks?
As soon as Tseng's mother and father had sensed the tensions rising, they had as good as sold him—then only thirteen—to Shinra. They had claimed that it was to protect him, but given that they had always valued his achievements so much more highly than his happiness, Tseng saw it more as a measure of self-defense. After all, they could hardly be accused of aiding their homeland if their own son was in the Department of Administrative Research.
What's your favorite color?
Tseng had to admit that Elena had caught him off guard this time, asking for the most basic possible fact after wanting more personal details. How long had it been since he had thought about something so trivial? Yet an immediate answer still rose to the forefront of his mind. Green. Healthy vegetation was hard to come by in Midgar, and even its outskirts were a wasteland. It was one of the reasons Tseng usually preferred the jobs that took him out of the region, even if some of them were dirtier than usual. (Banora came to mind.)
The last question was the one that had been thoroughly cross-hatched out. Considering Elena's lingering blush and the still-barely-legible letters ype?, Tseng surmised that she had meant to ask about his ideal partner, but had wisely thought better of it. Even had it been appropriate for him to offer a response, the answer—that he hadn't thought much about it, but that naïve young blondes were definitely at the bottom of the list—might have broken her entirely.
But it was still a more reasonable question than most others in Shinra would guess. Almost everyone assumed that the Turks were all business all the time, with no room for pleasure, and there was no real reason to correct them. The Turks had always been discouraged from forming any lasting emotional connections, including with their coworkers… but if there was anyone who understood that certain physical drives were better released than suppressed, it was President Shinra.
Tseng, too, had been known to let his hair down from time to time, so to speak. Every now and then, one of his jobs was bitter enough that even he needed a chaser. Measured intimacy for a night at a time was more than enough to keep him from feeling lonely, although he always slept alone. If he woke up next to anyone else, the closeness might smother him.
(Or, more dangerous still, he might realize what he was missing.)
But Tseng had no intention of offering Elena any responses, even to the more innocuous questions. Instead, meeting Elena's eyes, he held up the paper—and then tore it to shreds. Making a mess was often good for making a point. "From now on, save us all the trouble," he said, talking over the beginnings of a squeaked-out protest. "Every time you want to ask me something, write it down and rip it up yourself until you don't have questions for me anymore." He stared Elena down. She had gone pale. "Clear?"
Elena ducked her head. "Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
As Elena took her leave in a hurry, Tseng glanced down at the by now familiar paperwork on his desk. Once Corneo signed this, Shinra would have free and unrestricted access to all his resources in name as well as deed… and a guarantee that such a deal was exclusive, in case the don tried to turn around and sell supplies to Avalanche too. But if Tseng intended to force Corneo's hand, it would have to be with a fresh copy, given that the latter had once again conveniently misplaced it.
Slipping the papers into a generic red folder, Tseng left before he could think of any more reasons to stay behind, turning off the light and locking his office door behind him. As he walked down the hallway, he reflected on how strange it was that ink on paper could be enough to dictate who lived and who died, and under what conditions—but then he shut off his heart, and stepped into the elevator.