The Shinra Building never slept. Tseng kept this fact well in mind as he and Rude tried to come up with a plan for springing Aeris. They knew exactly where she was being held, so finding her would pose no problem. The real trick lay in getting there without drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. They needed an excuse for being in the Science Department cellblock, and a damned good one at that. Tseng leaned back into his swivel chair and meditated, hoping that by clearing his mind, an inspiration would come to him. Rude lowered his head and furrowed his brows, apparently focused on his own thoughts. The seconds ticked away on the wall clock.
         Tseng's PHS rang, but he didn't shift from his meditative position. The phone ended up ringing six times before he picked it up from his desk and flipped it open. Whoever's calling me at this time of night better have something really important to discuss, Tseng thought.
         "Tseng Kawaguchi speaking."
         "Tseng! T-this is Palmer. President Shinra's dead!"
         "Where are you?"
         "In his office. Please, come quick!"
         Tseng grunted an affirmative and hung up. He stood up and leaned over his desk to shake Rude's shoulder. The bald man looked up and asked, "What happened?"
         Tseng walked over to the coat rack and removed his jacket and shoulder holster. "That's what we're going to find out. Make sure you're well-equipped," he said as he checked his pistol. "It seems that the President is dead."
         "What?"
         "Looks like we have to put our current plans on hold," Tseng said as he shrugged into his coat.

         The twin stenches of fresh blood and flesh struck their noses as the two Turks stepped out of the elevator at the 69th Floor—the lower lobby of the President's office. They walked over to the receptionist's area and gasped in horror.
         In his five years as a Turk, not once had Tseng seen a sight as gruesome as the one he now encountered. The clawed, mangled bodies of about a dozen or so secretaries, assistants, and other executive personnel were strewn about the wet floor. Mixed in with the puddles of blood were bits of organ tissue and bone; large red splatter marks defiled the smooth metal walls.
         Tseng glanced at Rude. "We should head upstairs." Rude silently nodded. The two Turks ascended to President Shinra's chambers.
         They were among the first to arrive in the 70th Floor office that night. Palmer stood before the President's desk, where the impaled corpse still sat. Rude removed his shades and stared at the Masamune, eyes wide. Tseng himself was quite stunned; he knew for a fact that there were very few people capable of wielding that blade. As Rude walked closer to the desk to get a better look, the other executives trickled in, along with some paramedics. Scarlet and Heidegger were both dressed as they had been during the day, but Reeve, who had arrived just ahead of them, was a bit more disheveled, and his tie had evidently been left at home. The latter walked up to Tseng and asked what had happened.
         "That's what I'd like to know," replied the Turk.
         As the medical crew began to remove President Shinra's body, a bright light shone in through the floor-length windows. It was Rufus' private helicopter, coming in for a landing. Soon, Rufus himself walked into the office, holding his shotgun in one hand and Dark Nation's empty leash in the other. He looked around the room and saw the four executives and the two Turks staring back at him. Upon first glance, Tseng could see that Rufus' expression was stern and serious, but behind this mask, the redness lining his eyes was just barely showing through.
         "Where's Hojo?" Rufus asked Palmer. The Space Program chairman shrugged his shoulders.
         "I don't know. I tried calling his office, but I couldn't get through."
         Rufus sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He waited for the medical crew to leave with his father's body, then turned his attention to the executives and Turks.
         "Now that we're all present—well, almost all of us—here's what happened. According to Palmer, Sephiroth came in here and had a brief altercation with my father. As you have seen, the results of that argument…" Rufus trailed off as he looked back at the desk and now-empty swivel chair. He ran a hand down his face and exhaled wearily.
         "Sir—" Tseng started, but was stopped by the young Shinra's raised hand.
         "There's more," Rufus continued, "If there are to be no more interruptions, Tseng."
         Tseng deadpanned, "Of course not, sir."
         "Now, after Sephiroth's intrusion, AVALANCHE somehow escaped and came up to this office. I fought against one of them, the ex-SOLDIER to be exact, and sent out some of our troops and mecha to take care of the rest. The entire group is being pursued on one of the Upper City's highways as we speak."
         Tseng was somewhat relieved upon hearing this bit of news, but did not show it.
         Scarlet folded her arms and asked, "You sent mecha? May I ask which kind?"
         "The Motor Ball. It was the best thing I could get ahold of on such short notice."
         "So you sent a prototype."
         "Is there something wrong with that?" Rufus asked, glaring at the Weapons Dev. Chair. "It was my decision as President and Chief Executive Officer, and I believe it was the best one under the circumstances."
         There must've been something about his confident tone of voice, because she then shrunk back and replied, "Of course. Whatever you think is best, sir."
         Rufus nodded and quickly glanced at Reeve. Meanwhile, Tseng kept his watchful eye on the new President.
         "If I may ask, sir," the head Turk cut in, "what happened to Dark Nation?"
         "She died defending me."
         "I see. Well then, if you don't have any further announcements or orders for us, I will be going."
         "Just one order, Tseng. I want the Turks to track down my father's killer."
         Tseng raised an eyebrow. "Track Sephiroth?"
         "Yes. And I want all three of you for this job."
         "In that case, we have a problem. Reno's wounds from the Sector Seven plate incident are a bit more severe than you might realize. He's currently not able to travel, much less fight."
         "I suppose you'll have to hire another Turk, then."
         Tseng stepped forward. "With the recent AVALANCHE bombings, I have considered such measures recently, but I keep asking myself: what will happen when Reno does recover, which he most certainly will? There can be no more than three Turks in service at one time—never has been, and never will be."
         "There's more than enough money in the budget to support a fourth Turk."
         "That's not what I'm talking about. Having more than three active Turks is a bad omen."
         Rufus folded his arms decisively. "I want three Turks for this job. If Reno is unable to work, as you say, then you will have to hire someone else to replace him. Whatever happens after Reno's recovery is up to you."
         Tseng stood there, staring at Rufus and pondering his words. He didn't like the idea very much, but realized the precarious position he would be in were he to defy the President's orders.
         "…I'll see what I can do, sir."
         Rufus gave Tseng a curt nod and turned to the others. "I want funeral arrangements to be made as soon as possible. Also, my personal staff needs to be transferred to the President's office. Of course, this mess—as well as the ones on the 67th and 68th floors—must be taken care of at once. I am requesting the cooperation of the Company's executives in these matters, which we will discuss at length in a meeting tomorrow morning, nine AM sharp. Other than that, I have no immediate orders, nor anything else to say. You are all dismissed."
         As Scarlet, Palmer, Heidegger, Rude, and Tseng turned to leave, Reeve continued standing where he was. Tseng stopped at the top of the stairs and called over to him.
         "You heard the President. Let's get going."
         Reeve walked over to Tseng and replied, "But I can't just leave him like this."
         "Trust me, it's for the better if you do."
         Reeve stared at Tseng, his eyes slightly widened. "How can you say that?" he whispered as he came closer to the Turk. "Listen, you of all people must know the sort of pain he's going through—"
         Tseng could feel the executive's stare burn into him as he hissed, "Yes, Reeve. Yes I do. I know it very well. And that's precisely why I want nothing to do with Rufus right now."
         Without waiting for Reeve's reply, Tseng sharply turned away and marched downstairs.

*****

         As the executives and Turks trailed downstairs, Rufus turned to gaze out of the window of his new office. The lifeless body of his father having been removed, he felt a wave of serenity wash over him. After taking a deep breath and turning away from the window, he was surprised to see Reeve still standing in the otherwise vacant expanse. Rufus watched as Reeve walked toward him, the muffled clop of his leather shoes echoing across the marble floor. A small, weary smile crossed the President's lips.
         "You don't have to stay here, you know. You're free to go back home."
         Reeve stopped in front of the younger man. "I know, but… how can I put this?" he said, scratching his head. "I just felt like I should. I lost my own parents three years ago."
         Rufus lowered his eyes. "Yes, I remember. I'm sorry about that."
         "Don't be," Reeve answered, placing a hand on Rufus' shoulder. "There was nothing that could've been done at the time."
         Rufus simply nodded. Reeve's hand slid off of his shoulder.
         "Listen," Reeve said, looking Rufus in the eye. "Is there anything I can do for you?
         Rufus shuffled closer to Reeve and placed his forehead against his shoulder, and his hands on his back. After a moment, he felt Reeve's arms encircle him. Rufus turned his head, where he got a glimpse of Reeve's neck and the side of his face. Reeve's expression was stoic as he turned an eye toward Rufus, eyebrow raised.
         "Not quite what I was expecting, but I understand."
         "Well, you did offer…"
         "True."
         They stood in silence for a while, holding each other. As the tears began to flow down his cheeks, Rufus kept himself fully conscious of Reeve's presence, taking in his bodily warmth, the evenly paced rhythm of his breathing, and the rich, musky odor that clung to him. However, he knew that the only reason he was experiencing this at all was because his father had been killed. With this thought, Rufus found himself locked in between a personal heaven and hell, and wasn't sure whether he wanted to stay there, or escape from it altogether.
         "Hey, Reeve."
         "Yes?"
         "I'm not sure I'm ready for this. Being President, I mean."
         "Nonsense. You'll do a fine job."
         "You think so?"
         Reeve pulled away from Rufus. "Yes, I do… Are you going to be all right?"
         Rufus shook his head. "Honestly, no. Not for a little while, at any rate."
         "Didn't think so. Listen, I'm really sorry but I have to go soon. I'm leaving on a trip shortly and I haven't gotten any packing done."
         "Vacation?"
         "Yes."
         "You aren't going to be here for my father's funeral?"
         "Well, I was just getting to that. If it's all right with you, I'd like to delay my trip so I can pay my respects to your father."
         "That's fine with me. I'll look into getting all the necessary paperwork done."
         "Thank you, Rufus."
         "My pleasure," he said, smiling. You know I'd do just about anything for you…
         Reeve smiled back, a smile that quickly morphed into a grimly thoughtful expression. He bowed his head momentarily, then looked back up to Rufus. "I have a bit of a personal question, if you don't mind."
         Rufus tilted his head and gave Reeve a slightly quizzical look. "I don't mind. What is it?"
         "Well, it's just… what's going on between you and Tseng?"
         Rufus' expression flattened. "What do you mean?"
         "I get the impression that there's some bad blood between you two."
         "I… don't want to talk about it."
         "That's okay. I didn't mean to upset you," Reeve said. "I'll be going home now. You should as well."
         "Reeve—" Rufus said softly, grabbing his arm as he started to leave. "Thank you."
         Reeve turned to look at him. Once again, Rufus was stuck by the darkness of his eyes; to him, it seemed to be a restless darkness that wanted to absorb everything around it, but was forcefully restrained from doing so.
         "It was nothing," Reeve replied, giving Rufus a small smile. "See you in the morning."
         Rufus released him and watched as he turned toward the stairs. After Reeve had left, Rufus paced around the empty office. He looked back at the massive desk, his mind a whirlwind of thought. He was intimidated by this new task of filling his father's shoes, yet excited over all the possibilities it contained. The Shinra Electric Power Company was his now, and as such, he was free to mould it to his personal vision. He thought about the exchange that had just occurred between him and Reeve—handsome, wonderful, sensuous Reeve—and concluded that things were definitely looking up. There was just one thing that bothered him:
         What's going on between with you and Tseng?
         Rufus made a mental note to make sure that Reeve never found out.

*****

         Rude was impressed with the precision of Rufus' arrangements for President Roland Shinra's funeral. Surely, he thought, this new President doesn't waste any time in getting things done. In a mere two days after the President's assassination, Rufus had arranged a dignified memorial service for his departed father.
         As the midday sun struggled to shine out from beneath the heavy mass of clouds, Rude left the Shinra Building with Tseng, both of them dressed in crisp black suits. They walked toward a Shinra motorcar parked nearby.
         Tseng took the driver's seat and inserted the key into the ignition. The car roared out into the streets of the Sector Four plate.
         "Nice of the company to loan us these cars for the procession," Rude said.
         "Well, President Shinra was always preoccupied with showing off the Company's technology. For him, a funeral procession with Shinra motorcars looks better—and says more about him—than one with, say, chocobos."
         "That's true," Rude glanced out his side window. The streets were bustling with people, many of them onlookers on their way to the same church where the Turks were heading. "By the way, have you heard anything about Aeris since AVALANCHE's latest escape?"
         "Nothing. Scarlet's pissed about the loss of the Motor Ball, to say the least."
         "Are you worried about her?"
         "Who, Aeris?"
         "Yes."
         Tseng didn't answer right away. After a brief pause, he said, "A little. Maybe not as much as I ought to be, but enough so that I don't stop wondering about her. That's part of the reason why I'm looking forward to this next mission; I'm hoping we'll run into her while we're tracking Sephiroth."
         "Speaking of the next mission," Rude put in, "you still haven't told me who Reno's replacement is."
         "Fair enough. It's Elena Terry."
         Rude sharply drew in a breath upon hearing that name. For some reason, he honestly didn't believe she'd make the cut, though he secretly wished that she somehow would. He looked at Tseng, who himself turned an eye away from the traffic for a moment to give his subordinate one of his rare genuine smiles.
         "I thought you'd be pleased to hear that."
         Rude cleared his throat. "What makes you say that? And what about you?"
         Tseng once again focused on the traffic, his countenance businesslike once more. "She's the most qualified candidate for the job. That's why I'm hiring her. Realize that both you and her have to put your respective feelings aside in order to do your job."
         "I'm well aware of that, but what I want to know is if you're capable of doing the same, what with Aeris gone and Rufus the new President."
         A new expression formed on Tseng's face. Rude recognized it as his most dangerous one; the one he would wear right before killing a man in cold blood. They drove on in silence, and Tseng's hardened look eventually toned down. As they pulled up to the front of the church, Rude asked, "So when's the initiation?"
         "Tonight, seeing as how we must leave Midgar early tomorrow morning. By the way, I'm sorry for my reaction back there. Your observation was a fair one… As your leader, I should set an example."
         Rude nodded, not saying another word.

         After the main ceremony, the public procession through the upper sectors, and the private burial service at Shinra's military cemetery near the coastline, Tseng and Rude drove back into Midgar. They made a brief stop at the Shinra Building to change back into their Turk uniforms and pick up some supplies, then took the train into Sector Two and entered Elena's apartment building.
         "Do you think she'll be home?" Rude asked as they got off the elevator.
         "Well, we're about to find out."
         Tseng knocked on the door. After two rounds of knocking, it finally swung open. On the other side stood Elena in a t-shirt and sweatpants, a towel draped around her neck. Her hair was dripping wet, and her eyes were wide.
         "Oh! Tseng, sir. What brings you here?"
         "Official business. May we come in?"
         "Yes, yes of course."
         Tseng walked past Elena and into her living room. Rude nodded a hello to Elena, and she politely returned the nod before turning her attention back to Tseng. Rude pretended not to notice as he walked into the apartment, clutching onto the small suitcase he held in his right hand. He set it on the floor and sat down on the couch, next to Tseng. After closing her door, Elena came into the room and stood before them.
         "C—can I get you guys anything?"
         "No thank you," Tseng replied. "Please sit down."
         Elena promptly sat in an adjacent armchair.
         "Now, I know you are aware of many of the problems which have befallen the Shinra Corporation as of late, the most recent being the President's assassination. Did you see the procession?"
         "Yes," Elena replied. "I was able to see it."
         Tseng nodded. "The new President, Rufus Shinra, has charged us Turks with a very important mission. However, the nature of this job is such that it requires three Turks, not two. Our associate Reno, as you are well aware, is still recovering from his injuries."
         Elena said nothing, but Rude could sense the anticipation in her silence.
         Tseng continued, "As you may or may not be aware, the ways of the Turks are to have no more than three active at any given time. Since Reno is currently unable to work, I would like to promote you, Elena Terry, to the title of Turk, provided that you accept all of the rights and responsibilities that come with this title. However, please be aware that we may pull you from service at any time, especially once Reno recovers."
         Despite these cautionary words, Elena grinned from ear to ear. Rude looked over at Tseng, who maintained his stoic expression. He wasn't entirely sure if this decision of Tseng's was right, but if not, there was no turning back now.
         After a moment's elation, Elena settled back down and faced Tseng. "I accept."
         "Are you certain? I highly recommend that you think this over some more."
         "Yes, I'm absolutely sure. There's nothing else that I ever wanted so badly in my life than to be accepted into the Turks."
         Rude frowned. I could think of a few things…
         "Very well," Tseng said as he stood up. "Let us commence with the initiation."
         "I—initiation?"
         "Of course. It's a little ritual, required of all inductees, which is specifically designed to ensure loyalty and fellowship among Turks."
         "All right…"
         Tseng nodded to Rude; the latter drew the suitcase in front of him and opened it, pulling out two small knives. He removed the sheath from one of them, revealing an opaque blade made of green materia. Tseng unsheathed the other knife, which also had a green materia blade, and addressed Elena.
         "According to tradition, a Turk initiate receives two scars from the current Turks, in order to bind them into the brotherhood-- or siblinghood, in this case. Where these scars are placed depends on the location and date of birth of the initiate."
         "So those scars below Reno's eyes… they're from his initiation?"
         "Yes. Mine are just below my clavicles. Rude's are by his ankles."
         "Where will mine be?"
         "Well, going by the biographical information I have gathered from your files, and in line with our procedures, Rude and I will place the scars on your lower back."
         Rude tried not to let the blood rush to his face, and could see Elena was having the same dilemma. They happened to glance at each other at the same time, and she smiled nervously at him. Rude quickly diverted his eyes from behind his dark shades.
         "Now," Tseng continued, "let me tell you about these knives. One of them has a blade made from mastered destruct materia, which, as you may know, is capable of casting Death upon its target. The other blade consists of mastered revive materia, which, of course, has the opposite effect. As you can see, these two blades look exactly alike. There is no way to tell who is holding which blade until we actually use them. The Knives of Eternity and Mortality, as they have been called, represent the strength of the bond between Turks. When we use these knives to cut your scars, we will be doing so simultaneously, so the effects of each other's spells will cancel out. A mantra of the Turks is that we live and die simultaneously. We must accept this concept as a condition of our status as Turks, and keep it in mind at all times, whether we are helping others or hurting them. That is the meaning behind the initiation. Elena, are you ready?"
         Elena nodded solemnly.
         "Very well. We'll need you to lay down on the floor."
         Rude moved some of Elena's furniture out of the way and stood off to the side. Elena kneeled on the floor and looked up at Tseng quizzically.
         "Shouldn't we put something down first, like a towel?"
         "No, since there won't be much bleeding."
         "Oh," Elena replied as she nervously lay down, face first. "All right."
         Tseng looked at Rude and nodded. They kneeled on either side of Elena and glanced at her. Tseng leaned over and whispered, "Are you going to be all right? I know you've never performed the initiation from this side, as a Turk."
         "I'll be fine," Rude answered. "I remember everything you showed me yesterday."
         "All right. I'm counting on you."
         Rude nodded. He knew the potential risks of screwing this up, which included accidentally killing the initiate with a poorly-timed cut from the Knife of Mortality, but he put all such thoughts away as Tseng lifted up Elena's shirt, exposing her back.
         "So where do they go?" Rude murmured.
         Tseng seemed to examine her lightly freckled skin as though the small brown dots were legible text. "A little lower," he concluded, pulling the waistband of Elena's sweatpants down to the small of her back. Elena lay rigid on the floor.
         "Breathe normally," Rude told her, in the most reassuring tone he could muster. Elena took a few deep breaths and noticably relaxed.
         Tseng licked the tip of his index finger and, with his fingernail, lightly scratched two symmetrical, slightly bent lines on either side of Elena's spine. He looked up at Rude.
         "Are you ready?"
         Rude took the knife in his hand and held it over the top of the line he was to cut. "Yes."
         Tseng nodded and picked up his own knife. "On the count of three. One… two… three."
         Rude and Tseng plunged the knives into the marks the latter had made on Elena's back, pulling them down and across at a steady, even rate. Small gasps could be heard coming from Elena as the wounds opened; a black, festering scar on Tseng's side, and a white, sizzling scar on Rude's. So, Rude thought. I have the Knife of Eternity. He recalled his own initiation as he and Tseng sealed the scars; the indescribable pain, coupled with an equally indescribable vigor, he had felt when his own scars were cut in. It was the strangest, and also the most life-affirming, experience he had ever had.
         Tseng and Rude finished off Elena's branding by touching their blades to the others' fresh incisions. The black mass in Tseng's cut faded to a solid, fleshy red as Rude's blade made contact; likewise with the hot white lava that had bubbled up from Rude's mark. The two Turks stood up and sheathed the blades, then they looked down upon newest comrade.
         "It is over, Elena, and your marks have begun healing," Tseng said. "You may get up now if you wish."
         Elena continued to lay prone for a moment, then slowly edged up on her knees, followed by her feet. She smoothed her shirt down and shook her head as if trying to recover from vertigo.
         "Wow," she gasped. "That was unbelievable..."
         Tseng glanced over to Rude, and they shared a smile before turning their attentions back to Elena.
         "Elena Terry," Tseng said, "welcome to the Turks."

*****

         Elena was too excited to do anything the rest of that night. She stared at the uniform Tseng and Rude had left her, along with a week's supply of shirts and socks, gloves, shoes, a bulletproof vest, a pistol, spare ammunition, and a shoulder holster. Her first mission was tomorrow morning; she was to accompany Tseng and Rude to the Kalm area, where President Shinra's alleged killer—the long-missing Sephiroth—was last seen. Even though she had to be up early that next morning, she just knew that she wouldn't be able to get any sleep. Adventure was just on the horizon, and she was going to face it as a fully-fledged Turk.
         Just then, Elena heard the elevator doors opening, followed by some footsteps and a jangling of keys. She immediately recognized these sounds as the distinct trademarks of Reeve, and ran out into the hallway to greet him. Stopping right in front of him as he found the key that opened his apartment door, she held her arms behind her back and said hello.
         "Oh, hey Elena." She was at once struck by the weary expression on his face; then she remembered the funeral.
         "I'm sorry for rushing out here like this! I'm sure you must have a lot on your mind right now," Elena said sheepishly. "Thing is, I had to tell you about what happened today."
         "I heard," Reeve said with a smirk. "So you're a Turk now, huh?"
         "Sure am!"
         Reeve leaned over and, before she could do anything about it, gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Elena was taken aback; her eyes widened and her cheeks grew warm.
         "Congratulations, Elena. Wish I could take you out to celebrate, but I really need some sleep, and I'm sure you do as well. Good luck on your mission tomorrow."
         Without looking back at Reeve, she quietly replied with a "Thanks", and retreated to her own apartment. She shut her door, then walked over to the living room window and gazed out at the bright lights of Midgar. Perhaps getting out of the city for awhile with Tseng and Rude would be good for her; besides giving her a chance to get to know her fellow Turks a bit better, the fresh air might help to clear her troubled mind.